After two days in the infirmary, Teddy finally regained consciousness. Harry had pulled up a chair next to his godson's bed and was reading his biography when Teddy let out a single cry and sat up. Then he grimaced in pain, clutched his side, and collapsed again.
"You with us, Ted?" Harry said, rushing to his godson's side, and glanced back at the door. "Hannah, he's awake!"
"Where am I?" said Teddy weakly, squinting his eyes at the bright light.
"It's Malfoy Manor. No need to worry, you're not that seriously hurt," Harry reassured him.
Just then, Hannah burst into the room, carrying a tray of vials. Hannah shoved ten different potions into Teddy's mouth, and he grimaced and grunted at each one, complaining about the taste. When Teddy had finished the last potion, he lay his head on the pillow and fell asleep.
"Let him sleep as much as he can for now. It'll be good for his recovery," said Hannah. "There's nothing like a good night's rest, no matter how good the medicine."
"And nothing like a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky," Harry added, and Hannah chuckled.
"Ah, yes, that's why I quit being a matron at Hogwarts," said Hannah, shaking her head. "You have to stop drinking to be a good Healer, and it wasn't easy for me. . . . But Teddy's stomach was cursed and injured, and we can't give him anything but gruel and medicine for a while."
Harry spent most of the next two weeks sitting in a chair in Teddy's hospital room, reading his biography. At least now he had a pretty good excuse to stay in the manor and not go out. Teddy could now eat porridge and potions with an extremely sleepy face when he was awake, but for the most part he remained asleep. Meanwhile, Faraday had made a great deal of progress using the CCTV information from all over Britain that he could now access. The cellar, which was previously filled with all kinds of liquor such as Firewhisky, mead, beer, and wine that Harry used to enjoy, had now been replaced by Faraday's workshop filled with various Muggle equipment and machinery. It was a challenge for Harry, who had no computer skills, to understand, but Faraday had programmed the CCTV cameras to automatically alert him if there was a suspicious person in a black cloak or a combat drone flying around.
"The last time we were in Cheltenham, I was wondering how they'd managed to catch us," Faraday said as Harry, Ron and Hermione stopped by his workshop. "It turned out that they had a network of drones in each city and monitored our every move. . . . Whenever one of us showed up, the Dawn Breakers stopped what they were doing and went into hiding."
"That's why we never found any trace of them," Ron said bitterly. "I guess we were just wasting our time."
"Not necessarily." Faraday grinned and pointed to the computer screen. On the CCTV screen showing the streets of London, Dean and Seamus were walking in Muggle disguise. A few feet away, a man with a long beard and sunglasses followed them, keeping an eye on them before making a phone call somewhere. As Faraday tapped his keyboard, another window appeared on the CCTV screen and a man's voice came through.
"Mr. Roberts, this is Buchanan. They're in London, but we've got nothing on them yet."
"Actually, Dean and Seamus were deliberately sent by me to keep an eye on the Dawn Breakers," Faraday said, swelling with pride. "Then I tracked the numbers they called and hacked into the phones with those numbers, one by one, and I was able to gather quite a bit of information about the Dawn Breakers."
"To be honest, Faraday," Hermione began, her eyes fixed on the computer screen, "sometimes I regret not staying in the Muggle world. . . . I find their latest technology more impressive than any magic."
"Thanks for your kind words," said Faraday. "But one ride on the subway at rush hour and you're gonna miss the Wizarding world right away."
"So what have you learned about them?" said Harry quietly. His thoughts of revenge against Eisenbein, dormant since the Fourth Curse had turned him into a Muggle, began to stir in his stomach.
"Well, just their general composition. The Dawn Breakers are divided into three sub-organizations under their commander-in-chief, Eisenbein." Faraday held out three fingers, then folded them one by one as he continued, "The Death Troop, the Pain Troop, and the Manipulation Troop."
"I suppose they symbolize the Killing Curse, the Cruciatus Curse and the Imperius Curse respectively," said Hermione thoughtfully. "They built their organization based on three Unforgivable Curses!"
"And the fourth, may I remind you," said Harry quietly. "Eisenbein, who leads them, symbolizes the Fourth Curse."
"What else have you got, Faraday?" Ron asked with a twinkle in his eye.
"Well, not much yet. But I did get some brief information on the three leaders of these three troops by hacking into their emails and social media," replied Faraday.
"Then we'll have a meeting tomorrow to share that information," said Hermione. "The morale of the D.A. members has been pretty low since Teddy was injured. . . . Perhaps it will improve once they know what you've accomplished."
The next morning, at Hermione's suggestion, Faraday held a briefing in the drawing room, with all the members seated around a long table, just like the day Dumbledore's Army was reformed. A projector had been installed on one wall, and after the same brief explanation he had given Harry and his friends yesterday, Faraday began to tell them about the three troops that made up the Dawn Breakers. The first screen the projector showed was of people in black robes with hoods covering their faces, armed with guns or magic wands.
"The first of the sub-organizations that make up the Dawn Breakers is the Death Troop, menacing soldiers who are not afraid to engage in battle and have no qualms about killing their enemies," said Faraday seriously. "This is the same group that seems to have been involved in the Gringotts heist last time, with disastrous results. . . . Strangely, only lone wolves with no surviving family members seem to be part of this group. Perhaps they believe that only those unafraid of death can kill others without shame. And their leader is —" The projector flashed to the next screen. It showed a dark photograph, taken from a distance via CCTV, of an old man in a military uniform and red beret, with a metal object like a scorpion's tail hanging from his abdomen above his head. "Colonel Fubster, who lost an eye, his wife and daughter in a terrorist attack in London decades ago. He stayed in the army, tried to catch the perpetrators, and was forced to give up his job in exchange for a two-rank promotion. He went to work as an explosives expert for a private military contractor, then disappeared a few years ago, and I haven't found any information on him since." Faraday paused in his explanation and pointed to a machine resembling a scorpion's tail hovering above Fubster's head. "This machine is a dangerous weapon that can automatically detect a magic wand and fire a high-powered laser at the hand holding it. . . . You must never let your guard down when faced with this man."
"What's a laser?" asked Seamus confusedly, and it was only after the Muggle-born Dean gave a brief explanation of the concept that Faraday was able to continue. Now the projector showed the next screen. This time it showed a group of gray-uniformed men and women chuckling as they pointed wands at a victim lying on the ground, contorted in excruciating pain.
"Next are the Pain Troop. They seem to stay mostly in the rear, acting as jailers for the wizard captives they kidnap to drain blood. To that end, of course, they will not hesitate to inflict pain on their captives . . . "
Harry unconsciously turned to where Malfoy was sitting. His pale face was ashen, which looked like a pointed moon floating in the darkness. The worry and fear he felt was understandable, as his only remaining family and his only son, Scorpius Malfoy, was still in the clutches of the Pain Troop. Harry felt grateful to Scorpius for helping Albus escape, for taking his place, and he also felt his deep hatred for Draco Malfoy fade a little.
Faraday cleared his throat continued, "And leading those ruthless jailors is none other than — " He pressed the remote in his hand, and a new image appeared on the screen: a middle-aged woman with shaggy gray hair wrapped in a net, grinning manically at the camera. "This is a witch named Robby Leach. She was the granddaughter of Nobby Leach, Britain's first Muggle-born Minister of Magic. She's been in hiding from the Wizarding world ever since she lost her grandfather in a Death Eater attack when she was a child. . . . Now she has acquired Bellatrix Lestrange's old wand, which specializes in the Cruciatus Curse, and is using it as her own. Leach seems like a dangerous witch you don't want to cross paths with. Especially if you come from the long line of pureblood families she hates so much. Leach won't stop at just killing these people . . . "
Harry had seen Robby Leach's viciousness before, through the memories of Edmund Slughorn, his former subordinate and now dead Auror. In those memories, she had brutally tortured the pureblood wizards or bled them to death with a knife. Despite their conflicting ideas, her cruel nature did not seem very different from that of Bellatrix Lestrange in her lifetime.
"And finally, the Manipulation Troop," Faraday said, maneuvering the projector to move to the next screen. The updated image showed men in hoodies and jeans sitting at computers, tapping away at keyboards as drones flew overhead. "The Manipulation Troop is made up mostly of hackers and drone pilots trained in information technology, with a few Dark wizards trained in the Imperius Curse. Their primary purpose is reconnaissance, intelligence gathering, and infiltration."
"They hurt Teddy to find out where our headquarters are," Hermione added to his explanation. "They've failed before, but they'll try again, so I'm going to ask you to take precautions when entering and leaving the manor to make sure you're not followed."
"She's right about that. And the man who leads them . . . " Faraday trailed off as he flipped the screen to the next slide. The new image showed an average-looking man in his thirties with horn-rimmed glasses and short blond hair. "His name is Jimmy Roberts. He studied computer science and was an ordinary programmer working for a tech company until a few years ago when he got caught up in the Wizarding world. He has pretty much erased everything about himself on the Internet and now goes by the name of Robert the Puppeteer in cyberspace. . . . Kind of an ominous nickname, don't you think?" Faraday flicked the remote and the projector screen went dark, plunging the room back into darkness. "Okay, that's all for now."
"Anything on Eisenbein? He's their leader, isn't he?" asked Dean anxiously, and the other members nodded in agreement.
"Well, there's very little information on Eisenbein at this point, just that he has steel legs and wears a dark cloak . . . "
"I'll tell you about him; no one knows Eisenbein better than I do," said Harry. The words were out of his mouth before he realized it. He felt everyone's eyes on him as he slowly walked over to where Farady had been standing and took his place. "Thankfully, Faraday has given us a lot of information about the enemy we are up against, and while the three troops he mentioned earlier and the three commanders who lead them are dangerous, they are nothing compared to Eisenbein," Harry said, meeting the eyes of his friends one by one. The tension in the room was palpable as he began to talk about Eisenbein. "As many of you know, Eisenbein was born a Muggle over a hundred years ago and attempted to steal magic from Albus Dumbledore's sister, Ariana, leaving her indelibly traumatized. He was then disfigured by the Fourth Curse cast by her father, Percival Dumbledore."
Harry felt a sudden stabbing pain in his chest and paused, gripping the table in front of him tightly. At the mention of the Fourth Curse, a cold, throbbing sensation spread through his body from where it had struck him. He took a deep breath to calm himself and continued, "Since then, Eisenbein has followed Albus Dumbledore, Gellert Grindelwald and Voldemort unseen, familiarizing himself with their various spells and curses. Eventually, with the help of the Deathly Hallows, he was able to rebuild his physical form to some degree, and now he's a threat to our world the likes of which we've never seen before. . . ."
"The Deathly Hallows — do they really exist?" said Neville, stunned. "Isn't it just a myth from children's fairy tales?"
"No, Neville," said Luna dreamily. "The Deathly Hallows are real."
All eyes turned to Hermione as if looking for confirmation. She took a deep breath and said, "For once, Luna is right. The Deathly Hallows do exist, and we used them once to fight and defeat Voldemort. And as Harry told you, they are now in the wrong hands. . . ."
"We're done for, then!" cried Ernie Macmillan, his face full of despair. "The one with the combined powers of Dumbledore, Grindelwald and You-Know-Who — and he's also the master of Death! How on earth are we gonna deal with him?"
The other members nodded in agreement with equally worried faces, but Harry felt that he needed to push the discussion on this topic to the end.
"I'm sorry, Ernie, but there's more to this story than that," said Harry, whose words were met with a chilling silence. "Eisenbein is a master of the Dark Arts and has gained extremely powerful Deathly Hallows, but he also has the greatest weapon of all."
"Which is?" said Neville, his round face pale.
"After Voldemort's first defeat, Eisenbein took up with a new person to follow and watch," said Harry. "And that happens to be me."
Suddenly the room was in an uproar, everyone talking so loudly they could hardly hear each other.
"Quiet, everyone!" Hermione shouted, and only then did the room quiet down enough for Harry to continue.
"In other words, Eisenbein was with me, the Boy Who Lived, all the time, and he was by my side when all the important events happened. . . . He must have been with us at the Hog's Head when we first organized Dumbledore's Army."
"So, Eisenbein —" said Neville, "you mean he knows as much about us as he knows about you?"
"As much as I know about you," said Harry firmly. "And he won't just stop there, he'll actively try to exploit our known weaknesses, which is what makes Eisenbein truly dangerous."
The room was once again filled with murmurs of despair. It was a losing battle, as far as Harry could see, against an enemy so powerful and who knew everything about them. Harry was haunted by dark memories of how Eisenbein had used Hagrid to lure him into a trap in the Forbidden Forest, and how he had become master of Death after draining Harry of his magical powers with the Fourth Curse. Still, as he confided in his friends what he knew about Eisenbein, the pressure to confront him alone was somewhat lessened. Now that he was a useless Muggle, the only hope of defeating Eisenbein lay with others, not with him.
When quiet finally returned to the room, the gloomy atmosphere seemed to blow in like an early winter wind. Everyone's heads were bowed or staring blankly at the ceiling, and even Luna's eyes, always so dreamy, seemed a little less bright. It was then that Faraday rose from his seat and came to Harry's side.
"Well, to be honest, the situation is dire . . . but in times like these we must think about what we can do."
"Then tell me, Faraday," said Ron gruffly. "How in the name of Merlin are you gonna beat him?"
"Let's approach this from a different angle," said Faraday seriously. "Why do we have to beat Eisenbein?"
There was a murmur of disbelief and sighs.
"Listen, let me explain. The reason we're here in the first place is to rescue the kidnapped Slytherin students, and since the Dawn Breakers' weakness is that they can't use magic without wizard blood. Thus, the success of this rescue mission is crucial in turning the tide of this war."
"But Mr. Prewett," said Malfoy, "is it possible to save them without dealing with Eisenbein?"
Harry realized that Malfoy was the most attentive listener to Faraday's words among the members. Of course, it wasn't strange since his son was one of the kidnapped students.
"With a well-planned operation, it might be possible, but first we have to find out where the Slytherins are, right?" said Faraday. "From what I've heard, they call their headquarters the Wizarding Factory. . . . And it's reasonable to assume that's where the kidnapped children are."
"So where is it?" Seamus asked, still skeptical.
"I don't know. The Dawn Breakers keep a very tight lid on the Factory's exact location — even tighter than we do on the location of this mansion."
The D.A. members, who had shown a glimmer of hope at his words, slumped back into their chairs in disappointment.
Nevertheless, Faraday did not look discouraged. He said, "Maybe the key to finding it is in Eisenbein himself."
"What?" said George with a laugh. "Do you think he'll give us the address if we give him some Chocolate Frogs?"
"Of course not," said Faraday, "but Eisenbein is a very peculiar-looking man; for instance, he always wears a dark cloak pulled down to his face, and instead of a solid face with distinct features, he has something like smoke in its place." Faraday went on in a serious tone, "So I'm going to program the CCTVs I've hacked into across the country to automatically alert me if anyone matching his description is spotted, and if we can find him, we may be on our way to locate the Factory."
The people around the table didn't seem to understand half of what Faraday was saying, but they seemed a little more encouraged by this new Muggle solution than before.
"I'm always grateful to you, Faraday," said Hermione. As the presentation came to an end, all eyes turned back to their leader, Harry.
"Er — so why don't we do what Faraday suggested earlier?" said Harry. "Keep an eye out for Eisenbein while the rest of us continue our search as we are now."
"We can do that," said George.
"Yeah, that's a good idea." Neville said, and the others nodded approvingly.
"Then we'll have another meeting in a week. This time Ginny and Dennis will stop by and tell us the information they gathered outside," said Hermione. Harry felt like a heavy stone had just dropped in his stomach at the name of his wife, whom he hadn't seen for a long time. "I'll let you know the exact meeting time by our coins, as usual. See you next week!"
The next few days were relatively peaceful. Teddy was awake most of the day now, but the excruciating pain in his side still kept him in bed, unable to get up.
"Well, I guess our little adventure to Cheltenham was worth a try, huh?" Teddy said with a hint of pride as Harry filled him in on the details of the meeting. "I guess we can only hope Faraday will work his own magic with that CCTV thing. . . ."
"Right. If we can find out the location of the Wizarding Factory, we might sneak the kids out without a fight," said Harry. "Then we'll be able to do it without anyone getting hurt."
"Is there any hint in that thick book on your lap?" Teddy pointed to Harry's autobiography, which had become worn from Harry reading it so many times. He had almost memorized its contents by now.
"Well, infiltration and deception were our specialties," Harry said with a grin. He was reading the part about how he and Ron had infiltrated the Slytherin common room in their second year, using Polyjuice Potion to disguise themselves as Crabbe and Goyle. "If we can just find out where the Factory is, there are a lot of ways we can use."
Time flew and before they knew it, they were sitting in the drawing room for their next meeting. Harry had prepared for this, but when Ginny walked through the door with Dennis Creevey, his heart felt as though it had turned to ice. Ginny looked more depressed than usual, but she stood in the middle of the room, her eyes never meeting Harry's.
"Well, friends — it's been a while. Dennis and I have been working for the Daily Prophet, gathering useful information in our own way," said Ginny. "Fortunately, there's no depressing news of anyone missing or dead yet, but the Dawn Breakers appear to be active now."
"How?" asked Ron, his eyes narrowing.
"As of now, they seem to be concentrating on recruiting new members, Ron," replied Dennis. "There have been reports of witches and wizards from Muggle families receiving offers to join their cause."
A low murmur filled the room, and Harry's sharp eyes caught the anxious glances of the pureblood members toward Justin, Dean and Hermione, who were Muggle-born. It was not a good sign.
"Well, there's nothing to worry about," George said loudly to get everyone's attention. "I don't expect anyone to join Eisenbein. . . . Thanks to Hermione here, the rights of Muggle-borns and Squibs have been greatly improved."
"We can't be sure yet," said Ginny. "Lately, some Squibs have cut off contact with their families. Unlike witches and wizards, Squibs don't have to register with the Ministry of Magic, and that's become a problem now."
"The Dawn Breakers will try to lure the Squibs and Muggle relatives of wizards with gifts we can never give them," said Hermione. "The promise of using magic, that is! It's times like these that we all need to stick together."
After the day's meeting ended with the decision to pay more attention to Muggles with wizards in their families, Harry hurried out of the common room, avoiding Ginny. He had just opened the door to Teddy's room and was about to duck out of sight when his wife called to him from behind.
"Harry, we need to talk."
"I'm sorry, Ginny," Harry muttered as he turned away. "I have to look after Teddy and he still needs absolute rest. We'll talk later."
"Dad, how are you doing?"
Harry had just reached for the doorknob when he heard Albus's voice. He spun around to find his second son standing next to Ginny.
"Albus, what are you doing here?" said Harry, trying to hide the shock on his face.
"I just, er, wanted to check on things," Albus said in a hesitant voice. "Scorpius is my best friend, I just want to make sure he's okay."
"Draco invited Albus here," Ginny interjected. "He said Albus could cheer himself up by coming to Malfoy Manor."
No doubt Malfoy was trying to use Albus to put indirect pressure on Harry to find Scorpius harder. Despite his anger at Malfoy, Harry studied Albus's face, which he hadn't seen in months. The skin under the green eyes, inherited from his grandmother and father, was rough with worry and anxiety, and his complexion was pale. Seeing Albus look more like his younger self than anyone else in the world made Harry sad, thinking about how his younger self would have felt if Ron or Hermione had been kidnapped, and what made him even sadder was the fact that he was no longer the hero Albus thought he was, but a helpless Muggle.
"I think you should go to Scorpius's room and talk to him alone," said Ginny quietly. "Albus was dying to see you."
Unable to refuse, Harry went upstairs a few minutes later and found himself sitting on Scorpius's bed with Albus. Father and son sat in silence for a while. The golden sunlight streaming in through the wide windows glinted off the Slytherin banners, a mixture of green and silver, that dotted the walls, and it was almost as if they were in a lush meadow together. It was then that Albus took a small shiny object out of his pocket and placed it on his palm. It was a single gold coin.
"Dad, remember? This is a fake Galleon that Dumbledore's Army used to communicate with each other. We found two of them in our house when Scorpius came to our house before."
"Yeah, I remember," Harry said with a faint smile. The days before he had been hit with the Fourth Curse were as hazy as the days of a previous life, but he could still remember searching the storeroom with Albus and Scorpius for earplugs.
"But Scorpius didn't take it with him the day he was taken, and I didn't find it until I came to this room today," said Albus bittery, turning the gold coin over in his hand. "If he'd had it with him, I could have contacted him to let him know where he was, and Scorpius could have been rescued by now. . . ."
"Albus, Faraday is trying to locate the kidnapped children as we speak," Harry said, turning to face Albus. "I'm going to get your friend back. I promise you that as your father."
The green eyes of father and son met. Then a new sparkle appeared in Albus's darkened eyes.
"I've always been proud of you, Dad." Albus sobbed and hugged Harry. "And to be your son."
"I know, son, and I'll try to keep it that way."
The next day, Harry woke up feeling unusually refreshed. Partly because he hadn't had a hangover since Malfoy had removed all alcohol from the manor, but mostly because he now had a clear sense of purpose: he was going to save Scorpius and the other kidnapped children. That was the last thing he would do before he died, the last thing he needed to accomplish to remain a hero in the memories of his loved ones.
But how? Naturally, his thoughts turned to Eisenbein's whereabouts and Faraday's computer, the only way to find the Dawn Breakers' so-called Factory. Harry pulled on a clean, hand-pressed robe and left the room, heading for the basement where Faraday was. As he descended the steep stairs, he shivered at the cold air that hung heavy on him. The old wooden door to the cellar had long since been replaced by an iron door topped with wire mesh to protect sophisticated electronics from magical influences. The door slid aside as Harry stood in front of it, and he stepped inside.
"Ah! Welcome, Harry." Faraday, who had been looking at dozens of monitors along one wall, turned in his chair to face Harry. "I was just about to call you. . . . I notified Ron and Hermione as well."
"Why, did you find anything?" said Harry as he stood next to Faraday, scanning the numerous videos, some in black and white, some in color. Just then there was a thumping sound from the direction of the stairs and Ron and Hermione walked in.
"What's going on, did you find him?" asked Ron breathlessly.
"Yep, I think so." Faraday pointed at the monitor. "The visual qualities aren't great, but I don't think there's anyone else out there with a long cape and steel legs besides Eisenbein. . . ."
"Let it play, Faraday," Hermione urged. With everyone's mouth shut in tension, Faraday moved the mouse in his hand and clicked the play button. The clicking sound felt unusually loud in the quiet room.
"Eisenbein would come to this place once a week, on a certain day, at a certain time," explained Faraday.
Harry stared unblinkingly at the monitor showing the video in question. The background was a small vacant lot in a deserted, dingy back alley. To the left of the screen was a very old abandoned building with broken windows and peeling paint; to the right, the cement-covered ground was bare, cracked, and overgrown with weeds; and in the corner of the clearing, an ugly old tree with sparse leaves hanging from its cracked trunk was hunched over, looking out at the desolate landscape. As everyone watched with bated breath, a black figure slowly entered the clearing. Metallic legs were visible beneath the fluttering silver-gray cloak. There was no sound in the video, but in Harry's mind's eye he could vividly hear the steam hissing from the steel legs.
"It's Eisenbein," whispered Harry.
"We figured that much out, Harry," said Ron. "It's not a sight you can easily pass by."
Eisenbein walked past the old tree and stopped in the middle of the site, his hands clasped together for a moment as if in prayer. Then he suddenly began to spin around at a slow pace.
"What is he doing, some kind of secret rite?" said Faraday, squinting. "Does anyone know of any magical rituals like that?"
"No," Harry and Ron replied at the same time.
Hermione, however, leaned her face closer to the monitor as though she realized something. "That's a waltz!" she said, pointing to Eisenbein's steel legs tapping to an inaudible beat.
"Look at his legs. And the hands!"
Harry looked closely, and sure enough, half-hidden beneath the hem of his cloak, Eisenbein's hands were indeed clasped around the waist of an invisible person. He moved slowly across the clearing, waving the arm that held his non-existent partner back and forth, and each time he did, the silver hands flashed faintly.
"But why is he waltzing over there, and without a partner?" said Ron, his eyes wide open. None of the four could think of an answer as they watched the video in amazement. Then something clicked in Harry's head.
"It's not that he doesn't have a partner!" Using the mouse, Harry panned the video forward, pausing at the point where Eisenbein's hands were clasped together in prayer. "The ring he's wearing has the Resurrection Stone on it, remember?" Ron and Hermione gasped almost simultaneously, and Harry continued, "He must've used the stone to bring someone back from the dead, and he's dancing with whoever it is."
Faraday, who had been eagerly searching his smartphone, exclaimed with a sharp intake of breath. "Yes! That ruined building was once used as a ballroom. The video was filmed in the village of Mould-on-the-Wold, which has long since fallen into decline and now has just a few residents."
"If it's Mould-on-the-Wold —" Harry looked back at Hermione, her mouth slightly open as if she had realized something too.
"Remember, Harry? We read about it in Rita Skeeter's The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore. It's the hometown of the Dumbledore family!"
"And it's probably the home of Eisenbein, too," said Harry thoughtfully. "He's the one who attacked little Ariana, so he must have lived in the same village with the Dumbledores before he lost his body."
"But we already knew that," said Hermione feebly, sinking into her chair. "It's impossible to find out the location of the Wizarding Factory just because Eisenbein showed up here and danced. . . ."
"Faraday, is there anything in this area that could be called a factory?" Ron asked hopefully, but Faraday shook his head firmly.
"Nothing at all. It used to be an industrial area a few decades ago, but the factories have all been torn down, and there's a grocery store, but that's about it."
Which meant that the CCTV footage they'd found on Eisenbein was worthless. Harry leaned back against the wall, drained of strength, while Ron and Hermione stared at the still image with dead faces.
"Then what we need are his memories," a familiar, drawling voice said. Harry looked up, startled, to see Malfoy, who had entered silently and was standing near the door.
"Slipping in unnoticed like a snake, Malfoy," snapped Ron, obviously annoyed that he had snuck in and eavesdropped on their conversation. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to hear what I need to know, Weasley," Malfoy said as he folded his arms, then looked back at Faraday. "Mr. Prewett, you said that Eisenbein always appears in the same place at the same time?"
"That's right, every Friday night."
"Then it is reasonable to assume that he will show up this Friday night as well," Malfoy said in a condescending tone, as if wondering why they didn't know this simple fact. "That's our chance. We can hide and wait for him and steal his memories."
"Wait, how exactly are we going to do that?" said Harry, frowning. He, like Ron, was not at all pleased with Malfoy's sudden intrusion.
"See that tree, Potter?" Malfoy pointed to the old tree in the corner of the screen. "If you hide in it and stretch your wands as far as you can, you might be able to get a memory out of Eisenbein's head. . . . I saw him pass by there when he was waltzing."
Harry played the video again, not quite believing Malfoy's words. But sure enough, Eisenbein had passed right under the outstretched branches of the tree.
"The memories of your enemies can be the key to defeating them," said Malfoy impatiently. "Look what's in your own biography, Potter — you used the Pensieve to thoroughly examine Voldemort's past to prepare for the final battle with him."
Harry remembered sitting in the headmaster's office at Hogwarts with Dumbledore, sifting through memories involving Voldemort from various sources and speculating on information about Horcruxes. In truth, he had only entered the Pensieve with him and Dumbledore had done all the planning, but he didn't bother to correct him.
"Yes, it's in the book," said Harry reluctantly. "But there's no guarantee that the memories in Eisenbein's head at this point will give us the information we need, is there?"
"Think about it, Potter. If he's summoning the dead from his old home, he's obviously thinking about an important past, and there's a good chance that past involved a factory of some kind, and it's quite possible that it's the same one we're looking for." Malfoy looked back at the other four, one by one. "Or does anyone have a better alternative?"
This time no one spoke. But Ron, probably angry at being silent, finally said, "So who's going to do this dangerous job?"
"Me, of course," drawled Malfoy. "It's about saving my son, and besides, I'm used to this sort of thing. Voldemort used to —" His pointed, pale face darkened noticeably. "Voldemort used to make me do all sorts of things, like torturing his minions, or pulling out their memories for interrogation."
"This is crazy, really," said Ron, shaking his head. "But if you're the one risking your life, Malfoy, then there's no reason to object."