CHAPTER 6

Neither Harry Potter nor any of the characters associated with him belong to me. They are JK Rowlings. I'm not in this for the money, just for fun!

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The Burrow:

After she had spent several minutes crying into Firenze's chest, she finally calmed down, as her sobs slowly died into mere whimpers, hiccups, and finally blessed silence.

She felt so horribly embarrassed at the way she had acted in front of Firenze, as she didn't think crying was what the Centaurs would call a strong and therefore appropriate trait. It certainly didn't fit in with what she thought of them, as they would no doubt consider it a sign of weakness.

Saying that, though, she couldn't help but wonder if Bane had cried when his son had died?

"Feel better?" Firenze's gentle voice broke through her reverie, as she blinked and looked up into his concerned face.

She gave a small smile. "Yes, thank you." Despite this, though, he still hadn't taken his arms off from around her, but that was fine with her. His warm arms made her feel secure, which would be the first time since this whole business had begun.

"I'm sorry," he told her. "I had no desire to make you cry."

"That's okay." She didn't say anything else, because she still had nothing else to say. What could she say? Firenze had indeed succeeded in terrifying her to no end, concerning his herd and their plans for her, should they capture her. If anything, she definitely had no immediate plans to give herself up to them anymore.

"Just…promise me you won't try to find them," he asked her.

She sighed, unsure of what to say. After a while, she looked up at him with a questioning look. "Mind if I ask you something?" she said, in an attempt to change the subject, if only for a moment.

"Not at all."

"I'm just curious about something. About the human women who bore centaur babies in the old days."

"What about them?"

"Well…how exactly could they have carried and given birth to them? I mean, centaur foals are a lot bigger than human babies. How could they have carried them to term and everything?"

Firenze looked uncomfortable for a moment. "In the past, my kind weren't too bothered whether the women who bore their young lived or not. As a result, many did not survive the births."

Rebecca had had a feeling that might have been the case, but she still winced.

"However," he then said, "my kind has come a long way in medicine since ancient times. Our noted founder Chiron himself was a skilled healer, as well as a stargazer, and he passed his knowledge down to us. Since then, we have refined our skills, and are now confidant in treating any illness and injury. Therefore there's very little chance of anything fatal occurring to a mother giving birth to one of my race now."

Rebecca shrugged. "Oh well, at least I won't have to worry about death in childbirth."

"Promise me you won't try to find my herd, Rebecca?" Firenze then said, clearly not willing to let the previous subject go. "Give me your word."

She looked at him, but did not dare to meet his eyes. Finally, she sighed again and just nodded. "I'd probably be too weak and cowardly to go up to them anyway."

"Never!" Firenze said sharply. He pulled back, looking down into her eyes again. "Don't ever say that about yourself, my Rebecca. You who have stood up to an entire centaur herd, fought to escape despite overwhelming odds, and have overcome every trial sent your way. You are not weak!"

"Firenze, I…"

But whatever she had tried to say never made it out, as Firenze had suddenly leaned his head forward, his face filling her vision, before his soft lips touched hers.

At first, she was too shocked to do anything, as she stood there in his arms, his lips enveloping hers. She knew she should push him off her, tell him no, or something like that, but then the thoughts and emotions she had gone through the first time they had kissed all those years ago came flooding back to her.

'My god, am I really doing this?' she thought, as she kissed him back. 'He's half horse for crying out loud! What does this make me, a beastiality fan?'

But as she melted into his kiss, she found the sensation to be the same as it was before, his warm taste filling her mouth, making her forget all the differences between them, and the muscles in his arms holding her, pulling her into his soft but masculine chest.

They stood like that for about a minute. Rebecca knew she should break apart from him, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. It would almost be considered a romantic moment, if it weren't for the fact that Firenze's face looked like more equine than human.

When it looked as though the kiss would never end, Firenze finally pulled back, smiling at her. "I have missed you, my Rebecca," he told her, and moved forward again for another kiss.

This time, she did stop him, and pulled back before his lips could touch hers again.

"Firenze, please don't," she said breathlessly.

"What's wrong?" he asked her worriedly.

'Everything,' she thought, but didn't say that out loud. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean…what I mean is…" She stopped in irritation, fighting the urge to throw up her hands in anger at herself. "Firenze, seeing you again after all these years has brought up a lot of old feelings in me, feelings that I thought were long gone. But…" She paused.

"Do you not feel the same way for me anymore?"

"No, yes…possibly…" She groaned. "I don't know. I'm so confused. But, Firenze, you need to know something. I'm…"

"Miss Leicester! Firenze!" Mrs. Weasley's voice called out to them from beyond the trees, from the house. "I've got some food out on the table if you're hungry?!"

Rebecca honestly didn't know whether to feel relieved or irritated at Mrs. Weasley's interruption.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley!" she yelled back. "We'll be there in a minute!"

When she looked back to Firenze, she found him staring at her expectantly, obviously waiting for her to continue. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words to.

"I…I…" she stuttered.

"Perhaps we should have something to eat first, and then talk later?" he suggested.

She bit her lip in frustration. She had something really important that she needed to tell him right now! He had a right to know. She couldn't put it off any longer, as it wasn't fair to him.

"I…I…okay," she finished pathetically, and added in a miserable thought, 'God, I'm a coward.'

She allowed Firenze to lead her back to the house.

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Half Hour Later:

Mrs. Weasley had put together a fabulous feast in so short a time that even if Rebecca had only just come into this magical community recently, she would have guessed it was magic straight away.

She was a lovely woman, Mrs. Weasley, though Rebecca noticed she had a tendency to go overboard with things, like the meal she had prepared. Although there were only three of them there now, as Harry had gone back to the Ministry, leaving her in Firenze' and Molly's care, Mrs. Weasley had made what looked like enough to feed an army of five thousand.

The food had been brought and laid on a table outside, where Firenze could get at it, and he ate with the appetite of a horse (which was to be expected). Rebecca remembered too well the Centaur's huge appetites, what with them having two stomachs and all. Mrs. Weasley had been well pleased, saying she loved a man with a good appetite.

Luckily, Rebecca had saved her by her mistake, by correcting her, saying "Centaur", as Centaurs despised being referred to as men, even worse than half-breeds or horses, and Firenze was no exception, despite his more gentle nature.

All through the meal, she had tried numerous times to pick up where she had left off, to tell Firenze what she knew she had to, but each time she tried to speak, she failed miserably.

'I'm pathetic,' she thought honestly.

"Is something wrong, Rebecca dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

She gave a half-smile. "No," she lied. "Just…thinking. That's all." She couldn't bring herself to look at Firenze's face. If she knew him half as well as she thought she did, he knew she was hiding something that she wanted to tell him.

'Why the devil didn't I tell him before all this mess?' she thought, furious with herself. 'Before we came here, before that stupid witch, before…that kiss.'

She moaned.

Suddenly, there was a knock from the front-door, though how they had managed to hear it from this far still eluded her. Mrs. Weasley instantly got up to go answer it, waving Firenze to stay and finish his food.

"I'll shout if there's anything wrong," she promised him, and hurried off.

Rebecca knew she should take advantage of this moment, and talk to Firenze, but the knock on the door had immediately put her on edge. After all, it wasn't that long since she had had a Centaur and a witch try to kidnap her. She stayed sitting where she was, holding her breath.

Firenze seemed to have picked up on her apprehension, and leaned over to place his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. She smiled at him gratefully, and patted his hand with her own.

"It's Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley's voice shouted to them.

Firenze smiled. "A friend," he told her simply.

A few moments later, a young woman came through the back-door into the garden, smiling at everyone. Rebecca instantly recognised her as the girl from the photo on the clock in the Weasley's living room. She was about Harry and Ron's age, quite pretty, with a long mane of brown hair that was slightly bushy, tied back in a plait, and big brown eyes. She was dressed not in robes, as most of the witches and wizards she had seen so far usually were, but in a smart business suit, carrying a small bag with her.

"Hello, Miss Leicester?" the girl said in a polite voice. "I'm Hermione Granger. How are you?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I've been better."

"Yes, I can imagine." Hermione sat down in front of her, giving Firenze a brief smile and a quick hello. "I'm just here visiting, but I work at the Ministry with Harry and Ron. I don't really have anything to do with the type of work they're doing at the moment, or with your case, but…well, let's just say I have experience with this kind of thing."

Rebecca nodded slowly. "Are you with the Aurors, too?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Not exactly… I work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

Rebecca blinked. "You're kidding?"

She shook her head.

"A pet warden?! Harry has sent Pest Control to look after me?"

Hermione lost her smile, but she kept her cool. "Harry asked me to come see you. Just to check if things were all right, and if there was anything else I can do."

"I doubt it," she muttered, and then sighed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, but…it's just been a long day."

"Understandable," said Hermione in an understanding tone. "Believe me, I know. I've been where you are before."

She gave her a disbelieving look. "You've had a Centaur herd try to come after you, too?"

Hermione laughed. "Not a Centaur, no, but…virtually everything else. Though mostly just dark wizards and witches, trying to kill me and my friends."

Rebecca only blinked once. "You fought in the war against that…Voldy guy?"

She nodded. "Voldemort. My boyfriend Ron, Harry and I spent months wandering around the country, always on the run, with every dark wizard and witch after us. We never had a moment's peace, as we had to have our wits about us at all times. One time we let our guard down when we were visiting Harry's old home village, and we nearly got eaten by a … Well, anyway, like I said, I know a little about what you're going through, being hunted and all."

She accepted a cup of tea from Mrs. Weasley, who had just brought it out for her. As she took a small sip from it, she gave a small but bitter smile. "Funny. You would think that after Voldemort's defeat, all the fighting would be over. Now, not much more than a year later, here we are again, war on the horizon."

Rebecca looked down. "Sorry."

Hermione nearly lowered her cup in shock. "Oh no, I didn't mean…I wasn't blaming you!" She hastened to assure her. "You are not to blame for any of this. It's all…" She paused, eyeing Firenze carefully, who at that moment avoided her gaze. "It's…just one of those things. It can't be helped."

"So everyone keeps telling me," she replied, looking at Firenze beside her. He met her gaze, and then put his hand over hers, squeezing it gently.

She couldn't help but notice how Hermione's eyebrows rose slightly at the sight of their hands meeting. Mrs. Weasley was busy cutting cake and pouring more tea to notice, or possibly she was just practised at keeping her eyes away from another person's business.

"May I ask you something?" Rebecca asked, hastily pulling her hand away from Firenzes'.

"Sure."

"Well, you, Harry and Ron… You all work for the Ministry, which I've been told is the magical equivalent of the government, but you all seem so…"

"Yes?"

"Well, to be frank, you all seem a little young to working such high profile jobs, especially Harry, if what I've heard about an Aurors' job is true. I mean, how long's it been since you left school?"

Hermione laughed. "Not long at all, actually. In fact, technically speaking, I'm still at school now."

"Huh?"

Hermione sipped her tea. "Well, during our last year at Hogwarts, we didn't have time to go to school and finish it. We were constantly on the run."

"So…what, you're school dropouts or something?" she asked blankly.

Molly and Firenze looked curiously at her, wondering what a school dropout was, but Hermione's laughter halted them from asking.

"Not quite," she explained. "I work at the Ministry, but I'm also re-taking my final year."

"How'd you manage that then?"

She shrugged. "Because of all the…work that we did during the war, me, Ron and Harry were practically begged to join the Ministry. Main reason being is that we probably learned more during the war than any Auror did in a classroom. And, because so many good Aurors were lost, the Ministry needed all the good people they could get. And Harry and Ron are rated right up there with the best."

Rebecca blinked, but smiled. "Quite a lot of accomplishments for three kids who never finished school," she joked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You have no idea."

"And they deserve every letter of it!" Molly declared, handing Hermione a slice of cake, and patting her head. "No one did more than you three."

Hermione just smiled back at her, and finished her cake, but Rebecca wasn't finished.

"Can I ask you something else, too?"

"Yeah?"

"Well…you're a witch, right?"

"Well, obviously?"

"Well, forgive me if this is impolite or anything, and I know I haven't been around your kind too long today, but… Well, all the witches and wizards I've noticed from the Ministry so far have all been dressed in robes and pointy hats. You're the first person I've seen in a suit."

Hermione laughed again. "It's alright. Yeah, most lot do wear the old style robes, but as for me… Well, I've never been too comfortable in robes and hats. Personally, I find them a little outdated and old fashioned. This is much more to my liking. Stylish, modern, yet functional." She stood up for a second, showing off her suit.

Rebecca smiled. She definitely liked this girl. "We've sooo got to talk."

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Rebecca and Hermione had spent the next couple of hours talking clothes, shopping, the best stores, and, of course, Rebecca's view on the magical community in general. Hermione wasn't much into the whole shopping gig, but she certainly knew her fashion sense. Also, the fact that she was Muggle-born made her that much more appealing.

Rebecca was grateful for someone who had lived in the muggle world, as they knew about common day things like magazines, muggle music, movies and such. Although Hermione didn't spend a lot of time among muggles anymore, except for her family, she still kept up to date on all the latest happenings and going-ons.

Mrs. Weasley had kept herself busy with washing the dishes and housework, while Firenze had quietly excused himself, apparently going off to check on the area.

Hermione had gone on to explain to her that the Burrow had once been fused with all manner of protective spells during the war, making it one of the safest places there was. Alas, when Voldemort had taken control of the Ministry, he had sent his Death Eaters after them, storming the place and destroying all of the spells. After the war ended, they had had only a few of the original spells recast, as there hadn't been a need for them up until now, since Voldemort and his followers were gone.

"But even if they were all here, there's no guarantee they'd work against Centaurs," Hermione had told her. "The spells were mostly designed to work against dark wizards, people who worked for Voldemort. Centaurs were never involved in the war until the very end, so there wasn't a need to include them in the protection magic. And they're not even human, and very rarely ever use magic, so the spells might be ineffective against them. But even so, we've taken every precaution, and the Centaurs have no reason to suspect you'd ever be here. They don't even know where Ron's family lives."

Hermione had a reassuring tone, but she was also direct. She made sure to tell Rebecca the truth about what might happen, so she could prepare for the worst. In truth, Rebecca wasn't sure whether to be grateful or disappointed with that. On the one hand, she was happy someone was treating her with respect and telling her the full truth, while on the other she felt like she could have done with a comforting lie, if only to quell the burning fear she had.

"Hello, anyone here?!" Ron's voice called out from the house.

"Out here, Ron!" Hermione called back to him. A few moments later, he came out, smiling broadly at them both.

"Hiya," he greeted them both, but planted a quick kiss on Hermione's cheek. "Sorry I couldn't get back sooner."

"Why are you so long?" said Hermione, frowning.

He sighed. "Another Centaur sighting. This was another close call. Nearly a whole busload of people almost caught sight of the four legged menace."

"Did you get everyone?" she asked urgently.

He nodded. "I'll say one thing; at least all this running around is giving me a good workout."

She smiled, kissing him back, this time on the lips.

Rebecca smiled at the both of them. It was nice to watch a couple in love. It reminded her that she…

"Have you been alright here, Miss Leicester?" Ron then asked her.

"It's Rebecca, please. And yes, your mother's been the perfect hostess."

"Where's Firenze by the way?" His voice took on a worried tone.

"He's out checking the perimeters," assured Hermione. "You don't have to worry about that. With him here, I doubt any of the Centaurs will even get a millimetre close."

He smiled, seemingly satisfied.

"Where's Harry?" asked Rebecca.

"Still working at the Ministry, dealing with paperwork and everything. Looks like he'll be pulling another all night."

"Poor guy," she whispered in sympathy. She remembered all the late nights her father had had to do during his career as a politician. He had always looked so battered and exhausted when he eventually came home.

"Nah, he'll be fine. We're used to working odd hours, us."

She nodded. "Have there been any updates?"

He lost his smile. "Not…really."

"What do you mean?"

He paused, rubbing his hands together sheepishly.

"Ron?" said Hermione sternly.

He sighed. "It's nothing good, alright," he said, looking at Rebecca. "And it's nothing you didn't already know anyway."

"What?"

He sighed again. "Just that the Centaurs are starting to become more and more noticeable. A few muggles managed to get away, which means they know something now about Centaurs being in the city. I doubt they'll say anything, as who'd believe them? But they're out there. And…"

"And?"

He groaned. "Magorian still won't accept any kind of compromise, and if things keep going the way they are, not only will war will be inevitable, but it's doubtful any of us will be able to keep the secret of the wizarding community from muggles."

"You mean muggles will be finding out about you people?" asked Rebecca.

He nodded. "Our resources are stretched pretty thin. We're short staffed as it is, and so many of us are still recovering from the war with You-Know-Who. If a war with the Centaurs does break out, it's doubtful we'll be able to spare anyone to keep a lid on any magical revelations. So many wizards, magical creatures and such do keep slipping up, showing themselves to your people. If the Ministry officials weren't there to clean up after them, conceal their appearances, alter a few memories and stuff…it's most likely our secret would be out within a week, if not sooner."

None of them said anything for a while, and Rebecca just stayed sitting where she was, idly stirring her tea. When almost a full two minutes had passed, she finally got up and excused herself.

"Excuse me. If you don't mind, I would like to have a lie down. It's been a long day, you know."

Ron looked at her weirdly. "Err, yeah, sure. Go inside, ask my mom. She'll show you to one of the spare rooms."

"Thank you."

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Next Morning:

Rebecca had spent the rest of the day, and all night, within the spare room that Mrs. Weasley had lent her. She had been most kind to let her stay, but Molly Weasley had insisted, saying that it was good to have more people in the house again, as most of her children had moved out.

Not that Rebecca had been sleeping all that time. Far from it, as she hadn't really been that tired. She had just used that as an excuse to get away from them all, including Firenze.

She couldn't help it. What with Firenze, the herd, that demented witch, whoever she was, and now imminent war, and the existence of everything magic possibly being revealed to the whole world…she had just needed to go somewhere to be by herself for a while.

She had barely slept, and had just spent most of the last 16 hours or so lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Sighing, she gave in and got up. There was no point staying in this room any longer, as Harry, Mrs. Weasley or one of the others would most likely be in soon to wake her up or see if she needed anything.

She got out of bed, quickly dressed, and went to make her way to the bathroom…if she could remember where it was, that is. The hallways in this house were so awkward. She knew that as a magical house it had to be expected, but still it was so damn irritating. There were doors everywhere, far too many for a house that seemed as small as this one did from the outside.

After opening and closing about four doors, she finally found the right one to the bathroom, and went in to freshen up. As she did, she immediately heard her name being called.

"Rebecca!" Mrs. Weasley's voice called.

"Yes, ma'am?!" she called back.

"When you're ready, could you come down for a moment?! Harry's back, and wants a word!"

"Yes, I'll be down in just half an hour!" She frowned. 'Never fails, does it,' she thought. 'You get in the bathroom, and before you know it, there's a call for you.'

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After half an hour, Rebecca hurried downstairs. Normally, she spent at least an hour in the bathroom, getting ready, and that was just for her hair.

When she entered the living room, she found Harry sitting there with a cup of tea, waiting for her. Sitting beside him was a young redheaded girl, who Rebecca recognised from one of the photos in the clock.

"Morning, Rebecca dear!" said Mrs. Weasley brightly, as she came in with a cup of tea for her. "Oh, you haven't met Ginny, have you? She came home just after you went to bed." She proudly pointed to the redheaded female. "This is my daughter Ginevra, but we all call her Ginny."

"How do you do?" said Rebecca politely, smiling as she took the cup from Ginny's mother.

Ginny smiled back at her, and stood up to shake her hand. "Very well, thank you. Nice to meet you."

As they shook hands, Rebecca slightly tilted her head. "Gin-evra? That's Italian, do you know?"

"Yes?"

"Sorry, it's just that I live in Italy. I also work with art, and Ginevra is the name of a famous painting by Leonardo da Vinci."

Ginny's eyes widened a little. "Really? What painting? Do you work with famous artwork?"

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "I wish. I do work in several galleries and art museums, but mostly I just repair old paintings that have grown old and worn, and work on my own art. Oh, and the painting I mentioned is called Ginevra de' Benci, named after an Italian aristocrat in the 15th century, a woman admired for her intelligence."

Ginny blushed a little. "Well, therein ends the similarity, as I'm hardly what you would call smart, Miss Leicester."

"I would," said Harry, as he closed his hand around hers, making her blush even more.

"What work do you do?" Ginny suddenly asked. "I mean, what kind of themes do you paint?"

Rebecca winced a little. "Mythical creatures. Mostly Centaurs."

Ginny laughed. "Makes sense, I guess. It's nice to know some good came out of your time with them."

"Yeah. By the way, where is Firenze?"

"He's still outside," answered Harry. "He spent most of last night patrolling the grounds, so he's sleeping it off."

"And looking at the sky," muttered Molly. "Hagrid was absolutely right about them Centaurs. Never looks at anything closer than the moon, Firenze does."

Rebecca remembered the late nights in the Herding Ground, when she had watched the Centaurs forever watching the skies, observing the stars, and trying to learn their secrets. She often wondered what Centaurs would do if they didn't have stars to look at. Not to mention where they found the energy. When she had been with them, some had stayed up all night stargazing, and yet somehow been up the next day hunting and practising their archery.

"Would you like us to call him in?" added Harry.

"No, that's alright. Let him rest. I'll go out and see him later. What was it you wanted to see me about?"

"Well, we think we may have an ID on the woman who tried to abduct you at the Ministry." He reached into the holster under his jacket, and pulled out his wand. "Before anything else, can I just confirm with you that this is the woman in question?"

He made some swirling movements in the air before him, and a bright light lit up at the tip of his wand, which grew like a puff of smoke, and within moments a picture took form in the air above it.

After spending a day in the wizards' world, Rebecca was no longer surprised much by all the wizards' spells. Plus, she had seen a similar spell done once before, years ago with Firenze, when he had been telling the life-story of his race for her.

She stared intensely at the picture of the blonde-haired woman before her, and nodded. "Yes, that's her."

Harry nodded back. "We've managed to identify her then, as Miss Vanessa Darnell. She was one of the witches in the Typing Pool. One of her colleagues reported her as missing today, since she never showed up for work in the last two days."

"A typing pool?" said Rebecca, astounded. "What on earth would a secretary want with me?"

"That I can't answer. We've checked her records and history. She's been with the Ministry for years, working under the radar so to speak, in the secretarial department, mostly just typing or assisting any of the supervisors. Never been up for promotion, nor did she ever request for one apparently. Seems that to her the Ministry was just a job, nothing else. Didn't matter what, so long as she got paid."

"Have you managed to find her?"

"No. We checked her house, but there's no sign of her, and none of her neighbours had seen or heard anything. In fact, no one had even noticed she was gone till we started asking."

"What about her family? Didn't they miss her?"

He shook his head. "The only family she's got live abroad, only keep in contact through Christmas cards. As for friends, everyone she knew personally worked in the same pool as her."

"Why didn't they report her missing sooner?"

"Seems she had a habit of taking the odd day off, but only once in a while, and never more than one at a time. That's why they reported it today, since she's never gone off two days straight."

He frowned. "We've checked and rechecked everything. There's no mention of her ever having any kind of beef with any muggle. And she's never had anything to do with the Centaurs, or with anyone who has. During the war, she continued doing what she always did, which was her job, doing whatever people told her to do."

"And nothing whatsoever to do with me, too, I'm guessing?" asked Rebecca.

He shook his head again. "Not that we know of, or, as I said, with any other muggle apparently. The last kind of contact she or her family ever had with a muggle was her late grandfather, who was one."

"Who was that then?"

"Charles Darnell, worked in some slate mines, originally from Scotland, moved to London after he married Vanessa's grandmother. Didn't know anything of magic before he met her. Don't suppose there's any mention of a Darnell associated with your family?"

Rebecca shook her head. "Not that I know of." This time, she was the one who frowned. "Well, then…what the hell did she want with me? And why go to the trouble of trying to kidnap me in broad daylight from the Ministry itself?"

Harry grumbled. "I have absolutely no idea. Me, Ron, Hermione and everyone else from the available Aurors have been racking our brains trying to figure it out, but…there's just no connection! Nothing at all to suggest why she would want you, or why she would want to do something that could very well cause war between the Ministry and the Centaurs. The only way we can find out is to ask her, when we find her."

"I don't suppose you've had any luck in that either, I guess?"

"None yet, but we only just started looking today." He looked at her in sympathy with his bright green eyes. "We'll find her, I promise."

She sighed, and then paused. "Is there any chance this might not have anything to do with the Centaurs?"

"We thought about that, but like I said, there's no connection between her, your family nor any of hers. We can only assume this must have something to do with the Centaurs then. But what that is, we have no idea."

She chewed on her lower lip. "Could it have to do with something else then?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, what about those people you said you were at war with? You said they were against those who had any muggle blood in them. Maybe this Vanessa was one of them in secret, and she didn't take kindly to finding an actual muggle in the Ministry?"

Harry half-turned his head, as though considering, but in the end he shook his head. "I doubt it, Rebecca. We thoroughly checked her record out, and believe me, if there had been any connection between her and the Death Eaters, we would know about it. She never displayed any kind of loyalty to them, except for continuing to work for the Ministry while it was under their control, and even then she only did so because she needed the work."

"Plus, none of the former Death Eaters would be so stupid as to reveal themselves so openly like that," added Ginny suddenly. "Since the end of the war, and the death of their master, they've all gone underground, hiding from sight. I doubt they'd be brave enough to show their faces even to go shopping, let alone abduct someone from the Ministry itself."

Harry nodded. "She's right. I don't know why Vanessa Darnell has it in for you, Rebecca, but I promise you I will find out."

Rebecca just nodded.

Suddenly, there was a burst of fire from the fireplace, but no one came out of it. There was, however, what looked like to be some kind of disembodied head floating in the flames. Rebecca shrieked at the sight.

"It's okay!" Harry hastened to assure her, jumping up and heading over to the head. "It's the Floo Network. We use them like telephones."

He walked over to the fireplace, staring at the head, which was that of a dark-haired man with a long moustache. "Yes, Edwin?" he said.

Rebecca never bothered to ask, but the man, Edwin, was an employee of the Ministry. He worked there as a simple clerk, and was just calling Harry at the request of Ron.

"Just checking to make sure the Floo path is clear for some people to transport there," he said. "Don't want nobody losing their heads or nothing when a bunch of people come crashing through their fireplace."

"Who's coming?"

"Mr. Weasley, Ronald Weasley that is, and Imogen Griffin. Says you told them to stop by?"

Harry nodded. "Proceed when ready then."

He stepped back, as Edwin's face vanished, and a few moments later, a burst of emerald flames filled up the fireplace, depositing a young woman in a dark robe and pointy hat in its wake.

"Miss Griffin," Harry greeted her, offering her his hand to help her up.

The woman smiled, and graciously accepted, shaking his hand politely. She was a small witch, less than five feet and a few inches tall, and looked even younger than Harry, with a delicate but pale face, and long, dark black hair that framed it.

'Good lord, it's Wednesday Adams,' thought Rebecca. "Reminds me of Chloe's old look."

Her friend, Chloe, had once sported the whole dark and gloomy look when she had been a teenager, but had long since grown out of it, preferring more up-to-beat styles, with colour and fashion.

"Please, call me Imogen," said the young witch, quietly but politely, stepping out of the fireplace and gazing round at everyone. "You must be Mr. Weasley's wife and daughter. Pleased to meet you all."

Rebecca couldn't help sneaking a look back at Mrs. Weasley, and judging by the way she looked like she was scrutinizing Imogen's clothes, she didn't think much of her appearance either.

Ginny noticed this also, and gently knocked her mother's shoulder, scowling. "Mom," she hissed at her. "Give it a rest, will ya?"

Molly gave her daughter a sideways glance. "I know Aurors, even young trainees, don't have to worry much about their appearance, when chasing down bad guys and all, but couldn't she…"

"Oh, come on, mom." Ginny giggled slightly. "It's no worse than what Tonks used to dress in."

At the mention of Tonks, Ginny and Molly both took on a sombre expression. Rebecca guessed that this Tonks, whoever he or she was, must have been yet another casualty in the wizards' war.

'Lord, how many friends and family did these people lose?' she wondered, amazed and saddened.

The young witch, Imogen, hadn't been paying attention to the Weasley's hushed conversation, and had immediately come to her. But even if she had pushed herself right up to her ear, Rebecca would have still had to strain to hear her. The girl was as quiet as a mouse.

"And you must be the muggle that I've been hearing so much about. Roberta Leicester?" asked Imogen.

She narrowed her eyes. "Re-becca," she corrected the young witch.

"My apologies," Imogen held up her hand, and then lowered it for a handshake. "I hope I will be of some use to you in the future."

Rebecca half-cocked an eyebrow, wondering what she meant by that, but took her offered hand, shaking it politely, and then looking over to Harry for an explanation.

"Imogen will be staying here with you for the day, as part of your extra security," he said.

"Isn't Firenze enough?" she asked, slightly surprised. She was used to having lots of security and bodyguards around her, as it had been necessary while she had been growing up, what with her being the daughter of a politician and all, but still she would have thought a Centaur warrior like Firenze would have been sufficient.

Harry shook his head sadly. "I don't doubt Firenze's abilities. On the contrary, I would trust him with my life and those of my loved ones. However, we know now that it's not just the Centaurs who are after you, but a witch as well. If she were to show up here, and possessed her wand, she could easily take out Firenze with one good stun spell, given half the chance. So it's best that we have at least one other security detail here who knows magic."

She couldn't argue with logic like that, so she nodded.

"Can I offer you some tea, dear?" said Molly, addressing Imogen probably for the first time.

"Yes, please, thank you."

"Do you take sugar?"

"Three teaspoons, please."

"My, haven't we a sweet-tooth."

As Molly left the room for the kitchen, Harry was giving Imogen a curious look. "I thought you didn't like sugar, Imogen?"

She smiled sheepishly. "I don't…when I'm at home with my parents. They don't like me having too many sweet things. Says it will rot my teeth."

Ginny laughed. "Been there, done that. Tried to play around it."

"I heard that, young lady!" Molly's voice called from the kitchen.

Everyone laughed.

"So how long have you been an Auror?" Ginny asked.

Imogen shrugged. "Technically speaking, I'm not one now, at least not officially. I'm still in the middle of my training."

Rebecca raised her eyebrows at that, and Harry looked apologetically to her.

"Yeah, sorry about this, Rebecca," he said timidly. "I would get you some more personal guards, or at least one fully qualified one, but there's just no one available. The entire Ministry is spread pretty thin. Ever since your near capture by Aonghus yesterday, it seems like the Centaurs have re-doubled their efforts. We've had sightings of them all over the city, in every corner and alley."

Her face fell at that, so all she said was, "Okay, it's fine."

"But don't worry!" he hastened to reassure her. "Imogen here is the best out of all our Aurors in training. She knows more defence spells than any teacher at Hogwarts."

Rebecca didn't bother to correct him in saying that she wasn't bothered by the lack of a qualified Auror, but in the news that the Centaurs were still causing so much trouble for everyone because of her.

Imogen kept her face neutral. "I do my best," she replied quietly.

Everyone stayed silent after that, making Harry shuffle his shoes silently in awkwardness.

"Are the rest of your family up?" asked Rebecca finally. Since she had gone to her room and spent the night there, she hadn't met any of the rest of their family until now.

"My husband left for work early this morning," said Molly, as she came back in with the tea. "A shame, as he was dying to meet you. But I'm sure he can contain his excitement until tonight. Three sugars was it, dear?"

Imogen nodded, and accepted the cup from Mrs. Weasley, who began offering tea to everyone else.

"Sorry, mum," said Ginny. "I gotta go now, or I'll be late for practise."

Ginny had recently finished her final year at Hogwarts, which had not been easy considering all the trouble in the previous year, but due to everyone understanding the special circumstances (the war and all), and with extra help and vigorous study, she had managed to pull through.

She was now currently trying for a position with the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team. Because of her excellent Quidditch skills, not to mention all the stories that spoke of her during the war, and her being the official girlfriend of The-Boy-Who-Lived, the Harpies had been most eager to offer her a place. Although she still had to go through the tryouts, in the interest of fairness, it was only a formality, as she was already assured the position.

"All right, but try to be home on time for a change," her mother slightly abolished her.

"Can't promise that. You know how Quidditch trials go."

"Well, call next time you're going to be out until past eleven then!"

"Okay, okay." Ginny leaned forward, and kissed her mother goodbye, followed by another kiss that she gave to Harry, though theirs took significantly longer to finish.

"Ahem," Molly coughed slightly, making them break the kiss awkwardly.

"Uh-hem, yeah," said Harry, also coughing slightly. "I should go, too. Ministry is still awfully busy, you know."

"Yeah, I have to go, too," added Ginny, as she hastened over to the fireplace. "I'll see you all later!"

"Bye, love," said Molly, waving goodbye.

Rebecca watched all this with mild amusement, and with modest awe as Ginny took out some of the silvery Floo powder from a flowerpot on the mantelpiece, tossed a handful of it into the fireplace, and then called out, "Holyhead!" After which, she walked into the fireplace that had then sprung up with the usual green flames, which she then walked into, disappearing from sight a moment later. Harry soon followed after, after saying goodbye to everyone, and assuring her (again) that everything would be fine.

'If everything's going to be fine, then why is it just getting worse every day?' she thought sadly.

"Right!" Molly said brightly. "Who's up for some breakfast? Imogen dear, have you eaten? Rebecca, I know you haven't yet. I've got some scones leftover, and some toast I think, and…"

To Be Continued…