"The Ministry seems to be rather pleased with itself," Claridina said, tossing the Prophet into the fire.
"They all believe they've bested you," Draco said. "Fools; as if you'd ever be defeated so simply."
"They'll pay for their ignorance in due time," Claridina said. "Now then, Draco, have you had any luck with that task I gave you?"
"Yes, I have," he nodded. "It's coming along well."
"Good, good," Claridina nodded. "You've been proving yourself most admirably, Draco. I'm impressed."
"Thank you, my Lord," Draco said, bowing his head.
"You may leave now," Claridina said. "Report back here tomorrow and be prepared to give me further details on your progress."
"Yes, of course," he said.
Claridina turned back the her cauldron as Draco exited the room. The smoke framed her face as she inhaled the aroma. Let the Ministry believe they had thwarted her; that's what she had wanted after all. It would backfire on them all in good time.
….
"Make sure you put these on," Colton Axten, a wizard from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, said, handing Harry, Ron and Hermione masks much like muggle doctors wore. "Just in case anything gets through your bubblehead charm."
"How are you lot doing on figuring out more about this potion?" Harry asked as they were led into a small room.
"It's tough," Colton sighed. "Almost nothing is known about this potion, other than it's deadly and damn near impossible to brew correctly."
"Claridina's gifted with potions," Ron said.
"What have you found out so far?" Hermione asked.
"Only that the mushroom spores that were used in this were picked fresh," he replied. "Not purchased from an Apothecary."
"We've been suspecting she's been hiding around some sort of woodsy area for some time," Harry nodded.
"The muggle ministries keep tabs on which regions deadly varieties of mushrooms grow in," Hermione said. "I'll have someone look into that and maybe we can narrow down our searching field."
"Won't do us any good if she's put half the amount of protective charms around her hideout as we used when we on the run," Ron muttered.
"Unfortunately, I don't think we're going to be able to tell you anything else useful from this," Colton sighed, looking into the cauldron where the Athrimo was. It was protected by a large bubble. "We've had to two potion masters come in so far, but they haven't been able to tell us anything."
"Thanks," Harry sighed. "You know how you're going to dispose of it?"
"Department of Mysteries is fielding that," Colton answered. "They're rather good of making things disappear and never come back."
"Right," Harry nodded. "We'll see you around."
"Scary to think about how good that woman is with potions," Ron said as the three left the room, removing their bubblehead charms and masks.
"There's barely anything written in any of the 26 potion books I've looked in," Hermione sighed. "All I've found is that the potion has only been reportedly brewed once."
"When?" Harry asked.
"In 1659," she replied. "A Mutton Grendwinch brewed a small dosage and tried to unleash it on a muggle school house. Luckily he hadn't checked his calendar in some time and didn't realize he went to the school house on Christmas, so of course there was no one there, and the only person who breathed it in and died was him."
"There's only one person who I can think of that would be any help to us," Harry sighed, leaning against a wall. "And he's dead."
"Snape?" Ron asked, and Harry nodded.
"He was brilliant with potions," Harry said. "Even though he never really wanted to teach it. Plus he made all those edits in my old book."
"Too bad it burned in that fire," Ron said. "Now there's no way of getting any insight from him."
"Well…" Hermione said. "There might be…I'd have to do some digging around, but I doubt it would be too hard…"
"What exactly are you going on about?" Ron asked.
"I'll tell you once I find it," Hermione said. "I've got to get back to my office right now, though."
"Not this rubbish again!" Ron exclaimed as Hermione rushed off towards the lift. He turned to Harry. "You'd think after being married for nearly fourteen years she'd be a bit more willing to tell me these things."
"Wishful thinking there, mate," Harry said.