I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

The week went by incredibly fast. It felt like Luna had arrived only a day or two ago and it was already time for her to leave.

Most of their goodbyes were said at the breakfast table, since they would have to leave early for Mihnea to get her home at a reasonable hour. Syn wound up excusing herself to let the kids have their time together. She claimed it was for work, but that was only partially true. There were indeed several reports on her desk that required her attention, but nothing immediately pressing. She instead turned her attention to another document – one which wasn't pleasant to address, but which she felt needed to be done as soon as possible. Especially given recent events.

She was puzzling out a few final details when a gentle knock rang out through her office.

"Come in!" She called out.

The redhead heard the door open and close, but no voice declaring who her visitor was. Curious, she pushed herself away from her desk and navigated through the maze of shelving.

"Luna? You're still here?"

The girl stood there in a rainbow colored jumper with a large book cradled in her arms. A copy of Alice in Wonderland she'd lent her to read several days ago.

"We're leaving soon." She replied politely. "Mihnea is taking my bags down now. I just wanted to make sure I returned this."

She held out the book and Syn accepted it with a smile. "Thank you. Did you like it?"

Luna's face brightened. "Oh, it was wonderful!" She gushed. "I only got about halfway through, but I've enjoyed it so far."

"You didn't finish?" Syn hummed at the shake of the girl's head and extended the book back out to her. "You should take it with you then."

Luna's eyes went wide. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." She said with a laugh. "This was one of my favorites growing up and I have several copies. I'm not losing anything by letting one go. You can keep it."

The girl looked positively delighted and cradled the book to her chest like it was a precious gift. "Thank you! I'll take care of it, I promise!"

"I know you will." She assured her, and glanced toward the door. "You should probably get going. Tell Mihnea to not drive so fast, yeah?"

Luna nodded seriously. "I'll try, but he doesn't always listen to me. He's very stubborn."

"Oh, I don't know about that." Syn told her. "I think you might have better luck convincing him than me."

The girl promised to give her best attempt, then turned to leave. Just before reaching the door, she turned around as if she suddenly remembered something.

"Oh! Would you say goodbye to Alucard for me?" She asked. "I forgot to tell him when we talked last night."

Syn had to fight back the urge to arch a brow. That was something you didn't hear every day. She would have to tease him later about going soft. Ever since he'd caught her 'talking to the house' on her first night, the vampire had made a point to go visit her every night - usually to engage her in conversation over whatever board game he felt inclined to challenge her to at the time. Sweet Luna always welcomed the interaction and wasn't the least bit afraid of him. It was rather endearing.

"I'll let him know." She promised.

With that, the girl took her leave and ran off downstairs to join Mihnea before he came looking for her.

Once she was alone again, the redhead sighed and returned to her desk to flip through the stack of papers she had accumulated, looking for any other adjustments that needed to be made. A few details would have to be run past an attorney to make sure all their bases were covered, but overall…

A light tapping sound interrupted her thoughts, much closer than it would have been had it come from the door. Syn glanced up to find Integra standing in the opening between two walls of shelves, one arm still raised from knocking against the side of one of them. Her blue eye flicked toward her desk, then back to her.

"Am I interrupting?"

"No, Sir." She replied immediately. "I was just finishing up."

She swiveled her chair around and braced herself to stand, but Integra motioned for her to stop.

"There's no need for that." She said, and strode over to one of the nearby armchairs to sit down. "I passed Miss Lovegood on my way here. She's a sweet girl, if not a bit… unconventional."

"I'd say 'a bit' is an understatement." Syn quipped wryly, then shrugged. "I have no room to judge someone for being strange. She has a good heart."

"Indeed." She agreed. "I'm not sure what I was expecting, but Alucard did bring Seras home once upon a time so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." For a moment there was an almost wistful look in her eye before it was blinked away and replaced with a more serious one. She crossed one leg over the other and folded her hands in her lap. "Syn, I'm afraid we have some important business to discuss and I don't foresee this being pleasant for either of us."

The redhead took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "Let me guess. The Ministry wrote to you again?"

"They did."

Of course they did. She thought. "They still want to throw me in that ridiculous prison of theirs, I suppose?"

"That was what Fudge was threatening at first, but it seems that Scrimgeour has talked him out of it. For now, at least." She sighed deeply and rifled through her jacket pocket for her cigar tin. "His latest letter was unusually forthright. He admitted that his auror was out of line and shouldn't have been tracking you the way he was – nor did he have clearance to be out that day at all. When he is released from hospital, he will be disciplined for his actions."

Syn snorted. "Oh, how generous." She spat. "Does the bastard expect me to send him a thank you card for that?"

"I have the impression that they feel we should be grateful for whatever concessions they're willing to give us." The knight said. "If left to his own devices, I believe Scrimgeour could be negotiated with. However, the Ministry's demands are coming directly from the top and he's made it clear there's not much he can do about them." She paused to take a long drag from her cigar. "Fudge has agreed to take Azkaban off the table so long as you are barred from any interaction with the Ministry of Magic or their representatives from this point forward."

No more acting as Integra's bodyguard during meetings then. The redhead swore under her breath and searched her desk for her cigarettes. She snatched up the small black box, pulled one out, and put it to her lips to light. Soon, clove flavored smoke filled her lungs and drifted through the air around her head. The threat of being thrown into the magical world's prison didn't faze her in the slightest. The problem came from what would happen if they tried to come after her. Syn would be forced into the impossible position of having to fight them off - and even if she didn't kill anyone in the process, the same couldn't be said for Alucard. Given his... ahem, 'overenthusiastic' response to her reaction to catching her stalker again, she had no doubt he would turn it into a blood bath if given the chance. That was something Integra would never be able to justify. Not to the wizards.

"Hellsing will be forced into a more vulnerable position if we agree to their demands, but... we have to be able to collaborate with them on some level." Integra went on, as if she knew what she was thinking. "And we both know they aren't going to stop this surveillance they have you under. That's going to be a problem."

She had become a liability. Syn tapped her finger against the arm of her chair. "Even if they did, it wouldn't matter. They've already made up their minds that I'm manipulating you to get what I want - whatever they think that is. As long as I work for you, they'll believe you're compromised."

The knight didn't respond to her statement, but she made no move to disagree either. She took a sharp breath through her nose and looked at her with the most uncomfortable, pained expression she had ever seen on her face before.

"I don't want to ask you to do this." She told her, her voice soft.

Syn gave her a tight-lipped smile. "You don't have to." She grabbed the stack of papers she'd been working on and handed them to her. "I was already been working on a resignation letter and severance proposal. After what happened…" She swallowed hard. "I had a feeling I should go ahead and finish it."

She watched as she flipped through the first couple of pages, then rested her hand on top of the stack. She looked unhappy, but relieved.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way." She told her.

Syn let out a heavy breath. "It was going to happen soon anyway. At least this mess can be used as an excuse, right?" She gestured toward the papers. "It'll need to go through your legal team to work out the kinks, but I want you to have exclusive rights to the weapons I've already made for Hellsing and a right of first refusal for any weapons I design in the future."

Integra gave her a surprised blink. "You don't have to do that."

"I want to." She insisted. "I imagine I'll need to start taking some contracts for money, but I don't intend to sell to anyone without you having first dibs on getting the same or better." She paused to suss out the best way to approach what she wanted to say next. "Perhaps you could see it as… a payment."

"Payment?" The knight repeated, confused. "Payment for what?"

"For access to the Hellsing family vaults."

Integra sat back in her chair and stared at her for a very, very long time. "Why?"

Syn took it as a positive sign that she hadn't cursed at her or stormed out of the room in a fury yet. She balanced her lit cigarette on the side of her ashtray and leaned forward, clasping her hands in her lap. "It's complicated, but I need you to hear me out."

One of the woman's brows notched upward. "I'm listening."

"It's for my work with the seals. I have a general idea of what needs to be done, but I'm trying to figure out the safest way to do it. Magic like this is powerful for a reason. A lot of time, effort, and sacrifice went into their creation and they weren't designed to be removed." She explained. "Forces like this are fickle and don't like being messed with. Removing this kind of magic – especially when it's been in place for so long…" She hesitated. "Let's just say that it's very likely to turn on you unless proper…offerings are made."

Integra blew out a long, steady stream of smoke. "Offerings." She said emotionlessly.

Syn nodded. "Yes. There are several different ways to approach this, but I believe the safest option is to… use pieces of the original casters to…"

The knight held up a hand. "Stop." She rubbed her temples as if she felt a headache coming on. "Is this… absolutely necessary?"

"For the best chance of success, yes." She replied. When her companion remained silent, she coughed and went on. "I know this is a sensitive subject, but I wouldn't ask if there were another viable option. I promise to be as respectful as possible."

It was a ridiculous statement to make. How, exactly, did one 'respectfully' desecrate a grave? Syn didn't have a terribly high opinion of Abraham VanHelsing and Integra herself didn't approve of some of the decisions he had made during his life. Still, he was her family and that meant something. She intended to take only what was needed and nothing more. A lock of hair or small finger bone if a skeleton was all that remained, then the body would be reinterred with prayers and blessings as a sign of respect. Syn could swallow her pride and do that much – for Integra's sake, if nothing else.

"What do you intend to do about the others?"

Syn blinked at the question. "I'll need to look through old records to figure out where they're buried." She said. "I expect Morris will be the most difficult to find. I think his body was sent back to his family in America when he died and things are a lot different there than they used to be."

Integra hummed. "Aren't you forgetting about someone? The Nazis used most of Mina Harker's body for their experiments, and what little was left was destroyed in the Zeppelin explosion during the war. What are you going to do about her?"

"Surprisingly enough, Mina won't be a problem." The redhead told her. "I don't know how they wound up here, but there are some letters she wrote to her husband in your archives. One of them still has a lock of her hair with it. It might take a while to find, but I remember coming across it when I was doing research years ago."

She looked surprised by that. "Thank God for small favors, I suppose." She said, then became quiet and pensive again. "I don't know how I feel about this, Syn. I was expecting you to ask for my blood, not to dig up dead family members."

Syn winced. "I… um… might need that too."

Integra fixed her with a bland, expressionless look. "Of course you do." She deadpanned and looked up at the ceiling with a sigh. "Fine. Take what you need. But I do not want to be present for it and I don't want to hear a word spoken about it afterward. Understood?"

"Yes Sir." She replied.

"You'll have to make… 'arrangements' for the other bodies yourself. I don't want to be involved in that and if you're caught or questioned, you'll be on your own."

Syn nodded. "I understand."

"And one other thing." She said, not finished with her list of stipulations. "When everything is ready and your family officially leaves, Remus will become your responsibility. You may continue your werewolf research here in the meantime, but afterward I expect full access to any discoveries you make – as well as any information gained should you manage to convince him to spy on the werewolves for you."

"Agreed." She said. She wouldn't think of doing otherwise.

"Good." Integra inclined her head in approval and rose from her chair, taking Syn's resignation letter and proposal with her. "I'll have my lawyers look this over and let you know if any adjustments need to be made."

Syn watched as she took her leave, but called out before she got too far away. "Integra? Will we have Christmas here or at our house this year?"

The knight turned to narrow her good eye at her, but she also spotted the faint upward twitch at the corner of her mouth. "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we?"

"Name?"

A short, slightly plump woman with chocolate brown curls balanced her trunk against the counter. "Jorkins." She announced as she smoothed the wrinkles in her pink dress with her hands. "Bertha Jorkins."

The clerk checked his register for her reservation and nodded once. "Please sign here." He instructed and watched as she scribbled her name in the guest book. "You'll be in room 24. Second floor." He handed her a key with a welcoming smile. "Enjoy your stay, Ms. Jorkins."

Bertha thanked him and took hold of her trunk again to go find her room. The inn she had chosen was small, so it was remarkably easy to find. It was the second door on the right side of the hall, within eyesight of the staircase. Thank Merlin, she thought. She'd likely forget if it were more difficult to find than that, and it would have been horribly embarrassing to have to ask for directions in such a small establishment.

Once settled inside and her trunk unpacked, Bertha allowed herself to flop back onto the bed. She was long overdue for a holiday like this. Albania had been an unusual destination choice, but a purposeful one. Paris, Rome, even Venice would have been lovely this time of year, but would also be overflowing with crowds of people. Bertha hoped to avoid the usual tourist traps and go somewhere quiet and peaceful. A place where she could kick back, relax, and not have any worries for a while.

Truth be told, she hadn't felt like herself for the past several months. She couldn't put her finger on exactly when it started, but she had recently become rather… forgetful about things. It was innocuous enough at first – misplacing a quill or two or overlooking a minor deadline. Over time though, it had grown into a very real and worrisome problem. Not remembering where she set something down was one thing, but forgetting what day or even what week it was? It was mortifying and frankly, quite scary if she were honest with herself. None of her coworkers seemed to take her concerns seriously and Barty just brushed her off and chalked it up to stress.

Bertha wasn't sure she believed that though. Sure, her job could be stressful at times, but this felt… different somehow. There was a niggling feeling at the back of her mind – like an itch just out of reach - telling her that it was something else. Something... bigger. She just couldn't think of what it was.

She was so bothered by the idea that she owled up an old friend from her school days for tea. Leonard was a Medi-wizard at one of the clinics associated with St. Mungos and would surely have some experience with things like this. He hadn't been thrilled when he found out why she had contacted him.

"I've told you about this before, Bertha." He said, sighing heavily as he rubbed his temples. "I can't go around diagnosing all of my friends' problems. It's not ethical."

"I'm not asking for a diagnosis, Leonard!" She insisted. "I'm just asking for your opinion. I feel like I'm losing my mind here!"

Leonard quickly moved to shush her, worriedly looking around at the other customers sitting around them. "Alright, alright! Just calm down, will you? There's no need to make a scene." He rubbed his chin and picked up his teacup. "Have you talked to your boss about this?"

Bertha huffed in frustration. "I have, but he's not taking it seriously. No one does really. They all say it's stress…"

"Well, there you go." He said, as if that solved everything. "If your boss and coworkers don't think it's serious, then it probably isn't. Stress can do funny things to a person."

She shook her head. "That can't be it. I'm telling you, I've had this job for years and this has never been a problem before. It doesn't feel right. I just can't help but think… maybe I've been cursed, or…"

Leonard rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. "Now Bertha, let's be reasonable. Who on earth would want to curse you?"

"I don't know!" She exclaimed. "But it has to be something! If it's not a curse, then… could I be sick? Is there something wrong with my mind? Am I going mad?"

He held up his hands to stop her endless barrage of questions. "Please calm down." He told her, and waited for her to get her breathing back under control. "Look, I understand this is bothering you, but the only way to figure this out is to think rationally. The simplest explanation is almost always the right one. Now, how long did you say this has been going on?"

"I'm… not really sure. The last few months or so?" She offered.

Leonard nodded. "Can you think of anything that may have happened a few months ago? Any changes in your personal life? Big projects at work?"

Bertha pressed her lips together in thought. "Well…. we have been making arrangements for the Quiddich World Cup." She admitted. "And we've been working on negotiations to bring the Tri-Wizard Tournament back this year…"

"Merlin Bertha, either one of those on its own would be hard to deal with! Working on both at once? That's enough to drive anyone a bit mad. It's no wonder you feel out of sorts." He patted her hand reassuringly. "You'd be surprised how many problems can be explained by exhaustion. Why, sometimes I have days where I'd walk off and forget my own head if it weren't attached to my body! It sounds like you just need to take a break. When was the last time you took a holiday?"

The woman blinked. "Goodness, I have no idea. It's probably been years."

Leonard gave her an understanding smile. "Maybe it's about time you took one then, eh? Take a week off to do something you enjoy. Go travelling. Explore. Have fun! Do that, and I guarantee you'll be feeling like yourself again in no time."

It hadn't been the answer she was expecting, but after some thought, Bertha decided to give it a go. Perhaps she was just overtired. Not a week after her outing with Leonard, she had put in a request for time off and began planning out her trip. Now that she was here, she found that she was already starting to feel better. There were no deadlines or meetings to worry about. No pressing decisions to make other than whether she wanted to explore the walking trails in the nearby forest or spend a lazy day in bed reading a trashy romance novel.

She wound up having a kip to recover from the journey before going downstairs to enjoy a drink at the pub attached to the inn. Who knows, she thought, maybe she'd run into a nice gentleman who could whisk her off on some grand adventure. It was an unlikely thing to happen, sure, but a girl could dream.

If only she'd known.

Bertha was sitting alone at a table nursing a brandy when it happened. Though she knew next to nothing of this place or its people, she still kept her ears peeled for interesting conversations around her. Some people would call it being snoopy, but she liked to think of it as keeping abreast of current events. It was a completely harmless thing to do and provided the added benefit of entertainment for herself. There was a couple two tables over exchanging sweet words with each other – perhaps on their first date, she mused. Then there was a rowdy group of men in business suits over in the corner, enjoying a drink together after a long day's work. From how loud they were, she imagined a couple of them were going to have a rough time when they woke up tomorrow morning. Over by the bar, a man was having words with the disgruntled looking bartender, arguing over some past tab that hadn't been paid…

Her head cocked slightly to the side as she listened. Something about the man's squeaky voice sounded familiar. She turned in her seat to focus her full attention on the scene. He was rather short for a man and had small, beady eyes and a sharp nose. The hair on his head was unkempt and balding on top, and was a particularly odd color. Not white or gray, but more… colorless. As if whatever shade it had once been had been drained out over time. Her eyes widened. Was that….? No. No, it couldn't be. Could it? He was far too old and thin looking to be who she thought it was. She peered closer and found herself unsure.

She watched him from a distance for a while before she could no longer restrain her curiosity. As the barman left him to deal with the boisterous table of muggle businessmen, Bertha wound her way across the room and tapped the man on the shoulder. He whirled around to face her.

"What!?" He snapped.

The harshness of his tone nearly made her jump out of her skin. "I'm terribly sorry to bother you, but you look so familiar." She told him, deciding that was as good an explanation as any. "Are you… Peter? Peter Pettigrew?"

The man's annoyed expression shifted to one of horror. "I… what? No… I think you've mistaken me for someone else…"

Something about his manner confirmed her suspicion. There was something about the nervous lilt of his voice that was remarkably similar to how she remembered him as a much younger man. Her eyes lit up.

"Oh, Peter, it is you! Do you remember me? It's Bertha! Bertha Jorkins? We went to school together!"

He stared at her in shock, his gaping mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Bertha mistook his reaction for simple surprise.

"I can't believe it's you!" She went on. "How on earth did you wind up here? I thought you were dea…"

He clamped a hand over her mouth before she could finish. "SHHH!" He hissed, and grabbed her arm to pull her into a secluded corner away from the noise of the pub. He released her roughly and pushed her back up against a wall. One of his hands drifted behind his back. "How did you find me?" He demanded. "Who sent you?"

Bertha blinked in confusion. "What on earth are you talking about? I'm here on holiday! No one's out looking for you. Everyone thinks you're dead!"

Peter studied her intently, eyes full of suspicion, before he slowly removed his hidden arm from behind his back and relaxed. "Oh." He looked her up and down, then back in the direction they'd come from. "You're alone?"

"Yes, I'm alone." She confirmed. "Peter, how…?"

"DON'T say my name!"

"Oh!" She exclaimed, startled. "Sorry! I just… what are you doing here? How are you alive?" She paused as an idea struck her. "Oh… you must have gotten away from Black somehow. All those years ago…"

Peter grimaced and grumbled something unintelligible under his breath. He looked… torn. Like he was desperately trying to figure something out. "I… well, yes. Something like that." He said.

Did he not realize that Black had been caught and imprisoned? If he'd run off in fear for his life, then perhaps he didn't, she thought. She wasn't sure how much of their news would have made it out here. How awful, to have to live in hiding for so many years… She gasped as a thought struck her. Black was still on the loose. Was that why Peter was so jumpy? Was he afraid that he would find him and finish what he started? She reached out to clasp his hands.

"Peter, listen. Sirius Black has escaped from prison. It's not safe for you here!" She whispered urgently.

"I know that!" He snapped at her, jerking his hands free from her grasp. He glanced around wildly, then focused back on her. "You shouldn't be here, Bertha. You… I…" He shook his head and wrung his hands in agitation. "You can't be here. I can't…"

"Peter, I can help you." She insisted. "You shouldn't be here alone like this. You can come back with me and I can get you somewhere safe…"

"NO!" He exclaimed. "No, I can't go back! You don't understand! There are things… things you don't know. Things you can't know. I…"

"It's okay, Peter, I promise." She told him, determined to help him somehow. "I work for the Ministry. I know people who can help you. They could put you up in a safehouse somewhere. You could be guarded and when they catch Black again, you could have your old life back. Don't you want that?"

Peter froze and stared at her for a long time with new consideration in his eyes. When he finally spoke again, it was in a low, rushed whisper.

"You… work for the Ministry?"

"Yes." She said with a hurried nod. "Yes, I work for the Ministry. I can help you. If you'd just…"

"Wait." He interrupted. He looked afraid still, but also thoughtful. He glanced back toward the pub area. "We… we shouldn't talk here."

Of course, Bertha thought. Yes, that was reasonable. "I have a room upstairs in the inn. We could…"

"No! No… there's… too many muggles around." He said, shaking his head. "I… know a place. It's not far from here. A safe place. I'll show you."

He grabbed her by the hand and urged her toward a side exit of the pub. Bertha thought it was a bit strange to insist on such a level of secrecy when her room could suffice, but figured that a man in his position probably had good reason to be paranoid. She allowed him to lead her out onto the street and through the muggle town. It was starting to get dark and the streetlamps lining the roads began to light up one by one. Soon, they reached the end of the what she considered the 'populated' area of town and faced the edge of a thickly wooded forest. Her steps faltered.

"In there?" She asked.

Peter looked back at her and tugged her forward. "Yes. It's not far at all. A small building the muggles don't know about. It's safe there."

She glanced up at the darkening sky then back at the line of trees, feeling nervousness crawl up into her throat. During daylight hours she wouldn't have thought twice, but dangerous things tended to come out at night.

"It's getting dark." She pointed out, and moved to pull out her wand. She noticed that he didn't do the same. "Do you have your wand with you?"

Peter hesitated. "Ah… no. No, I'm afraid I left it behind when I went out." He gestured for her to go ahead. "Maybe you should take the lead so we both can see."

Bertha found it strange that he would leave his wand behind if he were in hiding. However, she reminded herself of the reason she had taken this holiday in the first place. Stress could do strange things to a person… and what was more stressful than a man in fear for his life? So she brushed aside the oddness of it and took the lead as he suggested.

They walked through the imposing expanse of trees for what felt like ages. Each moment…each step that they took filled Bertha's body with apprehension. "Are you sure this is the right way?" she asked.

"I'm sure." He replied. "It's just a bit further. Keep going and you'll see it."

Bertha frowned, but continued walking. After another five minutes passed, she came to a halt and lowered her lit wand. "Peter, this is ridiculous." She huffed as she turned to look at him. "I don't see…"

Something hard struck her on the side of her head, making her stumble and hit the ground. She saw Peter's boot in front of her face, then his hand reaching down to collect her wand before everything went black.

She awakened in pitch darkness with a splitting headache. Bertha let out a pained groan and slowly pushed herself up to sitting position. She clutched at her head and whimpered when she felt wetness in her hair. Merlin, what happened?

"Peter?" She called out.

Her voice echoed strangely and she realized she was no longer out in the forest. The floor beneath her was cold and solid – like a concrete slab. Where was she? Was this the place he told her about? Bertha had no idea. Aside from her aching head to prove she was injured, she had no clue what had happened. Had she fallen somehow? She couldn't remember…

Moving slowly to keep the pain at a manageable level, she climbed to her feet and shuffled forward through the darkness. She cried out when her hip connected with the sharp corner of something and she grasped onto it to keep her balance.

"Peter!" she called out again. "Where are you!?"

There was no response. Determined to figure out where she was, she took a deep breath and stepped forward again, more carefully this time. Her hands eventually met a wall and she slowly inched along its length, searching for anything that might help her. Finally, she came upon what felt like a muggle light switch. She flipped it up and blinding white light filled the room. She immediately shut her eyes against the harshness, then blinked, allowing them to adjust the sudden change. Her head throbbed and she groaned again. She touched the sore spot at her temple and pulled her hand away to find her fingers covered in blood. She whimpered at the sight and looked around frantically.

The room she found herself standing in was moderately sized, with a stone floor and blank, white walls. Centered at one end was a stainless steel table and at the other was what looked like an examination chair from a doctor's office. Between was an open space lined with glass-doored cabinets and shelves filled with odd looking vials and equipment. A few wooden crates were stacked up here and there, their outsides barren aside from stickers that read 'Biohazard' with a strange symbol emblazoned underneath. What in Merlin's name did 'Biohazard' mean? And where was her wand? She didn't see it anywhere.

Bertha jumped when she heard the sound of a latch being turned and quickly turned to see the door to the room open. She stared in confusion as a man she'd never seen before stepped inside. He was tall, with shoulder length blonde hair and bright blue eyes – covered by strange glasses with many sets of lenses. His white lab coat swished as she strode toward her.

"You're avake. Very good." He said in a thick German accent.

Bertha whimpered and stepped back as he approached. She didn't know who this man was, but something about him made her nervous. "Where am I?" She demanded. "What's going on? Where's Peter?"

A wave of vertigo hit her and she clutched at a nearby crate to stay up on her feet. The man cocked his head to the side.

"Peter?" He questioned. "Ah! Ja, he brought you here."

He… he brought her here? Bertha shook her head, feeling tears start to well up. "I don't understand… who are you?"

The man gave her a sympathetic look and held up both hands in a calming gesture. "Nein, nein fraulein, don't cry." He said in a soothing voice. "I am a doctor. You fell und hit your head in the forest. I'm here to help you."

She blinked at him through the pain shooting through her skull. Was… was that what happened? Was this man someone Peter knew?

"…Help?" She repeated slowly.

The doctor nodded. "Ja, I'm here to help." He approached slowly and held out his hand. "It looks painful. Come sit down und I'll have a look."

Bertha didn't move. She had a bad feeling about this man and didn't trust him at all. But if Peter had called him to help her…

"Don't be afraid." He told her. "I will take care of you."

He sounded so sincere and her head hurt so bad… Fearing what might happen if it wasn't tended to soon, she bit her lower lip and gingerly reached out to take his hand. The man smiled and stepped forward to slide a strong arm around her waist to keep her steady as they walked. He helped her hobble over to the examination chair to sit down.

"There now. Lay back und rest." He told her, then turned to retrieve some instruments from the cabinets nearby.

Bertha watched him anxiously, not recognizing any of the objects that he arranged on the tray he had pulled out. She swallowed.

"You… you're not a wizard are you?" She asked, hazarding a guess.

He paused to glance at her over his shoulder. "Nein. I am no vizard. But I know of your kind und haff vorked vith them before. Ve are the same in many ways." He brought the tray back with him and set it down on a small table next to the examination chair. "Injuries like this can be serious und there vas not time to find one of your doctors." He gave her a reassuring pat on the hand. "Do not vorry, fraulein. My treatments vill not be the same, but they are just as effective."

He took a penlight from the front pocket of his labcoat and shined it into her eyes – to check that they were dilating properly, he explained. Then he pulled on a pair of gloves to examine the wound on the side of her head. Bertha hissed as he lightly dabbed at the blood with a piece of gauze.

"I know it hurts, but it must be cleaned." He said, clucking his tongue in sympathy.

Whatever liquid the gauze was saturated with burned like fire, but he was incredibly gentle and patient with her, and was always careful to explain exactly what he was doing and why. Perhaps… perhaps her initial perception of him was wrong, Bertha thought. He had been nothing but kind since he arrived, so perhaps she should trust him. When he finally finished cleaning the wound, she cleared her throat.

"Where is Peter?" She asked again, hoping she would get an answer this time. "It's… very important that I speak to him."

The doctor nodded. "Ja, ja, you vill speak vith him soon." He assured her. "He ist here vaiting, but ve must make sure you are vell first." He brushed a stray lock of hair back out of her face, then reached for his tray again. "I'm going to give you an injection, mein fraulein. It vill help vith the pain und you vill feel much better." He rolled up her sleeve to expose her upper arm. "This may sting."

It did sting, but the pain of it was temporary and quickly faded away. Soon, the insistent throbbing of her head began to fade as well. And as the pain retreated, a new sensation took its place. A sense of calm sereneness wrapped up in a pleasant tingle that spread through her mind and down throughout her entire body. A bit like being drunk, Bertha thought with a smile. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy this strange, new feeling. She felt the doctor lift her arm and let go, letting it fall limply back to the armrest.

"Very good." He praised.

She didn't resist as he lifted her arms and placed them on the arms of the chair, but frowned slightly when she felt something wrap around her wrists. Her eyes cracked open and she saw him fastening leather straps into place.

"Mmm…what are you…"

"They are for your safety." He explained with a kind smile. "Injuries like this can cause tremors, und ve don't vant you to accidentally hurt yourself." He checked that they were secure but not too tight, then knelt down to do the same for her ankles. He rose to his feet and clasped his hands behind his back. "Are you comfortable?"

Bertha's head rolled to the side and her tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth. "Mmm hmm." She mumbled.

"Good. I must leave you now, fraulein, but I vill be back soon." He told her. "The sensation you feel now ist temporary. Rest now, und vhen it fades you vill haff a talk vith your Peter."

She smiled lazily and thanked him, which he returned with a gracious 'you're welcome' before disappearing through the door. Bertha closed her eyes again and relaxed into the chair. Her entire body tingled and she felt like she was floating. She remained there alone, locked within the warm, blissful embrace that surrounded her, until time disappeared. It could have been minutes or hours, she wasn't sure, before she heard the door open again. The sound of approaching footsteps prompted her eyes to slide open and saw Peter standing before her, wringing his hands.

"I'm sorry about this Bertha." He told her, his voice just barely above a whisper. "I wanted to let you go, but when you said you worked for the Ministry... I knew I couldn't do that."

She blinked at him, her mind still to fuzzy to comprehend what he was saying. "What?" She asked.

"I tried to tell you." He continued, his eyes flicking toward the door as if keeping an eye out for someone. "I tried, but… you just wouldn't let it go." Hands twitching nervously, he slowly rolled up his shirt sleeve and bared his arm to her. "Do you understand now?"

Fear slithered up through the heaviness clouding her mind and made her freeze. The dark mark. His mark. She gave a weak tug at her restraints and felt them hold fast.

"Oh… oh god." She whimpered. "Oh no… Peter, please. Please don't do this."

"He's here, Bertha." He told her, shaking his head at her pleas. "He's coming now and I suggest you tell him everything he wants to know. For your own sake. Don't try to fight him. The more you fight, the worse it will be for you."

Tears welled up in her eyes and she pulled at her hands again. She felt so weak… that blissful, wonderful feeling was now a heavy weight pressing down upon her, leaving her helpless. Oh god, what had she done?

She whimpered when the door opened again and the doctor from earlier stepped inside, cradling a bundle in his arms like a baby. He looked at her with a clinical eye, with none of the kindness of before, then back down at the bundle of cloth.

"It ist a minor concussion. Nothing of great concern. Your magic ist still veak, so I haff made her more compliant for you. It vill not take much." He said coldly.

The bundle shifted and Bertha watched in horror as a twisted, misshapen hand reached up from it to move the cloth aside, revealing a horrific, demonic looking face. Red, reptilian eyes bored into hers. She starting shaking.

"It seems that you aren't so useless after all, Wormtail." The creature rasped in strained, hoarse voice.

Peter winced at the sound of it and fixed his eyes on the ground. "Y… yes, my lord. Th… thank you…"

"Stop your blubbering, you miserable rat!" the horrible creature snapped at him, then it looked up at the man holding him. "Turn so that I can see her properly. There…yes, that's better." It was now held up and turned to fully face her. "Now then, Ms. Jorkins, is it? My servant here tells me you may have some information for me." Its mouth curved into a wicked, nightmarish smile. "We are going to become very well acquainted, you and I."

"No!" Bertha wailed, "No, please! Oh god, I don't know anything! Please… please just let me go.."

"Begging already?" The creature taunted. "Why, we haven't even started yet." It sneered at her. "Spare me your tears, my dear. You will need them later." It extended a frail, deformed arm out toward Peter. "Wormtail?"

Peter shuddered and looked toward him anxiously. "Y…yes master?"

"My wand."

Bertha sobbed and struggled in vain against her restraints, watching in horror as a bone white wand was handed to him. The creature pointed it right between her eyes and smiled. When the first curse struck her, she let out an ear-piercing scream.

A.N: If you enjoyed, please leave a review!