A/N: This chapter as been totally re-written. 30-10-14

Harry Potter and the Wizards of Malta

Chapter 20.

Splotches of light and random noises were pulling him from a dream. Muffled voices were now occurring in an irregular exchange. Harry opened his eyes to see Hermione standing a few feet from his bedside. He lay there still and watched the witch for few moments without making an attempt at speech. She was obviously looking at someone by the door, someone talking in a muffled and soft voice. Then the head snapped around to see him wide-eyed and awake.

"Harry," she managed and rushed to his side.

"Hermione," he struggled to say through a thick tongue.

He looked around to see what looked like the inside of a hospital room.

"Where am I?"

"You're in St. Mungo's Harry. You're safe – you're okay."

The figure she had been talking to walked up to bed in his peripheral vision. He tried to turn his head to see but everything was stiff and sore. He winced instead.

"Just lie still Harry – it's Hannah."

"Hannah?"

The dishwater blonde witch approached his hospital bed carefully.

"How do you feel Harry?"

He strained to look her way. Hannah took his hand and moved closer to the bed.

"Okay. Everything's still a little foggy, but okay I guess."

Hannah smiled gently and rubbed his hand.

"You've been through a lot Harry," injected Hermione. "We're damned lucky we found you when we did."

"You found me – where?"

"You don't know?" she asked. He thought for a few moments, and then a few moments more.

"The meeting – it went badly didn't it?" he asked, to no one in particular. Hermione nodded and made a pitiful face. "The tube tunnel – I was somewhere in the tube tunnel."

"How'd you wind up in the tunnel Harry – do you remember?" she asked and Harry grimaced.

"Penny. It was Penny. A stunning curse in the back," he replied and Hermione gasped. Hannah shook her head in disgust.

"You were down there for some time Harry. The healers said, if we... we'll talk about that later. Do you remember anything at all?"

He nodded. "I was chained to a wall – for days – struggled to get out."

"Chained to a wall? You must have gotten free Harry. You were almost in the main tunnel," she added.

"I broke free. She helped me Hermione. I broke free."

"Who helped you Harry?"

"Sandy – it was Sandy that helped me."

Hermione looked at Hannah. Both girls wore a troubled and worried expression.

"Harry, you're still very weak – very tired," Hermione said and cupped her hand over his.

"Yes. I am. Not myself, am I?"

"Just rest for now. Hannah and I will come back."

"Hannah? What are you doing here – away from work..."

"Rest Harry... just rest," added Hannah and stroked his forehead.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

"So he confirmed it then?" asked Kingsley through a small cloud of pipe smoke. "It was Penthane?"

"Yes sir. He confirmed it – but?" she hesitated.

"But what?"

"He's not altogether himself yet."

"What'd you mean?"

"I wouldn't say delirious – but he must have been," she said and Kingsley shot back a befuddled expression. "He thinks Sandy helped him sir," she answered his puzzled look.

"Oh, I see."

"He's still out of it."

"He doesn't know how close he came to dying," Kingsley said, nodding and set down the pipe.

"His body temperature was very low when we found him. The healers said one more night would have killed him." she explained.

Kingsley shook his head and slowly rose from the desk. He stared at the wood paneled walls as if they held new meaning. He paced around the desk without speaking. Hermione began to fidget in the large leather chair.

"I'm wondering," he said and paused. "As much as I'd love to haul her arse in right now – we should wait until Harry can put together an accurate story. We don't dare charge her and then not have enough proper evidence to hold her."

"That sounds like a reasonable plan sir – but if word gets out – that we found him," she said and scratched her head through the thick pageboy. "She'll surely run."

"Yes... She'd have to wouldn't she." Hermione nodded. "And that could be very problematic. She has enough money to travel to some remote corner of the world and never be found," he continued and shook his head.

"We'll have to watch her sir."

"Yes, but with who? She's seen us at the interrogation. We'll have to find someone she doesn't know."

"Is Neville ready yet? I don't think she knows him."

Kingsley shook his head, then nodded.

"Ready, no, but if he can stay out of trouble he should be okay."

"We could send Steven with him," she added and lifted an index finger.

"Yeah, I'll talk to Steven. I wonder if Quixwood could help – with some sort of surveillance device. We can't afford to lose her," he reiterated.

"No sir – that would never do," she stated firmly.

"So... how long did the healers say he would need to recover?" asked Kingsley.

Hermione shrugged. "A couple of weeks was their best guess.

Kingsley nodded and reached for the pipe.

"So where he at now, Harry?"

"He's in the country; staying with Hannah and her aunt," she replied.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

"Can you do one more hill?"

"I can't," he said and she frowned. "Really I can't. My legs are killing me."

She looked at him suspiciously and then grinned unevenly.

"Okay – let's go back then. I'll lead."

Harry nodded and Hannah turned and headed back on the trail they had come in on. They had to climb back out and then the rest of the trail, all the way to the grassy meadow, was downhill. The grassy meadow – it was the reward at the end of the trail and Hannah was suspicious he was saving energy for the reward later.

After the healers cleared him to leave, Hannah insisted that he should recover at her aunt's place in the country. For several days he just sat on her huge front porch overlooking the grassy meadows and reflected on what had happened. Hannah would slip away for a couple of hours to check on the Cauldron and then zip back, often to catch him napping in the rocker on the porch.

She had finally coaxed him out for a walk. His legs, weak and pale, barely made to the top of the first hill. After several days of this he was able to make up one hill and half-way up another. But yesterday he had overdone it and he was tired.

It was difficult not to notice her shapely legs and well toned ass as Hannah led the way up the narrow trail. The morning sun was nearly straight up now as shafts of light flickered on and off like huge knives stabbing the dense woods. Startling the occasional bird and swatting insects they finally crested the hill. Pausing to dig a water bottle out of his rucksack, he offered Hannah a drink before taking one of his own.

He was still a bit jittery. With each step through the woods, new lanes of sight presented themselves and each lane threatened to hide an enemy. Several times he had almost snatched a wand before reason and common sense allayed his suspicions. The back of his legs and bum were burning coming up the hill and the front of his legs were burning coming down.

At the foot of the slope, the blonde witch led him to a place in the tall grassy meadow. It was the same place they had used for several days and together they had wallowed out and flattened the grass in a space the size of a small room. Hannah stopped first and pulled off her rucksack. Harry quickly followed and they both had large terrycloth towels laid down over the grassy bed.

"This already feels great," began Hannah as she plopped down to remove the trainers and heavy socks. Harry did the same as they ritualistically took the same items off together. Being a bit shy at first this is how the ritual always started. Hannah took off her shoes and socks, to which Harry mimicked. She then peeled out of her top and sports bra, and Harry pulled his shirt over his head. With a little giggle, she came out the shorts and slid down and stepped out of the skimpy pants. Of course Harry had been obliged to do the same.

That was the first day. Now three days later, they watched each other come out the clothes deliciously. Hannah watched carefully as Harry stripped naked. She moved closer to inspect his skin and the scars the shackled had left on his wrists.

"You'll still need some oil for that," she said, looking at the scars. "But you're beginning to show some color," she said and smiled.

"If I only had yours," he said giving her breasts a once over. He smiled and they a found a place in the sun with their faces in the shade.

"You think your aunt will catch us here?"

"Of course not," she replied and shook her dismissively.

"Oh, you're sure are you?"

"I think so. And I think she knows what we're doing. She's no fool, and if she were my age she'd be doing the same."

"You jest."

Hannah shook her head. "No I'm not. She was a spirited witch in her day. Besides, she likes you Harry. She thinks you're a hero."

A soft breeze moved the seeded tops of the tall grass and they lay there and contemplated the heavens. Hannah turned over on her stomach, still looking toward Harry.

"I don't feel like a hero now. I'll tell you that."

"You are though – just a little down at the moment," she purred and reached out to place her hand on his chest.

"I guess I should be counting my lucky stars, eh?" he asked and rolled over to kiss the witch.

"Yes, you should," she muttered before his lips found hers.

:

The days quickly turned into weeks. They walked much further into the hills, but always stopping to sunbath in the meadow. They would lie there naked until they could no longer resist one another and then make love under the hot sun. This went on almost every day. Harry wondered where this thing with Hannah was going, but realized he would have to be getting back and the beautiful dream would have to end.

One day on their walks she seemed a little pensive. After they came down from the hills she led him back to her aunt's porch instead of the meadow. They fell into rockers and looked over the fields as the wind blew over the grass tops like waves.

"Oh you two are back," Hannah's aunt greeted them as she pushed open a squeaking screen door.

"Hello Emmy," greeted Hannah.

"Something smells good," greeted Harry, smelling lunch wafting out to the porch.

"Lunch is almost ready you two – oh Harry," she broke off. "This came for you today."

Harry realized at that moment the dream was nearing an end. He took the letter and cradled it without tearing it open.

"From the ministry?" asked Hannah.

"Yes," he said and finally tore open the letter. He looked over it for a few moments and put it back in the envelope without speaking.

"Do you have to get back?"

"No but they want me to – I can tell that for sure."

There was a chilling pause.

"Harry I have to ask you something. I hate to but I have to."

"Well then ask me," he said.

"Is this going anywhere – you and me? I know what you said before, so I don't have any claims, but I had to ask."

Harry already knew the answer. He'd been been struggling over the correct response for days. Hannah had been an angel. Nothing on earth could have picked him up and put him back together the way she had over the last few weeks.

"Wherever you want it to Hannah. I owe you everything."

"I don't want you feeling like you owe me Harry. I don't want that."

"What do you want Hannah?"

She paused and looked over the field. When she looked back tears were swelling in her eyes.

"I got a letter myself, the other day."

"Yeah."

"Yes, it was from the guy from Durmstrang. He says he's sorry and that there's been some problems, and that he wants to see me again."

For a moment he felt a sharp pain. It was a little prick or a punch.

"Ah... Hannah," he answered in pain and ran fingers through his hair. "The gent from Durmstrang... he would be the safest bet. It would be best for you not to love me Hannah. It seems that all of those that do... Just... just don't."

"I know Harry. All of those who love you die. And I know I shouldn't – maybe that's why I want to."

"Well, then don't."

"Well then tell me Harry. Tell me what you want – just for once. I have to know."

"I want you to be happy. That's what I want, with all my heart."

"Then you don't love me. Is that what you're saying?"

Harry looked over the meadow where a prairie fire of sunset washed away his thoughts. A few coloring clouds fell and the sunset turned a memorizing red. A bright red sunset and Harry soaked it up, drawing energy from it. And as it dropped, he felt replenished and knew exactly just what to do. He had to get back to the Ministry.

"I don't love you."

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

The giant marble halls of the Ministry atrium were almost empty at this hour and Harry's footsteps rang through the length of it. Harry felt good but a bit apprehensive as he entered the lift for the Department of Law Enforcement and the Auror offices. A familiar smell and the lift attendant called out the level as the left jerked to a halt and he entered the department. The light in Hermione's office was coming up first and it was as good as any for a place to stop. The witch was wearing tailored light blue robes and almost hidden in the huge office.

"Hello the house."

A head of mouse brown hair shot up immediately.

"Harry?" she said, almost asking. "Thought you were never coming back."

"Nah. Had enough sitting around," he said and plopped down in the chair by her desk.

She looked amused by this.

"So you thought you'd sit around here?," she teased. "You look like you been on holiday – how you feel?"

"Physically... probably better than ever, but I'll need some work with Beollan."

She smiled and gave him one of those looks of deep reflection.

"You've talked to Ron I take it. Penny's run off and we think we've lost her."

He looked gutted.

"You're not serious – how'd this happen?"

Hermione shook her head pitifully.

"Any theories on why she did that?" he asked.

"Panicked, most likely. She was afraid Kingsley would make good on his promise," she added with a smile.

"I don't think so – I think she knows I got out of the tunnel."

"Oh, Harry – that's impossible. How could she?"

"She's more connected than you know. I made the same mistake. I thought of her as a pretty Muggle. But that's what she's trying to sell you see – and we all bought in on it."

Hermione rolled her eyes and then looked animated.

"I don't know Harry – you may need to think on that some more. You were talking some crazy stuff in the hospital."

"What kind of crazy stuff?"

"You know – that stuff about Sandy," she said and snickered.

"Oh – that – well yeah, that was kind of weird. But it was so real, I still don't know what I saw."

"Harry," she said and dipped her head. "She's dead. So you couldn't have seen her."

"She's not alive – not in the literal, but she claimed she was somewhere in between – and she gave me the will to get out," he went on. "But your right, I don't know what I saw. It could have been a vision," he said with a sigh.

"Must have been a damned good one."

"It was."

Hermione paused to think and shook her head.

"This is terrible. We've let our prime suspect slip through our fingers."

"Well, we'll just have to get her back," he said through gritting teeth.

"Sure, but how. We don't have the faintest idea ."

"Maybe not – but I know a few things about her. Have you talked to the band?"

"Well no – unless you count the bodyguard and doorman," she replied and wrinkled her nose.

"Whad they say?"

"That's she's gone and they haven't seen her."

"Maybe they would tell me – and there's her friends Ace Varney and Piper. I could talk to them."

"Like hell – your not ready. Give us an address and we'll take care of it," she demanded.

"I don't have an address, but I can find one," he insisted. "And one more thing..."

"What's that?"

"We need to check with Charlie at the Leaky Cauldron."

"What for?"

"He may have seen Lasaurus while Hannah and me were in the country. Penny claimed she squared things with him, but I don't know. Maybe he's responsible for her disappearance."

"Aw Harry, I don't know. You need to talk to Kingsley before you go looking for him."

"Kingsley – why?" he asked and made a puzzled face.

"He doesn't think he's worth going after," she said through squinted eyes.

"Not worth going after? Why the hell not – he killed an Auror Hermione."

"I'm not completely sure. You better speak to Kingsley Harry. I know you and Jerry were friends."

"Friends? No – brothers was more like it. It took every last man to hunt down Razvan in Romania. They were all like brothers."

"Even Lance," she asked through a snicker.

The walk to Kingsley's office was long and he was already mentally tired. Maybe coming back hadn't been such a good idea. Tracy Tolley was straightening things around her desk. Her huge baby blues popped up immediately after Harry shuffled under the gilded archway.

"Oh Harry – didn't expect to see you back so soon."

"Sitting around was getting boring," he replied, and she smiled. "Is Kingsley in?"

She looked at a small appointment book on her desk.

"Yes, he's in," she said, flipping the pages. "And... he's free. Come on."

Tracy swished across the floor in freshly presses robes with a little snap in the fabric. With her magical touch, she pressed the latch and heavy bolts snapped open. She pressed open the heavy padded door.

"Thanks Tracy."

"Glad you're back Harry," she replied and flashed a toothy smile.

Kingsley was deep in thought and sifting through a pile of papers. He casually took notice of Harry and pointed to the large leather chair opposite his desk.

"I heard you back – looks like you've been to the beach?"

Harry collapsed into the huge carnivorous chair beside Kingsley's desk.

"Glad to be back," he lied. "There was no reason to stay out any longer."

"So what's on your mind then?" he asked, leaning back and reaching for the pipe. This was Kingsley's signal that he was preparing for a long verbal battle.

"Hermione mentioned something that disturbed me."

"And what's that Harry?"

"That we're not going after Lasaurus."

Kingsley paused and reached for his lighter and Harry already had his answer.

"Then it's true," Harry continued.

"Yes – for now – if he leaves the UK we won't seek an extradition," he said and took extra time lighting the pipe.

"I don't understand that – why? He killed an Auror – we're duty bound..."

"Ho... stop right there," he said and tapped a pile of papers on his desk. "We'll get back to duty later, but for now let's discuss this report. This little compilation by Hermione outlines your first to your last conversation with her. And in it, you describe the entire case."

"Well sir, I understand I've made some mistakes, but I don't see how it concerns Jerry. He was a friend and now he's dead. And we let Lasaurus go free?"

Kingsley ignored the question as he created a small cloud of pipe smoke.

"So what does she go by on tour? Penny or Electra?"

"Huh?" Harry asked and pulled a face.

"Penthane – what does she go by?"

"Penny. Always Penny – Electra is just a stage name."

He was tapping on the pile of papers again.

"Well – she's responsible for all of this. Yes, Lasaurus killed one of ours – perhaps a case of mistaken identity, but you took down a couple of theirs as well. Now this Order you discovered – they had every right to track her down. Every right."

"Yes sir, but I still don't see how..."

"Hear me out. She was hiding a formula for red tincture Harry. A formula so simple you could fill it from your local chemist. If this ever got out – well, it could change the world as we know it."

Harry sighed and shook his head.

"Gold could become worthless," Kingsley continued. "The economies of the world could stop functioning. It would be total chaos."

"But it's been around for a long time. The Order kept it hidden," Harry protested.

"Penthane is not part of this Order, so by definition they've let it slip out. They should have come to us immediately."

"Can't imagine why they didn't."

"Simple really," Kingsley added. "They were keeping it a secret for the same reasons."

"I suppose," Harry replied and nodded.

"Back to Lasaurus," insisted Kingsley. "I've another stack of papers on him." He tapped another pile with his pipe stem. "He's a tough character Harry, and how many Aurors would it take to bring him in? Ron's not fully recovered. Neville and Steven are not up to it, and you're 'Hors de Combat'."

"Sir, I'm completely fit," he tried to protest.

"I simply can't spare you," replied Kingsley and raised a protesting palm. He paused and slowly began to shake his head. "She was using you Harry – to get protection from Lasaurus until she could complete her little ruse."

"She used us all sir," Harry injected and Kingsley smiled.

"Yes, didn't she. The whole damn Ministry – me included."

Kingsley stopped pacing and raised a finger.

"So that's why I've come to this conclusion. Let Penthane take the blame for this."

"All of it?" asked Harry.

"Yes, all of it."

"Jerry's death too?"

"Yes, that too – we'll pin it all on her. We'll let her pay for this little party."

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

Harry now realized how deeply Kingsley had come to despise Penny Penthane. It could be her wealth, her beauty and many advantages in life, or maybe it was the fact she had used the Ministry and made a fool of it best Auror. Spending the last two days of the week basically on the mend he looked forward to the weekend. All available personnel were on the hunt for Penny. Ron was on the watch and even Hermione had been called in to help. But for him it looked like a lonely weekend at Grimmauld Place.

Harry advised them that Penny could never leave the band. She would never cut the umbilical connection to only life she'd ever known. She would have to be holing up somewhere in London and hoping this whole thing would blow over. By Saturday evening he'd had as much of Grimmauld Place as he could stand. Feeling mentally and physically stronger now, a visit to the Leaky Cauldron would do much to improve his spirits.

He apparated to a small niche off Diagon Alley and walked down the familiar wind. While stuck in harsh surroundings in foreign countries he often wished for the cozy landscape of Diagon Alley. But now that he was here the place felt prosaic and he wished he were prowling the Magicis Andron under the Spanish Steps in Rome.

Stepping along the storefronts on cobblestones worn slick, Patrons and shopkeepers chatted about the weather, the rise in cauldron prices, and everything mundane. A few paces ahead was Gladys the street vendor, and sometimes green grocer. Today her worn cart was stuffed with leeks and potatoes. She never said anything out of the ordinary but her every reflection was a barometer to the mood and disposition of the alley.

"Well Mister Potter – fancy seeing you today sir."

"Evening Gladys – how are things in the Alley?"

"Quite alright sir," she replied, but her shifty eyes spoke contrarily.

"Well, that's good and how's business?"

"Ah business," she barked and shook her head. "Business, it ain't so good sir – nobody buying a thing."

"Uhm, well," he reflected. "Perhaps it's the weather – it's a bit warm for this time of year."

"Yes sir – you might be right," she said and glanced down the alley and along his path. A clear signal that whatever bothered her was down the alley a ways.

"Well, hope things improve. Good evening Gladys."

"And a good evening to you sir."

After one more goodnight to Gladys, he moved down the length of several more storefronts and the familiar stench of Knockturn Alley was coming up fast. It was just possible and more than likely that whatever made Gladys nervous had something to do with the malodorous and nefarious alley.

Harry paused at the entrance of the alley and considered a walk down it's villainous length. One good sniff of things persuaded him to wait until after a meal at the Leaky Cauldron. The thought hit him that with every available Auror watching Penny's flat that Knockturn Alley had been off the radar for over a week. Nodding at his decision, he stepped away and turned toward the entryway to the Leaky Cauldron.

Pushing past the entryway and the back door into the Cauldron, he paused a little to let his eyes adjust to the dimly lit and smokey pub. Charlie was behind the bar filling mugs and finally glanced over to notice Harry watching him.

"Hello Harry," he greeted.

"Hello Charlie. Is Hannah back?"

Charlie immediately reflected a look of disappointment.

"Afraid not Harry – she's still out in the country."

He wondered if she was really away or if Hannah had told Charlie to say that.

"Oh, okay," he said and shrugged.

"Would you care for something to eat – a beer maybe?" he asked, cheerily.

"Sure... sandwich and a beer Charlie."

Charlie started away and Harry stopped him. "Charlie."

He snapped around.

"Yes?"

"Any sign of... your unusual guest?"

Charlie shook his head.

"None Harry – none at all," he replied and then scampered off.

He sighed and then shrugged. Oh well, what the hell, I tried. Charlie returned with the mug of beer and he sat silently for a few moments, nursing the beer. More revelers stormed through the front door and the cackling din was rising to a level worthy of a Saturday night.

Now in a more relaxed state of mind, he backtracked over his thoughts. Penny wouldn't stay in London, he now reasoned. Sooner or later, she'd come to her senses and realize her days with the band were over and put London in her rear-view mirror. And if she had any sense at all, she'd find a small island somewhere and get busy turning lead into gold. He almost laughed at the vision. Yes, it would be a tropical island, he thought, with sun bleached beaches and cool breezes. Penny could provide riches for a small population and cure any disease with the red tincture. With a little magic thrown in for good measure she could become a queen, maybe a goddess. Yes a scantily clad, raven haired goddess.

He was so deep into his fantasy he almost missed the delicate buzz on the mobile phone in his pocket. Being abroad for so long, he had finally gotten into the habit of carrying it. It was a text message from Hermione.

Harry,

We've picked her up. She's at the Ministry -

in the interrogation room.

Come at once.

Hermione.