A/N: Chap 5 Review Responses are in my forums as normal. Also a quick note-if circumstances prevent me from posting as normal, I will usually put a note on my profile to let folks know.

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Chapter Six: Hunting the Apostate

On the evening of 3rd August, Sir Marcus Fletchley arrived back at the manor with an escort of two tactical team members in full gear and a coffin-like case in the large, open back of their vehicle. They drove around to the back service entrance where the other two men of his team waited. "The others?" he asked Watterson tersely.

"First floor parlour," the black-skinned agent said with a nod. "Did you receive Mr Granger's inquiry?"

"I did, and I have news, but let's deal with our subject first."

The other two tactical agents walked around to the rear of the Range Rover and pulled out the hard metal chest that held their subject. "Crikey, bloody thing weighs a ton."

Indeed, in the end it took four men to carry the container with one unconscious witch into the large wine cellar of the house. Once she was secured in their newly installed laboratory behind heavy mechanical locks, he dismissed the soldiers.

"The research team is to be kept separate from the rest of the house," he ordered. "The witches in this house are not to come down here, or even know it exists."

"Even your own daughter, sir?" Watterson asked.

Behind them, a woman's voice said, "Especially our daughter, Sam."

The two men turned to watch Allison Finch-Fletchley coming down the stairs into the cellar. "They did a fetching job down here, Marcus. Will it be enough to hold the subject?"

"We'll find out," Marcus said with a nod of dismissal to Sam.

The Security Service agent went and helped the tactical team members remove the drugged witch from the box.

"How did you find her?" Allison asked as she stood next to her husband outside the clear Plexiglas wall of the observation room. The interior was coated with a reflective material that allowed everyone to see in, but none to see out.

"Education records," he said. "We've identified hundreds of people whose education stopped at age eleven. Those that reappeared are the ones we're going to target. I lost two men taking her."

Allison raised one elegant brow as she looked at the rather plain, drawn-looking woman with the heavily wrapped legs. "Two men?"

"Let's just say it is not safe to use a TASER on a witch-born. The new suggestion is a rubber bullet to the midsection from a sniper rifle from at least fifty feet. It will disorient them enough to deliver the drugged darts, but not kill them. It's astonishingly difficult to kill witches."

"Poor sods," Allison said. "I've already sent my report to Dame Butler at the Home Office. The boy was quite talkative to Hermione and Justine. He is convinced that he is going to marry them both."

"Over my dead body."

"Hopefully not," Allison said with a wry smile. "Marcus, our daughter would become a leading member of a potentially powerful political party within the Trickster's own government. Is it so different from that daft plan of yours to get her in close to the Earl of Shaftesbury's heir?"

"Anthony is a good lad!" Sir Marcus said. "Not some lay-about witch!"

"His father is a lost, bed-hopping hedonist, what makes you think his son will be different? But more importantly, your daughter is also a witch. She has said clearly she intends to marry within the trickster community—so why not marry into power?"

Inside the room, the captured witch moaned. "Impossible, she should be out for a day," Marcus muttered. "Sam?"

"On it," Watterson said. He casually reached into his jacket pocket and removed a large syringe, which he used to inject more sleeping agent into the witch's chest.

To his wife, Marcus said, "The researchers will be here within the hour, we just didn't know for sure when we would have our first subject. So, what's been happening here?"

"It's been an interesting day," Allison Finch-Fletchley said. "First off, this Dark Lord fellow from the first war is alive again somehow. Potter told us everything that happened. From those newspapers the Creeveys have sent, we know the Tricksters are purposely denying his return and are instead intent on vilifying the girls, not to mention Potter and his young bride."

"And his response is to marry our daughter?"

"Within an insane environment, it is a perfectly sane response," Allison said with a straight face. "More importantly, it will grant us direct and immediate access to the trickster's ruling bodies. If we could somehow place a tracking device on her…'

She let the possibilities hang in the silence.

Marcus ran a hand through his thick hair. "So you think this best?"

"Yes. For Queen and country, Marcus. This is the best way."

"Very well, you've never led me wrong before."

"Were you able to look up that name Mr Potter gave us?"

"What? Oh, yes. Easily enough. The man is making no effort to hide."

Allison looked back at the now thoroughly drugged witch. "Marcus, you know I support you in what we're doing. I'll continue to lead the Grangers where you wish them to go, but you must promise me that our daughter will never end up in a room like this."

"Allison…"

"Promise me, Marcus."

"Very well, I promise. But I cannot make the same promise for her friends."

Allison shrugged. "One problem at a time, love. Are you ready to go meet them, then?"

They left the wine cellar through the large locking doors, emerged onto the ground floor, and went up another flight of stairs until they reached the first floor parlour. At a card table on the far side of the room, the four witch-born kids had a series of books spread out. As he walked closer, Sir Marcus could hear them talking.

"…Garrick Ollivander has a standing death sentence on his head from both the Sabbat and the Wizengamot," Hermione was reading aloud. "He was the only member of Voldemort's Organization to be tried and sentenced to death, though he was tried in absentia since somehow he escaped. This book speculates that he was smuggled out of the country by agents of the Dark Lord Morgan Murchison, the dictator of the Western Confederation of America, though we know from Harry it was actually Lily Potter's supporters who smuggled him out."

"There are so many things wrong with that statement, I'm not even sure where to begin," Edwin muttered from a couch nearby. He then stood to greet the newcomer. "Marcus, how went things?"

The four witch-born looked up from their books. The white-blonde girl leaned into Potter, staring at him in open fear.

"Well enough," he said to his colleague. Marcus liked Granger enough—the man was former military and willing to do whatever it took, but only up to a point. It was a point they ran into last night, and one that Sir Marcus could not completely forgive. "We found your man, Mr Potter. From what I was told, Garrick Ollivander was already listed as a person of interest by the Crown. 'Observation only,' is the term. The man currently resides in America."

"Harry, according to published history, this Ollivander is a Death Eater," Hermione said. "Why do you need to find him?"

"It gets complicated," Harry said. "But I don't think he's a Death Eater. Voldemort wanted him to make a special wand, but he refused."

Hermione blinked and stared. "What did you say?"

"Harry's mum was a greater revolutionary than Voldemort ever was," Luna said, all hint of hesitancy or shyness gone now that she was on a subject she knew. "Voldemort just wanted to kill women out of spite. But Lily Potter wanted to actually change the balance of magic in the world. Her group, the Order of the Phoenix, was dedicated to the notion of equality between witches and wizards in the magical world. They wanted to codify the right of an individual to marry who they wished, whether it be one person or a dozen. They wanted to do away with the magically draining aspects of bonding as it is currently practiced. They wanted to eliminate the Sabbat and Wizengamot and instead enact a democratic parliament based on individual liberty and representation, rather than representation by coven. And they wanted to remove the stigma of witches, or wizards, loving Muggles. Because of this, as soon as the dark-aligned Covens delivered Lily Potter to Voldemort, they purged the Order. My mum was one of the last victims, for which I suppose I should be grateful, as at least I had a few years to know her. Amelia Bones lost her whole family—the whole clan and coven, save for Susan, who never knew her parents."

Harry smiled and shook his head. "Well, give me this; I appear to like smart women. So, to the question, that's why I need to find Ollivander—I need to learn about wandcraft. Any ideas?"

"He's in New Mexico, in America," Sir Marcus said.

Harry closed his eyes. "What part of America is that? Sorry, geography was never my best area in school."

"The Western part," Hermione said meaningfully.

It took only a moment for Harry to get the implication. He sank back with a hopeless sigh. "Of course he's in the Western Confederacy. Why on Earth would he be someplace I can actually get to?"

Luna stared at him. "I never envisioned you as sarcastic."

"Er, sorry?"

"Well, I suppose no one is perfect. Being raised with the knowledge I would bond with you, I suppose I built up a fantasy you that is hard to measure up against."

"I'm not sure how to take that," Harry admitted. Luna smiled at him before kissing his cheek.

"It means that I'll just have to get to know you the old fashioned way."

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

The next morning, Harry and Luna sat quietly in the back seat of a Range Rover as Agent Watterson drove them to Heathrow Airport with casual competence while Sir Marcus sat in the opposing back seat facing them.

"What did you do when you touched Justine's chest?" he asked half an hour into the drive.

The question was so random Harry could only stare blankly for a moment. "Sir?"

"At your orientation, five years ago. You touched her chest. What did you actually do?"

"I…I'm not sure," Harry said. "At least, not then. I was new to magic, sir. I promise I didn't mean anything by it."

He looked to Luna. "You seem more knowledgeable about magic. When someone like Potter touches a girl's chest, what happens?"

"Normally he would be slapped," Luna said, staring anywhere but at Sir Marcus.

Sir Marcus took a deep, calming breath. "We both know that's not what I'm talking about."

"Yes, I do," Luna said. "But you frighten me, Mr Fletchley, and I don't want to tell you anything. There have been many like you. You truly believe that you are in the right—that you have Divine Blessing to do what you will, and so you do anything you want. You frighten me, and so I do not wish to tell you what you want to know."

"I believe Mr Granger already explained that we were unfamiliar with the bonding process," Sir Marcus said in a placating tone. "It was not our intent to hurt you."

"It wasn't his," Luna said. "You…you don't care. I am nothing to you, not a human being at all. Neither is Harry, or Hermione. I think you would even kill your own daughter if it accomplished your goals."

Marcus leaned forward grimly. "That is not a wise thing to say to a man who is helping you, Mrs Potter."

"I'm sorry," Luna said. "I speak only the truth. I see death in you."

"Luna, please," Harry whispered. He looked back at Sir Marcus. "I'm sorry about the train, sir. I didn't know exactly what the spell would do; only that they were trying to kill me and I wasn't good enough to stop them in a straight duel. I only stunned the one because I acted before they were ready. I would never hurt someone on purpose, not like that."

"There have been many who thought the same," Sir Marcus said, parroting Luna. "Regardless, I've decided to assist you as much as I can. But we are keeping this very quiet—we know your kind have ears in all of our ministries. We can get you a direct flight to Dallas, and from there a connecting flight to Santa Fe. But there are going to be some complications. First and foremost, you two are very obviously minors."

"But isn't marriage supposed to be an emancipating event?" Harry asked.

Marcus stared flatly. "Potter, you're fifteen. Your 'wife' is fourteen. The Crown would never recognize your marriage—both of you are under marriageable age. And because you are minors, you cannot make a connecting flight by yourselves. So, I've had to enlist some help."

They reached the airport an hour later; Watterson pulled up to the curb of their terminal and then pulled away, letting them avoid the rush of trying to park. Marcus did not lead the way, but rather motioned them to go. He remained a step behind.

Heathrow intimidated Harry, and reduced Luna to wide-eyed silence as she trailed along, clutching Harry's hand tightly. The terminal building they were flying out of was much like a shopping mall, with dozens of shops lining each wall and security gates leading further into the structure. What was most stunning, though, was the sheer force of humanity moving through the space.

"Busy time of the year," Marcus muttered. "Come on then."

He pointed them toward a large coffee shop which occupied a good portion of the ground floor of the terminal. They eventually found a table near the far side where Sir Marcus motioned for them to sit.

Just minutes later, an attractive Muggle woman in her early thirties with honey-brown hair styled in an elaborate knot at the crown of her skull walked up to the bistro, placed an order, and with a cup of steaming latte in hand, strode casually to their table. She wore a navy-blue skirt-suit over a cream blouse.

"You have very broad shoulders for a woman," Luna blurted before anyone else could speak.

"Those are shoulder pads, Luna," Harry said, having seen Aunt Petunia wear them occasionally.

"Why would she want to pad her shoulders? She's quite lovely without them."

The woman looked at the two teens and then at Sir Marcus with one elegantly arched brow. "Nicky," Marcus said, "may I introduce you to Mr and Mrs Harry Potter? Luna, Harry, this is a good friend of mine, Nicolette Parsons, although she normally goes by Nicky."

Nicky stared at the two teens with pursed lips. "Mr and Mrs?" she echoed in a glaring American accent.

"Indeed, although for this trip they are Luna and Harry Parsons, your younger siblings. I didn't think anyone would believe they were your kids." Sir Marcus reached into his jacket pocket and removed two leather-bound booklets and large manila envelope. He handed each to the kids. "Neither have flown before, or been out of the country at all."

"Or seen shoulder pads on a woman," Nicky said.

Luna wilted. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Nicky said, relenting in the face of Luna's obvious distress. "Well, I'll get them there. Is there anything you're authorized to tell me?"

"Do you remember that bombing in Chicago?"

Nicky's eyes narrowed. "You aren't even supposed to know about that."

"Exactly. And you're not supposed to know about these two, for the same reason."

She looked at Harry and Luna in time to see them remove their wands from the envelope, along with a stack of American dollars. "Put them away," Marcus ordered.

Instead, Luna took hers and tied her hair into a knot, using it to secure the hair. Harry slipped his into the pocket of his jacket. "I see," Nicky said. "How dangerous will this be?"

"I wish I knew," Sir Marcus said. "However, it is fairly important or you wouldn't be here. I've heard you've made quite the impression over the years."

Nicky rolled her eyes. "Fine. Alright, you two, come along. Sir Marcus, give Allison my love."

"I will. Be safe. You two, listen to Nicky. For the duration of your travels she is your guardian, and she knows very well what she's doing."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "Thank you for your help."

"Oh, and Harry?"

"Sir?"

Sir Marcus handed over a second envelope. "This is not a gift, it is a loan. Some American dollars in case you find yourself in need. I expect to be repaid."

"Yes sir."

"Oh, don't worry, sir, Harry is quite rich," Luna said. "He just can't get to his money right now."

"Not quite what I was thinking. Go on, both of you."

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

Nicky travelled with a rolling carry-on case and a laptop computer slung over her shoulders. She wore pumps but walked fast, flexing taut muscles that spoke to Harry, at least, of physical fitness.

"She has lovely legs," Luna said as they walked behind. "Her bottom is also very nice, too. I don't think mine is that nice."

"Luna, you're only fourteen, and you can see she's a soldier too," Harry said.

"Well, yes, she looked just like Justine's father. Do all soldiers have such nice bums?"

"Er, well, I'm not sure I could say," Harry said.

Nicky stopped, took a deep sighing breath, and turned to face them. "Look, you two, I don't know what your deal is, and frankly I don't care. But from now on, I'm the boss, and the boss says no talking about the boss's ass, understood?"

"Can we talk about your breasts?" Luna said. "What cup size…"

"No," Nicky said.

Luna wilted again. "I'm sorry. I've just never travelled with a Muggle before, and I just…"

"What…did…you…call…me?" Nicky asked, eyes narrowed.

Luna actually backed up a step, clutching Harry's arm. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I'm sorry…"

"She doesn't know any better," Harry said, meeting Nicky's glare. "Stop being mean to her, she's not trying to be mean to you."

Nicky expelled her breath explosively, spun around, and started walking again. Harry and Luna had to scramble to keep up. Harry watched as Nicky gave over her ID and tickets, and then motioned for Harry and Luna to move closer.

"Kids?" the guard said suspiciously.

"God, no," she said. "Worse. Brother and sister. They live with my dad and his second wife in London. I stayed with my Mom in the States."

"Anything to declare?"

"Other than them? No."

She placed her carry-on bag and satchel on the rolling surface and then walked through a strange square. "Next," the guard said.

With a hesitant look back at Harry, Luna stepped through the square. Instantly it beeped loudly. Luna screamed and squatted down in terror, before running back through and into Harry's arms. Nicky glared, while the security guards stared, dumbfounded.

"Er, first time flying," Harry said over her trembling head.

"Right," the nearest guard said slowly. "Do you have any metal on you?"

Harry's eyes widened when he realized what that gate was. Desperate, he thought of Piers Polkiss after he broke his leg kicking Harry when he was a kid. "We both have pins in our legs. Nicky didn't know—it was an accident a few years ago."

They were searched off to one side while an impatient Nicky talked to the security guards about bratty siblings. Finally, though, they were allowed to head toward their gate, which was even then boarding. "What the hell was that about?" she demanded.

"I guess our kind set off metal detectors," Harry said with a shrug.

"I don't like those things," Luna said fervently. "Why couldn't we just take an international Portkey?"

"Do you know how to make one?" Harry asked.

Luna blinked. "Well, no, and I suppose they wouldn't let us go to the Western Confederation anyway. And now we're going to go on a giant Muggle flying machine with those awful large wings and I'm really, really scared, Harry."

Nicky looked like she was about to chew them out again, until she heard that last confession. "There's nothing to be scared of. It'll be a nine and a half hour flight—you can sleep the whole time if you want. Nothing to worry about."

"Nine and a half hours in the air?" Luna whispered. "I…"

"I have a dreamless draught in my kit," Harry said softly. "You can use it."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Oh, thank you, Harry."

"You two are bizarre," Nicky declared.

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Author's Note: Very special thanks as always to Teufel1987, JR and Miles for beta reading. If there are any major faux-pas, they are entirely of my own doing.