Harry Potter and the Lost Children - part 1 SPOOKS

by TitusOates1

What does a PM do when the Minister of Magic warns that Dark Wizards plan to terrorize and subjugate muggles. He calls in the Spooks.

HARRY POTTER AND THE LOST CHILDREN

PART ONE - SPOOKS

Chapter 1

The British Prime Minister sat alone in his office staring at the large ornate fireplace. He found it difficult to accept what had just happened. His pulse was racing, his breathing was rapid coming in short, shallow gasps and he felt the need to grip the edge of his desk to assure himself he hadn't dreamed it. He had just had a visit from Cornelius Fudge, whom he had met once before soon after he had been appointed as PM. This time, Fudge introduced a new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour.

The visit had been at extremely short notice and announced by a small oil painting of a frog like man in a silver wig hanging on the wall above the mantelpiece. Soon after, two gentleman had appeared in his fireplace accompanied by emerald green flames, a means of transport called the Floo Network.

He looked at his desk and tried to focus. He spoke into the intercom.

"Kingsley can you come in?" he tried to make the request sound casual but he couldn't hide the tension in his voice..

"Yes Prime Minister, I'll come straight away." Kingsley Shacklebolt approached the PM's desk a little sheepishly. He knew his true identity was out, the deception was over. He could tell the PM was doing his best to control his emotions.

"Kingsley, as you are no doubt aware, I have had a visit from the Minister of Magic and his predecessor Cornelius Fudge. They tell me that there is a war taking place in the wizarding world. A war between your Ministry and a powerful dark wizard. A war which if the Ministry were to lose would have dire consequences for muggles, that is normal non magical people. They also told me you have been secreted onto my staff to protect me from these wizards who may seek to control my mind." He paused to get his breath.

"I take it you are aware of all this?"

"Yes Prime Minister" Kingsley gave a reassuring smile which did nothing of the sort.

"Sir, we considered it of the upmost importance that you are protected from any such attacks" Kingsley continued in a clear but hesitant voice.

"Fudge also said that the events such as bridges collapsing were not natural events but as a result of powerful magic spells."

"Yes Prime Minister that is true."

"Sit down Kingsley, tell me what actions would you advise the Prime Minister should take to protect his people from such attacks"

Kingsley sat and faced the PM his features showed he was deeply worried and he paused before answering.

"Prime Minister it is difficult to know what to advise. If the worst comes to the worst and the Ministry of Magic falls you and your government will be in imminent danger. I am sure that the Dark Lord would seek to subjugate those elements of government and the armed forces needed to control the people." Kingsley hesitated and looked at he PM, did he comprehend what was being suggested.

"Sir, I would advise you make plans to abandon Whitehall at a moments notice and retreat to prepared, secure accommodation with adequate defences to repel infiltration by dark wizards and witches. If the worst happens you should also have plans to mobilise the armed forces and security services to defend the populace."

The PM looked at a loss, he was struggling coming to terms with the situation. He stood up and walked to the window.

"You are talking about preparing the country for war. How the hell am I going to explain this. Nobody will believe me they'll think I'm mad. I'd be replaced before the end of the day." He turned and looked at Kingsley "Would your people try and defend us if the worst happens?"

"For myself, I will help where I can but I cannot speak for those who remain. To avoid capture and death they may be compelled to go into hiding or choose to follow the Dark Lord."

"Kingsley I cannot organise a defence without knowing the enemies strength and disposition. Erm... you are no doubt aware we have weapons we can deliver remotely."

"I could not tell you even if I knew where they were which I don't." The PM looked deflated.

"Thank you Kingsley I will think on what you said."

Kingsley rose, surprised by this sudden dismissal and left the room.

The PM sat quietly for a while with his head in his hands he eventually took a sheet of plain paper from a draw and sat quietly composing a note to Colonel Andrew Winstanley a senior officer in MI5 and his oldest friend.

Dear friend what I'm about to relate is beyond top secret and that is why it is transcribed and encoded into our private secret code which I'm sure you will recognise. You will probably think I've lost my marbles I know I would but I assure you every word is true. We (meaning you) must find a way of identifying witches and wizards (good and bad) and neutralising them (no knowing which is which anyway). Their dress and behaviour should give them away but final proof if needed may lie in their genetic make up. You have responsibility (answerable only to me) for maintenance of the nuclear bunker at High Wycombe. I understand it is presently mothballed, open it up. It's seven stories deep below ground level and if properly guarded will make a good base for your operations. Do not respond or contact me directly, a simple acknowledgement that you have received and understood the request delivered indirectly (you know the way) will suffice for now. If I don't recognise a response from you by Thursday I'll know the message has been intercepted. Good luck.

(The narrative continued describing the visit of Minister of Magic and the chat with Kingsley Shacklebolt.)

The PM spent the next hour encoding and transcribing the note. He burnt the original in the fireplace, placed the message in a plain brown envelope addressed it P to Col A Winstanley, Regimental Headquarters, Irish Guards, Aldershot and sent for a courier. Had he done enough. He had to trust that good would prevail over evil. He had considered mobilising the defence forces but it would mean taking ad hoc action against any eccentric with a stick and which would antagonise and alienate the good guys and probably turn the tide in the Dark Lords favour. It was more like a terrorist insurgency than open warfare.

That Thursday he read an message in the lonely hearts section of his local constituency rag. There he found a message to Primula which merely said Stan was sorry that things were not going well but that he'd moved to new premises and was starting to put things right. The PM smiled and gave a sigh of relief. Andrew was in play.

Chapter 2

Detective Chief Inspector Jill Tennyson, nominally a police officer in Special Branch, was on permanent secondment to MI5. She worked for and answered solely to Colonel Andrew Winstanley. Her security clearance gave her access to all information held on the police and security services databases including any personnel files up to and including ministerial level.

Tennyson was young to be a Chief Inspector but she had exceptional mental and physical attributes that made her an excellent undercover operative.

It was late evening and she was just preparing to leave New Scotland Yard when her mobile phone beeped. It was a text from the chief.

Meet me for a drink usual place. C

She switched off her terminal grabbed her coat and hurried out of the building. The car was waiting in a side street close by. She got in the back and found C perusing a file.

"Any joy tracing our mole." C said casually without looking up.

"I think I've narrowed the field to four possibilities. If you would allow my beautifully manicured little mits to squeeze the privates of Jack O'Donnell I'm pretty sure I could narrow it down to one." Jill said sweetly.

"Afraid not, leave his testicles alone, at least for now. Peace is on the cards and O'Donnell will be dealt with in due course."

He looked up and looking straight ahead addressed his compatriot.

"I have been briefed that there is a new threat to our security. It is a secret society of eccentrics with very special abilities. It appears they have their own laws, leaders, courts of justice, schools and avoid any interaction with normal society. However, a dissident faction wants to supplant the leadership of this society with the express intention of subjugating our society to their will. From our view the two groups cannot be distinguished one from the other except as can be perceived from their actions. The brief is to find a way to identify these people of either faction and a method to neutralise them. You with me so far Chief Inspector?"

"Not sure I am sir what is it do you want me to do?"

"The faction fighting is fairly recent. Search the databases over the last 12 months. Find incidents and events which are odd, mysterious or inexplicable, have references to the occult or magic and investigate. Compile a file, a list of names and places. We need to get a feel for this before we decide on any direct action." He's off his trolley were her first thoughts but she'd go along with it.

"Is that it, sir"

"No Chief Inspector, I have a feeling that there are and will be a number of unexplained deaths, bodies to be examined. Such bodies demand examination by pathologists. My pathologists. You will need to react quickly to ensure post-mortems are carried out by the Ministry. If you cannot get the body try taking samples for testing. Hair, etcetera. You know what I mean "

He turned and looked at her "Memorise this number. My people will respond immediately to remove the body to a specialist facility I've created. Are you clear Chief Inspector?"

"Yes sir"

"Good. It is essential you remain undercover. When necessary use this identity. You are Dr Jane Little. Home Office Pathologist" he handed her the file.

"It would be fatal to our operations if this secret organisation suspected that they are being investigated."

She put the file in her bag opened the door and left C to his thoughts.

Chapter 3

Jill Tennyson sat looking at the summary data on her laptop. For the previous month she had each day interrogated the police database and had identified and collated incidents and events which she considered met her chiefs criteria.

Unexplained deaths intrigued her, they fell roughly into three categories and had common factors. Nobody claimed the bodies, there had been nothing to identify the victims and a paucity of personal possessions which she thought indicated theft maybe a factor. The first two categories related to bodies were no external or internal injuries were evident. The victims had died without apparent cause. Some victims seemed to have died peacefully others had bodies so contorted they looked as if they had been tortured. The third set was the worst. The bodies had clearly been subject to a savage attack from a wild animal. Bite marks on the bodies were thought to be canine but the animal must have been huge. In most cases their features were unrecognisable and there was evidence that the animal had fed on the victim before death. Some of the victims were children. A common factor was that the locations were remote. The victims, Jill concluded, were in hiding or trying to evade their pursuers. Consequently discovery was usually some time after death with the bodies in advanced stage of decomposition.

Tonight Jill was monitoring 999 calls to the police. Calls are recorded and a brief summary is recorded by the operator onto the database.

A report flashed onto her screen it said flashing lights and screams heard coming from a house on the edge of Hampstead Heath. Not to far away. She grabbed her coat and her doctor's bag and set of at a run. Her car was just outside and she drove like a maniac to the Heath. She tuned into the police radio frequency. It was encrypted but not for her. Flashing lights seen at rear of Kenwood House. She knew where that was, she ran past it every day.

She got there two minutes behind the police patrol car. She parked her four wheel drive so it was hidden by trees, grabbed her backpack and set of at a dead run for the annex. As she approached she saw a young police officer knocking on the front door. She slowed and, keeping out of site, made for the side of the house. She saw the young officer stoop and heard him shout through the letter box

"Miss Bones are you ok?" No reply.

DCI Tennyson was in police mode now. There was a light coming from a first floor window to the rear of the annex. She made for the ground below the window. A tree grew adjacent. She climbed quickly until she had a view into the room. What she witnessed almost made her loose her footing. A tall man in a long black cloak was pointing what looked like a stick at a body writhing in agony on the floor at his feet. He appeared to be taunting his victim and laughing. He turned his head when he heard the shouting from the front door and Jill saw his face. She was stunned. His features were distorted. His head was skeletal and deathly white. He had wide, livid, scarlet eyes and a flat nose with slits where the nostrils should be. He turned back to the writhing body at his feet. He pointing the stick and a flash of green light lit the room. the person on the floor stopped writhing, he smiled and spread his arms wide in a mocking bow of triumph and disappeared.

Jill was breathing heavily as she climbed down. When she reached the ground she was feeling dizzy close to fainting. She squatted and took deep breaths till she recovered and regained control. She had to get inside and see the body. Time to become Jane Little she thought. What had the police officer called her, Miss Bones. A women then.

The young policeman was beginning to walk back to his patrol car.

"Wait officer I've just seen Miss Bones frantically waving through an upstairs window. She looked in dire need of help and then I saw her collapse."

"Who are you?"

"Jane Little, pathologist at the Home Office, I live nearby"

"Ok Miss Little let's try the front door." It wasn't locked. Jill followed the officer inside

"Which way miss?"

Jill headed for the stairs. She bounded up two steps at a time, across the landing and came to the door she judged was to the room. She tried the handle. The door was locked. Jill squatted to look through the keyhole but her view was blocked by the key. The door had been locked from the inside.

"Are you ok Miss Bones?" the policeman called. No response.

"What's your name?" Jill asked

"Hobden miss, Mathew Hobden."

"Well PC Hobden we need to get inside now. The key is still in the lock and there's gap under the door. See if you can find a sheet of paper and a knife. Pc Hobden saw what she had in mind and went to find the kitchen. Jill took off her back pack and unfolded an A3 sheet from her file and slid it under the door beneath the lock. She unsheathed a flat throwing knife from beneath a flap on top of her back pack and feeling her way gently pushed the key out of the lock. It fell onto the paper. She eased the key through the gap under the door stood and tried it in the lock.

PC Hobden returned breathless "Couldn't find paper Miss, will this do?" and produced a scroll of parchment and an ornate dagger.

"No need I've done it" she said unlocking the door and pushing it open.

Jill saw the body curled into a foetal position in the middle of the room. She hurried over and felt for a pulse. There was none.

"She's dead officer, better call it in. I'll call an ambulance."

PC Hobden headed for the stairs taking his radio from its holder as he left. Jill rang the number she had memorised and said one word "Go." The phone was tagged so they knew where she was. She bent over the body and cut a lock of hair and put it into a small evidence bag. She looked around the room it was in complete disarray. The lady had clearly put up a fight. She noticed a desk under the window and an open book. Miss Bones had been reading when she was attacked. She picked up the book and looked at the title page, A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot and beneath scribbled in an archaic hand property of Amelia Susan Bones - Hufflepuff she also picked up a small potions bottle part filled with a mud coloured liquid. Jill put the book and bottle into her backpack took out a camera and photographed the body and the room. Better to get out now before the cavalry turn up, she went downstairs and was able to avoid PC Hobden who was outside phoning in his report. Inside her car she sat and contemplated what she had witnessed. It was something out of a fantasy horror movie. PC Hobden was still on his radio, she decided to listen in.

"... yes that's right sarge the door to the room was locked from the inside."

"You sure she's dead, son."

"Absolutely sarge there's a pathologist from the Home Office here and she confirmed it."

It was then the fantasy continued. Without warning someone materialized out of thin air just behind the young officer. It was woman, a small flabby toad like woman dressed in a vivid pink knee length cardigan and wearing a pink bow on top of her head. Tennyson was shocked to immobility and could only watch as the woman stepped forward, pointed a stick at PC Hobden and uttered a single word, barely audible, but still picked up by the radio.

"Stupefy".

There was a flash of red light, the young PC stiffened, his movement immediately frozen.

The woman hurried into the house and emerged just minutes later, a look of triumph on her face unable to contain her excitement. "You should not have crossed the minister Amelia, so end all traitors." The woman hadn't realised the PCs radio channel was still open.

Recovering her composure she pointed the stick at PC Hobden

"Enervate" at least that's what it sounded like to DCI Tennyson.

Almost simultaneously the woman dematerialized and was gone. PC Hobden stumbled slightly but quickly recovered his senses and continued his report, unaware of what had just happened.

Jill struggled to catch her breath and regain control. She had no idea how she would explain this to her chief. When her hand stopped shaking she sent a text to her boss

Fleet Street in 20

Chapter 4

At that moment the Prime minister was sound asleep in Downing St. He was gently shaken into conscientiousness by Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"What is it? What's happened? Kingsley this is most irregular and unwelcome can't it wait till morning?" Kingsley waited until the PM surfaced from his slumbers

"No sir it cannot. You maybe in danger."

"Why what's happened?"

"The Dark Lord or one of his followers has murdered the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. She was being hunted by Death Eaters and it seems someone in her own department revealed her whereabouts."

"Just a minute, Kingsley, I'm sure Fudge said she'd been killed a few weeks ago, I think her name was Amelia Bones."

"That's right he did sir, but it wasn't true. Her death was reported to the press but was false. We, that is the Aurors, had persuaded her to go into hiding until the Dark Lord could be found and dealt with. Fudge was not party to the plan"

"But he found her and killed her. Kingsley your people don't seem much good at this protection business? What do you want me to do."

"For the moment, nothing.

DCI Tennyson arrived at the Brew House nodded to the barman who opened the door to the basement. C sat alone with a bottle of single malt and two glasses.

"Your report Chief Inspector."

The car journey had given her time to regain her composure and put her thoughts in order. She delivered a factual report of the evenings events.

"Now sir are you going to tell me what we are dealing with?"

"This is not part of your brief Tennyson. "

"Sir I've just seen a woman tortured and killed by a monster with a stick who then disappeared into thin air. A stick very like this." Tennyson took Amelia Bones's wand from her bag and put it on the table.

"What is it, sir?" with the excessive emphasis on the sir it sounded close to insubordination..

At that moment C's driver descended into basement and handed him a personal organiser.

"It's a message from the PM sir."

C took the organiser from his driver and tapped in a code to decipher the encrypted message. DCI Tennyson waited while her boss read the PM's coded communication.

"Tennyson what I am about to tell you does not go beyond this room. You may leave us Graves." Graves returned to the bar.

"What you witnessed tonight was the torture and murder of the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, a branch of the Ministry of Magic, and from what I can gather by the Dark Lord himself." He paused and looked at the DCI who said nothing.

"In the Wizarding World, Amelia Bones was second only to the Minister of Magic. Her assassination is a direct attack on the governing body for witches and wizards and increases the threat to our own Prime Minister.

I can see you are sceptical Tennyson. Until tonight so was I. Your report confirms the message from the PM. Fortunately, for now, the PM has a protector, a wizard, who woke him to tell him of the nights events and warn him of the threat."

"I'm not denying it sir. I saw it with my own eyes, but I am struggling to get my head round this. Magic, wizards, spells, people materialising and disappearing into thin air right in front of me." She looked down and shook her head. "and how are we supposed to defend ourselves against them."

"I don't know yet, that is the task. Give me what you took from the crime scene and I'll get our scientists to look at it."

Tennyson handed over the hair and the wand but didn't mention the book and the potion.

"Go home Jill get some rest. I need you to get your head round this. I'll be in touch."

Chapter 5

In the months following the assassination of Amelia Bones Tennyson stuck to her brief to monitor the police database and compile a subset of suspicious incidents and events. Disappointingly, none appeared to be directly attributable to the use of magic. She had a feeling the wizards were covering their tracks.

The chief insisted she distance herself from the police investigation, it was not her job and she may bring suspicion on herself which would risk compromising their mission to accumulate intelligence on the activities of this secret society and assess the threat they posed to society.

What the chief was unaware of was the book Tennyson had taken from crime scene, A History of Magic. She had intended to hand it to the chief but because he refused to share information with her she decided to keep the book to see if she could learn how this secret society operated. In the evenings after work she would read and copy the book onto a micro SD card she could read on her laptop.

She was astonished by what she discovered. How could this secret society have a history going back hundreds of years, have a complex social structure, a complete legal system, a system of government, administer justice including incarcerating law breakers, controlling magical creatures and all this secret from non magical people or muggles as the wizarding world called them.

It was in the course of her studies that she became increasingly intrigued on how witches and wizards developed there magical skills and learn to cast spells. It seemed teaching centred on a school for wizards called Hogwarts. It was here that, in their eleventh year, children who had shown magic ability went to train and learn to control magic. The location of the school was unplottable and untraceable. The book said Hogwarts was protected by spells and charms to keep it secret from muggles.

Tennyson discovered that to get to Hogwarts pupils were transported by a special train from London's Kings Cross Station platform 9 at the start of each school term. She determined that she was going to see this.

It was early in the morning in the first week in September and DCI Tennyson was standing midway down platform ten waiting for a northbound train. She looked a typical commuter carrying a doctor's bag except this bag had hidden compartments one of which contained a camera. She was having an animated conversation on her mobile phone and appeared unaware of the comings and goings around her. Appearances can be deceptive. DCI Tennyson was fully focused on what was happening in her vicinity. The platform was fairly busy but at about 9am families started to arrive pushing trolleys with large trunks and cages with a variety of animals. Parents were shouting at there offspring to hurry or they'd miss the train. She then witnessed the impossible. A girl pushed her trolley at a brick arch separating platform 9 from platform 10 and disappeared into it. Over the next 30 minutes the impossibility was repeated many times mainly by young girls and boys and sometimes by adults accompanying them. Some parents said their goodbyes on the platform and their children continued alone. Tennyson thought that the spectacle had ended when she heard a shrill shout behind her

"Hannah Abbott you will miss the train. The Hogwarts Express does not wait for latecomers. That goes for you too Susan Bones" and then more gently "I'm sorry Susan, I know you're missing your mum, as are we all." "Sorry mum" said one "Sorry Mrs Abbott" said the other and both girls ran their trolleys at the arch and disappeared. Mum relaxed, gave a deep sigh, turned and hurried for the exit. Tennyson followed.

Chapter 6

Tennyson followed Mrs Abbott to the taxi rank and heard her ask for the Lucky Bookshop on Willow Road. Luck didn't favour Tennyson today. There was a queue for taxis and she had to wait five minutes before the next taxi turned up. She had no idea where Willow Road was so was surprised to find it ran adjacent to the Heath and only a short walk from the house where Amelia Bones had been killed. She alighted from the taxi but there was no sign of Mrs Abbott and the book shop was closed. Knowing that witches could disappear into thin air Tennyson decided to return to the Yard and do some online investigation.

She traced the daughter first. Hannah Abbot's birth certificate was available to view online and showed she had been borne to Nora Batty and Gifford Abbott in October 1979. The address was St. Bartholomew's Church, Godric's Hollow, Somerset. There were no other online records for either Nora Batty or Nora Abbott or Gifford Abbott and no record that Susan Bones had ever existed.

Tennyson remembered the book mentioned Godric's Hollow. She slotted her SD card into her laptop and opened A History of Magic. She soon found the reference.

Godric's Hollow is one of a number of villages where wizards settled in relatively large numbers after the ratification of the International Statute of Secrecy in 1689. The village is at the end of a narrow road has look-a-like cottages on either side. There are gas lit streetlights at the centre of the village surrounding a square. The village has a little church, and behind it, the village's graveyard. The graveyard is very old and has row upon row of tombstones. The headstones reflect the different wizarding families that are buried there, such as the Abbotts and Peverells.

Tennyson determined she would pay it a visit. Was this the time to update the chief? After the visit she thought. She compiled her weekly report, encrypted it and uploaded it to a remote server.

The following day she set off for the Heath to observe the book shop. Dressed in a long pleated tweed skirt, blouse and dark green cardigan she found a bench in an elevated position on the Heath which offered a good view of Willow Road and the shop front. She sat there ostensibly enjoying the country air absorbed in a book open on her lap She felt faintly ridiculous in the set up but not out of place with her surrounding. The book was, in fact, a digital camera with a powerful zoom and backlit rear screen.

She noted the passersby in Willow Road but nobody visited the shop in the two hours she kept watch least of all Mrs Abbott. She could be a witch using teleportation methods she'd seen before but could she risk checking the shop out. If Abbott was in there she might recognise Tennyson from Kings Cross. I'll have to risk it she thought, she packed up her things and strolled down through the Heath to Willow Rd.

As she approached the front door she saw a sign which she knew hadn't been there before. Closed until further notice it read. Damn she thought I've just wasted half a day dressed in this ridiculous disguise. She peered through the glass pane in the shop door but saw nobody.

"Can I help you?" said a voice from behind her. A voice she had heard before over PC Hobden's radio. Tennyson had excellent hearing and she was fully alert but she was taken completely by surprise. She hadn't sensed a thing. Her heart was racing and she was struggling to keep control as she replied in a voice that belied her heightened level of tension.

"Oh I'm so sorry, dear, let me get out of your way?" Tennyson turned slowly, awkwardly, to face a small toad like woman in a long emerald green cardigan, a vivid purple bow in her hair, ridiculous makeup a child might apply as a first attempt and wearing a sickly smile. Tennyson clumsily dropped her book and slowly stooped to pick it up with left hand and while her right hand was hidden from view she reach down into her bag and grasp the small canister of pepper spray.

"Oh I'm so stupid dropping things all the time. Arthritis you know. I don't know if you can help me, dear. I'm one of those people who love to browse old book shops but the sign says it's closed until further notice. Are you the owner? It's such a shame all these small book shops are closing you get such interesting books. Books you wouldn't get in the large book shops. Oh well, enough of my prattle, let me get out of your way and I do hope you re-open soon." Tennyson moved to pass the witch on her left, the small pressurised canister of pepper spray hidden from view. Willow Road had got busier and Tennyson moved quickly to join a noisy group heading towards town. When she looked back over her shoulder the witch had gone. Mrs Abbott was in trouble, deep trouble the sort that gets you killed in the wizarding world.

Chapter 7

Yaxley left the ministry later that day to make his report to the Dark Lord. He apparated to the gates of Malfoy Manor and was let in by Wormtail.

"You the gatekeeper now Wormtail. Step up from being Snape's housekeeper" . No body treated Wormtail with anything other than disdain.

"The Dark Lord is waiting for you Yaxley, he seems a little impatient."

The smirk quickly faded from Yaxley's face only to reappear on Wormtail's.

A witch opened the ornate entrance doors and showed him into the dining room.

"Yaxley, you've kept me waiting I hope you have something favourable to report." Voldemort sat at the head of the table fondly stroking Nagini. He didn't look up.

Yaxley was standing stiffly at the end of the long dining table and watched the snake slide down to the floor and silently slide pass his legs. Voldemort looked up and fixed his eyes on his servant.

"Come on Yaxley, tell me you have eliminated this Abbott woman. I understand she's a muggle, should be straightforward I would have thought."

"Not yet master. As you know Rufus Scrimgeour let it slip that Amelia Bones was not dead, as reported in the Prophet, but hiding in a Ministry safe house on Hampstead Heath. That Abbott was the housekeeper was only discovered by accident. As you say my lord she is a muggle, but her daughter, Hannah Abbott, is a witch just entering her sixth year at Hogwarts and Umbridge tells me she was one of Dumbledore's Army."

"Ah, one of Potter's gang of rebels" the Dark Lord mused

"Carry on Yaxley. Tell me why wasn't Abbott there when I put Bones to rest."

"We didn't know about Abbott until Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott disapparated when you arrived at the safe house. Both girls are under 17 and we still have the Trace on them. Umbridge spotted they had both used apparition magic at exactly the same time from the same place. Amelia Bones must have told them to leave when she realised you were outside. When Umbridge turned up and couldn't find Bones's wand we knew somebody else had taken it. Logically it must be Mrs Abbott. We have been unable to locate her until the day the girls returned to Hogwarts when both girls apparated to Kings Cross station to catch the Hogwarts Express. Umbridge told me the girls had again used apparition magic and was able to give the exact location. It was a small book shop on a road bounding the Heath. I told Umbridge to go and keep watch until the Abbott woman turned up."

"And did she turn up Yaxley?"

"No my lord, only a muggle trying to get entry to the book shop."

"Yaxley this is entirely unsatisfactory. This Abbott woman has the wand which if retrieved by the Ministry's Aurors will reveal that it was I who dismissed Amelia Bones from her mortal coil."

"We'll find her my lord"

"Tell me Yaxley does Umbridge have any inkling you are one of mine?"

"No my lord, in her ignorance, she has become a willing servant because she believes that Dumbledore and Potter are out to bring down the Minister of Magic."

"Lets keep her in the dark for now. Oh and Yaxley tell Snape to keep an eye on the Abbott girl. She may lead us to her mother yet."

"Yes my lord."

Chapter 8

DCI Tennyson knew the welfare of Mrs Abbott should not be her concern but found it hard to focus on anything else. Her only comfort was she was sure Mrs Abbott had known her life was in danger and had made preparations to disappear as soon as the girls were safely back in school.

Godric's Hollow was the key but if she pursued that line she would be in danger of compromising the whole operation and maybe putting her own life in danger.

Before risking all she decided she had to document what she had discovered and what she knew. The chief knew nothing of this and would probably sack her when he found out. Consequently she spent the remainder of the day typing up her notes. She copied these together with the photo files of Kings Cross and a digital copy of the History of Magic onto a personal folder on the secure server. If anything happened to her the chief would find it.

The next day she stuffed a change of clothes into a backpack and left early for the West Country dressed like a rambler. South on the M3 out of London and West on the A303 to Somerset and north on single track roads along the east edge of Exmoor. The turn off for Godric's Hollow was accompanied by a no through road sign. The approach was downhill via a narrow unmade road. It was situated in open exposed moorland and quite isolated.

She saw cottages in the distance and as she approached the outskirts a sign adjacent to an open gravel area with a couple of parked cars.

No parking in the village. Please leave your vehicle in the car park.

No quick getaway from trouble here, in for a penny in for a pound, she thought. She parked her car and extracted a set of magnetic number plates from the boot to cover the real ones. She locked her car, slung her backpack, put her compass and map round her neck and headed for the village.

The main road through the village had cottages on either side. They were identical and seemed very old. The road led to the centre of the village and to a square with a post office, a pub, and a church with a large graveyard behind it. In the middle of the square was a war memorial. It was lunchtime and Tennyson headed for the pub. Outside it looked just like the cottages except for a sign saying Bear and Ragged Staff swaying freely on its bracket. The door to the pub opened to a bar area where a ruddy faced landlord was leaning on the bar talking to what Tennyson could see as his only other customer. She smiled "Hello, are you open" and went to the bar.

"We are miss, what can I get you?"

"Pint of your best ale landlord"

The landlord pulled a pint and said "On a walking holiday miss?"

"Yes, just rambling around Exmoor but I thought I'd take the opportunity to visit my aunt"

"Oh yes miss and who would that be?"

"Aunt Nora" Tennyson looked closely at the landlord. "Nora Abbott, do you know her?" It was the landlord's turn to look closely at Tennyson as he handed her the pint. "No miss, can't say as I do" she put some change on the counter and took a drink of her beer.

"That's a shame. Last time I saw Aunt Nora was when she brought baby Hannah to see us up in Yorkshire. Maybe you know her husband Gifford. Aunt Nora said there had been Abbotts living in Godric's Hollow for generations."

"Before my time miss."

"Not to worry it was only on the off chance. Still I wouldn't mind looking around. Do you have any rooms I need a B and B for tonight."

"Afraid not miss but try the post office I think she lets locals put cards in the window. You might find one advertised there."

Tennyson took her beer and sat by the window. She checked her mobile - no signal. Great.

The only other customer in the bar left his stool and looking in her direction said "Right Jack I'll be off now."

"Ok Fred mind how you go" Fred left.

Tennyson quickly finished her beer and followed him. The look Fred gave her said he had something he wanted to impart.

Fred was standing looking into the Post Office window. Tennyson wondered over and standing shoulder to shoulder started looking through the cards.

"You might try the Vicar he knows everybody and might give you a room for the night. He'll be in the church preparing for Evensong" Fred said quietly under his breath, turned and walked away.

Tennyson watched him go by the reflection in the glass. She looked through the cards. No B and Bs.

She crossed the square to the church and then through a kissing gate into the graveyard. She checked the headstones. There they were as the book said, generations of Abbotts, Peverells, Dumbledores and Potters. This was a magical place and maybe a dangerous one.

She wandered to the front of the church and found a notice board. The inscription on the wooden surround in faded gold lettering read.

The Reverend Benjamin Daniel Allen, welcomes all to the Church of Saint Bartholomew's in the parish of Godfric's Hollow.

The door was open and she went inside. A disembodied voice spoke.

"Yes, can I help you?" a little, grey haired old man stood up near the altar and looked at her.

"Sorry father are you busy I can come back"

"No, no child come in, it's not often I get visitors. How can I help you?"

"I'm trying to find my Aunt, Nora Abbott, but nobody seems to have heard of her."

"Nora Abbott you say. I didn't know she had any relatives."

"Oh, she is here then."

"Not that I'm aware. Haven't seen her since her husband died. He's buried in the church yard."

"Oh that is disappointing you've no idea where she moved to?"

"London I think"

"Oh well, sorry father I'll leave you in peace." Tennyson turned to leave and then turned back

"Er could you pass on a message if you see her. Tell her, her old friend Amelia passed away suddenly not so long ago and left something for her daughter, a book. A book on magic." The vicar paused and stood quite still studying Tennyson. He then smiled and simply nodded his head. Tennyson smiled and turned to leave paused and turned back a second time

"Er you don't know where I could get a room for the night do you?"

The vicar look at her, his manner was cooler now but not unfriendly.

"I don't think anybody does B and B in the village, my dear, but if you're not fussy I can let you stay the night in the Rectory."

"Oh, if it's not too much bother that would be great. Thank you so much"

"What's your name miss?"

"Batty, Janet Batty."

"Come then let me show you to your room"

They traversed the graveyard and found the rectory. Picture book stuff Tennyson thought. Cottage in style, stone portico, small leaded windows and lots of ivy. The Reverent Allen led her to an upstairs bedroom, sparsely furnished, but comfortable with a view over the graveyard. He apologised but said he would have to leave her and gave her a front door key. Tennyson said that was ok she wanting to take a stroll round the village anyway.

Tennyson took a quick tour of the house which was large when compared to the cottages in the village. The remainder of the house was similar to the bedroom. Little in the way of creature comforts. Typical man's house she thought. The only concession to creature comforts was a tabby cat lying on a hearth rug in front of the fireplace

She tickled it under it's chin before leaving by the front door taking her backpack with her and began her stroll around the largely empty streets.

Most cottages in the village were neat, well kept with well tended gardens but others, usually clustered together at the end of a cul de sac, were different. These had a neglected, shabby look, peeling paintwork, dirty windows, drawn curtains, wild, overgrown gardens with waist high nettles and brambles and plants she didn't recognise, all seemingly to discourage the inquisitive.

Her first thought was that these properties had been abandoned, their owners having left for pastures new but instinct told her these were the homes of wizards and witches and their appearance was manufactured to discourage attention from the inquisitive and curious.

It was early evening and the light was fading. Maybe they come out at night like vampires. She needed a vantage point where she could observe unseen. The bellfry. She made her way back to the church. Evensong had finished but the door had been left unlocked. Maybe the vicar was in the vestry or had returned to the rectory. She found the bell ropes and next to them the door to the tower. It had a hasp and staple and was padlocked. Tennyson took out her set of lock picks and had little difficulty springing the padlock. The heavy oak door creaked as she eased it open. She held her breath and waited. Nobody came. The door revealed steeply winding stairs with a rope handrail threaded through cast iron rings. Closing the door behind her she made her way up till she reached the trap door to the bell chamber. It was unlocked. She pushed the trap door up and over. It fell back against the timber floor with a bang. She waited again, certain somebody must have heard. Nobody came. The bell chamber housed a single large bell slung from a heavy oak beam. Typically there were four openings in the steeple walls to carry the sound out and call the faithful to pray. Each opening was big enough for Tennyson to lodge herself inside and taken together provided her with a clear view of most of the village. She chose the opening giving the best view of the cul-de-sac and made herself comfortable.

The daylight faded quickly and the street lights around the square flickered on. They must be ancient, the light they cast seemed almost Victorian. There was just one light at the opening to the cul-de-sac whose limited glow lit only its immediate vicinity. Almost no light penetrated down the cul-de-sac.

Tennyson reach into her backpack and retrieved her night vision camera. It took a second to come up to speed but as it did the street came dimly into view. Nothing moved, then Tennyson caught site of a cat making it's way from streetlight on the main road and down the cul-de-sac. It looked like the vicar's tabby. Near the end of the street it stopped, turned and sat looking back the way it had come. After a second or two it stood, stretched and slowly looked around as if making sure it wasn't being observed and suddenly transformed into a woman, an old woman in a long cloak. The woman turned and hobbled to a cottage. The nettles, brambles and other plants swayed out of her way and revealed a path to the door which opened as she approached. She entered and the door closed behind her. Tennyson was stunned. The book mentioned some wizards had the ability to transfigure into animals. Tennyson had seen her first Animagus do the opposite and she was relieved the transformation had been caught on her night vision camera. Along with all the other events she'd recorded she doubted the chief would believe her otherwise.

The rectory was deserted when she returned and quietly let herself in. No sign of the vicar or the cat but she found cheese and bread on the kitchen table and a note.

Visiting a parishioner. Help yourself to the cheese and bread. There's tea and coffee on the worktop. If you prefer there's a beer for you in the fridge. The phone is in the hall if you need to use it and I'd be grateful if you would take any messages for me if it rings.

Thanks

Rev Benjamin Allen

Tennyson was starving and was grateful for the simple meal the vicar had left for her. She made herself a coffee and sat at the table mulling over the evenings events. The book was right, it had been all along. It wasn't a work of fiction and she no longer doubted it's authenticity. She had to get this down in writing and call it in. There was no mobile signal anywhere in the village but if the vicar's landline worked she could dial-in a report to her computer using her PDA. She retrieved it from her back pack and started to tap out a brief report of her visit while tucking into the bread and cheese. Half hour later she was ready to send. She found the phone, checked for a dial tone, replaced the handset and unplugged the phone from the wall socket. She had a cable that would connect to her PDA. She confirmed she had a connection and dialled into her computer. It answered with the usual shush and beep sounds. The handshaking protocol was working. They were talking to each other. It took only seconds to transmit the message, following which she terminated the link and reconnected the vicar's phone. Back in the kitchen, for security, she deleted the message from her PDA.

Almost immediately the phone rang. She wandered back into the hall and answered.

"Hello, I'm sorry the vicar isn't here at the moment. Can I take a message?".

Silence. Tennyson repeated the greeting.

"Who are you? I don't have a relative called Janet Batty?"

More silence Tennyson hesitated, was this being recorded, should she hang up. No, she was pretty sure wizards lacked the technical ability to monitor phone calls. She turned round and saw the cat sitting not three metres away.

"Oh I'm sorry dear I must be mistaken." She hung up and immediately dialled 1571. The automated response asked if she wanted to be reconnected and gave the number of the person she was calling. She memorised it and hung up.

Tennyson grabbed her back pack from the kitchen and left the rectory. She'd come close to being exposed but she urgently needed another phone the area code of the phone number was for the village. Where to? The pub must have a phone. She hurried across the square, gathered herself and entered.

It was busier than before but she didn't spot anyone who she thought looked like a wizard it was just village residents. She crossed to the bar and faced the barman, Jack, who was pulling a pint.

"You left a bit quick. Take it you found somewhere to stay."

"I think so, but need to confirm it. Have you a telephone I can use?"

Jack went to the end of the bar reached down and put a phone on the counter.

"Thank you, can you pull me a pint while I make the call Jack."

She picked up the receiver checked for a dial tone and rang a London number.

"New Scotland Yard how can we help?"

"Could you put me through to the duty officer in CID."

A voice answered

"Is that you Billy, its DCI Tennyson."

"Long time no see, guv. How can I help you"

"I need you to look up the address for this number and it's urgent"

"Life or death urgent?"

"Could be Billy" and she gave him the number.

Thirty seconds later he came back. "Its very near where you now guv" and he gave her the address. It was in Godrics Hollow and it was a place she knew, she'd past it on her stroll. She replaced the handset put some change on the bar and left.

The address was a cottage on the main road out of the village. She walked quickly hoping she wasn't attracting attention. It was a neat and well kept. Not a wizards home she thought and there was a light on.

She checked the road, nobody about, knocked on the door, zipped her jacket up over her mouth and pulled down her hood. Only her eyes were visible.

No response. Jill stooped, pushed back the letter box and shouted.

"Nora, I must speak to you please open the door."

She stood back and waited. The door opened a fraction.

"Who are you?" Nora whispered, deep apprehension in her voice and on her face.

"Who I am doesn't matter but I think I've you are in danger. It's about Amelia Bones. I was there the night she was murdered. I took things from her room. They want them and they think you have them. " Nora said nothing.

"Listen two days ago I was outside the door of the Lucky Book shop. A witch apparated right behind me. She hesitated when she realised I wasn't you. It gave me a chance to escape into a group of passers-by, but it was close."

Nora said nothing but suspicion registered in her eyes.

"Let me show you something Nora" Tennyson took out her camera and scrolled through her photos until she found the ones she took in Amelia Bones's bedroom. She held them up for Nora to see. Nora's eyes widened and her hand came up to cover her mouth.

"Listen remember this number call it and leave a message if you need help." Tennyson gave her the number and repeated it. "Got it" Nora nodded.

"I have to go." The door closed.

Tennyson headed back to the pub. The car park was isolated and unlit, better seek protection. She opened the door and found it was quite busy which was what she hoped.

"Gentlemen, a drink for anybody who will help me get my car started. I think it might only need a push." She did her impression of a helpless female. It worked.

"Aye, alright miss, lead the way" came the general response.

Tennyson took out her purse and put forty pounds on the bar held down by a beer glass, winked at Jack and led her gang of white knights out into the dimly lit streets.

Chapter 9

Andrew Winstanley, known to his staff simply as C, sat in front of his laptop in his windowless office, situated at one of the lower levels of a vast underground bunker, trying to absorb and rationalise the reports and information that his trusted field agent, DCI Tennyson, had sent him.

She had, in short order, identified and documented the abilities and activities of a secret organisation of magical beings that co-existed alongside his world of non magical people and who, incidentally, were derogatorily, referred to as muggles.

What she discovered was stuff that belonged to the world of fantasy and legend, to a sub culture occupied by wizards and witches, elves and goblins. Beings that had the ability to disappear and reappear elsewhere at will, to transport through solid objects, to transfigure into different forms and creatures, to bend powerful magical forces, beyond his understanding, to their will with which they cast spells that could torture, control minds and kill without the slightest evidence of injury.

What was worse was there was a war going on for the control of the wizarding world which posed a real threat to human society. A threat that would subjugate and control the minds and activities of people to the will of mages. The perceived threat that these beings posed had now coalesced into a specific event. He had only recently learned of an attack on a Junior Minister in the Home Office, Herbert Chorley. The report was he'd been subjected to a clumsy attempt at mind control. The result was he required treatment at a hospital called St. Mungos under the strict care of specialist witches and wizards referred to as Healers. A hospital to which no muggle had access. From a security point of view it was a complete disaster.

He put this to one side and his thoughts returned to Tennyson. Her task had been to search and identity activities and events that could be ascribed to the exercise of magic and report back. She had, as any good agent would, gone way beyond her brief and thrown a spotlight on this secret magical world.

Tennyson had no knowledge of the bunker, the people who occupied it or its true mission and it had to remain that way. Knowledge in this secret world was disseminated on a strictly need to know basis and she had no need to know what they were up to. In fact if the wizarding world were to find out then they would consider themselves to be the ones under threat.

There was a knock at the door. The chief closed the lid on his laptop.

"Come in John"

Commander John Lockyer RN, ex deputy head of biological weapons research at Porton Down entered and closed the door behind him. He was dressed in a white lab coat and was carrying Amelia Bones's wand although he had no idea what it was or who it belong to.

"You asked me to have another look at this."

"Yes discovered anything new?"

"Not really. We think the wood is elm and there is something in the core we cannot identify unless you give us license to dissect it, which, so far, you refuse to sanction " C sighed in resignation.

"I'm sorry John, for now it must remain intact. Leave it with me"

John nodded, rose and left.

C sat back reflecting on what he'd discovered so far. His team had been able to extract DNA from a number of bodies that Tennyson had identified from the database as possibly being witches or wizards. But so far only the genes extracted from Amelia Bones hair had revealed a distinct abnormality. Her genome showed an inversion. A single gene had inverted and new additional DNA had attached itself to the end of the gene sequence. No one in his team had any idea what the effect of the mutation might be. Inversions were not uncommon but as far as the geneticists could see this one was unique. C was hoping it could provide a template for identifying members of the magical community, but they really needed more wizard DNA before formulating an hypothesis.

Chorley was the more immediate problem. He opened his laptop and drafted a message to Tennyson.

Chapter 10

Tennyson read and reread the brief from the chief.

To DCI Tennyson - for your eyes only.

Three months ago Herbert Chorley, a Junior Minister at the Home Office, was subject to an attack by dark witches or wizards using a mind control spell called the Imperius curse (a spell strictly illegal in the wizarding world). The attempt failed but he suffered brain damage leading to degradation of cognitive function and resulting in infantile behaviour.

The questions that concern us are

1. - Why Chorley? What was the motive? What did they hope to achieve?

2. - Was he their only target or have there been others? Was he a single failure out of many successes?

What is just as concerning is that he is unavailable for questioning. Currently he is being treated at a hospital for magical maladies and injuries by specialist witches and wizards (referred to as Healers). The hospital, called St Mungo's, is at a hidden location somewhere in London and has protective spells making it inaccessible to muggles. However Chorley's wife agreed to his release to their care subject to her having visitation rights and a guarantee that there would be no attempt to alter (obliviate) her memory.

To date it looks like little progress has been made and the PM has recently requested that Chorley is released to the care of his family. This is being strongly resisted. The response from the Ministry of Magic is that Chorley is unlikely to recover his faculties without the continued care and treatment of the staff at St Mungo's. In fact they warn that any attempt at psychiatric treatment by muggle doctors could make his condition worse.

Your brief - Adopting your Home Office identity as cover, seek out and interview Sandra Chorley find out what she knows and learn what you can about the treatment and prognosis. If you can, discover what has been done to identify the perpetrators. Have they been neutralised.

I've arranged clearance with the Home Office and I'm giving you temporary access to MI5's security file. The link is below.

As always please maintain security and secrecy at all times.

Kind regards

C

Tennyson came to the conclusion she was the only field agent actively pursuing these lines of enquiry. It was about time the chief drafted a few more bodies into the operation.

She looked up Chorley's home number and rang. The phone was answered immediately "Hello"

"Is that Mrs Chorley?"

"Yes, how did you get this number?" suspicion registered in her response.

"My name's Jane Little and I work for the ministry. I got your number from the file. We haven't met but I need to talk to you about your husband."

"What is it you want to know?" her tone was guarded.

"I don't want to put you to any trouble but for security reasons I think it better if we meet face to face. I can come to your home if you wish but it's pretty urgent, would tomorrow be ok?" hesitation, Mrs Chorley was holding for somebody's approval.

"I can give you an hour tomorrow morning at ten"

"That would be great, I've got your address, see you tomorrow"

That was easier than she anticipated. Too easy, Tennyson was fairly sure the call was being monitored. Whoever was listening in must have confirmed it was ok.

Tennyson spent the remainder of the morning online reading the file the chief had granted her access.

Chorley had ministerial responsibility for maintenance of ancient monuments and shrines. Neither his background or the portfolio justified ministerial office and his record was unimpressive. That was hardly surprising, responsibility these days fell on the National Trust, the Church Commissioners and Local Authorities and Chorley was happy to let them get on with it. He had a lot of spare time. His main claim to fame was being the PM's nephew and adviser on party political matters. He will go far Tennyson thought cynically.

She turned to his diary and worked back through the record to the period immediately prior to the attack. And then it hit her, a diary entry showed there had been a visit to Godric's Hollow. That was a connection she hadn't expected. What was he doing there? She guessed there must be a connection with someone in the village but the diary gave no details.

Tennyson then turned her attention to Sandra Chorley. The file gave her maiden name as Bulstrode. Further digging revealed she had a brother named Reginald and had an address in Surrey but there the trail ended.

"That is peculiar, no history prior to her marriage to Chorley. What are you hiding Sandra Bulstrode. And where is to your brother." Tennyson murmured to herself. Maybe she would find out tomorrow.

The Chorley's were well off. They had a cottage in the Surrey Hills with easy access to Westminster.

Tennyson woke early and applied her Jane Little disguise. A long black wig, dark makeup to face and hands to give her middle eastern colouring, contact lenses to disguise her blue eyes, thick rimmed spectacles and dentures to reshape her mouth.

She threaded through London traffic in her four by four and despite heavy traffic on the Dorking road arrived on time.

The entrance was gated with a call system. She pressed the call button.

"Yes can I help you?"

"Mrs Chorley? It's Jane Little." There was a click, the gates swung slowly open and Tennyson drove down a gravel drive into a large paved courtyard and parked the car. The cottage had extensive, well maintained gardens with mature shrubs and trees providing a high degree of privacy. The perimeter had a security fence, eight foot chain link topped with razor wire. There was only one other car parked in the courtyard, a ministry car designated for the personal use of junior ministers. It was dusty and looked little used.

The front door opened as Tennyson approached and she was greeted by Sandra Chorley looking every inch a minister's wife, neatly dressed without a hair out of place and wearing a welcoming smile.

"Please come in Miss Little, or shall I call you Jane."

"Whichever you prefer Mrs Chorley."

"I imagine you'll want to take notes so I hope you don't mind if we use the dining room."

"Not at all Mrs Chorley whatever is convenient."

"Tea?"

"Oh, yes, thank you." Mrs Chorley rose and crossed to the door, opened it and called out.

"Mrs Thomson could we have tea please, in the dining room."

A voice from down the hall responded. Tennyson couldn't make out the response. Mrs Chorley returned to her seat opposite Tennyson.

"Now, how can I help you."

"I'd really appreciate using your loo."

"Of course, down the hall and it's the door on the left opposite the kitchen."

Tennyson rose and made her way down the hall and stopped outside the kitchen. The door was open. Thomson stood over a worktop with her back to Tennyson. She must have sensed Tennyson's gaze as she quickly turned and stared straight at her. In the process she knocked over the teapot which fell and shattered on the kitchen floor.

"I'm sorry Mrs Thomson I startled you. I was looking for the loo."

Tennyson had a chance to get a good look at her and was taken aback Thomson looked and moved like an old bag woman. Unkempt hair and clothes, no dress sense and colour blind given the odd combination of her attire. Thomson said nothing but pointed to the door across the hall, her demeanour though was full of silent menace. Tennyson made for the loo. Once inside she was pleased to find it had a side hung window big enough for her to climb through. Using a Swiss army knife she loosened the screws on the window lock and casement stay pins. She sat and waited a few minutes before flushing the loo and leaving. Thomson was nowhere to be seen. Tennyson stole across the kitchen and lifted the tea cosy the teapot was intact. She hurried back to the dining room and found tea had been served. She made an excuse about her tummy and left the tea untouched.

"Forgive me Mrs Chorley I should have asked. How is your husband? It's a long time since we've seen or heard from him and his uncle is keen to know how he progresses."

"You know the Prime Minister, Miss Little?"

"Oh no, never met him, but he asked for someone who could check on his nephew's situation and report back. I drew the short straw I'm afraid. I understand he's had a mental breakdown. Have you any details?"

"Well dear I'm afraid to say progress is rather slow. He had a seizure some three months ago and since then his behaviour is best described as that of a maladjusted four year old."

Tennyson referred to her file

"He's in St. Mungo's I understand. Checked with the NHS, not listed in any capacity, not even an address?"

"Special hospital, dear, privacy is paramount, and very secure, impossible to find unless accompanied."

"Mrs Chorley would it be okay if I accompanied you on your next visit so at least I can report that I've seen the Minister."

"I'm afraid not, my dear, 's only agreed to treat him if I, and I alone, had visiting rights."

"I understand Mrs Chorley but can you tell me what brought on the seizure. It seems to have occurred on a trip he made to a place called Godric's Hollow but there is no detail of what he was doing there or who he was meeting or if it was part of his ministerial duties, if it was, there should be a record or at least notes."

"It was a private visit, dear, we were taking a short break to see my brother who lives there."

"I didn't know you had a brother. I should add it to the file if he's you next of kin. What's his name and address?"

"I'd rather not say, he wouldn't like it if I gave out details like that."

"That's somewhat irregular. Can you tell me what brought on the seizure?"

"Not really one minute he was fine and the next he was on the floor having a fit."

"That was at your brother's place?"

"Yes.

"Was he seen by a doctor? Did he go to A and E? Which hospital would that be?"

"My brother examined him, he a specialist in these afflictions and determined Herbert should be sent to 's immediately if he was to stand any chance of a cure."

She's lying Tennyson thought. The chief was clear, Herbert Chorley had been cursed. She's protecting her brother.

"I'm sorry dear I really must ask you to leave now. My appointment at the hospital has been brought forward."

"Oh, are you going alone? Perhaps I could drive you there. Maybe if I pleaded they might let me see your husband."

"I'm afraid not dear, Thomson always accompanies me and I'm sure they won't allow anybody else inside."

Tennyson could see Mrs Chorley was becoming increasingly agitated and evasive, time to go she thought.

"Of course Mrs Chorley, maybe we could continue later. Please give my best to your husband." Mrs Chorley smiled weakly and rose.

Tennyson closed the file and put it in her bag, thanked Mrs Chorley for her time and left. She sat in her car and pondered the visit. Thomson was a surprise and was certainly a witch but Tennyson didn't think that about Mrs Chorley. Was Mrs Chorley under the witches influence or control or maybe her brothers? She wanted a look round and decided to park up and wait till the pair had left. Better let the chief know. She drafted a text, encrypted it, and sent it to the chief's secure number.

The gate opened as she approached and she turned down the lane to return to the highway. The cottage was located on the lower slopes of a hill and it occurred to Tennyson that if she could gain sufficient elevation she might be able to observe the cottage unseen. As she approached the main highway she found a track on her left heading uphill into wooded slopes. She took the turning, engaged four wheel drive and followed the track until she found a spot where she could park her car and which allowed a clear view of the cottage.

The undergrowth provided good cover while allowing observation of the cottage and surrounds. She chose the best spot and settled down to await developments.

She didn't have to wait long. The front of the cottage had a gable and at the top of the gable was a small window. Her focus was on the window when she saw a barn owl wrapped around its leg.

"Now I wander where you're going" she said to herself.

It was another hour before anything else happened. This time Mrs Chorley and Thomson left together taking the ministry car, Mrs Chorley driving. Perhaps witches don't need to drive, maybe they use brooms she mused. The contrast between the two was startling, Mrs Chorley a picture of sartorial elegance and Thomson the scruffy bag lady. The gates opened and closed automatically and they were gone.

Her phoned beeped. It was a text from the chief.

No record of a housekeeper called Thomson. Not supplied by Home Office. Looks like Mrs Chorley recruited her herself. Take care.

Time for a little breaking and entering. She removed her hippy clothes to reveal black tights and jumper to which she added a mask, gloves, hoodie and back pack. She hadn't seen any security cameras but if she was caught they wouldn't be able to identity her as Jane Little, or anyone else for that matter.

She crept down the slope, maintaining cover in the undergrowth, and made her way to the rear of the property. She found the security fence and removed a square of rip stop canvas from her backpack. She climbed the chain link, covered the razor wire with the canvas, rolled over the top and dropped down inside the grounds.

The rhododendrons were high and thick and provided good cover as she made her way silently to the rear of the house and the toilet window.

She eased her knife into the gap and levered the window open. Once inside she removed her trainers, replaced the screws in the window lock and stay and secured the window. There would be no clue indicating that had been the means of entry.

Although she had no idea what she was looking for, her search was quick and methodical. In the library she found a letter rack with Mrs Chorley's letters still in their open envelopes. Ignoring the various bills Tennyson concentrated on the letters addressed personally to Mrs Chorley. She removed, photographed and replaced each letter in it's envelope and returned them to the rack careful to keep them in sequence. Downstairs, all the rooms and cupboards were unlocked and nothing struck her as unusual or out of place. Upstairs was the same until she opened a door that revealed a narrow enclosed staircase leading up to, what she presumed, was the attic. There was a locked door at the top but the lock was a simple Yale which presented no obstacle to an accomplished burglar such as Tennyson. She put her ear to the door and hearing nothing picked the lock and eased the door open. It was a dimly lit bedroom, the ceiling following the line of the roof. The only light coming from an open window high in the gable. Tennyson guessed it was Thomson's room. It was quite different from the remainder of the house and reminded her of Amelia Bones's bedroom at her home in Hampstead.

The room was sparsely furnished, just a bed with a bedside table, a writing desk and chair with parchment and quills, a bookshelf, a mirror and a locked trunk. In the gable wall was the window overlooking the courtyard, now closed, and in the eaves a roost for the owl.

Tennyson tried the trunk. There was no visible lock and Tennyson guessed it had been magically sealed. The bedside table had a newspaper. Wow, she thought, they even have there own newspapers. It was called the Daily Prophet but there was no time for reading newspapers. She opened it up and photographed each page before replacing the paper on the bedside table. Next to the newspaper was a potions bottle. She'd seen a similar one on Amelia Bones's table. This one had a label that simply read Polyjuice. Sounds innocuous enough, she thought, and pulled off the glass stopper. It contained a grey liquid and had a slightly nutty smell. She touched the bottom of the stopper with her tongue. A slight taste of almonds, she thought, and replaced the stopper and put the bottle in the same position she found it.

Time to go, no telling when those two birds will return and then it hit her. She went quite dizzy and weak at the knees. Her vision blurred and she thought she was going to faint. She sank to the floor supported on her hands and knees and, for seemed an age, fought to maintain consciousness. Gradually the effects dissipated. Her hands and sleeves had changed. No gloves, no hoodie and no mask. She pushed herself up and steadied herself on the bed. She looked across the room and caught her reflection in the mirror. The shock caused her to cry out and sink to her knees again with her arms supported on the bed. It was Mrs Chorley looking back at her, indistinguishable from the original. Panic gripped her. Tennyson had never had a panic attack in her life but she was losing control, she couldn't move or breathe and was in danger of passing out. She looked away and the dizziness returned. She looked back and realised the change was reversing. For what seemed like an age she watched as her features returned to there normal state.

The panic attack subsided and Tennyson sat on the bed trying to regain self control. She took deep breaths to calm herself and to recover her composure. Right, she thought, the chief will definitely want a sample of that. She took a small vial from her back pack and carefully dripped a few drops of the potion into the tube. She sealed the vial and put it into her back pack.

Tennyson knew she'd already been there too long. She took a final look around the room but her gaze lighted on the single book on the shelf, Advanced Potion Making by Libatius Borage. She took it down and thumbed through the index until she found Polyjuice Potion. She definitely wanted the instructions for that. She found the reference in the index, turned to the relevant page, photographed the recipe and returned the book to the shelf.

The Yale had a simple spring loaded mechanism that engaged when the door was closed she left hopefully leaving no clue to her visit.

Downstairs and straight to the kitchen The kitchen door had another Yale lock she opened the door and was about to leave when realisation struck her, Mrs Chorley was not the real Mrs Chorley. Question - was the real Sandra Chorley still here in this house? First things first, she thought, and sent another message to the chief.

Get Chorley out of St Mungos. A witch or wizard is impersonating Mrs Chorley and maybe responsible for the damage to his mind.

Tennyson was fairly sure that there was nobody in the house, but what about outside. Maybe the house had a cellar. Somewhere somebody was tapping on a window. Her phoned beeped. A text.

GET OUT NOW - THEY ARE ON THEIR WAY BACK. Meet me at usual place at 6.

Damn, no time left. Tennyson put on her trainers and left by the kitchen door taking care she left no tracks. As she reached the fence she heard a car crunching through the gravel by the entrance gate. That was close. She scaled the fence, retrieved her canvas cover and dropped down outside the security fence.

She was in a hurry but needed to stay hidden and so took a deliberately circuitous route back to her car. Without wasting any time she set her camera to burst mode and maximum zoom and trained it on the circular window. An owl was perched on the window cill tapping on the glass. The window opened, the owl flew in and Tennyson caught sight of a face. The camera managed at least five shots before the window was quickly closed. Time to go and meet the chief.

Tennyson sat alone in the cellar of the Fleet Street pub. The landlord would ensure there was no risk she was disturbed by members of the public. She was early and took the opportunity to transfer the day's photos to her laptop. Her boss, known simply as C in the service, arrived with his driver, a big man built by the crew who did Stonehenge and C took a seat opposite Tennyson. He waited until she'd finished with her laptop.

"Good evening sir, has Chorley been rescued?"

"Not yet. I'm not sure he's not safer where he is. What can you tell me, Chief Inspector?"

Tennyson gave him a full account of the days events omitting nothing except the bit where she transformed into someone else.

"You say you believe Mrs Chorley is someone else. How do you explain that?"

"I think it's easier if I show you. Could you ask your driver to wait outside the door for a few minutes."

C nodded to the driver who went upstairs to the bar. Tennyson took the vial from the pocket of her hoodie .

"Whatever happens next, wait before you summon assistance." C looked at her askance wandering what he should expect.

She inverted the vial so the liquid ran down and coated the bottom of the small rubber bung. The turned it back, removed the bung and, taking a deep breath, touch the bung with her tongue and immediately resealed the vial.

Tennyson stood up pushed her chair back and leant on the table for support. She knew what was coming but it didn't make it any easier. She went dizzy , felt faint and her vision blurred. She sank to her knees and supported herself on her hand and knees. The change came slower this time and she thought she might pass out but her senses recovered and she saw the change had happened. She stood up and faced C.

"Meet Mrs Chorley."

C leapt to his feet and his chair flew back and crashed back against the wall. He'd been warned but still he had difficulty accepting the evidence of his own eyes.

Tennyson did a twirl and bowed.

"You may not have met her before but I assure you this is her in every respect."

The dizziness returned and Tennyson supported herself on the table. The transformation back was slower, a lot slower and this time there was pain in her head. The chief watched the change and saw that Tennyson looked ill. She was pale and drawn and her breathing quick and shallow. She looked up and put her hands up to her head, there was pain and fear in her eyes. C was quickly round the table and caught her as she collapsed.

Chapter 11

Yaxley, once again, found himself in Malfoy Manor facing the Dark Lord to report a mission failure.

Voldemort sat in the same chair at the head of the table but this time Nagini was lazily coiled in repose in the corner of the dining room.

Instead of the snake, and from Yaxley's view far more to be feared, was Bellatrix Lestrange standing at the side of the Dark Lord and observing Yaxley with complete disdain.

The Dark Lord sat back in his chair and put his arm around her waist. She moved closer and put her arm around his shoulder. Yaxley found the familiarity disconcerting, even threatening. He quickly closed his mind to such thoughts. The Dark Lord could read his mind as easily as reading a book.

"Well Yaxley, the plan to give us access to the muggle Prime Minister seems to have stalled. Can you explain?"

Yaxley had his explanation ready. He had spent the morning rehearsing how he would explain this failure but he knew the Dark Lord didn't accept failure. Somebody would need to pay.

"My lord a beg leave to re-acquaint you with the proposal. As you know, my lord, the plan, and it's execution, was devised and implemented by Reginald Bulstrode. He seeks to curry favour in the hope you will invite him to join your inner circle, my lord."

"Yes I know Yaxley, he wishes to be made a Death Eater and his plan had merit. So what went wrong?"

"The plan depended on a reconciliation between Bulstrode and his estranged sister, a squibb, who left the family home, in her teens, to make her way in the muggle world feeling she would forever be treated as a failure and an embarrassment to her family.

She is an attractive woman for a squibb and fortunate meeting with a young law student at Oxford, Herbert Chorley, eventually resulted in married. Chorley was an ambitious young man from a wealthy family with strong political connections. Using those connections Chorley helped his uncle, by marriage, to rise through the ranks and eventually secure leadership of the party.

He did so by spreading lies and misinformation about the other candidates. As a reward, when his uncle eventually secured an election victory he was given a junior ministerial post and, more importantly, a prominent position in the party hierarchy. A position that gave him ready access to the Prime Minister"

"Yes, yes Yaxley I know the background. please get a move on or I may have to wake Nagini." His arm dropped lower, it was round Lestrange's hips. She gave a faint smile and moved closer to her idol.

"Sorry my lord. Bulstrode discovered the connection and thought he could use Chorley to gain access to the prime minister. Something he thought you would value. He wrote to his sister and invited her to his home in Godric's Hollow, a sort of family reunion, forgive and forget, put the past behind us. Although Sandra Chorley had detested her brother and was deeply suspicious she discovered she had a niece, Millicent Bulstrode who she'd never seen. Having no children of her own, she replied agreeing to the meeting and suggested a time and date. Bulstrode agreed.

On the appointed day, she drove down to Godfric's Hollow and was met at the door by her brother and Millicent. She was made to feel welcome, shown around the family home, Millicent told her about Hogwarts and how well she was doing. Her brother said it was time he met her husband and Millicent pleaded with her aunt. Despite reservations she agreed but no magic. Her husband had no idea her family belonged to the wizarding world and would be shocked to discover that witches and wizards were not just fairy tales."

"Do I look like something out of a fairy tale Yaxley? Don't answer, I know your thoughts. Pray continue."

"Thank you my lord. Mrs Chorley returned home and told her husband. I understand he was less than enthusiastic but reluctantly agreed and Mrs Chorley, through an exchange of correspondence, arranged the visit.

The meeting was a disaster. Mrs Chorley was persuaded to take a walk round the village with Millicent while Mr Chorley and Bulstrode got acquainted.

Millicent Bulstrode forgot that her aunt was a squibb not a muggle so when they approached the memorial in the village square she assumed her aunt did not see the memorial to the Potters but just the war memorial. Mrs Chorley, of course, could see the memorial and praised the courage of Lily and James Potter in sacrificing themselves to save their son and banish Voldemort. The young witch hadn't expected her aunt to see the memorial let alone praise the Potters and even worse to denigrate her hero, yourself my lord. She hurled abuse at her aunt for being a stupid squibb and demanded she retract her remarks. Her aunt refused and the young witch taunted her relative by telling her the Dark Lord had returned in full power and would exact revenge and destroy the Potter boy and his supporters.

Mrs Chorley was stunned by the revelation. Her brother had always been drawn to the dark side but to learn the Dark Lord had returned was a shock. She realised she had made a mistake and hurried back to find her husband and leave.

In the meantime Bulstrode's plan had fallen apart. He had offered to support Chorley's party with huge amounts of gold if he could have a private meeting with the Prime Minister. Chorley told him no amount could buy such a meeting. There were rules about political contributions and such an offer was little more than a bribe. Bulstrode had anticipated his plan stood little chance without some persuasion. He attempted the Imperius curse but Chorley is a muggle and the attempt failed. He repeated the curse and Chorley collapsed.

At this point Mrs Chorley burst into the room and saw her husband writhing on the floor having a seizure. Her brother was still holding his wand and she guessed her husband had been cursed. Fearing for her husbands life she pleaded with her brother to take him to . Bulstrode agreed providing Mrs Chorley remained here until he returned."

"Yaxley, are you seriously telling me that a wizard who wishes to join my inner circle cannot even cast the Imperius curse?" Voldemort's hand was now lost from sight behind Bellatrix's back. Yaxley concentrated hard to dismiss the possibilities from his mind.

"No my lord. Bulstrode is quite competent but I had warned him that the Minister of Magic had insisted that an Auror was tasked to protect the muggle Prime Minister. Bulstrode reasoned that if Chorley was discovered to have been Imperiused after a visit to his home his wand would be evidence that he had cast the Unforgiveable Curse. He therefore took the precaution of using his mother's wand. His mother has been dead these many years my lord. Unfortunately the wand was not in the best condition and did not respond well to his commands.

In fact after delivering Chorley to Bulstrode took the precaution of informing the Ministry of an attack on a member of Her Majesty's government by unknown assailants and offering his own wand for examination."

"Yaxley, this is old news where are we now?" Yaxley could see the Dark Lord was becoming impatient. He had pushed his chair back and seated Bellatrix on his knee. She draped her arms around his neck, a smirk on her face directed at Yaxley. It took a supreme effort for him to regain focus.

"Sorry my lord. Mrs Chorley didn't wait as Bulstrode had requested. She told her niece she needed things from the car and Millicent, foolishly, allowed her aunt to leave. When Bulstrode returned he was furious and realised his sister intended to betray him. He turned to an old family retainer still living in the village for help, name of Thomson I believe, and together they apparated to Chorley's home. They confronted Mrs Chorley who told them it was too late. She had left a text message with the PM's private secretary but had not yet informed on her brother. Bulstrode had no choice he incarcerated Mrs Chorley in her own cellar and using polyjuice potion substituted himself and has been maintained the illusion to this day.

That is as far as I know, my lord. I am waiting on Bulstrode to update me on the current situation."

"Yaxley this is entirely unsatisfactory. Is it likely that Chorley will recover and be of some use to us in the foreseeable future?"

"I think not my lord"

"Then Mrs Chorley is the immediate threat. A fatal accident must be arranged. A car accident perhaps. If Bulstrode cannot do it, you must Yaxley. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes my lord"

"Now Yaxley, Bellatrix and I have things to do. Let me know when this matter is concluded." As the Dark Lord led her out of the dining room Bellatrix looked back shrugged her shoulders and gave her helpless female smile. Yaxley couldn't imagine a less helpless female than Bellatrix Lestrange.

Chapter 12

Andrew Winstanley sat in the visitor's chair next to the bed occupied by a comatose DCI Tennyson in a very comfortable room in a private clinic just of Harley St.

He was studying the contents of Tennyson's laptop and, in particular, the photos taken in Sandra Chorley's home. His concentration was broken by a knock at the door and a doctor, a leading consultant neurologist, came in to check on his patient.

"Andrew, good to see you, how the devil how are you, one of yours I take it?"

"Yes James, one of my best, and vital to the service. What can you tell me?"

"I was hoping you could tell me. I've never seen anything quite like it. Te symptons reminded me of Guillam-Barre syndrome. Which was lucky, it isn't GB, but the tests for it pointed us in the right direction. Like GB we found that her immune system was attacking her nervous system."

Sir James Gardner checked Tennyson's vital signs and turned back to C.

"Her nervous system is being treated as if it is a foreign body and her immune system is producing anti-bodies to destroy it. You wouldn't have any idea what induced this Andrew? I know you guys deal in some pretty dangerous stuff. My guess, for what it's worth, is she's been poisoned with some sort of nerve agent. Am I close?"

"It was not a poison James, and it was self inflicted. I would say she has had a severe allergic reaction."

"To what Andrew?"

"That is classified"

"I see. Well we are giving her a course of intravenousimmunoglobulin, IVIG for short. New blood to you, and it appears to be working. We'll know better in a couple of days, but I must warn you recovery could take many months. Her nervous system will need time to rebuild itself. What have you told her family?"

"She doesn't have a family. She was an only child and fostered when her parents died. They didn't get on and I gather her foster parents were delighted when she left home and joined the army. She's never been back."

At that moment C's mobile phone buzzed.

"Excuse me James I must take this." C left the room and answered a call from Commander Lockyer.

"This isn't a secure line it had better be urgent."

"We've been tracking Chorley's car. It looks like it just accelerated across a dual carriageway onto the adjoining carriageway into oncoming traffic and, we guess, collided with oncoming traffic came to a sudden stop. Whoever was in it would be seriously hurt."

The line went quiet Lockyer waited but was finally forced to prompt his boss.

"What's yours orders chief?"

"Get the team out there and warn local plod that this is a security matter and we'll handle it. Alive of dead I want the occupants of the car under our care and custody."

"Will do sir"

Chapter 13

Sandra Chorley slowly surfaced to consciousness from her nightmare. She had been in the passenger seat of her husbands car unable to move or make a sound. She was vaguely aware the driver was someone who looked like herself. What she could see and feel, quite clearly, was that the car was accelerating and closing at a terrifying speed with a large lorry. A head on crash was inevitable. It would be fatal. She and her double were about to die except just before impact her double disappeared, disapparated she hadn't seen anybody do that for twenty years and whoever that was had left her to die on her own.

She opened her eyes. Her world changed. She was now in a world of bandages and tubes and blinking, beeping machines. The tubes were attached to plastic bags hooked on metal stands at one end and attached to her at the other. One bag contained a clear liquid the other what looked like blood. Another fed the mask covering her nose and mouth and she could hear herself breathing. Short shallow panicky breaths.

A man in a white coat stooped over her and shone a bright light into her eyes. It made her blink. Turn it off, she wanted to say but couldn't. He turned it off anyway, smiled and gently squeezed her hand. She felt it, he was real, she was alive. She shouldn't be, but was, and the panic abated and she drifted back into unconsciousness.

That was her world for now. Different physicians, different nurses, day and night all one, but gradually she was conscious for longer and longer. Now she wanted to ask questions. She wanted to know what had happened, where she was, who was looking after her. But they wouldn't talk. They told her to sleep, to rest, recovery would be quicker, somebody would come and explain everything.

Today was different. Somebody was coming to see her. They removed the mask and sat her up. She was still covered in bandages but she was alert and she wanted answers. They raised the bed for the visitor.

C entered the room and stood by the bed, the nurse left. He studied her for a moment before speaking.

"Do you know who you are?"

She nodded her head.

"Can you speak?"

"Yes, I think so" her lips barely moved and her voice was hoarse.

"Who are you?"

"Sandra, Sandra Chorley"

"Have you told that to anybody else in this place?"

She shook her head.

"From now on your name is Joan Page and to anybody else in this place that is the only thing you know. The rest is a blank.

By all rights you should be dead. You were in an head on crash with a lorry. The car in which you were an occupant had a safety shell which almost certainly saved your life. The rest of the car was completely destroyed. You were cut free from the wreckage and brought here. Where here is you needn't know but I can tell you that you are in a private room of an intensive care ward of an hospital."

"Why do I have a new name?" she whispered. Her voice hoarse. She effort drained her.

"Because the driver of the car tried to kill you. The driver has the ability to disappear at will. The driver has the ability to change form. The camera in the dashboard recorded two Sandra Chorley's. You, who in the video clip appears paralysed, and the other person who was able to mimic you exactly and drove the car across the central reservation of a dual carriageway and into the path of a forty ton truck. You know of who I speak?"

She nodded "He was my brother?"

C hesitated before continuing.

"Thank you for that. You have a new name because officially Sandra Chorley is dead. The damage you sustained was too extensive and, despite a valiant fight, you succumbed to your injuries.

Mrs Chorley I cannot protect you from these people and you know that. If they suspect for an instant you survived the crash, I believe, they will send assassins to kill you and there is nothing I can do to stop them. Your continued survival depends on your enemies believing they succeeded and you died of your injuries. Do you follow?"

She nodded

"What is your name?"

"I am Joan Page and I remember nothing else."

"Very soon you will be out of intensive care and will be taken to a secret facility where we can debrief you and develop your new identity. Please rest Joan I need you to survive."

She watched him leave. Who was he, she asked herself. She didn't know, but she was grateful and slipped back into unconsciousness.

Chapter 14

Tennyson was jogging around the Heath working on recovering her fitness. She'd been out of hospital a month now and apart from becoming quickly exhausted by her strenuous exercise routine she felt fine.

She paused her run to rest on her favourite bench and enjoy the view over the common. A mobile phone was ringing close by. The ringtone sounded familiar. She looked for the source, it was coming from the litter bin next to the bench. She checked for onlookers, nobody in site. She lifted the lid off the bin, rummaged around and retrieved the phone. It was her old phone. The caller rang off before she could answer . She checked for a number. Number withheld. Then a buzz signifying a text message.

Are you fit?

Yes - she replied, but didn't recognise the caller.

Want to go back to work?

Absolutely

Your LT has been returned. Same p'word. Check your voicemail now.

She dialled her voicemail, one message sent late yesterday.

"You said to call you if I needed help. I need to leave the village can you pick me up. Please ring."

This time the number had been identified and it was the same number Nora Abbott had used to call her before. Tennyson dialled immediately. The response was equally quick.

"Is that you Janet?"

"Yes, how can I help?"

"They are all over the village. There are wizards everywhere, dressed in cloaks and wearing grotesque masks. They're going door to door. If muggles become suspicious they're being obliviated. I can't get out"

"Listen I'll pick you up as soon as I can but I'm not close. If they knock don't answer, put a sign on the door saying you're out and back at five. They may be prepared to wait rather than break in."

Tennyson raced back to her flat, changed into walking gear grabbed her backpack and left.

Once she was on the M3 she decided to see if she could invoke a greater power and rang the vicar. No reply. She kept trying. Still no reply.

She rang Nora. Instant response.

"Are they there yet?"

"No"

"Did you put the note on the door?"

"Yes, but I don't think that will fool them."

"Listen, I'm a hour away. I'll drive straight to your door be ready to leave the instant I pull up."

"Okay, please hurry."

She rang the vicar. Still no reply.

She was going at breakneck speed but traffic was in her way. She needed to go faster. She turned everything on. Headlights to full beam, flashing blue lights front and back and her siren wailing as she hurtled down the dual carriageway. Vehicles in her way scattered. She'd never used her emergency warning stuff before.

She was soon in the country lanes and lost her mobile signal. Finally she reached the rise before the drop down into the village and her phone rang. It was her voicemail. One message.

"It's too late, they're here. Tell Hannah I love her." Nora's voice, fearful and tearful.

Another voice, male, harsh, demanding.

"Where is the wand?" Nora dropped the phone but it remained connected.

"I don't have a wand, I'm a muggle" Tennyson imagined her, her hands clasped together, on her knees, pleading.

"Accio wand" a wait for the spell to work. Silence.

"Where is Amelia Bones's wand, you were there, you took it or you know where it is?"

"I wasn't there. I didn't take it." Nora, fearful, pleading.

"Crucio"

A scream that went on and on. An age passed and it stopped. Sobbing. Another voice.

"It's no use Goyle she doesn't know. Kill her, one of the girls must have taken it."

A pause and then

"Avada Kedavra."

Tennyson heard the crack and imagined the green flash as the wand discharged the killing curse, then silence.

She'd failed, a promise broken, couldn't be undone, couldn't be mended, so she made a silent vow, no rest until Nora Abbott was avenged.

For now, there was no burning anger, no overwhelming feelings of guilt or remorse that would have to wait. Tennyson had ice in her veins and a need to see the body and a ruthless desire to exact revenge. She reached down under the steering wheel and pulled a lever, a hidden compartment dropped down and Tennyson retrieved her 9mm Army Beretta and silencer. She checked the clip, attached the silencer, pulled the slide and jacked a round into the chamber. She hid the gun inside her gilet.

Tennyson switched off the flashing lights and drove sedately to the car park on the edge of the village and parked up. She took no measures to disguise herself. Last time she was here the residents had seen her face and her car.

She strolled into the village looking at a map, distracted, just another walker. There was nobody about. She passed Nora Abbott's cottage. The door was ajar. She retraced her steps, looked about and entered the cottage. Mrs Abbott was on the floor near the telephone, the handset hanging down almost to the floor. She replaced the handset and checked if there was a dialling tone. She dialled 1571 and a voice said last number was unobtainable. She stooped and examined the body. Mrs Abbott's face clearly showed signs of the torture. Tennyson unsheathed her knife and cut a strand of hair and put it into an evidence bag. She then did a quick search of the house. Nothing she found indicated the identity of the assassins.

There were photos on the mantelpiece. Mostly of Hannah Abbott her daughter. Tennyson took a snap of the most recent photo and replaced it on the mantelpiece. Upstairs she found two bedrooms. In Hannah's room she found more photos. One caught her eye, a group of teenagers in jovial mood clearly enjoying a day out. Underneath Dumbledore's Army at Hogsmeade. Tennyson continued to take photos, as if it was a crime scene, which of course it was. She returned to the hall about to leave and noticed a cat sitting on its haunches, silhouetted in the entrance. Tennyson smiled and made to pet the feline. She'd seen it before in the rectory. The cat had no desire to be petted and retreated further down the path and waited. Tennyson left the house as she had found it and wandered back to her car. She cat followed. When she reached her car she opened the boot. put her backpack inside and keeping her right arm hidden reached inside her gilet for the Beretta. She half turned to find the cat was now Mrs Thomson holding a wand.

"Is it Janet Batty or should I say Jane Little?" Thomson raised her wand, it was now pointing directly at Tennyson.

"Was it you who killed Nora, Mrs Thomson?" Tennyson's tone was casual, conversational even. Thomson smirked.

"Not me luv, Death Eaters did that, but I did let them know she was in the village." Thomson's fate was sealed. Tennyson looked down and sighed in resignation and softly.

"What now Mrs Thomson?" Tennyson assessed her chances. Even at best.

"I think those Death Eaters would like a little chat with you, dear." Her smile changed to grimace of loathing and contempt

"Stupefy" a flash of red light shot from her wand.

Tennyson was moving before the spell was cast. She threw herself to her right and fired, right handed, while still in mid air. The spell missed it's target, Tennyson didn't. The jacketed soft nose bullet hit Thomson just below the heart. Tennyson knew it was a killing shot. The liquid Teflon core would expand on entry and shred most of the mid section organs. There would be no exit wound and little blood. The witch was dead before she hit the ground.

Tennyson rolled away and took aim, just in case, then stood and walked over to examine the body. She put the wand in her gilet, dragged Thomson's body to her car and heaved it into the boot. A quick look round, no onlookers. She slammed the lid shut and left.

Chapter 15

Joan Page stood before the mortuary slab. There was a smell of formaldehyde and she wrinkled her nose. She stood erect, head back, pale, anxious and feeling more than a little queasy. C stood by her side ready to give support, if needed. The pathologist pulled back the sheet to reveal the head of an old woman with long unkempt grey hair.

"Do you recognise her?" Page nodded

"It's Thomson, my brother's housekeeper."

C nodded to the pathologist who recovered the body. "Come with me" and C led her back to the lift and to his office, three floors up.

He sat her in an armchair, crossed to the drinks cabinet and poured two large whiskies. He handed her the larger one.

"Joan are you up to answering a few questions?" She nodded and emptied her glass in a single swallow. He returned to the cabinet, refilled it and took the chair facing her.

"What can you tell me about this woman?"

"Firstly, she's a witch and more than that an animagus. A cat is her alternative form. I have known her all my life and, to me, she was foul, vindictive and cruel. She never relented from reminding me I was a squibb and the lowest form of life in the wizarding world.

She was my mother's best friend, who was also a witch. Both of them came from poor families but my mother, who was very good looking, had the good fortune to marry into a wealthy pure blood family, the Bulstrodes. Thomson didn't have my mother's looks and her prospects were bleak. To save her from the ignominy of a life of poverty, my mother persuaded my father to employ Thomson as a house keeper and companion. They didn't really need a housekeeper my father had a house elf"

"A what?"

"House elf. They are magical creatures who aeons ago were subjugated by wizards to the service of a single master or mistress. They work for no pay and unless given clothes will continue to serve until death. They are universally ill treated and abused by witches and wizards"

"I can see I have a lot to learn, pray continue Joan."

"Everything was ok until my family discovered I was a squibb.

My father was ashamed and embarrassed by my presence and so avoided me. The others treated me with nothing but contempt and loathing. Thomson made my life hell, particularly after my father died. After my mother died I decided I couldn't take it any more and decided to leave home and try my luck in the muggle world. I was sixteen, nobody came to look for me." C interrupted.

"At that time, did you know a woman named Nora Abbott?" Joan sat up looking pleased and surprised to hear her friends name again.

"Yes, yes, she was my friend, my only friend. She was a muggle who married into the Abbotts. One of the ancient wizarding families. I used to visit her all the time. She was good to me. She taught me a lot about the muggle world. It was through her that I found the courage to leave. Do you know her, is she here?" Joan looked about in expectation and then back a C.

C paused and looked away. How much should he tell Page. He looked back.

"Not too long ago, Nora Abbott contacted one of my field agents and asked for help, she was being targeted by a group called Death Eaters. My field agent believed her to be in mortal danger and raced to give aid, but it was too late"

Page covered her mouth and her eyes watered. She had no words for this.

"I will tell you only that it was Thomson who betrayed her location. She subsequently fired a spell to incapacitate my agent who was obliged to defend herself. Thomson died in the exchange."

"Good riddance, the vicious old bitch deserved nothing less."

"Tell me Joan was she your gaoler at your home in Surrey?"

"Yes, she took great delight in telling me how my husband had been damaged beyond repair. He'll never recognise you now she taunted. I never thought I would leave that place alive."

"I know it's your home but I'm afraid you must give up all hope of going back, at least for the foreseeable future."

"What is it you want of me?"

"The wizarding world is currently at war and there is no indication who may succeed. If the Dark Lord was to prevail then the muggle world would be at his mercy. I am charged to find ways to prevent this, both for now and for the future. Do you follow?" She nodded.

"Although you have no magic powers yourself, I understand that, as a squibb you have access to places we don't. Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, maybe Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic as well. I need someone with that sort of access to observe, report and maybe on occasion more. How would you feel about such a role?"

"You want me to spy for you?"

"I do, and make no mistake it will not be without some risk to yourself. If you get caught there may be little I can do to help." C sensed a stiffening and apprehension in her demeanour he leant forward. took her hand and said quietly.

"Mrs Page. I would perfectly understand if you declined, you have had more than your fair share of abuse from the wizarding world, and be assured it would in way compromise your treatment in any way or our intention to provide you with home and a safe secure environment, should you choose. You are, after all, the wife of a minister of the Crown."

She stared at C for a moment and then looked down into her glass and considered the proposal. After what seemed an interminable pause, she looked up, raised her glass and downed her second drink in one. She met C's gaze and gave the slightest of nods. C raised his glass in acknowledgement and matched his companion. At that moment he knew he had a acquired a most valuable asset

"Ways and means Mrs Page. Do you know what these are and what they are worth, we found them on Thomson?" C leant forward and, this time, emptied the contents of a small leather pouch he'd been holding into his empty glass and passed it to Mrs Page.

"Yes I do. They are galleons, solid gold, and the main currency in the wizarding world. My guess is that was Thomson's fee, her blood money, for betraying poor Nora. Real galleons are charmed and cannot be magically copied. Gringotts, the wizarding bank in Diagon Alley, are the main source of supply in this country. By the way Gringotts is run by goblins, not wizards."

"Keep the galleons Mrs Page, you will certainly need them more than I will." C rose from his chair and retrieved a glass potions jar from the top draw of his desk. It was filled with a mud coloured liquid. He returned to his seat and placed the jar on the coffee table.

"We think this is something called Polyjuice potion. Do you recognise it?"

Mrs Page took the jar, removed the stopper and smelled the contents.

"I agree but it has the base colour and no smell. This mixture has never been charged. If it had, the colour would change and there would be a strong smell, normally unpleasant. Only the most accomplished wizards can brew this. My brother could do it, he excelled at potions."

"As a squibb could you, safety, ingest this portion? If you could it would be the greatest advantage should circumstances prove a little sticky."

"I think so, my brother used to try his concoctions on me when I lived at home. I suffered no more ill effects than a witch might. In fact I might use it to distract from my normal appearance."

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to" and he hesitated trying to find suitable words.

"I know. Don't apologise, without you I wouldn't be alive."

C smiled and reflected on his new asset. Before the accident she'd been a most handsome woman but the crash had taken a terrible toll. Despite extensive surgery, metal implants and interminable, painful physiotherapy she still had a slight limp and her face had a battered look, somewhat like a boxer, which had the benefit of making her unrecognisable as Sandra Chorley.

"Enough for today Mrs Page. I must plan how I can make best use of you."

Joan Page rose, limped to the door and without turning said "I wouldn't mind a bottle of that stuff if you can spare it"

"I'm sure we can."

Chapter 16

It was mid-summer and Page sat alone at a grubby, beer stained table in the Leaky Cauldron reading the Daily Prophet, the wizarding worlds newspaper, and sipping a Fire Whiskey. The front page reported what she had been waiting for and most feared. She rolled up the paper and hurried to her room , she must get this edition to the chief as quickly as possible. She discarded the second hand robes she'd bought in Diagon Alley, changed into her muggle clothes and headed for the door to Charing Cross Road.

Outside she switched on her mobile and checked the battery. There was no mains supply in the wizarding world and no means to charge the phone's batteries, she needed to regularly replace the batteries. The battery was low but sufficient for her current need. She sent a text.

Ministry has fallen, nobody safe. Drop off Savoy - 20 mins.

The dead letter box was a fake GPO distribution box in the Victoria Embankment gardens behind the Savoy Hotel.

Page had a key which unlocked the access door. Taking care she wasn't being observed she placed the paper inside, found the new set of phone batteries left by her contact, locked the door and headed back to the Leaky Cauldron.

Page grabbed another copy of the Prophet from the bar and took it to her room. The front page announced that following the murder of Rufus Scrimgeour a new Minister had been appointed who promised to bring the perpetrators to justice. Below the headlines was a picture of the new Minister of Magic, Pius Thicknesse, accompanied by the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Corban Yaxley, and Dolores Umbridge who was to head up a new department, the Muggle-Born Registration Commission. An inside page explained the purpose of the Commission.

The Ministry of Magic is undertaking a survey of so-called "Muggle-borns," the better to understand how they came to possess magical secrets. Recent research undertaken by the Department of Mysteries reveals that magic can only be passed from person to person when Wizards reproduce. Where no proven Wizarding ancestry exists, therefore, the so-called Muggle-born is likely to have obtained magical power by theft or force. The Ministry is determined to root out such usurpers of magical power, and to this end has issued an invitation to every so-called Muggle-born to present themselves for interview by the newly appointed Muggle-born Registration Commission"

Anxiety formed a knot in her abdomen, she felt extremely vulnerable. Her first thought was she would need to go into hiding or maybe return to the protection of the bunker. What she couldn't risk was being caught. She would probably be tortured or forced to take truth potions like Veritaserum. That would put the mission in jeopardy and her colleagues in danger, and if she wasn't executed she could look forward to spending the rest of her life in Azkaban. What she couldn't do was remain here or wander the streets and alleyways of Diagon Alley.

There was a knock at her door and her heart jumped, she felt she would throw up.

"Joan, open the door, it's me Ludo."

Relief, yes she thought Ludo would help her. She'd been his runner for a month now, collecting bets, handing out winnings, running the book and, crucially, keeping a low profile. Unfortunately keeping a low profile was not in Ludo's nature.

Ludo needed her, he knew about gambling but was an hopeless bookie. The maths were a mystery to him but he understood the need to lay off bets if he was over committed. She ran the book and made sure he knew his exposure. They made a good team and she'd learnt to keep Ludo happy in other ways. The business allowed her to collect information for the Organisation. Punters couldn't resist talking about their successes, sharing secrets and finding delight in other's misfortunes. It was an illegal business that allowed her to acquire items of interest, drugs off the street and potions from the more shady apothecaries. Some she secretly passed to the Organisation, as she called it, others she kept for her personal use. She had become part of the wizarding underworld.

She checked the room nothing incriminating in sight.

"In a minute Ludo, just making myself presentable"

She slipped out of her muggle clothes, which she kept in a trunk and into her witches habit. She unlocked the door and let Ludo in.

Ludo Bagman had presence. He was a big man with an extrovert personality. Quidditch was his real love. As a youth he had been a beater with the Wimborne Wasps and had been picked to represent his country. Today, although he'd gone to seed he still looked like an overgrown schoolboy, with round blue eyes, blond hair, and a rosy complexion. He entered the room and Page ran into his arms and held him.

"What's the matter Joan?" his concern was genuine. She looked into his face with tears in her eyes.

"I have to leave Ludo and I think you should to."

"What ? Why? We have a good deal going here."

Page picked up the newspaper and showed him the news item. He sat on the bed and read.

"What does it mean Joan?"

"It means there will be ministry people on the streets looking for people like me, Ludo. And when they find me they'll arrest me, lock me in Azkaban and throw away the key. Ludo we are running an illegal operation and I'm the face on the street. All the punters know me. Somebody out there with a grievance will shop me and there is no way I can satisfy the Commission.

Ludo you know I wouldn't shop you but they have ways and means of getting to the truth. With your record, you'll go down as well. You need to leave. WE both need to leave."

"Okay, I see. Let me think Joan." Ludo stood and started pacing. Joan sat on the bed and waited. She reached inside her cloak and pulled out a flask and took a shot of Fire Whisky.

"I know, we'll go to earth until it blows over. I think I know a place. You can stay there until I find a place of our own. What do you say?"

"Ok Ludo, if you're sure"

"Could you take my trunk Ludo. It's got our stake money in it."

Ludo pulled a wand from his cloak.

"Wingardium Leviosa" and the trunk rose from the floor. Joan grabbed it and pulled it along behind her.

Ludo led the way downstairs into one of the Leaky Cauldrons's private rooms. "Incendio" and a fire lit and burned in the grate.

"Joan throw some Floo powder onto the fire."

She retrieved a jar from her trunk, still floating in mid-air, took a pinch of powder and threw it into the fire. The flames turned a vivid green.

"Now Joan you go first. Step into the flames and say Hogs Head."

Okay Ludo" she hadn't done this since she was a child and was a little nervous. "Hogs Head" and she stepped into the flames pulling her trunk behind her. She apparated into the fireplace of a pub bar followed a second later by Ludo.

"That's a bit of luck there's nobody here. Come on let me introduce to Aberforth, he's the landlord, and a more surly innkeeper it would be hard to find."

Chapter 17

C sat in his office facing the wall, staring into the middle distance, deep in thought. A knock at the door.

"Come." Commander Lockyer entered.

"Commander, please tell me you have some good news. So far today has been all bad."

"Possibly Chief. I have finally got the team to accept that the power these people seem able to control, undoubtedly exists. What defeats them is that they do not understand its nature or how it is wielded. Despite our best efforts it does not seem amenable to detection or measurement by any scientific method we, so far, have employed. Until we can find a means to isolate a source it may prove difficult to counter.

One of the team, a particle physicist by the name of Scarlett, has a theory that the source is Dark Energy. This energy source, the theoreticians claim, makes up seventy percent of our universe but, apart from having gravitational attraction, it's properties are a complete mystery. Be that as it may, on the plus side the medical team think they've isolated the organ that allows these people to access and control this mysterious source of energy.

As you already know, we have discovered people with this ability have novel DNA. How this translates into an ability to control, lets call it, magic is still not understood. However the general consensus is that the additional strands of DNA translate into the development of a new gene that, in turn, controls the development of a lobe in the brain. A lobe that doesn't exist in normal humans.

Another interesting point is that in the skeleton of both Thomson and Amelia Bones we found a hole in the skull about the size of a ten pence coin which the theoreticians think could be the conduit for this Dark Energy. The skin over the hole is thin and translucent almost like a third eye.

The interesting bit is that Joan Page has the same DNA but no hole, no conduit and her lobe is much smaller than the others. It looks as if her development was constrained in some way. It could be her gene was defective or transcription failed due to other factors.

You can't help but think, chief, that if we can find a way to seal the conduit at an early age we could limit the numbers who develop into these extraordinary people and, dare I say it, forever limit the threat to our society.

"All very well Commander but at a practical level is there anything we can do to isolate this place from the exercise of this power?"

"Not yet but we're working on it, sir. Scarlett believes that all Dark Energy was created in the early universe by the mutual annihilation of matter and antimatter. She has access to a research facility where she could test her theories. She also has a proposal to install anti-matter containment pods in the centre of this facility. The theory is high energy paticle collisions generate anti-matter particles and creates negative energy fields which will draw in Dark Energy, like a magnet. It may be pie in the sky but until we have a live subject capable of generating a source of magical energy it will remain a theory."

"Thank you Commander, keep them at it and keep me informed."

Lockyer left and C turned his attention to an email from Tennyson.

Police report - two subjects have turned themselves in at Bow St Station seeking protection from dark wizards. Want me to investigate.

Affirmative. If genuine try and recruit.

His mind turned back to the problem with Page. She had disappeared. Up to now she had been sending regular updates of her exploits in Diagon Alley and other places only wizards could go. It wasn't only information she provided. There were magical artefacts, potions, drugs and a regular delivery of the Daily Prophet. She had become an invaluable source of current information on the wizarding world but her last message indicated that the risk to herself had increased beyond measure. The Ministry of Magic had fallen and dark wizards were now in charge and her messages stopped abruptly. He had no idea if she was alive or dead but he knew she would not let herself be captured, a quick death would be preferable even if it was by her own hand.

At that exact moment Corban Yaxley was in his office in the Ministry of Magic. Before him stood Reggie Bulstrode looking like the cat who'd got the cream.

"Well Reggie you've done well. The Dark Lord is pleased with your efforts. The car accident was excellently staged but, tell me, where did you learn to drive a car."

"Thank you Corban and thank the Dark Lord for his kind words. As to the car, I learned to drive as a teenager, in Godrics Hollow. I used to watch the muggles in the village racing round in their cars and was mad keen to try it myself. I pestered my parents and for my seventeenth birthday mother arranged for lessons."

"Well, the Dark Lord is letting you into his inner circle, but mind Bulstrode, you should consider yourself on probation. What's more he has a job for you. A plum in fact. Our most important task is to find Harry Potter and bring him before the Dark Lord. Hear that Reggie, not kill him, but bring him before the master. You got that."

Bulstrode nodded "Of course Corban"

"We have wizards looking for him everywhere. Sooner of later he'll reappear and we must be ready. Your job is to keep watch in Hogsmeade. He has friends there and he may think he can get back into Hogwarts but we have that that avenue closed down. Snape is headmaster and the Carrows will keep the kids in line, besides Hogsmeade is out of bounds to all staff and pupils of Hogwarts. So, set yourself up in the Three Broomsticks and keep a close eye on the comings and goings. Got it. Get Potter and you'll be made up to a full Death Eater.

Of lesser importance, but still necessary, is to check the credentials of any itinerant witches and wizards. If they're not registered, that is they are not on the list, detain them and notify Dolores Umbridge. She'll take it from there. The more of them you find the greater your credibility, Reggie. "

"Don't worry Corban if Potter shows his face in Hogsmeade I'll know and I'll have him."

Chapter 18

Tennyson checked in with the desk sergeant at Bow Street nick. The sergeant closely inspected Tennyson's warrant card and pursed his lips.

"DCI Tennyson, Special Branch. Don't often see your lot in this neck of the woods, mam"

"Drop the mam bit if you wouldn't mind. I'm here to interview your asylum seekers."

"Think they're terrorists then."

"None of your business what I think sergeant "

"I'll have to log you in"

"Sergeant, I was never here and if you have a problem with that call you Chief Super."

"You carrying mam"

"Again sergeant not your concern"

This time he picked up his desk phone and called the Super.

"Got a DCI from Special Branch telling me what's not my concern, guv."

Tennyson didn't hear the reply but it was short and to the point.

"Yes sir" he replaced the handset clearly irritated. He filled out the visitor's pass and handed it to Tennyson. "Follow me please." He led Tennyson through the security door, down a corridor and let her into a windowless meeting room where a constable was standing guard.

"You can leave constable" Tennyson smiled at the young man, the sergeant nodded to him and both left. The room was bare except for a table and three chairs. An odd looking couple sat on one side of the table. Tennyson took the other chair facing them.

"Okay, who are you? You first." Tennyson pointed to an excitable little man in a top hat. Clearly a wizard, she thought, but on which side.

"Dedalus Diggle miss, at your service."

"And you" looking at a young, black-haired woman with pink cheeks.

"Hestia Jones, and who might you be?" not nearly as courteous as the little man.

"First things first, where are your wands?" Tennyson slipped her right hand inside her jacket feeling for the Beretta.

Hestia and Dedalus looked at each other in surprise and back to Tennyson.

"You know what we are?" it was Dedalus who spoke.

"I do. Your wands please, now." there was quiet menace in the request. Tennyson gripped the Beretta.

This time it was Hestia who spoke "We don't have them"

Tennyson studied the couple "Okay, you won't mind if I searched you, just to make sure"

They looked at each other again and Hestia shrugged her shoulders. "As you wish"

"Stand up and put your hands above head."

They did and Tennyson carefully searched each. The woman stiffened, clearly affronted by the invasion of privacy, and her pink cheeks went scarlet. The man just giggled as Tennyson checked his top hat.

Tennyson relaxed "Okay what did you do with them." It was Hestia who spoke.

"You must understand we were caught off guard. We decided to stay at Dedalus's place last night but they were waiting for us"

"Who was waiting for you?"

"Dark wizards, followers of the Dark Lord, do you know who we mean?"

"I think so, carry on"

"We fought them but there were too many. They overwhelmed and disarmed us. We thought they would kill us but they didn't. They were after Harry Potter and they wanted to know where we had taken the Dursley's."

"Who are the Dursley's?"

"They are Harry Potter's relations, muggles, his aunt, uncle and cousin. He went to live with them after the Dark Lord killed his parents. Anyway, they said the ministry had fallen, Scrimgeour was dead, the Dark Lord had won.

We told them that if the Dark Lord had won we would serve him instead but the location of the Dursley's new home was protected by strong charms. We couldn't tell them where it was even if we wanted to.

It was then that the muggle police arrived, in numbers and carrying muggle flashes must have attracted attention. This time the wizards were taken by surprise and didn't fancy a battle with well armed muggles. They disapparated but not before setting fire to poor Dedalus's home. Your police arrested us. We told them we were being hunted down by a secret society dedicated to the overthrow of the state and needed their protection. We ended up in here."

Tennyson reached into her bag and put the Daily Prophet the undercover agent had left in Victoria Embankment gardens on the table.

"I take it you've not seen this edition."

"No, you're full of surprises, miss" Dedalus beamed. Tennyson smiled, clearly her charm worked on some people.

"Read it, while I get a coffee." she opened the door and spoke to the young constable "would you be a dear and rustle up a coffee, white, two sugars." she asked trying her charm on the young constable as well. He smiled

"Yes mam"

Back inside she checked her messages. Nothing that couldn't wait. The coffee arrived, she took a sip, yuk, and looked across at the wizards.

"Now then you two, made your mind up which side are you on?" It was Hestia who answered for both of them.

"We are members of the Order of the Phoenix and we have dedicated our lives to defeating the Dark Lord. We will fight until he and his followers are beaten or we are dead. But without our wands we are unlikely to survive"

"Then, we're on the same side and we can help you if you help us." Tennyson reached into her bag and produced Thomson's wand.

The two wizards were astonished. "Where did you get that?"

"Lets just say the last witch to use this will not need it anymore, and, there is another one available. If you join us you just maybe re-armed and put back in the field to continue the fray. What do you think?"

They looked at each other and Hestia nodded. Dedalus spoke for them both "I believe we have an accord, miss"

Chapter 19

Page was in her room, sitting on the bed, hugging herself and gently rocking to and fro. How would she cope with this. The room was dark and dirty , the furniture old, rough, rickety and well used, the bed ancient, uncomfortable and unmade. She could not guess when or what had last occupied it or if it had ever been cleaned. Probably when the window was last cleaned, it was almost opaque and wouldn't open. The whole place was musty and there was a lingering smell of goat. If she was a witch she could just wave her wand and instantly make the room fit for occupation. To her dismay she'd discovered the rest of the inn was no better.

Ludo had been right, Aberforth Dumbledore was surly, abrupt and uncommunicative. He was a bitter old man who wanted nothing to do with the world, neither her world or his. The very opposite of what an innkeeper should be. It was no wonder the place was empty.

Ludo had left her there, he said he'd be back when he'd found a safe place to hide out but for now she'd be safe here. Aberforth was no friend of the ministry and his surly manner discouraged most visitors. Only those wishing to avoid attention stayed here. She felt alone and vulnerable and unsure of her host. For comfort she hid a vial of Polyjuice portion in her cloak, just in case dark wizards came calling.

"Oh well, better go and find out where I am" she said taking a deep breath and coughing at the burning sensation in her throat as she swallowed a shot of Fire Whisky from her flask. Dutch courage was better than no courage at all.

She found Aberforth sat at the large refectory table in the sitting room, an open area between the guest rooms, with a fireplace and a curtained window looking down at the street. He was reading a book. She hesitated to disturbed him but she needed to know where she was. She pulled up a chair and sat facing him. How to break the ice.

"Could I ask what you're reading I could do with something to pass the time?"

He didn't respond but gave a black look and held the book up so she could read the sleeve.

"The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore by Rita Skeeter. Oh, is he a relative of yours Aberforth?"

Aberforth ignored the question and went back to his book.

"Look Aberforth I need to know where I am. You've probably guessed I am not a witch. I don't have a wand and even if I did I can't do magic. Ludo brought me here to avoid something called the Muggle-Born Registration Commission. They are seeking out unregistered witches and wizards. I won't be on their list and if they find me I'll end up in Azkaban."

"So you're a Squibb?" he asked without looking up. There was nothing warm and friendly in the question.

"You guessed it" she said with a weak smile, wringing her hands, anxiety evident in her voice and on her face.

He looked at her intently, at first with suspicion but he glanced at the wall and at a portrait of a young girl and his manner softened.

"Hogsmeade, you heard of it?"

"I think I have, my brother went to Hogwarts. He told me about it - Three Broomsticks, Honeydukes."

"That's the place. Satisfied?" She nodded.

"Listen. I reckon you'll be safe here for a while but don't go wandering about. Those dark wizards are after Harry Potter so they'll be checking up on this place from time to time. If anybody asks tell them you work for me. You're my barmaid or somethin"

"Thank you Aberforth" and her fear subsided a little "Well if I'm your barmaid I'd better go to the bar and serve."

"Okay Joan if you want to play the part, but I'd better warn you, we only have one other guest. His name is Rubeus Hagrid and he's gamekeeper at the school. He's staying here because the Death Eaters, who killed my brother, burned downed his cottage. No reason, just mindless vandalism. He's rebuilding it himself and lodges here when he's not in school. It will come as a bit of a shock when you meet him, he's half giant and looks pretty fierce. But he's alright and I promise he'll not betray you to any dark wizards. Just the opposite."

Downstairs in the bar Page inspected the facilities. Precious few and primitive was her assessment. She would have her work cut out but set-to to clean up the bar, sort out the glasses and re-order the various bottles of wines and liquors. The kitchen was a disaster. She cleaned the pots and pans, cleaned and stacked the plates, and washed, dried and sorted the cutlery.

It was almost dark before she'd finished and Aberforth came down to see what she'd been doing. He grunted which Page took to signify approval.

"Could you light the fire and the lamps" she asked quietly.

He took out his wand. "Incendio" and the light from the fire and lamps filled the room with a soft glow.

"You like Fire Whiskey, I could smell it on your breath." Aberforth went behind the bar and poured Page a large measure. She took it and sat at a table in the lounge and sipped her drink.

"Here keep the bottle."

"Who was the girl in the picture, she looked a little like you?"

"That was my sister Ariana. She died a long time ago. She was like you in some ways. She wasn't a Squibb but she was afraid of magic. Because she'd never been taught she suppressed it and that made her withdrawn and submissive."

At that moment the door to the inn burst open and a huge giant of a man with a mane of wild shaggy hair and beard stood in the doorway. He had to stoop quite low to squeeze inside. Once inside he looked even more daunting. He was wearing a bearskin coat and knee length leather boots. His hands were the size of dust bin lids and he had a huge hunting cross bow slung over his shoulder.

"Landlord, a tankard of butter beer if you please." Hagrid's voice matched his size.

"You'd better ask the barmaid if you want a drink ,and leave Fang outside." Aberforth nodded to Joan.

"Barmaid? you've never had a barmaid before, Aberforth"

"Well I do now. This is Joan and she's here trying to avoid the snatchers. You got it Hagrid." Up to that point Hagrid hadn't noticed Joan sat in the corner. Joan looked across in awe at the immense form standing just inside the doorway and gave a little wave and a timid smile.

"Don't you worry Joan, your secret's safe with me. Besides snatchers wouldn't dare come in here. Would they landlord?" Aberforth gave Joan a reassuring smile and lifted a pewter tankard the size of bucket from under the bar.

"Better fill this Joan before the giant decides to eat you."

Joan was pretty sure he was joking but quickly left her seat, crossed to the bar and started filling the tankard. Nine bottles of butter beer later it frothed and slopped over the sides. By this time Hagrid had found himself a seat by the fire. Joan came round the bar and using two hands carried the tankard and handed it to her first customer.

"How's things at Hogwarts, Hagrid" Aberforth called from across the room.

Hagrid took a mighty draught of his butter beer, belched and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his coat.

"Bad as it can get. Filch, the caretaker, tells me that Snape has the place closed down, nobody is allowed in or out, even me, and there is a curfew after the evening meal. All the kids are confined to their common rooms. The Carrows are the worsed, they're keeping discipline with their wands and their fists, and enjoying it. It's brutal, if it wasn't for McGonacall and the other teachers, I reckon the school would close. Muggle born kids are being picked on unmercifully. They are being asked to betray their parents and if they don't comply, which none will, they get a beating. Some have already left, afraid for what might happen to their folks." Hagrid took another deep draught from his tankard.

"Why did this happen, Hagrid?" Joan asked hesitantly. She was answered with a roar that made her jump and stumble.

" Because Severus Snape murdered Albus Dumbledore. The best headmaster Hogwarts ever had." She hesitated, summoning courage to ask more.

"Why did he do that?"

"Because he was told to by Voldemort. He betrayed us all, Dumbledore trusted him and because Dumbledore trusted him we all did. Only one person knew what Snape really was. Harry, Harry Potter." Tears filled Hagrid's eyes and Joan put her small hand on his.

"Where's Harry now?" she gently asked. Hagrid looked at her and was touched by her gentle touch.

" He's on the run with his two faithful companions. But they'll be back. Mark my words. He'll be back to kill Voldemort, and Voldemort knows it and he's afraid."

"Why would he be afraid Hagrid, Harry Potter is just a boy."

"Look at this and tell me he's not afraid, these posters are everywhere. I'm taking them down wherever I find them." Hagrid pulled a number of leaflets from his pocket and threw them on the floor. Joan picked them up and handed them to Aberforth but kept two for herself.

Undesirable No 1

[picture]

Harry Potter

REWARD

10,000 galleons on his head.

"Listen Joan, he's not just a boy, he is the boy who lived. In the first war Voldemort learned of a prophesy that if a certain boy child should grow to manhood he would destroy the Dark Lord. Up to then he thought he was invulnerable. A friend of Harry's father betrayed them to Voldemort and he sought them. He killed Harry's parents and tried to kill Harry, but Harry had his mother's magic to protect him. Voldemort's curse rebounded, left Harry with a scar but banished Voldemort to a nether world, neither alive or dead."

Aberforth interrupted "You put too much faith in the boy Hagrid, just as he put his faith in my brother. You expect too much of him."

"He's are only hope, Aberforth, and I believe in him" Hagrid looked into the fire his emotions subsided and Joan squeezed his hand.

Much to Aberforth's irritation, Joan spent the remainder of the evening listening to Hagrid and the history of Harry Potter and his adventures during his school years at Hogwarts. She excused herself about midnight and returned to her room.

That night she drafted a report on what she'd seen and heard and included one of the posters as a postscript she added that she had no idea when she would be unable to make contact again. There were dark wizards and snatchers everywhere. Nowhere was secure. She rolled the papers into a scroll and secured it with ribbon. She needed to get the bundle to C. It was the last thing she wanted but there was no alternative, she would have to use Floo network again, she shuddered at the thought.

It was early morning when Page donned her muggle clothes and crept down to the salon. Somewhere, Hagrid was snoring. Noisy but comforting she thought. The fire in the bar lounge was almost out so she raked it and threw another log on, she needed to be sure that the fire didn't go out and prevent her return.

The wait until the flames had taken hold made her anxious but she needed to hold her nerve. She took a pinch of Floo powder from her little leather pouch and threw it onto the fire. It was now or never, the flames turned emerald green she stepped into the fire and in a clear voice said "Leaky Cauldron" and immediately disapparated.

Chapter 20

The Leaky Cauldron had been eerily quiet when she apparated into the lounge and she saw an immediate problem there was no fire in the grate. Floo powder would not work without some flames at least. Her means of return was in jeopardy but there was no time to worry about that, she had to get out of the tavern and onto the Charing Cross road before she was discovered. She mustn't be seen and recognised.

What Joan didn't know was the Floo Network was being monitored by the Ministry. Dark wizards, on the lookout for Harry Potter, could see that someone had apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. That, in itself, wasn't unusual but to do so late at night was suspicious. Someone didn't want to be seen.

Joan didn't waste anytime, she made for the door to the street. On her way she picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet someone had left on the bar and decided to pass that on as well. As she left, her peripheral vision caught a flash from the room she'd just left. Somebody was following her.

There wasn't much traffic and she hurried -in-the-Fields church and hid in the shadows of the unlit entrance area. She looked back and thought she saw somebody on the pavement near the Leaky Cauldron heading in her direction. It could only be a wizard. Her heart was racing and fear gripped her. She left the shadows, took a left and hurried down the Strand, crossed the road and turned right down Carting Lane to the Victoria Embankment Gardens. She constantly checked behind her but saw nobody. It was her sixth sense that told her she was being followed.

Once inside the gardens she kept low and made her way in the shadows to the GPO box. She prayed her key still worked. It did, the access door opened and she searched inside until she found a mobile phone. She took the phone and was about to place her bundle inside when she sensed movement close by. She put the bundle back in the bag locked the door and crept to the exit from the park onto the Victoria Embankment adjacent the tube station. She pressed a button and the phone came to life and a mobile number showed in the display. She pressed dial and prayed for a quick response. Tennyson was asleep when her phone rang but she was almost immediately alert grabbed her phone, checked the caller id and answered.

"Do you need help?"

"Yes, do you know who I am?"

"Yes, where are you and what do you need?"

"Victoria Embankment near Charing Cross. I'm being followed. If they catch me I'm done for."

"If you're near the tube station take the stairs up to the boardwalk and follow the path into the rail station. It's a bit of a hike so don't hang about you'll come out onto the main station concourse. Straight across and follow the signs for taxis. Exit and you'll find a taxi rank. There's always taxis there no matter what time of day and night. Take the first taxi on the rank and ask for New Scotland Yard. I'll be waiting for you. Leave your phone on and keep talking so I know you're ok."

Page new the route, she'd used Charing Cross station before. Ten minutes later she was in a taxi heading for New Scotland Yard.

When she recovered her breath she talked to her saviour.

"We both work for the same person. But neither of us knows the other's identity."

"It's safer lets keep it that way. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

As the taxi pulled up Page tied her scarf over her face. Only her eyes were visible. She got out the taxi and found a young women similarly disguised. Tennyson paid the taxi and led Page to her car. They sat in the front seats.

"What do you want to do?" Tennyson asked while texting a message.

"Give you these. They are for your boss" Tennyson looked at her phone and declined the offer.

"You can give them to him yourself. Fasten your seat belt" Tennyson started her car and drove to a pub in Fleet St.

"The door's unlocked. You'll find him in the cellar. One thing, tell him I recognised your voice."

"You know who I am?" there was deep concern expressed in her question.

"No. I know who you were but not who you are now. Your cover's intact."

Tennyson watched Page go into the pub, swung into the first side street, parked, checked her Beretta and returned to the pub. The bar was dimly lit and empty. She locked the door. Joan was already downstairs and the cellar door was closed.

Page sat facing C, she pulled down her scarf to reveal a tired and worn face and placed the bundle of documents on the table. In front of her was a bottle of single malt whiskey. C poured a large measure. She took it, downed it in one and poured another herself.

"Your minder told me to tell you she recognised my voice. She knows who I was but not who I am." She rubbed her eyes "God I'm tired"

"Did she kill Thomson?" Page asked absentmindedly taking a sip of her whisky. C gave a slight nod.

"She'd no choice"

"Ask her if she could like to reprise her performance, on my brother." C looked at the newspaper and the poster.

"All seems to rest on the shoulders of this young wizard, Harry Potter, but he's on the run and half the wizarding world in out looking for him. Does he have many supporters, Joan?"

"Yes, a lot have faith in him, more join the cause each day despite the risks"

"You look tired Joan would you like to come in. Have a bit of R and R?"

"Not now, I feel safe where I am and I can be of more use there than here. The problem is I can't keep using this route. It's too risky. It has to be for emergencies only. I have to find another way."

"We'll both work on that. Would you like a weapon, Joan?"

She said nothing as C put a Walther PPK automatic on the table. She sat back and looked at the gun deliberating whether to take it.

"No, I couldn't carry it with me and it would compromise everything if discovered. I'm ready to leave."

C called Tennyson "Take M to wherever she wants to go." Page pulled her scarf up and left.

Tennyson dropped Page off outside the Leaky Cauldron, wound down the passenger window and pulled out the Beretta. She had a clear shot.

"If they are waiting for you inside come straight out and drop to the floor, anybody following you with a wand gets it. Good luck." And with that she jacked a round into the breach.

"Listen if I can't find another way I'll try owl post. Don't know if it will work with muggles but the only address I can use is my own home. If you can't sort out anything better keep a watch on the house to see if any owls turn up."

Tennyson nodded.

Joan smiled and put the newspaper she'd found in the pub into her satchel and quietly slipped into the Leaky Cauldron. All seemed quiet so she headed for the lounge.

"How long are we going to wait here, Goyle. We don't even know who we're after."

"As long as it takes. Would you like to explain to Umbridge that we left early and missed the sneaky bastard"

They were next door and waiting for her. She couldn't use that route. She slipped out the back into the rear courtyard and tapped the brick three times and an archway appeared giving access into Diagon Alley. Keeping to the shadows she made her way to Knockturn Alley. There she recognised the usual disreputable vagrants who she new and who new her. She stopped one.

"Where's Mundungus, Percy?"

"Whose asking?"

"I am and if I don't get an answer I'll be sending someone to collect the ten galleons you owe Percy."

"Ok Joan, no need to get shirty. Last time I saw him he was down by Borgin and Burkes trying to off load a locket."

Joan hurried down the steep, dark, narrow, dirty alleyway and found Mundungus Fletcher still trying to off-load his ill gotten gains. The punters melted away into the shadows when they saw Joan. They were the sort who disliked others witnessing their nefarious nocturnal transactions.

"Look what you've done, you frightened them off. What are you doing here at this time of night anyway and why, in the name of all that's holy, are you dressed like a muggle?" Mundungus looked around to see if they were being watched and moved closer so he couldn't be overheard.

"Here, I've got something right down your street. What do say to this? Special deal just for you fifty galleons. How about it?" Mundungus said in a whisper, took Joan's hand and dropped a gold, oval shaped locket and chain into her palm. It felt heavy and had a serpentine S in glittering green stone inlaid on the front. The stone inlay reminded Joan of a snake. It looked ancient, probably a family heirloom and, if Mundungus had it, almost certainly stolen. She handed it back and gave an involuntary shiver. There was something sinister about the locket.

"No thanks Mundungus not my style. Listen I need a favour and there's ten galleons in it for you, no questions asked."

"What?"

"I need transport to Hogsmeade. More precisely the Hogs Head Inn"

"Why can't Ludo take you?"

"He's not here and I need to get out of here now."

"Why?"

"Snatchers"

"Okay, twenty galleons it is and no questions asked"

"Fifteen and remember this if I get caught I know enough about you to get you sent down for a fair stretch in Azkaban."

"Where's the money?"

"You can have it when we get there. Come on Mundungus you know I'm good for it."

Mundungus looked around again but he didn't see Percy watching them, out of sight in a dark recess.

"I've got a feeling I'm going to regret this. Give me your hand"

The pair disapparated and reappeared in the empty salon of the Hogs Head. Joan sighed with relief, nobody there.

"C'mon Joan you promised me I'd get the cash now. By the way if you don't want the locket how about a charmed two way mirror. There were a matching pair, very rare. This one belonged to Sirius Black."

Mundungus produced the small plain mirror from his cloak and handed it to Joan. "You've heard of him o'course. Died last year at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. The other one Sirius gave to Harry Potter. He probably still has it. I promised it to Aberforth for ten galleons."

"Wait here Mundungus" Page hurried to her room and dug out 25 galleons from a hidden drawer at the bottom of her trunk. She owed Aberforth a favour and the mirror would go part way to repaying it. She hurried back. She took the mirror and handed over the coins.

"Nice to do business with you Joan. Give my best to Ludo when you see him." and with that Mundungus disapparated.

Chapter 21

Dr Josephine Scarlett looked up from her notes and across at the two people opposite. Two people who claimed magical abilities and had, naively some would say, enthusiastically volunteered to help the project. Their appearance was odd, maybe they were just eccentric, she conceded.

Dr Scarlett's dress, in contrast, was conventional, right down to the ill fitting lab coat that disguised her slim frame. Despite her best attempts at grooming, the general impression remained of an untidy, middle aged woman with unmanageable brown hair, no makeup to add colour to her pale complexion and spectacles that despite almost constant adjustment, obstinately, ended up perched on the end of her nose. Scarlett fitted the image of the research scientist who had abjured normal society and family in favour of the lab. Her particular discipline was a physicist specialising in particle physics.

She pondered the two subjects looking back across the table, maybe they thought her appearance odd.

Her job was to interview, test and analyse the response of subjects of known magical ability. She had been recruited because of a paper she'd authored setting out how magic could exist and interact with the natural world. The theory had at least two unproven and highly controversial propositions. The first that magic was derived from the manipulation of dark energy and second that dark energy did not exist in three dimensional space time but in a fourth dimension where the natural laws of the physical universe did not apply. The paper was treated as a work of fantasy by her peers but when the Prime Minister enquired about scientific explanations for magic the government's Chief Science Officer remembered the paper, which had caused much amusement at his club but, surprisingly, not completely dismissed as nonsense. This was due to Scarlett's reputation in the field of quantum theory and the ability of certain species to access energy fields at the subatomic level. The obvious example being migratory birds who access the Earth's magnetic field to determine their direction of flight. But she had proposed theories relating to animals who use, what naturalists refer to, as a sixth sense as a warning mechanism. She looked at the ridiculous little man in a purple top hat.

Dedalus Diggle had Thomson's wand and waved it about in delight like a child getting the present it earnestly desired on it's birthday.

"Tell me Mr Diggle, both of you claim that this wand responds to you, Mr Diggle, more than to Miss Jones. Why is that?"

"Oh, everybody knows that a wand chooses the wizard, not the other way round."

"How does it do that, it is after all just a stick?"

"I'm certainly no expert on wand lore Miss Scarlett but at the core of this wand will be either a strand of unicorn hair, or a dragon heart string, or a phoenix feather. As to how the wand chooses the wizard is a mystery. Maybe if you speak to Olivander."

Hestia Jones looked stern and gave Diggle a sharp prod with her elbow. Scarlett was writing her notes as she spoke.

"Something the matter, Miss Jones?"

"Yes, my friend is revealing secrets that we have sworn to keep from muggles. We have agreed to show you a sample of the spells we use but we would be uncomfortable to demonstrate more of our abilities."

Scarlett looked for confirmation from Tennyson who stood, arms folded, leaning against the wall in the corner of the room. Tennyson nodded.

"Okay, show me what you've got"

"Pardon miss?" Diggle obviously liked Dr Scarlett.

"Spells, just spells Mr Diggle." Diggle giggled and tipped his hat to Scarlett.

"Wingardium leviosa" he incanted and causing Scarlett's notes to float two feet above the table. She sat back, eyes wide.

"Will that work on humans?" she enquired trying to recover her composure.

"No, not on muggles, but this one will." Diggle turned in the chair to look at Tennyson.

"Locomotor."

Tennyson felt herself rise a few inches into the air and travel across the room to the opposite corner following the direction of the wand before gently returning to the ground.

"Let's keep the spells directed at objects, not people Diggle" Tennyson said relieved to be released from the spell but more than a little amused by the mischievous little wizard. She bowed her head and put her hand over her mouth to hide her smile. She'd been their minder for a month now and it had been like having two squabbling children to deal with. Diggle gave her a furtive glance, giggled with delight and pointed his wand at the door.

"Coloportus" there was a loud click

"Try the door, please."

Tennyson tried it. It was locked and there was no way to unlock it from inside the room.

"You'll like this Miss Scarlett" and he grabbed Hestia Jones's hand and they both disapparated.

"Well Miss Little, if that really is your name, I think they've got us. You got anyway of controlling those two?"

Before Tennyson could answer the door clicked again. She opened the door and there they were. One happy as Larry the other with a face dark as thunder. They walked in arguing with each other.

"You're showing them too much, Dedalus"

"We have to show them something, don't we? That was the deal"

Hestia turned on Tennyson, exasperated

"You said you'd protect us, you can't even protect yourself. What weapons do you have."

"We have these" Tennyson said coldly, reaching into her jacket to retrieve her gun from it's shoulder holster. Dedalus gave an apologetic smile pointed his wand and incanted a transfiguration spell.

"Avis" and the Beretta turned into a beautiful blue bird.

Tennyson held it tight and looked at Dedalus at a complete loss for words. He pointed his wand again.

"Reparifarge" and the bird turned back into a gun.

"Let's take five minutes while I try and record this" Scarlett paused to order her thoughts, took a deep breath and started to write. The witch and the wizard kept on bickering.

The desk phone rang. Scarlett picked up the receiver, listened and answered

"I think we have to, you need to know if it works. Do you want to do it now? If you do ten MeV should do for starters."

From somewhere beneath they heard the hum of a generator increasing revolutions and felt a slight vibration. Scarlett checked her watch and waited. She finally looked across at Dedalus.

"Try that spell again" he turned to Tennyson still holding her gun.

"Avis" but this time nothing happened.

"Try to apparate Mr Diggle, if you would" his smile had gone and Hestia looked grave as Dedalus reached for her hand. They remained were they were.

"What have you done to us?" Tennyson could hear the fear in Hestia's voice.

"I believe I've created a negative energy field which is attracting any dark energy in the vicinity of this building. The field expands as more energy is used. This is the first time we've tested it on live subjects. I would say successfully. You are literally being starved of your basic resource. Although this is a first attempt, it appears that whilst operational, the machine will severely restrict your ability to use magic."

Scarlett waited for a response. She was met with silence.

"Time for a break, I think"

Scarlett rose, opened the door and two armed security guards entered the room each had a hand on his holstered side arm.

"It's not my decision, but I'm sorry, you will have to stay here for now. Wand please Mr Diggle."

He handed over the wand, his bottom lip quivered and he looked close to tears.

"These guards will escort you to your rooms."

The pair looked back at Tennyson as they left the room. She wouldn't forget the look of betrayal on their faces. Tennyson gave Scarlett a cold, hard stare.

"This was not part of the deal"

"Speak to your boss Miss Little, not me"

"What was that machine?"

"I doubt you'd understand" the tone was dismissive.

"Try me"

"Miss Little this place is one of the UKs top research facilities for particle physics and it is where I am normally employed when I'm not working for your lot. The machine you refer to is called EMMA. If you are familiar with particle physics, it is described as a linear non-scaling fixed-field alternating-gradient particle accelerator."

She paused and looked at Tennyson.

"Any the wiser Miss Little?"

"No?"

"Didn't think so."

Tennyson holstered her gun and left.

The next day from her secure line in New Scotland Yard Tennyson rang C.

"If you want to establish two way communications with your agent in Hogsmeade you'll need the cooperation of at least one of those two."

Her anger hadn't abated her manner was cold and abrupt.

"How will you do it?" no hint of conciliation in his voice.

"I'll have to figure that out."

"You can have one, the other remains. Apart from providing further assistance to the scientists it will secure the continued cooperation of the other. Which one would you prefer?"

"Hestia would probably be best."

"Okay, you'd better collect her. Where will you make you base?"

"Herbert Chorley's place in Surrey. It's already being watched and there's no reason for Bulstrode to return. The opposite in fact."

"Let me know when you find a way to communicate with our agent. Any thing else?"

"One other thing, those two have a close relationship. Both will respond better if they can see the other is not being mistreated."

"Okay, one hour, once a week at the research facility subject to security checks."

Tennyson put her phone down closed her laptop and left.

Chapter 22

Page sat at the refectory table in the sitting area of the Hogs Head eating breakfast and looking at the mirror she had given to Aberforth. She told him Mundungus had dropped in one night when the place was empty and left it for him. He thanked her and said he'd been waiting for it for sometime and set it up on the wall inline with the spot where he'd sit and read or clean his wand. She didn't know how it worked and most of the time there was nothing to see but her own reflection but occasionally she saw a face, more accurately, part of a face, usually an eye or sometimes both eyes. She had no idea if the person in the mirror could see her but she would scurry off to find Aberforth and let him know.

Aberforth knew Mundungus would not have left the mirror with Joan unless he'd been paid. She must have bought it with her own money. When he offered her recompense she absolutely refused to consider it.

He asked if there was something he could do in return. She said she'd be really pleased if she could borrow his owl once in a while to keep in touch with her friends until Ludo returned. Aberforth didn't comment but was inwardly sceptical about trusting assurances given by Ludo Bagman. The next day Page came down to breakfast, and to her delight, she found a tawny owl in a cage on the table with a note.

Hagrid says he answers to Moonbeam. Keep him in your room but let him out at night to hunt. Leave your window open or he'll tap on the glass until he's let in or it breaks. Don't want a noisy owl attracting attention with these Ministry people

That day she searched her trunk and found a screwdriver. She forced the rusty latch on the window in her room, fresh air at last, no more lingering smell of goat.

She put Moonbeam's cage on her chest of drawers and left the cage door open. There's a first time for everything, she held out her arm and the owl left his cage and came to her. She stroked his feathers and talked softly. He responded with soft cooing noises.

That evening she drafted a note to Ludo asking if he was safe and when she would see him again. It was late before she released Moonbeam with instructions to track down Ludo Bagman.

It was two days before Moonbeam returned with a reply. She was beginning to get worried.

Sorry have to lie low both the Ministry and Goblins are after me. Will be in touch when I can.

Page was worried. If Ludo was caught he could be sent to Azkaban. What was more worrying was he wasn't entirely trustworthy and, if it would save his own skin, he would hard for him to resist revealing her whereabouts.

However on the plus side she was as pleased as punch that her owl had performed so well. Although not without some risk, a reliable communication route now seemed possible.

The following day she drafted a one line note she hoped would reach the chief's field agent. It simply said respond if you can complete the following. There followed a single word, RUBY, which represented four digits of her ten digit mobile phone number. She tied the note to Moonbeams leg and gave instructions to the owl to deliver to the occupants of her Surrey home and await a reply. If he could not deliver or their was no reply he was to return to his cage. The owl cooed and after settling on the window cill for a second, flew off through her window into the starlit night.

Disappointingly Moonbeam returned the following evening with the note still attached. She hadn't expected it would work first time so she left it for a day or two and repeated it again. It took four attempts before she got a response.

Tennyson had had difficulty persuading Hestia to leave Dedalus on his own in the research. In fact she had failed completely. Hestia was adamant she would not leave her friend in that foul place, as she put it. In the end Tennyson gave up and decided to move into the Chorley's home by herself hoping somehow Mrs Chorley would contact her.

As it happened on the day of the move she got a call from Dr Scarlett saying Hestia had changed her mind. It appeared it was Dedalus who persuaded her. He convinced her that if they cooperated the sooner they would be released and if they didn't cooperate they may never be released.

Tennyson picked her up, no words or greetings were exchanged and they drove in silence to the Chorley residence. Tennyson have her the ten cents tour, at the end of which Hestia decided she would prefer the attic room. No argument from Tennyson who settled on sleeping in Mrs Chorley's bedroom.

There were no locks or restrictions. It was unsaid, but Hestia was fully aware that Dedalus's release would be dependant on her cooperation.

It was the middle of the following night when Tennyson heard Hestia shouting down that someone or something was tapping on her window. When Jane managed to rouse herself and make her way to the attic she found Hestia with a tawny owl on her forearm making soothing noises and stroking the bird's neck feathers. The owl obviously like it and softly hooted it's appreciation. It put up no resistance when Hestia invited Tennyson to retrieve the parchment tied to its leg.

She read the message and handed it to Hestia who guided the bird onto it's perch.

"Is this from your agent? Whose RUBY?"

"I'm fairly certain she's trying to make contact. The prompt is cryptic.

"What does cryptic mean? Do your know the response?"

"It means it's in code and yes, I think I do."

Tennyson sat at the table and translated the letters into numbers. There were six numbers missing, ignore the 0 at the start, five numbers then. She worked through and came up with DEATH. She wrote it out. She then added her own coded message.

DEATH is the answer. 5337 48 279842

"Here Hestia, send this back. You seem to have the birds trust. Does owl post work for muggles, by the way?"

"You can receive a message but owls will only deliver messages sent by mages."

Hestia held out her forearm and the bird flew down from it's perch. Tennyson, tentatively, tied the message to it's leg. Hestia stroked the birds head to keep it calm.

"Now then, be a good owl and take this message to your master" she said encouragingly and the owl hooted, took to the air and out through the window. Hestia turned to Tennyson, suspicion registered on her face

"What did those numbers mean?"

"That's between me and the sender

Chapter23

Things soon developed into a routine. One or twice a week messages were exchanged with Page and once a week they visited Dedalus. He tried to appear cheerful and said the staff treated him well but it was obvious he was unhappy with being confined and Tennyson worried about his health. Nobody would discuss it with her and her plea that the two should share confinement fell on deaf ears.

She asked over what periods Dedalus had to tolerate the negative energy field from EMMA and was told the accelerator was switched off at night unless an experiment was running.

Christmas came and went. There were no celebrations in the Chorley home and the only good news was EMMA would be off for at least two weeks for maintenance.

It was on New Years eve that things changed. Tennyson was in the kitchen opening a bottle of wine. She heard Hestia call her name and turned to find the witch standing by the door pointing a wand straight at her.

"Petrificus Totalis"

The spell hit Tennyson in the chest. She found she couldn't move a muscle and was in serious danger of falling flat on her face. Hestia stood before her and smiled in triumph.

Hestia disappeared out of the door and returned carrying Tennyson's gun which she put on the kitchen table.

"Avis" The gun turned into a small bird which flew round and round the room until Hestia opened the kitchen window and let it fly out.

"Your wandering how I got this wand. Well for some time now I've been able to translate the number code you use. I've been reading the message and tying it back onto the owl before calling you. The last message I received a hour ago. You can read it yourself afterwards, but the gist is that your agent finds herself in deadly danger and wanted you to retrieve her mother's wand from it's hiding place in the cellar. She claims it's the one used on her husband.

I retrieved it for you, thanks very much, it works just fine for me. She's a squibb isn't she? That's why she can't use it herself. Makes sense now. I also know where she is. She's hiding out at the Hogs Head in Hogsmeade. I'm about to make her day."

Hestia disapparated and reappeared thirty seconds later holding Page's hand. Page was half asleep and was still in her night clothes. The shock of the abduction soon hit her. Hestia pointed the wand at her chest and told her to sit. Page, dumbfounded, meekly complied "Incarcerous"

Hestia incanted and ropes appeared out of thin air and bound Page securely to the chair. Hestia turned back to face Tennyson.

"I'll be back soon. Don't go anywhere" gave a little laugh at her joke and disapparated. Dedalus was in a deep sleep and didn't appreciate being shaken awake . He was about to complain when someone put a hand over his mouth.

"Shush, I'm hear to rescue you. Get dressed, and make it quick"

He was wide awake in an instant, out of bed and scrambling to find his clothes.

"Dedalus, do you know where the muggle bitch keeps the wand?"

"I think she keeps it locked away in a safe in her office"

"How do you know that?"

"Sometimes she asks a guard to get it for her from her office and gives him a key."

"Where's her office?"

"End of this corridor I think"

"Follow me, and stay close, I want that wand but if we're discovered I'll grab your hand and we'll disapparate."

"Alohomora" she whispered, there was click and Hestia gently opened the door to his room. There was a guard outside dozing in a chair.

"Stupefy" she whispered. There was a red flash and the guard slid to the floor unconscious.

She grabbed Dedalus's hand and hurried down the corridor checking the names on the doors until she found one with a single word, Scarlett. She tried the handle. Locked.

"Alohomora" again in a whisper and there was the click. She entered and somewhere in the building an alarm sounded. She pulled Dedalus in.

"Accio wand" no wand but worth a try, but there was a rattle coming from behind a picture on the wall. She tried to pull the picture off. It wouldn't budge.

"Alohomora" there was a click and the picture swung back revealing a wall safe with a key lock. She could hear shouts and running outside. She pointed to the door.

"Colloportus. Try it Dedalus" he rushed to the door "

It's locked"

"Alohomora" another click and the wall safe opened and the wand flew into hand. The guards were banging on the door outside.

She grabbed Dedalus and disapparated.

The security guard heard the crack and called the head of security to report the incident.

The pair apparated directly into the kitchen of Chorley's home. Tennyson was still paralysed and Page still tied to her chair. Hestia gave Dedalus Thomson's wand and turned to face Page.

"Right then you're safe for now. You said you needed to leave the Hogs Head as a matter of urgency, what was the danger you referred to."

"Don't think I can tell you that" "If you don't you're going straight back and this time right in the centre of Hogsmeade."

"No wait I'll tell you. Can you release me first I can't escape."

Hestia pointed her wand to the ropes.

"Finite" the ropes dissolved.

"What's your name?" "Can I have a drink first?"

"Afterwards, now tell me what happened."

"My name's Joan Page but I don't know your name."

"Okay, I'm Hestia Jones and this little man is Dedalus Diggle The person standing paralysed by the sink is called Jane Little but you probably know that since you both work for the same nasty people who incarcerated Dedalus in that foul place. Now introductions are over, continue"

"Okay, it was yesterday, everything happened yesterday. The first disaster was on the front page of the Prophet. Ludo Bagman had been arrested and sent to Azkaban for questioning concerning an illegal gambling operation. I love Ludo and I know he wouldn't willingly shop me. He might resist for a while but he will tell them everything. They will come looking for me and when they find me I'll be sent to Azkaban.

The second disaster was I discovered my brother is in Hogsmeade leading the search for Harry Potter. I didn't know that until he came into the bar of Hogs Head with a couple of his goons. He saw me and just stared. He didn't recognise me but could see something familiar, a likeness. He was coming over to question me when Hagrid came in and threatened to set Fang on them if they didn't get out. He left but said he'd be back.

I was done for and Aberforth said I should leave as soon as possible, but I had nowhere to go and there were goons everywhere. So I sent an owl to Jane. I knew she'd recruited a witch to the cause and that looked my only way out."

Tennyson still couldn't move but she heard it all. Dedalus came over and held her hand.

"Don't worry Jane it will be alright. I know it wasn't you."

He looked up, smiled and squeezed her hand. At that moment she fell in love with the little man.

Outside on the hill two special forces ops looked through binoculars into the kitchen, one was on his radio receiving instructions. One signalled to the other and both descended and scaled the perimeter fence.

Within seconds they were squatting on one knee below the open kitchen window. Each took a grenade from his shoulder harness pulled the pins and tossed them through the window.

Hestia saw them first and shouted across to Dedalus

"LEAVE NOW"

Dedalus gripped Tennyson's hand tight and they both disapparated as the grenades exploded with a blinding flash. Seconds later they were standing on the edge of a lake. It was a clear night and the rising moon was reflected in the water's surface.

"Come with me" Dedalus started walking into the water still holding her hand.

"Revelio" and he pointed to the water.

A narrow path rose in front of them and fell away behind as they walked to the centre of the lake. The lake shimmered and a large stone manor house complete with towers, buttresses and turrets appeared before them.

As they approached a drawbridge slowly descended and they crossed into a courtyard. Somebody unseen raised the drawbridge behind them. As they crossed the courtyard Jill heard flapping of huge wings and an enormous beast swooped down from the battlements directly in front of them. The beast had the front legs, wings, and head of a giant eagle and the body, hind legs and tail of a horse. It stood before them with its wings out barring their way. Jill was shaking. She had no idea such beasts existed she thought them just legends. Dedalus gripped her hand and stood facing her.

"Listen to me Jane, do exactly as I do and you'll be fine. This is an hippogriff and they are a proud animal and sensitive to any disrespect. You must show proper respect by bowing to them, and waiting for them to bow in return before approaching. Maintain eye contact at all times, without a single blink."

Tennyson nodded, she was terrified but trusted the little wizard. They approached together, bowed and waited. The hippogriff flapped its wings and Tennyson nearly fainted. It put out it's front leg and bent low.

"Well done he accepts you. Come forward and stroke him otherwise he'll be offended."

Tennyson took a deep breath and following Dedalus's lead slowly approached the creature. It reached out to be stroked and Tennyson reach up and smoothed the eagle feathers on it's neck. Honour satisfied the majestic creature moved aside to let them pass.

The pair crossed the courtyard to two large double entrance doors. Dedalus stood on tiptoe to reach the large ornate knocker. He struck the door three times and they could hear the sound echo inside the house.

The door opened and a tall, thin, old man in a full length cloak, bent with age, with a mass of unruly white hair stood before them. The man peered down at his visitors and then smiled.

"Dedalus, my old friend, how good to see you. It has been quite a while. And I see you have brought a friend, a muggle friend if I'm not mistaken. Don't worry dear muggles are perfectly welcome here. I see you've met Buckbeak. No problem I hope. Well, are you going to introduce us Dedalus?"

"This is Jane Little" "No it's not. I'm finished with that name. My real name is Jill Tennyson."

"Jill Tennyson let me introduce my very good friend Newton Artemis Fido Scamander but everybody calls him Newt.

END OT PART ONE

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