14. Confrontations.

The man stood out of sight and stared at the grimy window on the second floor of the pub. He had been ordered to keep the occupant under surveillance and, despite the interesting story that his employer had told, it had so far turned out to be a tedious task.

Which was quite unexpected, given his and his employer's developing suspicions.

The woman was of average height and build, though her stature suggested that she was physically strong and potentially formidable in a fight. Her hair seemed untameable, which was fortunate, given the nature of his job and the difficulty he had keeping her in sight in a crowded centre.

As far as he could tell, she had not yet noticed him and simply went about her life as normal; she would spend most of her time in the pub, but occasionally ventured out and either wandered around the town for an hour or two, or ran errands. She showed no sign of leaving.

He had noticed, to his confusion, that she had paid a visit to Ollivander's and even bought a cauldron. As both required magical ability, he made sure to relay this information back to his employer immediately – innocuous though it seemed, he knew that it was a major development.

A week passed and she remained in Hogsmeade; convenient for him, he was reluctant to admit. During this time he had kept his employer updated on her whereabouts and activity and, though he kept voicing his suspicions about her, his employer shot them down every time.

Nevertheless, he kept vigil over her and waited for his employer's instructions.

Now, he stood outside a shop reading a newspaper, only vaguely paying attention to what it said: Umbridge was now Headmistress (though he knew that already), there had been an attack at the Ministry of Magic involving some sort of giant snake (he rolled his eyes. This newspaper was ridiculously badly informed), and attacks on Muggles were on the increase, though the Minister seemed to think that this was due to the lack of laws restricting the movement of werewolves. He very nearly crumpled the paper in disgust, but forced himself to remain calm. He hardly wanted to break his cover now, of all times.

He glanced over the paper and at the window. Though he had seen no movement from his vantage point, he could see the occasional flash which was quickly doused with darkness. He turned another page, unconcerned.

He remained outside for another three hours and inadvertently memorised the paper. People walked past him, some even brushing into him, courtesy of the charms he had cast over himself to make himself less noticeable.

He was just about to turn the page again when he noticed movement in his peripheral vision and looked cautiously up. The woman with curly hair was on the move, weaving in and out of the crowds and heading for the exit to Diagon Alley.

The man immediately packed his paper back into his bigger-on-the-inside pockets and set off after her, brow furrowed at her unusual behaviour; so far, she had only ever shown interest in the Wizarding world.

She ducked around a corner and he hurried after her, finding that he had to duck and weave out of the way of the crowds who continued to plough towards him without noticing, courtesy of the charms. Near the outskirts of Diagon Alley two men suddenly appeared in front of him and the man swerved out of their way just in time to avoid hitting them and announcing his presence, but looked up to find that he had lost the woman with curly hair.

The man barely noticed as the two new arrivals looked at each other and began muttering.

"Go check, will you?"

The bigger of the two shuffled his feet, clearly reluctant.

"Just do it," the leader snapped, and the man felt memories stir as he struggled to place the voice. "There's a newspaper there, just do it. And don't ask a random stranger again – I'm fed up of getting stared at."

Just as he placed the voice – what was Rookwood doing here? – he saw the familiar mop of curly hair across the crowd and chased after it, leaving the two strange cloaked men far behind him.

He followed her out of Hogsmeade and onto the Muggle streets. He immediately flicked his wand up and down himself, transfiguring his clothes so that they looked slightly more Muggle in appearance – a long black trench coat with a hood (which would look pulled up) and a black suit, now, instead of his usual black clothes and cloak.

The woman continued to walk purposefully down the street, and he found himself being drawn further and further away from the crowds as she managed to find the quieter streets. Eventually, she simply turned and disappeared down an alleyway, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Knowing that it was a trap but having no choice but to follow, the man gripped his wand in what he hoped was an inconspicuous manner and stepped around the corner.

He immediately felt a fist slam into his face full force, knocking him off balance and back in the direction of the Muggle street. Before he had a chance to fall, however, he felt strong hands grabbing his cloak and yanking him back into the alleyway, shoving him up against the wall.

Dimly, he hoped he was being mugged by someone else but, as he caught sight of the curly hair, he knew that he was in potential trouble. He tried to draw his wand.

A hand immediately grabbed it from him and he didn't put up much of a fight, stunned by the punch.

"Well, well, well," the woman said, still holding him against the wall and uncomfortably close to him, "that was easy. I had hoped for more of a fight."

She pulled his hood down and her eyebrows rose.

"Well… things seem finally to be going my way. Who sent you?"

The man cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak, pleased to note that his normal velvety voice was not roughened by the shock of being attacked by the woman he was stalking. After all, it didn't exactly happen to him often.

"My employer."

The woman sighed. "Yes, I know. But you have two. Before this conversation goes any further, I would like to know which one wants me."

His eyes narrowed. "How do you know who I am?"

The woman smiled at him, but it was not in any way friendly. "I have my sources. Now tell me – Dumbledore or Voldemort?"

He winced, feeling his guts clench at the name.

"Dumbledore."

The woman let go of his cloak, though she kept his wand. "What did he tell you?"

He drew himself up to his full height and assumed his customary sneer. "Obviously, he told me to watch you."

"And?"

The man hesitated, running through the possibilities in his mind. Dumbledore had only told him to keep her under surveillance to keep her safe from Voldemort (in case he discovered her existence or presence) and to monitor her for emerging magical ability. Aside from that, he was unsure if the old man even had a definitive plan and, if he had, it had surely been ruined by the news that he had been given recently.

She had extraordinary knowledge of their world and her own, that was for sure, and he was willing to bet that Dumbledore wanted to use this knowledge to his advantage. And from the look in her eyes and the fact that she had known of his two employers, he was willing to bet that she even knew of his status, despite Dumbledore's assurances that she would not recognise him.

And that man, that Doctor that they had captured… When he had finally returned from the Death Eater's Headquarters and located Dumbledore – who had somehow managed to end up in France on the run – and told him of the situation there, Dumbledore had seemed to put two and two together…

"I think it's only fair to warn you," the woman said, "that I am not a patient woman."

Given, then, that Dumbledore's aim was perhaps to use her knowledge for his own ends, and that the two instances appeared to be linked, the man reasoned that there was little point in keeping her in the dark for any longer. Really, it would have been simpler just to approach her, if Dumbledore was so sure that she was not a danger to them, but no, Dumbledore liked his games…

"He told me that you appeared within the grounds without setting off any of the wards," he explained at last. "He also told me that you have extraordinary knowledge of our world. It would appear," he drawled, "that he was hoping to use you."

At that, the woman smiled. "About time. I have to admit," she said, "that I was hoping for this, though it certainly is a nice surprise."

"You were hoping for this?" He asked, dumbfounded. He hated it when he was dumbfounded.

"The Headmaster never does anything directly, does he?" She asked, simply. "Sometimes, I wonder if that's practical when a major war is about to start, but then I remember that it's rarely fun to be straightforward."

And with that, she gave him back his wand. He stared at her.

She raised her eyebrows again. "I don't remember you normally being lost for words. Where are those insults and rants you're so famous for?"

"Famous?" He asked, feeling more confusion setting in. "What are you talking about?"

She looked him up and down. "Your fashion sense is as good as always. Black is the new black, as they say."

He scowled at her. "It is much more practical than doing my job dressed in bright robes," he pointed out.

"Yes…" she mused. "I suppose it would be harder to stalk someone if you were dressed like Lockhart. The charms are also a good idea. Unfortunately for you, I have long been acquainted with someone who has very similar techniques to you, and am rather more used to it than you would have expected."

"I see," he said dubiously. "Do you plan to waffle for an eternity or are you going to give me any useful information?"

She only smiled. "There it is."

He resisted the urge to sigh. "How do you know of me?"

"The same way you know about me, Severus Snape." She replied. "I was told."