Once again, thanks to everyone who's read, subscribed to or left comments on this story! This here is the last of what I'm thinking of as the 'investigative' chapters full of people sitting around, talking, analyzing, ect. While I realize that for anyone who doesn't love procedural crime dramas the way I do, this might not have been the most exciting bit to get through, but hopefully it's at least clear why I felt it needed to be here.

Anyway, onwards to the story!

Chapter 5

The elevator doors opened and General Landry stepped out, immediately wincing at the loud squealing pumping sound that greeted him. Growling in annoyance, he headed towards it, hands over his ears in an attempt to protect his eardrums. It was a mostly vain attempt as the high-pitched sound was not only ear-piercingly loud, but its vibrating, pumping quality seemed to dig into his very bones. The sound cut out abruptly just as he reached the lab it was originating from, leaving an equally loud, ringing silence in its wake.

After taking a moment to regain his equilibrium, he threw the door open and stepped inside the lab. Inside, four scientists clustered around a relatively small table placed off to the side of the large lab. An artifact he recognized as something SG-7 had brought back from their latest mission sat on the main table in the center, a variety of sensors attached to it.

"What in the hell was that god-awful noise?!" the General demanded loudly.

The four scientists jumped and whirled around to face him, drawing apart just enough to give him a good view of the contraption they'd been clustered around. It was approximately the size of a basketball and vaguely circular in shape, but mostly looked like a mass of metal and tubes, with wires that were attached to a variety of sensors, computers and a baby naquadah generator. Landry quickly gave up trying to identify it.

"Oh, General, hello," said the tallest one – he was fairly certain his name was Pike – nervously. "Uh, we're sorry about that. We were just testing our new coupling mechanism. It's having some, uh, teething troubles."

Landry frowned. "Coupling mechanism?"

"Yes, we're having a bit of difficulty maintaining a constant electro-magnetic field and the fluctuations are causing the metallic sides to scrape against each other–"

Raising his hand to stop the scientist's excited babbling, Landry decided to try again. "What I mean by that is that I wasn't aware we were designing a coupling mechanism at the SGC."

It wasn't really a question. While Landry wasn't necessarily aware of every single detail of every science project underway at the SGC, he did at least know them all by name. And unless the scientists were using an especially convoluted project header, this wasn't one of them.

The four scientists shuffled uncomfortably.

"Uh, well, it's not really an official project per say," the only woman in the group finally spoke up. "It's just something we're working on on the side."

"You know, while we're waiting for the sensors to finish their initial scans of the device we're analyzing," the tall one pipped up again.

It was almost comical the way the eyes of the other three scientists widened, as they must have suddenly realized what this looked like.

"Oh, of course this is not interfering with our regular work," the smaller, dark-skinned man added quickly, his voice holding only the slightest touch of India. "We are working after regular hours or while we wait–"

"–Sort of instead of a coffee break," the woman assured him.

"You see, we were at Area 51 last month for their presentation of the new proposed hybrid battle cruiser," said the tall scientist.

"It is very, very cool," said the small Indian scientist. "A battleship with a detachable main weapon's port. It is like Star Trek!"

The skinny, hook-nosed scientist with long blond hair, who'd up 'till now remained silent, rolled his eyes. "More like something out of a Transformers movie," he said. "It's small, maneuverable and packs enough firepower to be a significant threat. Too small for a hyperdrive, but it'll allow for two-pronged space attacks, or in a worst-case scenario take the heat off the main ship to allow it to escape."

Landry nodded. "Yes, I know. If you will recall, I was at the same presentation."

"Yes, but did you notice the way the detachable weapon's port connects to the main body of the ship?" Doctor Pike asked.

Landry couldn't say that he had.

"Hooks," said the woman with evident disgust. "The two parts are actually just attached by retractable hooks and then electro-magnetically and hermetically sealed. The Area 51 team estimates it'll take about 12 minutes to complete the detaching process after all extraneous personnel are evacuated from that area."

"Well, clamps technically," the hook-nosed scientist corrected her. She glared at him and he backed off immediately.

"General, when I first joined the project, I was stationed aboard the Daedalus as a junior engineer," said the Indian scientist. "It was both wonderful and very, very terrifying. We fought the Wraith twice and so I know that in the middle of a battle 12 minutes is almost like forever."

Pike seamlessly picked up the thread of the explanation. "And so we thought, that with everything we've come across and learned, surely we can do better than hooks that take 12 minutes to detach!"

"We've been mulling this over and brainstorming scenarios for about a month now," said the woman. "And we think we might just have a solution. If we can get the electro-magnetic field to remain stable during the connection process."

"This is our first real-life model," said the Indian scientist proudly.

Landry held a hand up for silence. "I understand," he said. He didn't really, but he'd mention it to Carter and let her deal with it. Being in command was about delegation, after all. "Send Colonel Carter an official project proposal. Now, I'm not promising anything, but I'll admit it does sound like a worth-while project, so we might just be able to find some funding for you in the budget."

The four scientists' eyes lit up. They were in the middle of an enthusiastic bout of thanking when one of the machines surrounding the artifact SG-7 had brought back chimed. Almost immediately, their attention was diverted by the new readings. The scientists had just enough presence of mind to turn off the baby naquadah generator as they abandoned their side-project in order to cluster around the screen populated by data from their main project.

The General couldn't help but shake his head in amusement as he left them to it. Although, even he had to admit it wasn't all amusement – there was quite a bit of pride was in the mix as well. He'd known from the first week of this command that he'd never worked with such dedicated professionals in his career and would be hard-pressed to find better people anywhere else. And nothing he'd experienced since then had done anything to change his initial assessment.

Colonel Carter's office and labspace were at the end of the hallway, it being the largest lab on this level. In fact, the only lab bigger than hers on base was the one Siler and his engineers used two levels down.

This lab was much more silent than the previous one had been, the only sounds being the quiet voices of Carter and Anise as they hunched over the Zatark detector's display screen. Both were frowning at the readings, which didn't exactly fill Landry with optimism. From his seat in the detector's chair, Doctor Jackson was twisted towards them as far as the mechanism attached to his head would allow, listening curiously.

Vala was the first one to notice him when he walked in. She was sitting backwards on one of the wheeled computer chairs, twisting it back and forth with a bored expression on her face. She perked up instantly.

"Hello, General," she called to him with her usual grin.

"Hello, Ms Mal Doran," he replied politely. He looked to the other three, who'd all turned to him at her greeting. "Colonel Carter, Doctor Jackson, Anise. Teal'c informed me before he left for Dakara that you were nearly done, so I figured I'd pop on by to get a preliminary report from you."

"Of course, General," Colonel Carter said immediately. "Well, the news is mostly good. I mean, it doesn't really help us figure out the how, but I can definitely confirm that their memories were tampered with."

"In the cases of Colonels Sheppard and Mitchell, Teal'c and Vala Mal Doran the readings from the Zatark detector clearly indicate the presence of false memories," said Anise. "Teyla Emmagen shows traces of false memories, however it seems that her Wraith DNA has managed to successfully eradicate most of the false memory."

Landry looked over to the man still in the chair. "And Doctor Jackson?"

"Oh, I'm special," said Jackson with a sarcastic smile.

Carter and Anise exchanged a quick glance before the Colonel looked back to Landry and shrugged. "Honestly, we have no idea, sir."

"These readings are unlike anything I have ever seen before," Anise added.

Of course they were. This was SG-1, after all.

"How so?" he asked.

"Well, sir, since we'd already seen the same false memory in the others' readings, we were able to eventually find it in Daniel's," Carter began. "But it still took us a while. The Zatark detector is registering a huge region of blocked memory. Now, we're assuming a lot of this is the memory block put on his mind by the Ancients to keep his brain from frying as a result of all the knowledge and information it can't currently process."

"And I like my brain un-fried," Daniel pointed out rather needlessly.

"As do we, Doctor Jackson," Landry assured him.

Carter nodded. "The really strange part is that the false memory seems to have, for lack of a better word, fused with the edges of the memory block."

"Synchronized would perhaps be a better word for it," Anise interjected, pointing down at the screen. "It is almost as though its harmonics have adjusted to the Ancient memory block."

Carter looked to where the Tok'ra was pointing thoughtfully. "Hm, yes, I see what you mean..." She then turned back to him. "The main problem this presents is that with the false memory grafted so completely into Daniel's brain, I don't know that we can use the Memory Device to remove it without inadvertently causing damage to the main memory block. Even if it doesn't fry his brain, it could cause other kinds of damage to his mind."

General Landry took a deep breath. "This isn't the best news I've heard all week, but it's certainly not as bad as it could be. Keep working at it, Colonel. Maybe get Doctors Lam and Beckett to take a look at it."

"Yes, sir."

"Carry on, then," said Landry as turned around to leave. Half-way to the door, he paused and turned back. "Oh, and Colonel Carter, I've told the group down in Lab C to send you a project proposal for something they've been working on in their spare time. Take a look at it and let me know if it's feasible. Seemed to me like it could be worth giving it some money from the budget, but I want your assessment first. I wouldn't know science from science fiction."

"Uh, of course, sir," said Carter. "I'll take a look at it as soon as I get the proposal."

"Good, good. Then I'll see you all later at the briefing."

He checked his watch as he walked back out of the lab. It looked like he had just enough time to grab a cup of coffee and a sandwich from the commissary before his conference call with the Joint Chiefs.

Hermione got off the lift and took a deep breath. While she had an excuse ready to explain what she was doing up here, out of the archives and in the Muggle Affairs Department, it felt flimsy. She couldn't help the feeling that were anyone to ask, they'd immediately see through it.

Concentrating on the feel of the scroll she clutched in her hand, she raised her head higher and pushed past her nervousness, forcing herself to walk forward. She hadn't been in Muggle Affiars very often, but luckily she remembered the way to the office she needed to find.

Ron's father was hunched over his desk, several reports spread out in front of him over top a mess of scroll on his cluttered desk, a slightly scratched-up bright red muggle mug with a stylized yellow 'W' on the front dangerously close to his right hand. Its placement made sense moments later as Arthur Weasley reached for the mug, took a drink and then replaced it in exactly the same spot, all without looking away from his reading.

Hermione knocked gently on his open door to announce her presence.

Mister Weasley looked up immediately, his face brightening when he saw her standing there. "Hermione, what a pleasant surprise!" he said, wincing as his back protested the sudden movement. He indicated the chair on the other side of his desk with a wave of his hand. "Please do come in and sit down."

Smiling, Hermione happily did as she was told.

This office was as different from her own supervisor's as could be. There were no bright colours – except for the mug on Mister Weasley's desk – and that made it feel warmer, more welcoming. The shelves along the left wall were packed with books and scrolls, interspersed with the odd knicknack, mostly Muggle in origin. The right wall was covered in framed photos of his family surrounding two framed scrolls, commendations from the Minister of Magic for his work in the Blood Wars. Hermione had one as well, though it wasn't hanging in her office.

"Hello, Mister Weasley," she said as she sat down. "I do hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

Mister Weasley smiled. "Oh, nothing so urgent I can't take a short break from it. Now, what brings you up to Muggle Affairs?"

"Ron told me about Mrs Weasley's plans for a large get-together with the former Order of the Phoenix," she said brightly. "I wanted to come by ask you to tell her I think it's a brilliant idea and that I'm willing to help with whatever she needs."

"Thank you, Hermione, I'll be happy to pass on the message," said Mister Weasley, his voice soft. "But you could have told her that yourself on Friday."

The office fell into silence and he let it linger on the unspoken question. Hermione swallowed, but she hesitated only for a moment. She was going against protocol and her supervisor would be furious when she found out... But Hermione knew she was right: whatever this was, it was important.

"You know I mentioned I've been going through old auror field reports and filing them away," she began. Mister Weasley nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I found something. A pattern of suspicious activity involving the American Muggle military and, at the very least, Glastonbury Tor."

Mister Weasley's eyes widened. "Glastonbury Tor? What in Merlin's name would any military want with Glastonbury Tor?"

Hermione shook her head. "That's just it, I have no idea. And since the auror observers received no further orders, it wasn't ever investigated further. This happened about four years ago, but it's not all." She paused. "Since it also involved the American Muggle Military, I went over the official report from that Death Eater attack in Trafalgar Square. At least two of the names Harry's team got for the Muggles involved in the incident match the names the auror observers got for the Muggles involved at Glastonbury Tor. And another matches the description of a third Muggle who was at both scenes."

"Oh my. That does sound rather suspicious. Have you told Ms Willowbe about it?"

"Of course I did. I even wrote up a full report about it for her to read. She didn't want to so much as look at it! Said that since the Death Eater attack hadn't happened during the Blood War, I shouldn't even have been looking at it."

Hermione stopped and took a deep breath. She knew she'd been unable to keep the bitterness and frustration out of her voice, but also knew that getting upset over it wouldn't help her case.

Mister Weasley sighed, rubbing his left temple. "Yes, I suppose it shouldn't surprise me really. Willowbe was very good friends with Doloros Umbridge."

"What?! How... how is she even still here then?"

The look Ron's father gave her was very pointed. "It's not a crime to be friends with someone. Celest Willowbe didn't actually participate in any of Umbridge's activities."

Hermione felt her anger and frustration bubbling up to the surface once more. She thought they'd finally gotten rid of that horrible woman and now she was back, haunting them in her absence. Or at least haunting Hermione. How had she even managed to get people to believe the ridiculous dragon dung she'd been spreading was a mystery to Hermione and, while being friends with someone wasn't a crime, perhaps being friends with some people should've been. Guilty by association, wasn't that the term?

Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by a swift, loud knock on the door.

Mister Weasley's eyes snapped to the doorway and Hermione turned in her seat to look to the short blonde witch now standing there. She wore pink robes with large black swirls stitched into the hemlines and a large black bow in her hair. Her lips were painted bright pink and they were pursed together into a thin line while her eyes flashed with anger.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Mister Weasley," she said. "But we've just gotten an alert of wild magic in Twickenham."

The office chair slid back with a screech as Mister Weasley leapt to his feet. "Up by the Muggle racecourse again?"

"Unfortunately."

"Damn!" Mister Weasley's eyes closed for a moment as the man took a deep, calming breath. When he opened his eyes, they too were cold with fury. "Ms Northridge, send a missive to the Auror Department. Head Auror Bryant wished to be informed immediately should we be required to return to that address. I'll meet you and Fallan at the apparation point in three minutes."

"Yes, sir. I'll send the notice directly to the Head Auror herself."

Without another word, the woman was gone. Mister Weasley tapped his wand on the two spread-out scrolls on his desk and they rolled back up.

"I'm very sorry, Hermione," he said while he rushed to the stand in the corner to retrieve his traveling cloak. "But, as you can see, something urgent has just come up."

Hermione jumped to her feet. "Yes, of course, I understand. I just..."

Mister Weasley smiled at her. "Leave your report on my desk and I'll take a look at it later, alright? If there really is something, I promise to pass it on up to the Magical Law Enforcement Department."

She smiled, the tension easing out of her a little. "Thank you."

Placing her report on top of the other two he'd already been looking at, Hermione then hurried out of the office so that Mister Weasley could lock up after her. She returned back to her own office feeling as though she'd finally accomplished something, even if it wasn't quite enough. Not nearly enough.

The final chevron locked and backwash exploded out from the gate with the usual blue and white spectacle. It really was quite the sight, both beautiful and yet terrifying at the same time, Daniel though as he watched. Sometimes he wished he could capture that awe and wonder from his first few years of traveling through the gate, back when it was all still new and exciting. Not that traveling to other planets and galaxies wasn't still exciting, but the awe wasn't quite there anymore.

It was just another form of travel now.

Wormhole now stabilized, he turned to the reason he was standing here in the first place and smiled.

"Well, it was good to see you again, Anise, Freya," he said. "Thank you for everything."

Anise nodded to him, a small smile on the Tok'ra's face. Light from the gate rippled over her face in an eerie play of light and shadows. "It was good to see you as well, Daniel Jackson. Freya and I were happy to help you and your team. It was the least we could do after your rescue, for which we are both very grateful."

Her grip was strong when they shook hands, not enough to hurt but enough to remind Daniel of the strength of the symbiot that shared this woman's body. He didn't think they meant it as a reminder, but it served as one nonetheless.

He stepped away and General Landry came forward to also shake her hand and thank her for the information she brought them and for her help with the Zatark detector.

"You are welcome, General Landry," Anise said in reply. "And on behalf of the Tok'ra, I thank you and the SGC for sending SG-1 to retrieve me. You have once again proven yourselves to be good allies."

And then the woman walked up the ramp, slipping into the wormhole without another look back. The watery event horizon winked out of existence as the gate shut down after her.

"Well, I suppose it's time to get ourselves to the briefing," said General Landry after a short pause.

Daniel nodded. "Yippee," he said sarcastically.

General Landry turned to him, raising a single eyebrow in his direction.

Daniel sighed. "I'm sorry, General. It's just... frustrating."

Landry's demeanor immediately softened. "I understand that, especially as this isn't the first time you've been to this particular rodeo."

"Definitely not," said Daniel, emphatically. "My mind's been messed with so many times that by all odds I should probably be blubbering in the corner of a padded cell somewhere. Assuming I'm not and this isn't all my own, very elaborate delusion."

"In which case I'd be very much obliged if you could just unimagine the Ori."

Daniel laughed, startled by the playful remark. It was the sort of thing Jack would say. And, just like that, he found himself missing his friend fiercely. He wanted nothing more than to do his usual beer run before driving to Jack's place to irritate his friend by perusing one of the most recent archaeology publications instead of feigning interest in whatever game happened to be playing. If only he could turn back time – just for a few hours.

"I'll get right on that," he told General Landry.

"You do that, Doctor Jackson."

And then the General turned on his heel and led the way to the briefing room. Daniel followed, a small smile on his face. If this had been General Hammond, he'd have squeezed Daniel's shoulder and told him not to worry, that they had their best people working on the problem. Landry didn't waste words with such things: he knew that Daniel knew all this. Sam would do everything in her power, use every trick in her intellectual arsenal to figure this puzzle out, and then make up a few more.

The problem wasn't even really the mind blocks – though having yet more scrambled memories in his head didn't make Daniel happy in the slightest – it was that it had happened on Earth. Weird, mind-warping stuff wasn't supposed to happen on Earth. It was what gate travel was for.

Daniel took a deep breath, pulling himself together as he entered the briefing room.

He was greeted by a packed table as both Rodney and Ronon had apparently opted to join their teammates. Doctor Lam was also present, huddled in close to Beckett as they compared notes next to Sam and Rodney, who were doing the same only with more violent gestures. A quick perusal of the table revealed one last empty chair between Vala and Sheppard.

He slipped into the seat just as the General called the briefing to order.

"Colonel Carter, why don't you start," he said after the usual pleasantries.

"Yes, sir," said Sam. "First of all, the ballistics reports finally came back and they've confirmed that all four guns had been fired and the amount of residue found in the guns matches the amount of missing bullets. I've added the information to my report and attached copies of the ballistics reports to the information packet for the IOA."

Landry nodded. "Good. Make sure you forward the final copy of your report to both myself and General O'Neill. I spoke to him two hours ago and he'd like to be kept in the loop."

"Of course, sir," said Sam.

Daniel smiled, knowing full well that was likely the very, very summarized version of Jack's request.

"I've also completed my preliminary report on the Zatark Detector scans," Sam continued on. The motioned next to her. "As per your suggestion, General, I forwarded the Detector's findings as well as a copy of my report to Doctors Lam and Beckett. I believe, they're analyzing them now...?"

"Aye, that we are," Carson answered. He looked up from the pages he'd been reading over. "I performed scans of me own on Atlantis and there doesn't seem to be any sort of damage to the brain as a result of whatever was done to them. Teyla's brain waves were registering as slightly elevated for several days, but other than a slight fever and a headache, we couldn't find any adverse effects. Most likely it was a result of her brain fighting the false memories. Either way, they've stabilized and gone back down to normal levels again."

General Landry nodded and turned to Teyla. "Ms Emmagen, do you remember what happened in Trafalgar Square last week?"

Teyla hesitated for a moment. "I believe I do, General, mostly," she said. "However, my memory is... fuzzy. As though the incident had happened several years ago and not merely a week ago. My only clear memory is sitting at the pub and discussing how different London felt to San Francisco with Daniel."

Daniel nodded. "I remember that conversation," he said. "I was saying how I was certain some of your fellow Atlantians might enjoying returning the favour and showing you their countries and that I'd ask Jack about giving your permission to travel outside the US for that... which I haven't actually done yet." He winced. "Sorry. I'll call Jack tonight."

Teyla smiled at him warmly. "That is quite alright, Daniel. You have had a lot on your mind."

"I wanna climb Mount Everest," Ronon said suddenly.

"Really?" said Sheppard, looking surprised. "Since when?"

Across from him, Daniel saw Rodney look up and roll his eyes at Ronon. "Of course you do," he snarked. "Thankfully, I will be far too busy to go with you."

"Amelia's brother showed me a documentary on the Himalayas," Ronon answered Sheppard. "They looked cool. I've never done something like that just for fun."

Sheppard made a face. "Yeah, but wouldn't you rather go surfing in Australia? You'd love it there. I've never been to Australia, but they have some of the weirdest animals and amazing waves–"

General Landry cleared his throat. "Ms Emmagen, what exactly is it that you remember?"

Teyla shot Ronon and Sheppard one last amused look before turning to the General. "As I as saying, I remember the conversation quite clearly, however, after that parts of my memory become slightly jumbled. I remember the sounds of squealing tires and the impacts of metal on metal, although I cannot remember seeing any actual cars impacting. Unlike the screaming, which I remember hearing quite clearly as well as seeing people fleeing in fright."

"Do you remember the crash at all?" Landry asked, sounding curious.

"I..." Teyla trailed off, pausing to collect her thoughts. "I am sorry, it is rather difficult to explain. When I remember the incident it is as though I somehow know there was a crash occurring, however I do not know why I know this as I cannot picture the crash in my mind, even knowing I could once remember it clearly. I have re-read my initial report on the incident, but I'm afraid I no longer have any recollection of the events as I'd described them at the time."

"That would actually coincide with what the Zatark detector showed," Sam interjected. "The false memory was in the exact same area as with the others, but it was largely degraded."

"But not completely gone," said Daniel. "So you're saying whatever did this, not even alien physiology is able to combat it entirely. Although this still means that the whatever it was, was designed with humans in mind."

"Well, yes, obviously," said Rodney with a frown in Daniel's direction. "I mean, it's not like anyone would actually be expecting aliens to be stopping by randomly for a pint of beer in a London pub. Not even the most devout UFO conspiracy theorists are quite that paranoid–"

"–Unless they've seen 'World's End'," Sheppard pointed out.

"I knew we never should've let you watch those movies," Rodney grumbled as he shot his team leader a glare. Then he continued in a more normal voice: "Look, just based on the fake crash itself, it's clear we're not exactly dealing with particularly intelligent people here."

Beside him, Sam rolled her eyes. "It does, however, mostly eliminate the idea of either a leftover Goa'uld, rogue NID, or some form of IOA plot. Teyla's Wraith DNA isn't exactly a secret, after all, and Teal'c has always proven very resistant to mind control in the past."

Landry nodded. "The Joint Chiefs agree with you on that point, Colonel Carter. The known risk wouldn't be worth it. Any three of those factions would have simply killed Teal'c, Ms Mal Doran and Ms Emmagen."

It was a chilling truth and Daniel couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine at the bluntness of the General's words, even though he was only saying out loud what Daniel had been thinking for days.

"Unfortunately, eliminating our three main suspects, doesn't exactly bring us any closer to figuring out who's actually responsible," Sheppard drawled. "'Cause it seems we're all getting flashbacks of guys in black robes and white face masks, but that seems more like a fantasy-con gone rogue than any terrorists I've ever heard of."

"Wasn't there another group too?" Vala suddenly asked. "I seem to remember knocking someone out with a beer mug, but I'm pretty sure he didn't have black robes and a face mask. I think he might've been a redhead..."

Teyla nodded. "I, too, have some recollection of those individuals, however my memories of them are quite vague. I believe they must've arrived just before our memories were altered."

"Which means, whoever they were, they might've been the ones responsible for the cover-up!" said Sam. She was practically bouncing with excitement as she turned to the General. "Maybe once the memory device gets here, we might be able to pull some images and start working on putting names to the faces."

General Landry nodded. "It should be arriving here in the morning, Colonel. In the meantime, I'd like you to make sure the information packet has everything relevant inside so that I can send it off to the IOA. Hopefully, England's representative will be willing to expedite our request to the London Police Department on getting copies of their reports relating to the accident."

"Yes, sir. I'll have that for you within the hour."

"Good. Doctor Lam, based on the medical reports, do you believe SG-1 should be kept out of the field?"

Doctor Tam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sir, medically there is no reason to keep them out of the field," she said after a moment's pause. "However, since we have no idea how their memories were over-written, I'd recommend proceeding with extreme caution and no high-risk missions for the time being."

General Landry nodded. "Agreed. In your opinion, Doctor, would there be any merit in trying to forcibly retrieve the memories?"

Again, the doctor hesitated. "I've spoken to our on-base psychologists and they seem to believe there might be some benefit in trying to retrieve the memories using hypnosis, especially since there have yet to be any adverse effects to the memories they've managed to remember on their own. I'm also waiting for a call back from a Doctor Kimberly McLoud, who's an expert in brainwashing and memory retrieval. I don't know how much she's going to be able to tell me without a detailed explanation of the case in question, but I thought it might be worth the try."

"Forward me her contact information, Doctor. If she's any good, she seems like the kind of expert we might need to consult at some point anyway, so we might as well get her vetted and cleared now."

"Yes, sir."

"Alright then, SG-1, I'm postponing your mission to P3K1L9 until next Tuesday. We'll meet again on Friday at fourteen hundred, but unless something changes I'm giving you all the weekend off. Colonel Sheppard, Ms Emmagen, I'd like you to remain at the SGC until the debriefing on Friday in case we need any of you on-hand for tests. Anything else?"

No one had anything to add.

"Very well, dismissed."

Arthur cradled the mug of tea in his hands, inhaling the soothing herbal aroma with the intensity of an apocalypse survivor as he slowly made his way slowly back to his office. The tea felt like an anchor, his final link to sanity.

The mound of paperwork on his desk felt overwhelming – it had clearly been happily multiplying while he wasn't looking. Well, there were his regular reports, which he needed to get done and out of the way, and then the extra research he was doing for Kingsley, which the three of them had decided to keep between themselves for the moment. Part of Arthur was tickled at being asked by the Minister of Magic himself to help with his investigate, but he'd never been one to work late nights unless he absolutely had to therefore it would look suspicious if he suddenly started now.

And that wasn't even starting on what his wife would say. He hated lying to Molly and she wouldn't be fooled for very long in any case.

Of course this terrible business with the child in Twickenham would work as an excuse for a few nights, but it left a sour taste in his mouth. And, Merlin help him, a desire to crucio someone. Specifically, the girl's father. How in the world could someone look at their own child, at their own flesh and blood, and want to cause them pain? This time the child had held off her magical outburst until he'd started on her. When Arthur and his team had arrived, the little girl had been sporting a severely bruised left cheek and the father was bellowing loudly, his eyes wide with both fear and anger, from where he was stuck to the ceiling like a beer-bellied starfish.

Arthur hadn't even bothered to keep the contempt out of his voice as he dealt with the man. Which the father hadn't appreciated one bit.

"Oh, you think you're so much better than me, do you?" he'd sneered at Arthur. "You with your magic and your nancy robes."

Arthur had rounded on him. "I have raised seven children to adulthood and never raised a hand to any of them," he'd snapped at the man angrily. "I am therefore at least seven times better than you are!"

The aurors accompanying them had taken over at that point and Arthur had gladly left them to it. If it were up to him, he'd have taken the mother and child away from there and not looked back. Of course, that wasn't up to him to decide. All he could do was write up the damned report.

Which he needed to do as soon as possible so that some form of intervention could happen.

Oh, and then there was the report Hermione had brought him. Perhaps he'd read that over first. It was mostly just a formality, after all. Hermione was a clever girl and he trusted her judgment, however, it wouldn't reflect well on him if he passed it on without so much as reading it over first. He needed to be able to speak to its contents should the Department of Magical Law Enforcement ask why he thought it was worth their attention, especially if Celeste Willowbe had already dismissed it.

Yes, he decided, he'd start with Hermione's report.

He rounded the corner to his office and paused as he saw a now familiar figure waiting for him inside. After taking a long, fortifying drink of tea, he continued in his steps. Head Auror Bryant looked away from the pictures of his family when he walked in.

"Head Auror Bryant," he greeted her formally. "What can I do for you?"

Bryant inclined her head at him. "Mister Weasley, Senior Auror Castleman briefed me about your afternoon altercation in Twickenham."

"Ah, yes, and I'd like to thank you for sending her and her partner along with us. They were a big help. I especially enjoyed it when she asked the father if he'd ever imagined life as a slimy toad."

Bryant smirked. "I knew I could count on her to be creatively threatening." Then the smirk, and any amusement she'd felt, disappeared from her face. "I've been in contact with Headmistress McGonagall and have arranged a meeting with her. As the Muggle Affairs Department official in charge of the case, I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me to Hogwarts."

Arthur blinked. "That was fast."

She shrugged. "I see no reason to wait and every reason to deal with this matter as quickly and efficiently as possible."

He observed her thoughtfully for a moment. "The father's a Muggle. It's not actually in our jurisdiction to deal with his crimes."

Anger flashed through her eyes and her jaw tensed. "And that's exactly how these Muggle-born children fall through the cracks. He's not a Wizard, therefore it's a Muggle issue, except that we can't very well let Muggle law enforcement and social services deal with it because his daughter's a Witch. Really, what we should do is obliviate him except that doing so would also remove the threat of what his daughter can do and what we can do, a threat that will, at the very least, make him think twice before raising a hand to her or her mother. And so we do nothing."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. "This is personal for you."

Bryant's eyes slid to him, narrowing slightly. For a long moment, she didn't answer. Then she looked away and spoke in a low voice: "When I was in Beauxbatons there was a boy two years my junior. He wasn't really my friend, but I helped tutor him occasionally in charms. My father was a Muggle copper, just his father before him and his father before him and even my mother was an auror before an injury took her out of the field, so noticing things, observing patterns, is in my blood. And I did notice him, noticed the bruises he tried to cover up when he came back from holidays, saw how he shied away from contact, the haunted look in his eyes that slowly melted away over the course of each semester. I told my head of house, asked her to help him. She said she'd look into it."

She snorted. "I never did find out what she did, or if she even bothered to do anything. I thought I'd done my bit, informed an adult, someone in authority. Two days before summer holidays in my sixth year, he snuck into the potions storage room and downed half a vial of Basilisk venom."

Arthur gasped, and then hissed as hot tea splashed onto his hand.

Bryant waited patiently for him to set his tea down and clean the hot liquid from his hand as well as the few drops that had splashed onto the scrolls scattered about his desk. He wasn't even sure which ones were which in his shock.

"So, you'll be accompanying me to Hogwarts then?" she asked mildly when he had put his wand away again.

He looked up at her. "What? Oh, yes, yes of course I'll go to Hogwarts with you." He took a deep breath. "Merlin, I can't even imagine how horrible the circumstances must've been for a child to... I just don't understand. How could any parent let that happen?"

"You don't understand, because you're a good man, Arthur Weasley. But then, that wasn't exactly difficult to guess."

She looked pointedly towards his office walls and Arthur couldn't help notice she wasn't looking at the commendations. He smiled, soothed inexplicably by the portraits of his family, of the bright, happy smiles on the faces of his own children. He would do everything he could to help this child. He would go to Hogwarts, speak to Professor McGonagall and then... then he would go home and hold his wife close, listen to her plans for their first grandchild.

Arthur looked back to the Head Auror. "Please, call me Arthur," he told her with a smile. "I feel that we'll be working quite closely for a while, so you might as well use my first name."

Bryant blinked and then her entire face relaxed into a small, barely-there smile. "You are quite correct. But only if you call me Angelique."

"Done. Now when is it that we're due in Hogwarts?"

"Classes should be just about finishing up for the day, so we should probably leave sometime within the next half hour or so if we want to catch the Headmistress before dinner and not keep her too late."

"Hm, I can leave at more or less any time. Just give me a few moments to let my deputy know I'm leaving the Ministry."

"Of course. I'll meet you at the apparation point in twenty minutes?"

"Yes, that should be fine. I'll see you in a bit then, uh, Angelique."

She nodded and left his office without another word, leaving Arthur with a newfound determination to, well, save the world. Or at least one child's world. Besides, it was always good to see Hogwarts again.

It was with a weary sigh that Draco looked around yet another foreign hotel room. It was luxurious enough, clean, with thick, dark blue carpet on the floor, cream-coloured walls with gold-painted embossed detailing along the ceiling borders and dark wood furniture. There were also several paintings hanging on the wall, some vases of freshly cut flowers and two small crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Overall, he approved of the simple, yet elegant decor of the room.

He was simply too tired to appreciate it.

Los Angeles, California. The last stop of his two-month long trip to the United States; three more days until he could finally leave this country and have a proper cup of tea.

He almost wished he hadn't left this one 'till last as he was now left with very little enthusiasm for the meeting he had in the morning. It had always been the least interesting of his prospects, but he'd set up the meeting over two months ago, knowing he couldn't assume anything would go the way he'd like it to. Thankfully, Chicago had turned out to be more than promising and, pending some inquiries back in England, one of his meetings in New York also looked favourable. He didn't need this meeting in Los Angeles anymore, but as he was here anyway, there was no point in canceling. Perhaps they would surprise him.

Besides, he'd needed the excuse to come to Los Angeles.

Draco walked over to his trunk, which had been brought up while he'd stopped for dinner in the hotel's restaurant. With a flick of his wand and a whispered code word, the latch snapped open and the lid slid smoothly upwards. Reaching down, he took out the small black box sitting on top and then cast an unpacking spell. He turned away and walked over to the large window as clothes, shoes and toiletries began flying around the room and storing themselves away into the cupboards and closets provided.

The window showed a picturesque view of the wizarding beech behind the hotel, the glass having been charmed to see through the multitude of spells that otherwise hid the beech from prying Muggle eyes. Draco very much doubted he'd get the chance to go down to it himself, but the view from his eighth story room was rather nice. Early evening sun sparkled off the gently lapping water, broken only by the occasional swimmer and what looked like several water-gliders a bit further out from shore.

He observed the water-gliders with interest for a few moments, fascinated by how the slim wood the wizards balanced on glided smoothly over the surface of the water. He'd heard of water-gliders years ago, but this was his first time seeing them in person, even from afar.

No more than two handspans wide, and half the length of the rider, water-gliders were made of wood and were flat on top with a rounded bottom half. They'd been developed by magic users living in the tropical island climates of the southern hemisphere as a method of transportation between islands in place of the brooms used by their northern hemisphere counterparts. They'd become popular in parts of Wizarding America for mostly recreational purposes, but also for sea rescues. Either way, he'd heard that, while their purpose was similar to broomstick, riding on water-gliders was very different to riding a broomstick.

Draco's schedule for the next day flashed through his mind. He seemed to remember a poster for water-glider rentals by the hotel's reception desk when he'd checked in. Perhaps, if he managed to wrap the meeting up early enough, he'd have the time to try this intriguing transportation out for himself.

Suddenly, his stay in Los Angeles was looking less dull.

Behind him, he heard the shuffling stop, followed by a soft snick as his now-empty trunk closed itself. He looked away from the beech and back down to the small black velvet box in his hand. A practiced flick of his thumb and the top opened, revealing a dark green satin interior and the ring inside. The sun wasn't as bright as it had been at midday, but it was still bright enough to make the large diamond in the center of the ring sparkle in a bright multitude of refracted rainbows.

His stomach clenched and his mouth went dry as he realized he'd be going back to England in three days. In four days he'd be asking Astoria Greengrass to marry him.

It had felt so far away three months ago when he'd been in Paris choosing this ring. Since then, he'd stared at the ring so many times that he'd become intimately familiar with every delicate line, with every diamond and emerald chip that surrounded the main diamond, with the curve of each carefully engraved flower on either side of the stones. He'd gone to what had felt like every single jeweler in the French Wizarding district before spying a small little shop tucked away in a side street. As soon as he'd seen the ring, he'd known it was perfect: somewhat elaborate, but not overly large.

Draco took a deep breath and gently closed the box.

He didn't dare try to picture her reaction. Because of her blood curse, Astoria was reluctant to marry. He knew this and had done his best thus far not to chase her away with talk of any sort of permanent commitment. He'd also made no secret of it when he'd requested copies of her medical files from her parents even if he hadn't actually discussed it with her.

That was his main reason for coming to Los Angeles. The Doctors he'd met with in New York and Philadelphia had taken a look at her files and shook their heads sadly. A tragic curse, they called it – one of them had once had patient afflicted with the same – and one with no cure. It was the same answer she'd gotten from all the European doctors she'd been to and Draco had no reason to believe the Doctor here in Los Angeles would have a different answer.

But he still had hope.