Daphne's distraction with Neville as her lookout was mostly accomplished and it was better for her to move out of the way rather than stand there as if nothing was wrong; even the muggle authorities would think she knew too much just by looking at her. If she was uncomfortable being on a broom right in front of him, under the close confine imposed by the Invisibility Cloak, she made no mention of it, only looking back at him.

"Are you absolutely sure we're safe here?"

"Neville's on the nearest rooftop. He's become a good lookout- more observant than I would have guessed."

"I forget that this is how you inspire confidence," she mentioned before closing her eyes, long lashes interlacing. He was sure it was a charm, but it looked no less enchanting. "Our unit is in position."

"You have your orders."

Harry wanted nothing more than to check on the others, but he was basically blinding himself to everything they were doing- but it was not the first time he had to trust them, and trusting them was his best and only option. Daphne was not as experienced as Hermione, but she could create a mental link, at least by switching between two minds at once. The result was a stream of consciousness that was a few seconds behind, with events being shown to him about as quickly as he could process them. Technically, he could deputize his subordinate to make a decision on what to do with the Death Eater, and it would not be his worst decision, but he knew she needed backup, a second set of eyes to look at everything, and someone who could make the call if they had to extract or kill their unit.

"Excuse me, who are you?" a wizard in a blue robe asked. Harry vaguely remembered seeing him before.

"I'm Gibbon. I've been in concert with Barnabus Cuffe." While Blaise had been the one to cast the Imperius, he had gotten good enough at the curse to where he could command the target to be subject to Daphne.

"That may justify your visit, but I shall still need to check your wand."

Nothing was suspicious, as had been the plan. The Death Eater had actually been dressed in muggle garb, and well; he wore an immaculate whale-bone suit. There was virtually nothing in his outward appearance that indicated that he was up to any trouble. In this case, however, that carefully constructed cover would work against him.

"It seems you are at least the man you claim to be. At the same time, the measures you have taken to clean your wand are nothing short of disturbing. I am afraid I cannot believe that the only spells you cast are regular household spells."

"In a muggle house like the one where I have been living, it's the bare minimum to get by. Tell me, do you know anything about that?" He leaned forward and set a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Eric Munch," he started again. Evidently, Daphne remembered the name. "The way I see it, there are two options. Either I am the kind of person who might be able to cause you a bit of trouble for delaying me out here, or I am the kind of person who would make things a thousand times worse than that. I understand that Mr. Cuffe has a meeting with the Improper Use of Magic Office today, but I have a more important update to bring him."

"Very well. There have been times that an important, confidential guest comes through by an unconventional way. If it comes out, however, that anything untoward happens, I shall be sure to note that you intimidated me. I hope you do not mind that I notify the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in advance."

"Of course not. Before long, you'll see the two of us walking out like friends."

The Death Eater walked past without another word. If it was a crime to push others far enough that there had to be a response, then for most people, there had to be an amount that he could push them without necessitating a response, though that amount would be different from person to person. Daphne navigated the Ministry with practiced ease, finding that as they had arranged, the editor was meeting with a regulator about an unusually concerning anonymous tip that alleged with heaps of specifics that the Prophet had only been able to be on the scene of the last attack in London by having known about it in advance. Technically, even Harry had not known about it in advance, but Ernie while in recovery had insisted on borrowing a wand to apparate into the city to deliver an anonymous tip through one of the recruits.

"-like I said, it's all perfectly explicable- wait, just who are you?"

"Oh, don't act like a stranger, Mr. Cuffe. I did notify you that I would be joining you, but I suppose I did not say when or where I would appear."

"Excuse me, who is this?" the official asked. It seemed Daphne had forgotten her name as well.

"Your guess is as good as mine. I've never seen this man in my life."

"Evidently, he knows you."

"That's because this is some kind of set up. Anyone who's heard of me could walk up and act like an old friend."

"Oh, but who else would know that you're here about an anonymous tip?" he asked, waving his wand and drawing another chair over. "I was right next to you when it came in. I thought that while we were all here, I could verify it for you."

"I'm not falling for that- this only means you were the one who called it in- or you knew who did. I won't be tricked into admitting that I know you, because I don't, not even if it seems convenient in the moment."

"If you didn't know me, then you would have asked my name when last I wrote. Don't tell me you didn't open my letter. If you thought there was something suspicious about it, you could have reported it to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but I don't think it would have implicated you in anything." He shrugged. "We started somewhat oddly because I tried to skip a step. I'm not claiming to be a constant companion or anything, but we have worked together before. I'm not sure why you're getting all defensive about it. Is it because I started shaving or something? My friends said the beard was a bad look."

"Say your bit if you're here to implicate me in something. The witness here isn't being confunded; he'll know that at no point did I admit to being associated with you."

Harry was sure that there was some way of countering the Confundus Charm, like an artifact; he was sure a Probity Probe would start going hayware even though it was not technically dark. The problem with their approach was that he had no intention of magically swaying them. So far, almost everything had gone according to plan, and he was not allowing himself to wonder if everyone else had their part covered.

"I only came to confirm what you asked. It was the voice of Harry Potter in the middle of the last Death Eater attack in muggle London. Right when the killing was about to start, it seemed he used a Sonorous Charm to announce to the muggles that they should get out of there, and they were shocked that someone happened to show up when they would have thought it was a surprise."

"How did Mr. Potter know, then?" the official asked.

"You'll have to ask him when he's brought in. I would assume, though, when we're all ready to start saying the quiet part out loud, that he must've figured there would be an attack from the Dark Lord right around the time the Aurors were all tied up in Hogwarts."

"How is it that you know that?" Cuffe asked. "I've talked to whistleblowers from inside the Corps and none of them were willing to provide details about that-"

"We all have our sources. I hope, at the very least, you've been persuaded not to turn me out. Now, even if I didn't know much about the dark wizards, I would think that they would want to be wherever the Aurors weren't, so even if we learn that they were elsewhere after the fact, we can infer that it must have leaked to them somehow. I would guess that an official like yourself would want to find out where that leak was."

"Before I get into any other ridiculous thing that you have brought up, did you just use the phrase 'the Dark Lord?' as if I wouldn't notice?" the editor asked, running a hand down his face. "Are you suggesting that Voldemort is back?"

"I thought we were saying the quiet part out loud."

"There's no way that anyone can come back from the dead," the official said, uncooperative just as suddenly as he had helped. Cuffe looked chuffed to have regained some amount of control over the situation.

"There are a lot of things that the Dark Lord did that there was no way of doing," Gibbon said. "You don't have to believe me. I would just caution you that I have it on good authority that Harry Potter is not simply making himself more famous." He shrugged. "I mean, you think about it, the Triwizard Tournament was promising eternal glory to anyone who won it. If that was all he wanted, he could have just left it at that. It would have been his first chance to really prove himself, and to the world. All he had to do was not take Diggory's body back from wherever it fell."

No one said anything. Of late there had been fewer headlines about how he was an attention seeker, and more about how he was missing and seemed to have disappeared all together, along with several other students. Having given Skeeter what she wanted, her own headlines were making him into a heartthrob revolutionary leader, which was a dangerous mix with the other stories about him. It was almost like they were praising him, but then, the tone mattered so much more for the average reader anyway.

"Why don't you tell me more about yourself?" the official asked. "You've worked with Mr. Cuffe in the past, you say?"

"I've even been in his house."

"You've never been in my house."

"Oh, you mustn't go on about this, I've been in there. This isn't up for debate. Are you about to go on record saying I wasn't in your house, or are you going to backtrack about that-"

"That's enough, you two," the official said. It was hard to see why he was upset at the both of them, unless Daphne was so good of an actress she could convince their audience of one that they were both playing a game. "It makes no difference to me whether you know him or not. I am not taking his words as authoritative until I know who he is or how he knows what he suggests is the case." He looked at the door, then back at the editor. "Do I need to remind you that we had a deal about this supposed return of Voldemort?"

"Not at all. I remember the terms perfectly-"

"-and you have still found nothing to support it?"

"- nothing concrete," he said, taking his turn to look another way, but towards an old paper on the desk instead of the door behind him.

"What's this deal?" Gibbon asked. "I admit I haven't heard the specifics. Is it about when we start saying the quiet bit out loud?"

"We agreed that both the paper and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would not fight over the return of Voldemort," the official said. "If either party found any conclusive evidence, it would be approved by the other party, and with one voice, the announcement would be made."

"If you wanted evidence, why not ask his followers? I'm sure that if you sent them a letter, they could confirm it or deny it for you." He shrugged. "I can see why you wouldn't take their word for it, but why not ask? If they want to deny it, maybe they could even provide evidence that he's still dead. Then, you could do away with the rumors."

"It's unlikely any evidence submitted by a band of criminals could ever be taken in good faith. Almost certainly, it's been modified heavily. Even if they say one thing, they could intend for their audience to believe something else." The editor shook his head. "There are countless reasons not to take anything they say seriously."

"That's not really the point I was making, but I'm not here to convince you that the Dark Lord has returned. The main reason I came was to tell you that you were cleared of any involvement with the Death Eater attack in London. Not one of your contacts was found in the area."

"I see," he said after a moment, his eyes still wary. "I suppose I should thank you." He coughed into a fist. "I am not, for the record, acknowledging that I know you."

"That's fine; I've no reason to force you. I wonder, though, did you hear my name before? Is that why you did not ask it?"

"No- I could barely get a word in, but I do not know your name." He frowned. "If I find out you've been in my house without my permission, then I'll have you arrested."

"Well, don't leave me in suspense. Do what you must by tomorrow morning by the latest. I'm sure you'll find that the only times I've been in your house were when you allowed it."

"I'm quite sure there were no such times," Cuffe said before rising. "Perhaps I'll take your advice, though. I rather don't like the idea of leaving this any longer. You've said a lot for a man that I don't know, and I make it my business to know things. Perhaps, if you turn out to be legitimate, we can have a productive discussion about your interest in dark wizards. It is my experience they sell plenty a paper."

"Don't let me get in your way. I have other appointments of my own, and still more I'm sure I've forgotten." He looked to the official. "Damn decent of you to overlook my barging in. I'm quite certain that the progress we've made here is quite worth the trouble, though."

It was not long before they left. Perhaps Gibbon would not be able to keep his promise about laughing like old friends with the editor on the way out, but that was not going to matter; he was going elsewhere before leaving. Stepping into the elevator, he ignored everyone else in there and pushed the button for the lowest level. When at last it dinged, he got off in the Department of Mysteries.

"Excuse me, sir, are you visiting someone today?"

"None of your business." He walked right past the receptionist and towards an open door at the end of a long hallway. Harry felt strangely nostalgic; the déjà vu itself was easily explained, but the vaguely positive sense probably came from feeling like it was the last time anything was ever simple, even as complex as things were at the time. There were voices trying to stop him, but the first curse came when he reached the door, and he only ducked under it without worrying. He was not really trying to accomplish anything in there, or rather, what he was trying to accomplish, he already had- all that remained was to see how far he could get, and what he could see before getting killed, or else Hermione warning them of danger.

When another door opened, he walked past the person walking out, acting like nothing was amiss right as someone else got to the one through which he came. There was nothing in there except a giant arch, and there was nothing inside of it. If it had not been so obviously ancient, he would have thought it was still under construction, and he could not imagine that they would have something in there except that it was immensely significant- in fact, if it had been there the whole time, since some forgotten age, then the entire building had to have been built around it. Nothing could stop him as he walked toward it; it was like something from beyond was calling to him. Even as he started to feel like something was wrong, he pressed on, simply dodging one or two spells on the way, almost reflexively-

The moment he stepped through he found himself back on the broom, holding Daphne, who was slumped forward and about to fall off. With the practiced skill of a Seeker, he lowered the broomstick slightly and caught her by the shoulder, but she did not respond. He tried a Reviving Spell, but to no avail. Without any other idea of what to do, he kept his arm around her as he warped down to the street, putting his broom on his back and leading her into the book store. It was not like she had been Kissed; it was something else- it was like she was asleep, but he already knew it was more complicated.

"We're done here," he said. "We're extracting."

"Is she okay?" Terry asked as Hermione got the word out with Legilimency.

"I'm not sure. We'll see once we get everyone together."

Harry sincerely hoped that his recklessness with wanting to find something out about a bizarre magical secret under the Ministry had not effectively cost one of his subordinates her life, but he could feel her heart beating, so at least there was some hope. He apparated her to the new location and set her down, going back for Hannah in hopes she could help.

"What did you do?" she asked as soon as she saw her.

"I'm not sure; that's the problem. I'll need to get the others, just do what you can for now."

Working with Blaise, Ernie, and a few of the others who could apparate, including the recruits, everyone was back in seconds. There was a good chance that the mission had been successful, but now everyone's focus was on Daphne. Harry explained the problem.

"It would have been better to disconnect right when Gibbon was at that arch," Hermione judged. "I know you couldn't have known what it was, and maybe he would have been fine after going through it, which wouldn't have worked because we wanted him dead..."

"Will she be all right, though?" one of the recruits asked, an older wizard who was learning Legilimency, as if to prove you could teach an old dog new tricks.

Hannah only shook her head, and it seemed Michael could provide no further insight.

"There's nothing medically wrong with her. Technically, it's not our area of expertise. We can keep her alive, but that's about it."

"Does anyone know what that thing was?"

"No," Ron said after a second, not waiting for anyone to answer. "That's why it's called the Department of Mysteries." He sighed. "I think you and Daphne should have been sticking to the mission instead of getting sucked into that." He frowned a bit. "You said it was as if it was calling for you?"

"I know," he said after a moment, shaking his head. "Don't trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain. It wasn't really that I trusted it... it was like an allure. All of a sudden it seemed like there wouldn't be any negative consequences. As the ranking officer, I'm taking full responsibility, of course. What about everyone else? I take it that there wasn't an attack?"

It was his turn to get only silence for an answer. He had not been expecting a perfect report, but it looked like no one had decided how to put it to him just yet. In context, it seemed fair to give them a moment.

"It, um... well, it didn't exactly go as well as that," Neville said after a moment.