Detainment Corridor, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic
"Please state your full name for the record."
The light from the Watchman's wand was blinding, harsh in the gloom of Interrogation Room One.
"Chief Auror Hermione Jean Granger."
"Where were you between eleven-hundred and twenty-one-hundred hours, Friday the twenty-third of October two-thousand-and-five?"
A quick quotes quill scratched sharply.
"At eleven-thirteen I departed the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries."
"Can anyone corroborate your statement?"
"Lord Neville Longbottom and Beryl Rosewood by name. Presumably other St Mungo's staff present at that time."
"Would you consent to a pensieve memory of the events described being taken?"
Hermione considered for a moment.
"I would."
"Noted. Continue."
"At approximately-"
"Please be precise, Auror Granger."
"Chief Auror Granger."
"Please be precise, Chief Auror Granger."
"Between eleven-thirty and twelve, I departed for Longbottom Manor."
"Can anyone corroborate your statement?"
"Lord Neville Longbottom."
"Would you consent to a pensieve memory of these events being taken?"
Hermione paused. In the black of the room her cheeks coloured slightly.
"I would not."
"Are you aware that refusal to provide a pensieve memory could be used as reason for due suspicion for questioning with Veritaserum?"
"I would not consent to sharing the memory without the express permission of Lord Longbottom, as it concerns the sanctity and security of his home."
"Answer the question, Auror Granger."
"I am aware."
The scratching of the quill grated in the silence.
"Continue your recounting of the events. You stayed the night at Longbottom Manor?"
"I left Longbottom Manor between twenty-three-hundred and one-hundred hours, Saturday the twenty-fourth of October, two-thousand-and-five."
"Would you consent to providing a memory of these events?"
"I would."
"Noted."
The scratching stopped.
"Thank you for your time, Chief Auror. You may leave."
Hermione stepped out into the packed DMLE detainment floor.
"-and you can shove that fucking quill down your throat!" Cedric slammed the door to interrogation room two closed. He fumed, swearing a string of curses under his breath as he joined Hermione. "Looks like Dawlish got his fucking panties in a twist."
"He was attacked in his home."
"So he questions the entire fucking department?!"
"Every Auror with access or reasonable means of access to the Department's residency files."
"I really, sincerely hope," Fairview said, joining them. "They don't ask for my memories."
"Got something to hide, Chris?" Cedric scoffed.
"Well… I have two toddlers… my wife and I were home alone for the first time in months…"
"Way, WAY too much information!" Cedric feigned gagging.
"You asked."
As they made their way towards the exit, they watched smog sculptures shape the Director's attacker from his pensieve memories in Hard Smoke. Long, gangly limbs, claws like a werewolf, a needle toothed sneer in an eyeless face.
"What a nightmare." Cedric shuddered.
"Creatures we've never even heard whispers of suddenly appear and attack us in our homes?" Fairview was visibly unsettled. "That constitutes a nightmare in my book."
"Creatures? Plural?" Hermione frowned.
"Yeah." Fairview nodded. "Round one o'clock yesterday, Harry Potter nearly got gutted by one."
Hermione sighed.
"Why is it when anything happens nowadays, Harry Potter is involved?"
"Can't blame him for the break ins at least."
Hermione hesitated.
"There is that."
Daphne Greengrass woke up in a massive, unfamiliar bed. Her eyes flashed open as she spun to regard her surroundings. She was in Potter Manor, in a bedroom the size of her apartment. Alone.
Her clothes from the previous day lay, neatly folded, on a dresser to the right. Face paling, she lifted the bedding. A small sigh escaped her as she noted the silk nightdress she wore. Through the haze that she suspected was a result of the calming draught, she struggled to remember the prior day. Beyond lunch, and the attack, her mind was cotton with nebulous memories.
A knock on the door.
"Greengrass?" Black's voice.
"I'm not decent!" Daphne went red in the face.
"All the better," Black teased, but the door remained closed. "Joining us for breakfast?"
"Uh… sure."
"Fantastic! How do you like your toast?"
"Crispy?"
"And your eggs?"
"Surprise me. I'm not a picky eater." She paused. "Just no tomatoes. And don't let the rest of the food touch the toast."
"Not a picky eater ay?" Sirius laughed as a dull thump announced a pillow hitting the door from the other side. He practically skipped down the hall, stopping by Harry's bedroom. Instead of knocking, Sirius threw the double doors open.
"GOOD MORning sleepy-" He trailed off with a pout as he regarded the empty bed. "Bugger."
Grumbling all the way, Sirius made his way to the workshop. He leaned around the corner, seeing Harry working on his broom, his back to Sirius. Tiptoeing, he snuck forwards.
"Pass me the number seven chisel?" Harry asked idly, holding out a hand.
Sirius swore quietly, passing the tool over. He didn't miss the small smirk on Harry's face.
"Sleep well?" He bit out through a sardonic grin.
"Well enough." Harry shrugged.
"Nightmares?"
"Nah. Just restless."
"How long have you been up?"
"Maybe three hours? Four?"
"You are a freak of nature."
"What gave it away?" Harry grinned, tapping the scar on his forehead with the tool in his hand.
"Fancy a breakfast?"
"I'm not hungry."
"Course not." Sirius rolled his eyes, preparing his trump card. "Guess I'll just entertain the Lady Greengrass myself."
A dry grating sound wrenched through the room as Harry peeled a significant length of wood from the block. Eyes wide and mouth open he regarded his godfather.
With a grin and a wink, Sirius skipped out of the room.
After a moment to process the shock, Harry cast a quick cleaning charm on himself, sniffed at his armpits, and pulled on a shirt. After a moment of consideration, he charmed the shirt clean as well.
"And here I was just beginning to appreciate the view." Daphne smirked, leaning against the doorframe.
Harry felt very proud of himself, showing no reaction to his surprise.
"Oh wow." Daphne said admiringly. "You should give Astoria lessons."
"I'm sure she'd love that." Harry stood, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Speaking of," Daphne asked over her shoulder as she made her way out into the study. Harry walked past her, taking the lead to the kitchen. "What exactly are your intentions with my sister?"
"Oh the wickedest things."
"I'll have you know she's a happily married woman."
"And I own a vase."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Like a union, both can easily be broken."
"You scoundrel!" Daphne gasped, a hand to her chest.
"Jealous?"
"Burning with envy."
"I can tell." Harry laughed, pulling out a chair for her to sit on.
Nose in the air, Daphne took a seat herself.
"You'd scorn a man in his own home?" Harry asked, taking a seat next to her.
"I have to find some way to defend my family's honour."
"Would a blood feud do it?"
"Not even nearly drastic enough."
Unseen in the adjacent room, Sirius smiled into his cup of tea.
Manor of Mania!
Lavender Brown
Thursday the twenty-second of October saw a gathering of many of Magical Britain's rich and powerful at the residence of the affluent, elusive and delicious Lord Harry James Potter, of the Ancient and Most Noble House.
Revelry and festivities abounded with Lord Potter's public endorsement of Mister Tom Riddle, ministerial nominee. Lord Potter and Mister Riddle were seen throughout the evening in pleasant and mixed company, frequently sharing laughs and conversation.
But, dearest reader, it was not to last!
How a large number (this reporter could not find sure figures) of Death Eaters found their way into Potter Manor is up to speculation, but what is fact is that the terrorist attack was wholly and utterly rebuffed by the combined efforts of Lord Potter and Mister Riddle.
This reporter has it on good authority, from a witness of the event no less!, that by the time the Auror security detachment made their way to the scene of the attack, Potter had already incapacitated Death Eaters numbering no less than two dozen!
Riddle, the eyewitness account revealed, handled himself nearly as well with more than sixteen Death Eaters defeated himself, though he could not match Potter's feat of duelling twelve Dark Wizards at once.
Former Triwizard champion, Cedric Diggory, was also spotted flinging spells at the scene, though it is unclear at this time to which side the notoriously dangerous Wizard provided his talents.
This reporter speculates that the combined prowess of Potter and Riddle made Diggory reconsider his allegiance to You-Know-Who, and turn on his allies.
More on the Potter Manor attack on Page 2: Sirius Black, Death Eater sleeper agent?
"Oh this is a good one." Cedric wiped a tear of laughter from his eye. "You see this, Granger?"
"For the esteemed Ms Brown the only thing more difficult than reporting a factual account of events would be not finding her way into the nearest man's trousers."
"Can you imagine?" Cedric wheezed. "Potter? Taking on a room full of Death Eaters by himself?"
"Stranger things have happened."
"You almost sound like you believe that."
A knock on the office door.
"Enter."
Hermione took a distinct pleasure from the level of respect she was being shown in the department as of late. Her coworkers may be largely Blood Purist pricks, but their self preservation instincts were strong enough not to cross her.
"Chief, there's… the lads need your, uh, eyes on something."
Hermione nodded, motioning for the junior Auror to lead the way.
"The address is Raven's Roost."
Out from the Floo, the first thing she noticed was the smell. Usually, due to the enhanced vision of her magical eye, Hermione could take in the entirety of a crime scene before noticing anything else. Today, her sense of smell overpowered everything.
"He's been dead since Friday last, I'd reckon." Fairview said from behind a bubble head charm. "Told the lads not to touch anything till you got here. Might see something we can't."
"Thank you, Chris." Hermione stepped forward, but a gentle hand from Fairview kept her back. "Yes, Auror Fairview?"
"Brace yourself, Chief."
She nodded, stepping through the broken doorway. Deep gashes slashed the panelling on the walls. The wooden balustrade splintered where something had torn through it with great force. Stuffing covered the living room floor, rent from inside the couches.
A man's torso slumped against a ravaged armchair, entrails drawn over the wooden floor, connected to a one legged abdomen.
"Fuck." Cedric gagged. "Fucking fuck."
Hermione knelt, regarding the inch deep gashes in the man's face.
"His name is Saul Croaker." Fairview explained.
"Foremost Unspeakable." Hermione noted.
"How'd you- never mind. He failed to report to work all week. So we came to check on him."
"What could do this?" Cedric growled.
"Unfortunately…" Hermione sighed, pulling the broken end of a long, serrated bone claw from the wood of the armchair. "I think we have a rather good idea."
"You reckon it was one of those mutants, like the ones that attacked Potter and the Boss?"
"I do." Hermione said quietly, regarding the still-mutated claw. "And this one is still out there."
"I think I'm beginning to understand," Harry hissed through a forced smile. "Why Draco didn't want to be here."
"Isn't it dreadful?" Astoria beamed.
The small venue was packed with healers, nurses and a scattering of ministry employees. Unlike the functions Harry usually found himself at, there was no laughter or dancing. Dreary paper decorations adorned the walls and ceiling.
"Oh shit." Astoria's grin stiffened.
"Astoria." A long, pale faced man monotoned. "I see you've taken up the hobby of collecting Lords."
"Oh nothing of the sort." Astoria laughed. "Harry agreed to step in when Draco had a last minute emergency dropped on him. Harry, this is Hector Silvertree."
"Charmed." Harry held out his hand in greeting, but the man ignored him.
" I could have accompanied you in his stead."
"And rob your partner of the chance to experience this lovely event? I wouldn't think of it."
"You know very well I am unentangled."
"Harry, Hector lectured for the Healer's covenant where I apprenticed. He's a Potions Master."
"Really?" Harry did not need to feign interest. "I'm something of a potioneer myself."
"An OWL score does not count." Silvertree sneered. "Besides, I never discuss my work or methods, as a true Potions Master should."
"I could have work for you. If you're any good."
"As if I'd wish to spend my days brewing contraception decoctions and hangover cures."
"And here I thought you were struggling to find more work?" Astoria squeezed Harry's hand.
"Hardly." Silvertree scoffed. "I just haven't found any clients that interest me. After the intellectually stimulating work my last client afforded, finding anything to interest me seems impossible."
"Must be hard to find anything at all with that stick so far up your arse." Harry said with a fixed grin, watching the man stiffen. "Makes your neck awfully stiff by the looks of it."
"If you find your taste in conversation improving." Silvertree growled to Astoria. "You know where to find me."
"If my taste in conversation improves," Astoria smiled sweetly. "I doubt I'll come looking for you."
Silvertree scoffed, red in the face as he skulked off.
"What a prick." Harry sipped his drink.
"Well you were rather rude."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. I've been trying to get rid of him since my apprenticeship."
"Well, he's got good taste at least."
"Mr Potter!" Astoria playfully slapped his arm. "What would my husband think?"
"Your sister as well."
Harry wished he had the words back the moment he said them. Astoria's grin took on a positively predatory tinge.
"And why would my sister's opinion factor in?"
Harry shrugged, face growing hot.
"No reason."
"Are you seeing each other?"
"We see each other, every now and again. We have mutual friends."
"That so?"
"She's helping me with a personal project." Harry deflected.
"Oh I'll bet she is."
"Tori." Harry sighed, exasperated. "It's not like that. It really isn't. I don't know why I brought it up."
"Maybe because you want it to be like that."
"Tori…"
"I don't mind." She shrugged. "Daphne could do with a proper shagging."
"Tori!"
"And if the tabloids are anything to go by you could give more than a proper one."
"You are insufferable." Harry groaned. "Truly. I can't suffer you."
"Oh don't be such a prissy." She laughed musically. "You'd be good for each other."
"Could we talk about literally anything else?"
"Like?"
"What's the deal with you and Silvertree?"
"Oh that." She grimaced. "He used to be a lecturer at the Covenant. I asked him for help with a potions assignment. He's been infatuated with me since."
"I'm surprised his ego doesn't ruin the potions."
"Could be that's what poisoned the Minister."
"What?" Harry felt his head spin.
"Oh, didn't I mention?" Astoria shrugged, taking a sip from her flute of wine. "Hector was Scrimgeour's personal potion master."
Eyes wide, Harry regarded the beady eyed man glaring at them from across the room.
Harry dropped silently to the stone floor. Through his spectrespecs he noted no wards or alarm charms in the laboratory. Strange for a magical home to have no wards of any kind, especially for a pureblood home.
Before leaving the event, Harry had slipped an enchanted sickle into Silvertree's pocket, following the tracking charm to the man's house after seeing Astoria home and stopping by Potter manor to get prepared.
"Watcher, this is Chimera." He spoke quietly.
"Go ahead, Chimera." Sirius' voice emanated from the locket, charmed so only Harry could hear it. "What's the situation?"
"As luck would have it, Silvertree worked from his personal potions lab, it seems." Harry noted, slowly taking in the space. "A converted muggle garage attached to his home."
"How delightful. Keep me posted."
Harry walked slowly through the space.
"Wooden countertop. Likely used as a Potions workbench."
"In a potions lab? How unorthodox."
"Silver potions knife. Blade is worn down. Well used." Harry inspected the intricately carved handle. "Inscription on the side: 'In Memoriam Necessitas."
"Someone found a Latin dictionary.."
"Cabinet ahead. Most likely spare equipment."
He swung the cabinet open, finding a small rack stacked with vials of potions of various colours and hues. Each was labelled for a different customer.
"It seems Silvertree was less picky than he let on. Two vials here labelled 'Scrimgeour'."
"Think Silvertree's the killer?"
"Let's find out."
Harry tested the vials, nodding in satisfaction when they were revealed to be poisoned.
"The potions were already poisoned before leaving the laboratory. It seems we've found our killer."
"Gonna have a talk with him?"
Harry hesitated before closing the cabinet.
"I'm going to test another vial."
"Why? What do you think you'll find?"
"Silvertree supplied the Minister with potions for years."
"So?"
"Call it a hunch."
The bright red dragonpox cure sizzled as it burned black, smoking as the potion deteriorated.
"This one was poisoned too. Labelled 'Fawley'."
"Archibald Fawley is one of the Dark sitters on the Wizengamot."
"There's more at play here than we thought."
Confusion grew as all the stored potions, including the ones designated for St Mungo's, revealed themselves to be poisoned.
"All poisoned. Including general batches."
"To what end?"
He placed the final potion vial back in its place, pausing to consider his next move.
"I'm going to test the severity."
He flicked his wand, casting a platform charm on the table, then removed a thin length of wood from his belt, leaving it hovering half an inch above the table.
He dropped a single drop from each vial onto the wood, watching as the poisoned concoctions burned varying degrees of holes into the wood.
With many of the potions being healing in nature, the poison's effects were diminished, but it was still strong enough to burn through the wood, leaving sizzling drops floating on his magic platform. After a moment's consideration, he vanished the wood and potion residue.
"As expected, poison is not only resilient, but also extremely voracious."
He removed his pocket knife from his belt, placing it above the table. He repeated the process, watching dispassionately, as the poisons burned through the knife, leaving molten slag. Harry frowned.
"You're making your thinky noises." Sirius piped.
"With a poison this severe, Silvertree would have a hard time containing it."
With his spectrespecs, Harry identified a litany of magical ingredients on the far side of the room. He swung the armoire doors open, inspecting the ingredients.
"Horn of Bicorn, Billywig sting, Cowbane, Dittany… Dragon Blood…"
"That it?"
"Could be."
Harry tested two drops, watching as the decoction spouted green flames.
"Egyptian Smoothclaw." Harry sighed. "Used for Invigoration cream."
"Were any vials marked 'Goyle'?"
Harry turned back to the workbench.
"I'm going to test the equipment next."
He took an empty vial from the rack and filled it a quarter of the way with Identifying Decoction. He swirled the liquid, waiting for it to change colour, but it remained a dull grey. He repeated the process of the rest of the vials.
"Tested the vials. All were meticulously cleaned."
Taking his time, Harry made his way through the laboratory, testing each beaker, plate, bowl, mortar and pestle. Only one decanter held any residue. He watched as the dull grey decoction began glowing with an internal light.
"Brass decanter, enchanted with preservation wards. Used to store unicorn blood."
With a flick of his wand, Harry vanished the decanter's contents, carefully returning it to where he found it. Silvertree was fastidious in cleaning his equipment, but unicorn blood was nearly impossible to fully cleanse.
He lifted the silver potions knife, dipping it directly into a vial for testing. The decoction bubbled and sizzled, finally boiling away.
"I have something, Watcher. The potion knife held residue."
"What kind?"
"Couldn't tell." Harry unstoppered a second vial, casting a quick cleaning charm on the knife. "Taint was too strong. Testing again."
"Strange for a potion master not to clean his knife."
Harry's eyes widened as the second vial of decoction also boiled away, just as strong as before. He ran the blade along the surface of the counter, watching through his spectrespecs as a blackening line of magic seemed to seep into the wood.
"It's the knife."
"How is that possible?"
Harry removed a vial from his belt, pouring a drop of Illumination Cordial on the blade. The blade began to shine slightly, then smoke poured from the edge as the light faded.
"Goblin steel."
"What kind of potions master would use a knife that takes on the aspect of any magical ingredient it touches?!"
"Unless he didn't know."
"How could he not have known?"
"Let's find out."
Hector Silvertree squeaked as a black gloved hand wrapped around his jaw.
"Shhhhh…" Harry hushed, placing a finger to the man's lips with his other hand. "Don't want to wake your neighbours, do we?"
In a flash of silver, he held the potion knife to the man's throat.
"Recognise this?"
Silvertree nodded.
"Good. Unless you want to become a knife holder, you'll keep your voice level. Nod if you understand."
Silvertree nodded again, slipping his hand slowly to his nightstand.
"And before you get any ideas…" Harry lifted the edge of his cloak, revealing the man's wand, safely holstered in his belt.
"What do you want?!" Silvertree hissed. "I've not got any valuables for you to paw off!"
"Except a Goblin Steel knife." Harry whistled. "Very expensive."
"Goblin Steel? You must be mistaken."
The potion knife quivered, embedded in the bedpost by Silvertree's head. He squirmed away as the knife stilled. After long moments in contact with the blade, the wood began to char. It landed on the carpeted floor with a thunk.
With a snap of Harry's fingers, the room buzzed. Tenderly, he grabbed hold of the man's throat.
"Note that I silenced the room." He rumbled. "That means I can hurt you if you won't tell me what I want to know."
"P-please! Please don't hurt me."
"Where did you get the knife?"
"It was a gift. A birthday gift! I received it by Owl at the beginning of the month."
"That matches our timeline." Sirius noted.
"Do you know who sent it?"
"An old colleague! We did our mastery together!"
Harry tightened his grip.
"Name."
"Severus Snape!"
"No fucking way." Sirius gasped.
"Know him?"
"What? Of course I-"
"Quiet. Go ahead, Watcher."
"Went to Hogwarts together. He's a nasty fucker with a mean streak a mile wide. And he's a fucking Death Eater."
"Thank you for your time." Harry straightened, letting his cloak rustle closed around him. He flung the man's wand out through the bedroom window, then turned, walking silent as a ghost to the door.
He paused with his hand on the doorknob.
"One more thing, Hector."
He turned his shining white eyes on the man once more.
"Stay away from Astoria Greengrass." With a rustle of fabric, Harry was gone. His voice echoed in the room.
"I can always pay you another visit. Sweet dreams, Hector."
Heavy, black clouds rumbled in the grey morning sky. Sirius did not bother checking Harry's bedroom. He collected a breakfast tray from Nipsy and carried it up to the study.
Harry held the poisoned knife, rolling it over in his fingers.
"I always knew Snape was rotten." Sirius spat, handing Harry his usual potions.
Harry swallowed them down in quick succession. He turned to Sirius, surprised.
"You didn't put chilli in the Pepper-Up."
"Well, you've actually been sleeping." He shrugged. "I thought the good behaviour was due a reward."
"Oh. Thanks."
"Snape is Potions Professor at Hogwarts, which leaves us with one, insurmountable obstacle."
"The infamous Hogwarts wards." Harry sighed. "Even more difficult to pass since I was never a student."
"Difficult, not impossible?"
"No. Not impossible. I just need a while to prepare. Bending the Chamberlain's Fence without cracking the Oliviera dome is going to be a pain."
"Or… we could go with my plan."
Harry looked up.
"No."
"First of all, I was a student there. So I can get in the wards easier. Second of all, Tom's been Owling me since the Manor was attacked. I have an excuse to be there. Third-"
"You have a hate boner for Snape." Harry pointed with the knife. "You won't be able to keep a clear head."
"He's a psychopath. And a murderer!"
"You're jumping to conclusions."
"Not just Scrimgeour." Sirius slammed his fist into the table. "He's a Death Eater, Harry. And I have reason to believe he got your father killed."
"In twenty years, you've never even mentioned this. Why now?"
"Snape despised your father. Despised all of us. He tried to get Remus expelled four times, once in a NEWT exam!" Sirius visibly calmed himself. "But he was obsessed with your mother. She never wanted him and he could not accept that."
He sat back.
"I could never prove it…" Sirius whispered. "But after seeing your memories of that night… the way Voldemort tried to spare your mother… I can't shake the feeling Snape is what made him target your parents."
"All the more reason that you don't confront him."
"Why do you get to go out there, beat up Death Eaters and shit, but I'm not allowed to avenge the deaths of my best friends!?"
"Sirius-"
"No!" He bellowed. "I have done nothing but support you! Let me have this!"
"You're not thinking clearly." Harry cast a wandless calming charm, carefully hidden from view. "If we go into these situations with a guilty verdict assumed, we're no better than the Death Eaters. Or Snape."
"Fine!" Sirius threw his hands up. "Fucking fine! But you hit him real good when you see him, deal?"
"Deal."
Scratching on the window drew their attention. A pale white grass owl tapped its beak rhythmically against the glass. Harry opened the windows, letting the owl perch on his shoulder.
"I think that's Cyndane. Daphne's Owl." The proud bird turned her head from an offered rasher of bacon, proffering the letter instead.
Potter
I found something that might interest you.
Meet me at the brownstone on 40 Craven St, down the way from Benjamin Franklin House.
Bring your best cloak.
Yours,
Daphne
"Yours, ay?" Sirius wiggled his eyebrows, his earlier rage subsiding as the calming charm took further effect.
"Why would she want me to bring the cloak?"
"Who knows." Sirius shrugged. "Maybe she wants to snuggle under it."
"I think she means Dad's Invisibility Cloak." Harry mused. "She showed some interest in it when she was here."
"When you were giving her a private tour."
"Shove off."
"Have fun on your date!"
Harry flipped him the bird, detaching the cloak from where he had it lining the inside of his feathered cape.
He decided to floo to the Leaky Cauldron, waving and smiling as he passed out into muggle London. He walked down Charring Cross road, passing Trafalgar Square, and turning off from Strand down into Craven St.
He looked up and down the street, waiting in front of a great, brownstone pillar.
"Psst."
Harry spun, trying to find the source of the whisper.
"Potter!" Daphne giggled. "In here you dunderhead!"
Harry turned to the pillar.
"Just walk right into the pillar."
"If this is a prank…"
"I'm not Tori."
Harry walked straight through the wall, into a dark stone spiral staircase.
"This is an Unspeakable Entryway." Daphne beamed. "Each Unspeakable makes their own. It allows us to enter the Ministry undetected, even from each other."
"This goes down into the DoM?"
"Into the Turning Room."
"This is brilliant! Now I don't need to sneak in through the Atrium anymore!"
"Oh. Yes. I suppose you could."
"I take it that wasn't the reason for your letter?"
"No!" She waved her wand, heavy black robes covering her figure. "Follow me! And put on your cloak!"
"Right behind you."
They walked down the spiral staircase, and stepped out through a dark green door into the Hall of Doors in the Department of Mysteries.
"Good Morning, Gazer."
"Morning, Scalar."
"Find your enchanter?"
Harry stiffened.
"They masked their sigs it seems." Daphne's enchanted voice replied. "Couldn't find a match in the Ledger."
"I didn't know that was possible." Scalar shook their head.
"It isn't." Harry noted as he quietly followed after Daphne through the department.
"Not without access to the Ledger, and a significant level of knowledge on its enchantments."
"You hid my tracks?" Harry's eyebrows raised under the cloak.
"Can't have any old Cloak with a bit of knowhow and curiosity learning your little secret now can we?"
"Thank you. Really."
"Any time, Potter."
They stepped out into a lowered antechamber. Inside on a raised stone dais, a veiled archway buzzed with whispers.
Pale sand covered the floor.
"What is that?"
"The Veil of Death."
Harry felt his Invisibility Cloak tighten around his back and shoulders, as if it was being pulled towards the Veil.
"What does it do?"
"Anything that passes into the Veil is lost."
"Lost?"
"If so much as your finger passes the threshold, your soul leaves your body as surely as a Dementor's Kiss."
"This is what you wanted to show me?"
"Your Cloak of Invisibility… I think it's special, Harry."
"Well yeah, it was my dad's."
"Not just that. Come on."
The closer they got, the stronger the pull on his cloak became.
"How many Unspeakables accidentally get pulled in?"
"What?"
"I can't imagine no one's been pulled in."
"Well a few have walked in, and accidents do happen while testing the effects on objects."
"Greengrass!"
They spun around. In the door to the room, four Death Eaters stood.
"Who?" Daphne shouted back.
"No use playing muggle." A Death Eater sneered. "I know it's you."
"Keep them talking." Harry's voice said, quietly.
"Rector?" She asked.
"Clever girl." The Death Eater in the lead sneered. "But not clever enough to keep your nose from the Dark Lord's business. You're coming with us."
Daphne watched as the backmost Death Eater struggled silently, as if grabbed. He crumpled soundlessly to the ground.
"No."
"It wasn't an offer, Greengrass. You've denied us for too long. It is time you learned your place."
"It is time you learned yours."
The Death Eater yelped as a foot slammed into his back, sending him tumbling down the stone stairs.
With a quick slash of her wand, Daphne disarmed the tumbling Wizard, levelling her wand at his chest as he came to a stop.
At the top of the stone stairs Harry snapped an arm out, feeling cartilage crack as his fist slammed into a Death Eater's throat. A sweep from his leg sent the last dark robed wizard falling to the ground.
Harry stepped hard on the man's face.
"You fool." Rector jeered behind his mask. "The Dark Lord always gets what he wants."
"And what is it he wants?" She kept her wand trained on the man's chest.
"Just a chat…"
"You think I believe that?"
"I don't care what you believe." He leapt forward, grabbing Daphne by the wrist. "You will submit or die!"
In a whirl of air, the portkey whipped them away.
"DAPHNE!" Harry cried, spinning to the downed Death Eaters by the door, watching in horror as their unconscious bodies disappeared. Alone in the Chamber of Death, Harry screamed.
