FROM THE OFFICE OF THE PRIME MINISTER OF THE UNITED KINGDOM OF GREAT BRITAIN AND NORTHERN IRELAND, FIRST LORD OF THE TREASURY, MINISTER FOR THE CIVIL SERVICE, MINISTER FOR THE UNION, THE RIGHT HONORABLE FREDERICK ANTON ISLINGTON-LENNOX

Anyone caught reading this letter without authorization will be charged with high treason. With the recent reinstatement of capital punishment, once convicted, you will be beheaded at the Tower of London. And that's if I'm feeling generous.

To the Chief Mouser of the Cabinet Office, Count Aiden Tomkins:

When I was a child, I never used to believe in divine providence. I was a man of cold hard facts, science, reason, empiricism. But now, now things are different. I know the truth. God has chosen me to lead this glorious kingdom into the greatest age it or any other nation will ever experience. He has chosen me to destroy all lesser peoples and make it so the glory of Britain is made manifest once again. To not only recreate an empire upon which the sun never sets, but also to purge this world of all people of all impurities. For so many years, Britain has endured indignities as its empire was torn away piece by piece. The United States, Ireland, the Solomon Islands, Hong Kong, and, most gallingly of all, Papua New Guinea have all been taken from us by their ungrateful natives.

Weaklings such as my predecessors have allowed this to happen. They just gave up to avoid war. We should have fought. We should have defended our colonies with every ounce of British blood as we possibly could. I don't know why everyone was so reluctant. Everyone who died in such a war would automatically go to heaven. Eternal paradise for them above, eternal paradise for us below…I don't see any downsides. Do you? DO YOU?! Of course not.

Oh, how I burn to take our nuclear arsenal and wipe out the vermin living in our colonies, the ungrateful fools who dared to take our generosity and spurn it. All so they could be…free? I don't get it. Why would anyone want to be apart from our wonderful empire? We have toad in the hole. I believe such a thing speaks for itself. But unfortunately, I've been informed by my top scientists that such a thing would turn those colonies into a barren wasteland which might, I have to concede, make it slightly difficult for us to reconquer them. They also told me it was wrong for some unfathomable reason, but I managed to get them to recant their objections. It's just like they say, a bit of torture a day keeps the dissention away!

No, subtlety, alas, is going to be the name of the game. Fortunately, I have a cunning plan that will enable us to regain our colonies…probably without having to fire a single shot. I'm not going to tell you what it is, because I'm not stupid, but it's very crafty. You'll like it. All will be revealed eventually.

Being prime minister can be boring sometimes. But ever since God spoke to me and told me I was the reincarnation of King Arthur, returned to bring Britain back into a golden age of righteousness and glory, it's been much easier to endure long meetings around my new Round Table, dreaming of the days when I, wielding Excalibur itself, will be recognized by my people as the one true sovereign of all mankind. Those days are coming quicker than you might suspect, Count. Because I have the leverage none of my predecessors have had the courage or the will to use: the magical population lurking amongst us.

I thought I had gone crazy when the portrait in my office started talking to me on my first day of office. Of course, I know how silly that is now. I, the mighty King Arthur reborn, am a pinnacle of sanity. And sure enough, I was not hallucinating. It turns out there is indeed a secret world of sorcerers who walk among us. I have seen them cast spells with my own eyes. This world of magic is an affront to all right thinking individuals. They move in shadows, manipulating the strands of our society to their own advantage. And worst of all, they don't pay taxes! Not one of them. I vowed right then and there I would have all adult wizards imprisoned for tax evasion. Think of all the money we could have gotten from them! Money we could have used to recolonize Papua New Guinea!

Moreover, and probably more importantly, the wizards have been using their spells to wipe all memories of magic from unsuspecting citizens. This is a deliberate assault, an attack on the very free will of the good people of Britain. And ever since the rise of surveillance equipment and cell phones, the assaults have gone up in number exponentially. It is only a matter of time before the assaults become more conspicuous than the things they are meant to hide. And when they do, I shall be ready with sword, flail, and pepper spray.

I first became prime minister a few years after the 7/7 bombings. The public was clamoring for greater security and I and my Union Party humbly provided it for them. Of course then they started whining about how I was a "tyrant" who was "restricting their civil liberties" and had "lost all grip on reality." But as Mallory said, one of our flaws as a people is that we just can't accept a good thing when it's staring us right in the face.

Starting around 2003, the country had been rocked with strange attacks, many of which didn't appear to be committed with unconventional weapons. Some people didn't have marks on them, others appeared to be torn apart or half turned into marble statues or any one of a hundred esoteric and seemingly impossible things. My predecessors never made the connection, but as soon as I learned about the wizards, I realized they were responsible for these attacks. And sure enough, as I always am, I was proven right.

The wizards were having a civil war thanks to some guy calling himself Voldemort. Once more, the French proved themselves to be the root of all evil. Why am I not surprised? Those treacherous fools surrendered at the first opportunity during World War II, leaving us to deal with the Nazis on our own. We even had to get help from the Americans. How humiliating. And now, they were once more menacing our great nation.

It took a long time, but we finally managed to recruit a spy within the wizarding populace, a member of the resistance group against Voldemort known as the Order of the Phoenix. Her name was Lily Evans and despite the unfortunate disadvantage of her gender, she was intelligent, driven, and a loyal patriot to the core. Lily gave us invaluable information about the nature of wizarding society. In the end, she managed to destroy Voldemort at the cost of her own life – and with it, our in to wizarding society.

But Lily left behind a son, Harry, and left him with her patriotic sister Petunia. A few discreet payments convinced Petunia to abuse the boy. We then had another one of our magical operatives – Lily recruited a few during her years spying for us – erase all traces of the numerous abuse complaints levied against the Dursleys. He deliberately used magic and left a trail so that when the time came, Harry would realize that it was the wizards who had left him to be abused, who had used magic to ruin his life. He would decide magic was evil and join us in our quest to absorb the magical population back into the Muggle world.

The plan has…had a few bumps, I'm forced to concede. Harry befriended an FSB agent on the train ride to Hogwarts. Oh, Hermione Gangrene talks a good game, but her parents are known to be FSB agents and so they must have taught her to be one as well. Not to mention they'd supplied her with FSB equipment, which they wouldn't do if they were keeping their identity a secret from her. I directed Hagrid to remove Gangrene from play by whatever means necessary.

But the bloody fool got himself arrested, which was embarrassing in more ways than one – I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you and I don't want to do that, Count. Not when you're of so much use to me. I had our operative in the Ministry smuggle in a cyanide capsule and I assume he must have taken it because we haven't heard from Echidna since. No, Echidna is not the problem.

Just after we instituted a kill order on Gangrene, the Drs. Gangrene decided to defect. And since they announced their defection by killing one of the top FSB agents in the country, the notorious Dr. Elisei Dreykov, we realized we should probably take the notion seriously. So we rescinded the kill order on Gangrene. The idea of having an FSB agent so close to influencing Potter still makes me distinctly uncomfortable and I hope an opportunity presents itself to arrange an accident for her, but it's far more important to recruit the Drs. Gangrene as assets. With their knowledge harnessed for our purposes, we can purge all Russian assets from this glorious island. Well, all Russian assets that aren't the Gangrene girl, anyway.

But the Russians weren't about to take the loss of one of their top agents and the defection of two of their top operatives lying down. They put a kill order out on Gangrene themselves and sent an assassin lying in wait for her at King's Cross for when she returned from Hogwarts. Regrettably, Gangrene used her magic to thwart the assassin. Her death at the hands of the Russians would have made the Drs. Gangrene even more potent assets and left us completely blameless. Also, it would have completely devastated Potter and that little shit deserves to be taken down a peg after getting Echidna arrested.

Now Gangrene has been arrested by the Ministry and is being charged with violating the Statute of Secrecy. To make matters infinitely worse, the Ministry's brain violators have wiped all memory of the Gangrene girl from the minds of the Drs. Gangrene. Since she was their motivation to defect in the first place, we cannot get their defection back on track until they at least have knowledge of their daughter returned. But where others see crisis, I see opportunity. We now have the perfect opportunity to assemble a team to conduct the first step in the plan that will see the Statute of Secrecy fall and all wizards be crushed underfoot by the magnificence that is I. Am I going to tell you what that plan is, you might ask? And the answer is no. I'm not going to put it to paper, not when it's so very, very risky. But what's life without a little risk?

Now stop playing with that ball of string and get back to catching mice before I have you neutered. Don't think I won't.

Dear Avery,

It is I, your old friend Lucius Malfoy. I hope this letter finds you well, that your begonias are in season, your wife is fertile, and your dungeon filled with muggle playthings is never discovered by the authorities. It certainly would be quite a bother if they were. But we don't need to concern ourselves with such things, naturally. Not when we're friends. And friends keep each other's secrets, do they not? I think I'll let you realize what I mean by that on your own time. I recognize it may take a while, but I have faith in your persistence if not necessarily your intelligence.

I find myself filled with fury with my offspring. Draco has been saying all sorts of rebellious, ridiculous things. He's intimated to me that muggleborns, filth that is not even worthy enough to be on the underside of my shoe, might actually be valuable allies in the struggle against the muggles. He's starting to sound like a Grindelwaldian! Not that there's anything wrong with that, mind you. Grindelwald may have been a bit confused sometimes, what with all his talk of magical cores and other silly things, but his heart was in the right place.

The real problem is that blasted mudblood who was sorted into Slytherin last year. Can you believe it? A mudblood in Slytherin house again! I thought once we got Severus as head of Slytherin, we would be seeing the end of that filth infecting the house. But as much as I tried to convince the board Severus needed to be kept where he was, eventually his habit of targeting the children of prominent people (albeit blood traitors), caused the board to sack him. And you know what they replaced him with? A bloody squib. I am not making this up. It was an actual squib, I swear to Odin. At least the squib got sacked, but now Narcissa's sister Andromeda is the new potions teacher and I can't get rid of her because Narcissa might disapprove. Probably. Maybe if I…no, it's better not to risk it.

But I digress. With Severus's departure as head of Slytherin, his replacement undid the spell he put on the Sorting Hat to keep the mudbloods out. Alas, Aurora Sinistra is over 250 years old and has dirt on literally everyone so there's absolutely nothing I can do but wait for her to croak. It can't be that much longer; she's literally the oldest witch in Britain. So this year we had to deal with the indignity of having the creature who slew the Dark Lord (the Hogwarts Gazette says he's a gremlin! A gremlin, can you believe it! In my school!), a bloody Weasley, and a mudblood in Slytherin's noble house. And the mudblood must have corrupted Draco. I see no other explanation. It must have used its feminine wiles to turn him away from the path of righteousness.

Fortunately, I had a cunning plan. You will recall the Dark Lord entrusted me with a diary that used to belong to him during his school days. But it was no ordinary diary. Dumbledore's public rantings have mostly been nonsense, but he let slip that the Dark Lord made horcruxes to preserve his soul from death. This means he will return one day. But what if we could engineer his return our way? What if he returned as his sixteen year old self, a boy without temporal power and a fraction of the Dark Lord's magical power who required our wisdom and influence in order to ascend to the heights he once was? A sixteen year old…who, dare I even say it, perhaps may not be too practiced at resisting the Imperius curse.

My original plan was to plant it in the cauldron of Weasley's daughter, so that she would be blamed for the opening of the Chamber of Secrets. But now that I know what the diary is, a better opportunity presented itself. Why not give the Dark Lord not the body of Ginny Weasley, but the Slytherin mudblood? He would have no chance of succeeding in anything without the patronage of noble families such as ourselves. He would be entirely reliant on us and when he takes over Britain, we would be the power behind the throne.

Now this is the hilarious thing. The mudblood got itself arrested for breaking the Statute of Secrecy! Can you believe it? I convinced Umbridge to arrest it on spurious charges only to find out she had perfectly legitimate justification for putting it in jail! If that is not proof the Aesir smile upon our efforts, I do not know what is. I planted the diary in its cell and even as we speak, its feeble mind is probably being enveloped by our Lord. Soon to be our pawn. And then we will finally rule the world and wipe all the mudbloods from the face of the earth.

Do give my regards to Cynthia! Narcissa would love to have her over for tea and biscuits one of these days!

Lucius Malfoy

I spy with my little eye…something that begins with B.

Geez Louise, Tom, do you think it could be bars? Or bricks? Or bloody well stop pestering me?

I don't think it's that last one.

Seriously, this is not helpful. I've got around two months to figure out a way to avoid ridiculous charges brought about by what appears to be a racist, totalitarian regime who have charged me with breaking the Statute of Secrecy for defending myself against an assassin. I haven't had access to a lawyer or gotten a message to my friends and I've been kept in near solitary confinement for weeks now. Not to mention the Muggle government might still be trying to assassinate me. Harry has gone on vacation and probably hates me because I was stupid enough to kiss him and certainly won't know anything is amiss until I return.

And my only companion in all this mess is you, a sentient diary that is probably evil. I mean, let's examine the evidence here. You keep on trying to teach me very violent spells.

Sometimes violence really is the answer.

Your name is literally an anagram for "I am Lord Voldemort."

Mere coincidence. I am a humble teenager with no connections to any dark lords in any way whatsoever.

I find it extremely suspicious that this diary happened to be lying around in my prison cell. Powerful magical artifacts such as this one are not left behind in cells randomly! And I note you have absolutely no retort to that. And finally, I keep on writing in you despite repeatedly telling myself to stop.

Hermione, you're being paranoid. I don't blame you. Your situation looks very dire. But you're locked up in solitary confinement. It's cruel, it's torture, and you're a child. You have literally nothing else to do with your time but write in this diary. I want to help you. There's more than one way to skin a cat.

I bet you know that to be factually true.

Skinning cats is boring. Skinning children on the other hand…no, I'm just joking. Or am I? So much mystery! ;) But seriously, Hermione, I just want to help you. I'm a sentient diary and your cell is really, really boring. I want to visit exotic locales like Hogwarts. For example. We're on the same side here and I can give you the power to get out of this cell.

Never. I will never give into the dark side. I know how that ends. It's addictive. You say you'll use it only the once and then not again. And then you do use it again and again and you stop caring about the things you used it for in the first place. I won't let that happen to me. I'm not going to end up like Gollum or Darth Vader.

I thought you didn't like Star Wars.

…

Hermione?

I never told you that.

Of course you did. Don't you remember? We talked about how Harry fought that lightsaber duel which you found to be secretly very attractive.

No, no, no! Stop trying to gaslight me! You're not…I'm not going to give you a foothold. You can take whatever you want from my memories, but it's not going to help you. I won't let you win. You overplayed your hand. I didn't tell you any of that; you stole it from my memories. And if you're reading my memories without my consent, then you're not just some cheap parlor trick. You're something much, much worse.

I'm more powerful than you assumed, but it doesn't make me worse. It doesn't make me evil. Power is a tool. You can use it for good or bad. If I can read your memories like you think I can – and of course I can't, because that's just silly, Hermione – then think about what else I can do to help you. I'm your only way out of prison, love.

No. I'll find a way out. Harry will get me out. I know he'll figure it out eventually. There's no force of nature that can stop Harry when he gets an idea in his head.

You just keep telling yourself that. But if there was a compulsion on this diary to make you keep writing in it, if said compulsion sucked out your lifeforce bit by delicious bit…well, you'll not find these surroundings to be very conducive to resisting it. So why don't we go back to our Eye Spy game?

Because you have nothing else to do with your time, do you? Nothing but wait…and write.

I LIVE!

Yes, that's right, it's me, Harry Potter, back from a long sabbatical. Or it will be when I post this upon my return from my world trip. Remus convinced me to disconnect for the summer. I thought he was crazy, but I'd be a hypocrite if I rejected an idea just because of that, so I left my phone and other electronics back in England. And you know what, folks? He was right. I feel so relaxed and free. I didn't realize how much being online constantly was holding me back. Of course, I'm not going to deny you an account of what happened during my trip, so I'm writing these blog entries by hand. When I get back, I'll transcribe and post them.

Anyway, even if I didn't want to disconnect, I'd probably have to do it anyway. Strangely enough, in most places with a concentration of magic, electronics don't work in the first place, so it wouldn't have been of much use to me. This way, I can kick back and enjoy my first ever holiday with someone who loves me. Actually, first ever holiday in general. My trip to Brighton doesn't count, because I was there basically to carry the luggage and Dudley's many, many purchases.

Remus has been an awesome guardian so far. Not too strict but not too not strict either to the point where I think he doesn't care. A perfect balance. And as something of an expert in magical history to the point where I'm genuinely surprised he hasn't made a move for Professor Binns's job, he's been the perfect traveling companion to teach me about a world I never knew even existed until last year.

Uh, so I'm probably going to remove this part when I post it, but I need to get my thoughts out there. Hermione kissed me on the cheek. Then she ran off screaming. Messages don't really get any more mixed than that. Remus says she likes me, but how can I know? The whole screaming thing…doesn't really bode well. Not to mention I haven't gotten any letters from her. Or…anyone, actually. Should I worry about that? Nah. But her own social media presence, her whole online footprint in general actually, has just completely vanished. It's like she never even existed. (She definitely did exist, though. I have pictures to prove it.)

So…does she like me? Not just like me, though. Does she fancy me? That's the question. And, perhaps more relevantly, do I fancy her? I just don't know! I don't think I do, but I don't know if it's because I'm too young. I haven't even turned twelve yet! Maybe I should just table this, wait a while to see if I develop feelings for her as well. But what if she expects an answer when we get back to Hogwarts? What do I say?! What do I do?! I can plan a heist to steal (what I thought was) the Philosopher's Stone no problem, but girls? I'm totally at a loss! I'm usually the guy with a plan! The plan is often dumb, but I have it! And now I don't!

No, no, stop panicking, Harry. It'll be fine. You'll get advice from Remus when the time comes.

And Remus is a particularly good person to get advice from, because he has a girlfriend now! I'd better back up so you have all the context. So we've been traveling the various magical centers of the world. We've been especially focusing on ones with magical schools. Remus is not particularly subtle in hinting he wants me to transfer to these places. I'm not biting. Hogwarts has been an absolute blast. Sure, I've been in danger a lot, but most of that was my fault in the first place. And it's going to be a lot safer now that Remus is there.

I'd talk about the schools, but there's something more important to talk about and that's ATLANTIS! That's right, mates. Atlantis is real. Atlantis is a living, thriving cosmopolitan civilization entirely comprised of mages. The Atlanteans deliberately sunk it under the sea to hide from Muggles who wanted to use their powers as weapons of conquest. Atlantis was a peaceful culture full of scientists and artisans. Naturally, they proceeded to have no less than fifteen civil wars subsequent to sinking, but that's neither here nor there. The point is, Atlantis is the most impressive city you can imagine, entirely powered by magic. It's just…it's so beautiful. It makes me want to cry. I want to move there so bad, but I'd miss my friends.

So there me and Remus were at one of the many Atlantean museums when who should happen to walk into the room but Hestia Jones. You remember Hestia. She was the Auror who fought Hagrid last year and is going to be the Defense professor this year. (Speaking of which, does anyone know when Hagrid's trial will be? I haven't heard anything.) Well, it turns out Hestia and Remus used to know each other back in school. Not only that but…drumroll please…Hestia was best friends with my mum!

"Lily was the best friend a girl could ask for," Hestia said when we'd all sat down at the museum café to get to know each other. "She fought tirelessly for justice. All the time. It was a bit annoying. Sometimes, she forgot to do her homework, she was so busy fighting."

"And I suppose there's a good reason why she didn't ask you to raise me?" I asked pointedly. I'm still a little salty about the fact my parents apparently had all these good friends and none of them bothered to even look in on me as a child. I know a lot of that had to do with Hagrid and probably the government's interference, but it still smarts.

Hestia sighed. "We'd had a bit of a falling out after we graduated. We both wanted to defeat Voldemort." My respect for her went up a notch. Very few people have the guts to say Voldemort's name. "But I wanted to work within the system and she wanted to work outside of it."

"How'd that work out for you?" I asked snidely and then I cursed myself for my rudeness. Hestia had saved Hermione from a terrible fate. She didn't deserve me taking my issues out on her.

But Hestia looked unfazed. "She's dead; I'm not. How do you think it worked out?" Wow. I felt like I should be angry, but I was honestly impressed with the chutzpah Hestia must have had to say something like that. "I'm sorry. That was out of line. But I'm proud of the work I've done as an Auror. I've put away hundreds of criminals over the last decade, Harry. Serial killers, Death Eaters, people who hurt kids. Yes, I didn't slay Voldemort, but I'm no slacker in the saving people department."

"The war was very hard on us all, but especially on Aurors, Harry," Remus explained calmly. "They had to see things no one should ever have to see, things I hope you can't even conceive of, much less have to see yourself."

Well, now I felt like crap. "I'm sorry, Auror Jones. I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you."

"Hey, no worries," Hestia said with a wave of her hand. "And please call me Hestia while it's summertime at least. Your mum is probably laughing her arse off in heaven right now at the idea of you calling me Auror Jones. Look, as far as I knew, you were being raised well by Petunia. I had no idea she was so vile. I was absolutely devastated when I learned the truth. I wish I had known. I feel guilty I didn't."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't like to think about the Dursleys anymore. Petunia and Vernon pled guilty to child abuse and are now in jail. Dudley, I guess, probably went with Marge. I don't know who got the worse end of the deal there. But I know I'm never going to be totally free of them and all the damage they did to me.

"This is getting pretty heavy," Remus complained. "Let's talk about lighter stuff."

"Absolutely," Hestia said with a dazzling smile. "Listen, there's a performance of," she proceeded to rattle off a series of syllables that made it sound like she was speaking through a mouthful of gravel; the Atlantean tongue was a harsh mistress, "tonight and I was wondering if you'd like to go, Remus. Just like old times."

Remus looked down at his plate and blushed. "Hang on a minute!" I shouted loud enough for people in the café to look over at the table. As always, I ignored anyone who objected to my antics. Life is too short to care what people you don't know think of you. "Were you two a thing?"

"Oh, yes, we were quite the item in school," Hestia said. "Before we broke up. Uh, I assume Remus told you about…" I quickly nodded. You don't need to know what she meant by that. Sorry, but some secrets stay in the family. "Good, good. I'm afraid he didn't tell me and I didn't take it well. I eventually came to my senses and we became friends again, but we never quite got back what we had."

Until now, I supposed. "Well, as it happens, I think I'm going to be too tired to attend a play, so I'll just leave you to it." I wanted Remus to be happy and I wanted Hestia around to tell me stories about my mum, so it was kind of a win-win there. "Have fun on your date!"

"It's not a date, Harry," Remus protested.

"Sure it isn't," I said with an outrageous wink.

I was right. It was a date. I know this because the two of them went on more dates as our holiday went on. And I couldn't help but note we stayed in Atlantis much longer than we'd planned – not that I'm complaining in the slightest. By the time we were finally moving onto our next destination – and only because Hestia had to return to Britain – the two of them were openly dating and kissing and all lovey-dove. It was sweet if unpleasant to look at.

"Say, Remus, what does it mean when a girl kisses you on the cheek and then runs away screaming?" I asked him as we were on the plane to Uzbekistan, where we were going to visit the magical community of Samarkand.

Remus blinked a couple of times. "I have absolutely no idea. Did Hermione do that?"

I considered lying for a few seconds, then nodded. "I'm confused. Does she like me? Do I like her? How do I know?"

"You could ask her," he suggested, and then we both broke into laughter a few seconds later at how ridiculous that idea was. "I'm really, really not sure, Harry. My best guess is she likes you, but she's scared of her feelings for some reason."

"Perhaps the school counselor could get to the bottom of matters when we get back," I suggested.

Remus chuckled. "I could do that, but even if I did, professional ethics would prohibit me from telling you what she said."

"You're such a Gryffindor," I complained. "Professional ethics are for losers."

He ruffled my hair. I complained, but only because it was what was expected of me. Secretly, I liked it a lot. "Relax, you Slytherin. If Hermione likes you, she'll tell you eventually. As for if you like her, you'll figure it out. You have time. For now, let's just enjoy our summer the best we can."

And I'm going to do just that. Uzbekistan, here I come!

Dear Bill,

It's your favorite brother Ron. I need your help. I'm at my wits end. I know you're on assignment in Brazil, but we're in a huge pickle. None of my letters are getting through to Harry. I know he's been moving around a lot on his big world tour and maybe if it happened once or twice or even three or four times, I wouldn't be concerned, but I've sent him more than twenty letters and they've all vanished into thin air. I'm certain someone is intercepting his mail and I need your help to find out who it is.

We need Harry's help desperately. Hermione has been arrested for breaking the Statute of Secrecy. Apparently, she did magic in the middle of King's Cross. I don't believe it. Hermione isn't the type of person to do that. Ever since her arrest, no one's been able to speak to her. Even Ms. Cheatham, Harry's barrister, hasn't been able to talk to her. The word in the Ministry is Dolores Umbridge, the Senior Undersecretary, is trying to make an example of her. She's bad news. How bad? Dad called her a bitch. At the dinner table. And Mum didn't even yell at him for swearing at the dinner table. That's how bad she is.

Harry's got the celebrity star power we lack. I'm sure he could get himself a meeting with the Minister and have all these charges dropped. Or at least go to the Daily Prophet and make a stink about the arrest. But he's unreachable through electronic means and, as I've said, all my letters are just vanishing into thin air, it would seem, before they can reach him. We can't have Hermione go to Azkaban. Harry would try to break her out and he'd probably break out all the prisoners there in the process and then we'd have monsters like Sirius Black running around and wreaking havoc.

To make matters even worse, Hermione's parents have been obliviated. That is not standard procedure at all and Dad has no clue who might have done it. Me and Dad went over to Hermione's house to offer our support and when they answered the door, they didn't recognize us.

"Can we help you?" Emmet asked politely.

"Emmet, it's me, Arthur Weasley," Dad said. There wasn't a shred of recognition in Emmet's eyes. "We're friends of your daughter."

Emmet and Danielle shared a concerned look. "We don't have a daughter, sir; you must have us confused for someone else."

I was filled with horror. I'd heard about obliviations gone wrong, of course, but it was disturbing beyond all reason to see the results of it happening right in front of me, let alone to the parents of someone I cared about. "Dad…" I said softly, unsure of what I wanted. I just wanted him to fix things.

"Your daughter's name is Hermione," Dad said firmly. There was a spark of recognition in the Grangers' eyes. They knew the name, even if they had no memory of the person. "She's an extraordinarily talented young lady. Someone's stolen your memories of her, but you know her deep down. Am I wrong?"

"You killed Elisei Dreykov for her," I said quietly. I didn't exactly want the neighbors hearing.

That provoked a reaction. The Grangers dragged us inside and when the door was closed, they pointed guns at us. I put my hands up, but Dad just looked at the gun with plain curiosity. I was terrified he was going to get himself shot. "How do you know that name?"

"Because we know you," I said. I tried to hide it but I was shaking with fear. Hermione's parents would never have shot me, but these people didn't remember they were Hermione's parents. I meant nothing to them. "Hermione is a witch and she found out about your spying and she convinced you to leave. But Dreykov threatened her and you killed him."

Dad took a step forward. Emmet toggled a switch on the gun. I grabbed Dad before he could get himself shot and pulled him back. "Drs. Granger, I know this is difficult to believe. But consider this. If Hermione doesn't exist, if you don't have a daughter, then why did you betray your country? Why did you kill Dreykov?"

The Drs. Granger shared a horrified look at each other. They started speaking in Russian to each other. I don't know what they were saying, though I caught Hermione's name being said several times. "Magic isn't real," Danielle said cautiously.

Dad pulled out his wand and turned both of their guns into a pile of dominoes. The Granger parents stared at their former weapons in horror. "Magic is real but not everyone who wields it is good. There are elements of our government who want to make an example of your daughter, who hate her for being born to Muggle parents."

"Muggle?" Emmet asked.

"Non-magical," I quickly clarified. "She loves you so much. Right now, she's in that cell, terrified out of her wits. She doesn't even know you've forgotten her."

The Grangers started talking in Russian again. Finally, Emmet leaned down and scooped up the dominoes into his hands. He put them on the table gingerly, as if expecting them to turn into a gun which would go off any second. "We need time to think about this," Emmet said. "Come back tomorrow."

"Actually, I was thinking –" Dad began, but I dragged him over to the door. I wasn't about to overstay the welcome given to us with two very dangerous spies.

"Sounds good, we'll come back tomorrow, bye," I said in one quick breath and shoved Dad out the door. It was locked as soon as we stepped out.

Me and Dad walked back to the Tube station in silence. "Do you think we're going to have to break her out?" I asked eventually. "That's why we came to the Grangers, right?"

"It's a possibility," Dad conceded. "But we're going to try every trick in the book before we resort to anything illegal. I'm not without influence."

"Or," a woman said behind us, "there might be a third way."

We spun around to see a middle aged woman with very short hair walking towards us. "My name is Rachel Dacted. I'm an agent of His Majesty's Government. And I want to help you save your friend."