No news from his country, not yet. But the Ministry of Magic was quick to answer. An owl had delivered a letter while he was away, and Jeremy sat on the bed of his hotel room, reading it with a growing frown.

Dear Mr. Taylor,

We appreciate your efforts in bringing the Excruciator to justice. We have forwarded your letter to the Aurors situated in Azkaban, and I am sad to say that they have confirmed your suspicions. At least no Horcrux was involved, as far as we can tell.

The body supposedly belonging to Malachi Greymist was exhumed today. Scars were found behind its ears, evidence of a surgery. The long hair helped hide them until it was too late. The Excruciator knew that if he simply put someone under the Imperius curse and fed them a polyjuice potion, his spells would have been detected inside Azkaban. Fortunately for him, he had no shortage of fanatics ready to die for his cause.

From what we can gather, during his short reign over Seattle, Greymist must've used the standard method of dictators to confound any would–be assassins: he picked someone with the same height, the same build, the same age as himself, and from there it was a small matter of shaping his appearance so he would be a convincing double for the self–proclaimed dark lord, and at some point after his capture the Excruciator switched places with this double, who was executed in his place.

This is a most unfortunate development. I have forwarded your case to Ian Winstone, London's own Commissioner of Aurors. Burn this letter and you will be able to contact him in the flames. I am also monitoring the situation with great anxiety, and if you deem it necessary you can call on me to assist you personally.

Yours truly,

Minister for Magic, Hermione Jean Granger.

„Bad news?" Eren asked. Elbows on the armrests and hands on his stomach, he sat on a mahogany chair covered in leather, next to a small fireplace gone cold long ago. Having seen this hotel room, he had to admit that for all his quirks, Jeremy was a man of wealth and taste.

Jeremy nodded in answer to his question. „Greymist has indeed cheated death." He crumpled the letter into a ball, tossed it into the fireplace, and took out his wand. „Incendio," he whispered a spell, kneeling down before the cold hearth.

The letter burst into flames. Nothing that could amaze Eren at this point. What got his attention was when a voice started speaking from the fire, but it was a voice he could not understand. „Yeah, connect me to Commissioner Ian Winstone," Jeremy spoke back to it.

A moment passed. Two. Eren leaned forward, intrigued. Now he thought he could see a face in the fire as well, a face speaking with the voice of someone who could really, really benefit from quitting cigarettes, though he still couldn't make out what they were saying, and definitely not because his hearing was somehow defective. No, it seemed like there was some kind of enchantment so that a muggle would be unable to hear what the voice in the flames was actually saying. Most odd.

„Commissioner Ian Winstone?" Jeremy sounded a bit unsure if he got the right person. „This is Jeremy Taylor, Auror Department of the United States–" he paused, seemingly interrupted by this Commissioner on the other end. „Yes. We require an immediate check on one Mr. Mulligan. He owns a warehouse in Knockturn Alley. All the information you have on him and his employees. You'll also need to set up a watch around his warehouse, day and night."

The person on the other end chuckled, spoke a few more garbled words and with that, the flames went out.

„No, I need that–" Jeremy went, but too late. The connection was already cut, and he did not know if he could establish it again. He stood, turned his back on the hearth. He didn't notice it until now but his gaming laptop, the one he bought yesterday, was still working. The game he had bought along with it was still on, too. When he got the call this morning, he really thought he would be back in the hotel by lunchtime. He chuckled now, and went to turn the damn thing off.

„Taylor!" Eren said behind his back. He turned to see him pointing at the furnace, lit up again by a sudden fire.

„Oh, thank God!" he knelt in front of the fire again. „You've got something for me?"

Commissioner Ian Winstone did indeed have something for Jeremy. Eren couldn't tell what it was, but by the tone of the commissioner's voice he felt it wasn't good. And as if he needed any more proof, Jeremy's countenance was turning dark. „When? And inside the house? I see. Thank you."

The flame was extinguished once again. Jeremy regarded him with a grim look that he did not like. „Eren, stay calm. I don't want you to do anything rash."

If he was saying that, it meant he had some news for Eren, something that would most likely cause him to do something very rash. „I don't know, Jeremy, you telling me to stay calm..." he chuckled, suddenly nervous. „Doesn't exactly make me calm. What is it?"

„One of your neighbors called the police ten minutes ago to report screams coming from inside your home. They arrived to the scene and found... nothing."

„Nothing?" Eren repeated with a pained, forced smile. „And Karla?"

Jeremy shook his head. Both men were connecting the dots simultaneously. Karla was in no way in on her father's mission to produce the atsilatree poison. They didn't kidnap her because she knew something. More likely than not the professor was not cooperating, and Greymist wanted to make him cooperate.

Eren got up from his seat and went for the door. Jeremy rose and went to stop him. „Eren, no," he laid a hand on his shoulder, but when the man shoved it away roughly he knew better than to touch him again. „Eren, you might be playing into his hands if you do this. You're the assistant, even more valuable–"

„Look on the bright side, Jeremy. If he kidnaps me, I might get within striking distance of your so–called dark lord," he flashed him a grin and went out before Jeremy could respond, slamming the door after him.

Idiot! Jeremy opened the door and shouted after him, but he would not turn back. Once he got into his car Jeremy could not follow him, except by flying after him. And he wasn't about to fly through the middle of London. For the third and hopefully final time today he knelt by the furnace to alert Commissioner Winstone. Eren's life was in danger!