The Centaur's Shrine

Chapter 19 - Maneuvers

Hogwarts,

Most students were already sleeping when Alicia tiptoed across the Gryffindor common room toward the portrait door. She opened it carefully and peered out to check that nobody was near. She was dressed in black pants, a marine blue turtle neck sweater (the darkest one she could find), and the tight black leather boots Fred and George had sent them. The boots were very comfortable. They gave a good grip for running, and they made absolutely no noise. They had discovered that they were charmed with a permanent silencing spell.

They'd had several night meetings with Flitz, all of them fascinating, and excellent occasions to test their new equipment and the tricks described in the Marauder's Guide. The first time, Flitz had given them a present in exchange for Richard's watch. Actually the boy had only planned to lend it to him, but Flitz had not understood it that way, and he fully expected to keep the device. It did not really matter because his return gift was something much more interesting.

After the young Centaur had greeted them, he had immediately taken a small furry ball from his pouch.

"This is for you. My gift."

Alicia had accepted it, not knowing what it could be. When the thing had moved in her hand, she'd squealed in surprise and almost dropped it.

"Hey! What is it?" Richard had cast a Lumos spell from his wand and, as they gathered around, they saw that it was some kind of animal.

"It is a Tackling," said Flitz. "This one is very small. It happens sometimes. They don't grow up."

"You mean we can keep it as a pet?"

"What is a pet?" he had asked.

"Er, it's an animal friend," said Richard quickly. Flitz was a wild creature of the forest after all, and maybe he wouldn't like the idea that humans kept animals as toys.

"Oh, it's so cute," said Silena. "Can I have it?"

Alicia and Richard had already noticed that the younger girl was very much used to having her way, and getting the best part of anything. Alicia wisely postponed that discussion for when they would be back inside the school. In the end, and after a lot of arguing, they had agreed that she could keep it most of the times, but that it would really belong to all of them.

They had talked of many things. Richard had explained to Flitz how to use the watch. It had taken a lot of patience to get across the idea of splitting the day and night into two times twelve identical parts. The Centaur had appeared a little disappointed at what it could be used for. He only had to look at the sky to know the time.

He had told them of the Unicorns, and although he couldn't explain everything, they understood that these beings were very important to him, and to all Centaurs. He'd been prudent about they being able to meet one, but Alicia was determined to get her chance. As she walked the deserted corridors, she couldn't help thinking about it. She only snapped out of her wool gathering when she approached their hiding spot, the place where they had first talked with Fred and George.

"Are you there?" she whispered.

"Yes!"

Silena and Richard came out to join her. Richard was wearing his bowler hat. He still hadn't found out what its special power was, but he thought that it was still way cool to wear. He was also carrying a rather large wooden box, about fifty centimeters long and twenty wide, and a small bag.

"Ready?" he asked. The girls nodded and the three furtive figures moved away, quickly and silently.

- - -

Remus Lupin didn't patrol every night, but he had been doing it more and more frequently. He didn't need much sleep in any case, courtesy of his wolf half. Years ago, as a student, he had loved the quiet and mysterious atmosphere of the old castle at night. It had been the domain of the Marauders, and because of this, he had been reluctant to do it again. During Harry's third year, when he had returned as a teacher, he had forced himself to take that part of the common burden to protect the boy, but the memories of those happy times with James and Sirius had been painful. He would sometimes stumble unto something which brought back a particularly precise remembrance, and then he would find his lungs paralyzed by sorrow, and his throat blocked by a big lump.

Things had been easier last semester, after both Tonks and Harry had helped him heal from his grief. He'd been less vulnerable.

At present, with the menace of Voldemort lifted, the closure of mourning was almost complete. James and Sirius were avenged, in a sense. He still prowled around like before, but it was now a pleasant exercise. It made him feel uplifted to imagine all those children living and dreaming in this wonderful place, learning their way around like he had at their age. Nevertheless, walking alone in the dark was a lonely occupation. He always hoped to catch sight of some curfew breakers, but there was curiously few of those.

He walked slowly in the darkness, relying on secondary senses and memory more than on his eyes. He could see like a cat, but hearing and smell were the best guides for this. Even a Werewolf's eyes could be distracted by the random movements in the paintings, and using a light would have been poor style.

As he was passing near the third floor stairway, he heard a soft shuffling sound which he immediately recognized as Filch doing his own rounds. He too was certainly hoping to catch some student in a forbidden situation. Remus smiled as he remembered their own battles with the hated caretaker. He normally tried to avoid him. The man was not a better companion at night than during the day, but this time, an impulse made him want to stalk him a little.

Maybe even give him a good fright. For old times' sake.

He followed the sound, careful not to be detected.

"Did you smell something, my pretty?" murmured Filch, throwing the light from his lamp right and left. "Found some nastiness did you?"

He was evidently talking to Mrs. Norris. Both would be hunters moved along, with Remus keeping at a safe distance. He knew that the cat was much more dangerous than the man. It was no use hiding behind a pillar from something which could sniff you out. The best defense was to run like hell, the beast was getting old after all. Scaring it away was even better, but this generally took more guts than most students had. Speaking of which, they were approaching a place he remembered well...

- - -

Out in another corridor, Silena was holding on the Tackling, keeping it close to her chest, and Alicia was getting impatient.

"Come on," she whispered furiously. "We all agreed on it, and you said you'd do it."

"I changed my mind," replied Silena in the same low voice. "That cat is too nasty, and I don't want Furry to be hurt. Why don't we find another idea?"

Richard sighed heavily.

"Because it's a perfect setup and we don't have time to change the plan," he said. "Nothing's going to happen to Furry. We practiced it twice and it worked perfectly."

"It wasn't a real practice," she replied stubbornly.

They'd used Crookshank, with which Alicia was very friendly, after introducing Furry, their name for the cute little Tackling, to Hermione's big cat. The Guide had explained a simple ploy to trap Mrs. Norris, using a peculiarity of this part of the school. The basic idea was to separate her from Filch, by using a crack in the internal wall between two rooms on the third floor. The manual had suggested using some kind of lure pulled by a string, but a written comment from Fred and George said that Mrs. Norris was now quite wary of such tricks. Richard had proposed that they use Furry as living bait. The cat had probably never met such a creature before, and curiosity would probably override all caution. The Tackling would just have to make some noise while standing at the entrance of the hole, then it would dash back toward the side where the Avengers would prepare an ambush.

"Silena, you're not being reasonable," explained Richard with as much patience as he could. "We'll all be in the same room and ready to stun that monster before it can lay a paw on Furry. Remember what Flitz told us. Tackling are very good at this. The Centaurs use them to hunt for wolves, for Christ's sake!"

"Merlin's"

"What?"

"You're a Wizard. You should say 'for Merlin's sake'," affirmed the diminutive girl.

Richard looked at Alicia who was biting her lip. He took a deep breath.

"Well, for Merlin's sake, will you go along?" She scowled back at him. "Don't you remember the fright she gave us that first night?" he added. "This is payback time."

She was finally convinced, and they went toward the room they had chosen for the trap. Alicia thanked her effusively. Richard followed them, silently mouthing uncomplimentary words and making strangling motions with his hands. The older girl saw it and gestured to her brother to stop making such a fuss.

He made a face at her. Girls!

Alicia checked her watch. They had followed the advice of the Weasley twins and made a careful record of the caretaker's rounds. They knew that Filch and Mrs. Norris would be coming into the opposite corridor in just a few minutes. Richard took out a net from his bag. Its mesh was wide enough for Furry to pass through, but it would hold the cat easily. She helped him string it in an appropriate position. After a last cuddle, Silena put the Tackling on the ground near the hole, kissed it for luck, and set it on it way to the other side. The three Avengers took out their wands and waited, tense with anticipation.

A sharp hissing sound was heard, immediately followed by a squeal and the unmistakable sound of running animals. Shortly afterwards, a speeding ball of fur burst out of the opening, with Mrs. Norris closely behind. The net was pulled sharply up, and it caught her neatly. The trapped cat went completely ape as it struggled to get out the trap. It thrashed with such ferocity and strength that the net was pulled out of their hands. It was as if they had captured a furious demon, and they had to step back to avoid being racked by the sharp claws coming out of the meshes. At the same time they heard a cry of alarm from Filch.

"Petrificus Totalus!" yelled Alicia, pointing her wand at the animal.

The furious movements stopped immediately, and the paralyzed form of the cat, completely entangled in the net, stood in the middle of the room.

"Gotcha!" said Richard. "Quickly, we don't have much time."

He grabbed their capture, using the net as a makeshift bag. Silena had already recovered Furry, and Alicia took the rest of their equipment. They left the room in haste. Filch knew the layout of the school better than anyone, and he would certainly come to this place in few seconds. The second part of their plan would have to be done elsewhere.

"How long is she going to stay that way?" whispered Richard.

"Ten minutes at the most."

"It should be enough."

They were moving along toward safety, when the sound of movement was heard in front of them. Luckily, they were now in a larger space and there was a good chance of hiding successfully. Extinguishing their lamp, and casting the Shadow spell, they crouched low along one of the walls. It had several alcoves and statues which made for a perfect camouflage background.

The moving light from Filch's swinging lantern tore the darkness, and the three children stayed perfectly immobile while he passed by. It was the first time they were actually testing the spell against him. To their relief, it worked perfectly, and the caretaker was evidently in a hurry to find out what had happened to his pet, so he didn't waste time exploring every nook and space. Despite this, it was still a rather frightening moment, and they waited until he had safely turned the first corner before getting up and moving on. They had only progressed for a few steps however, when another soft walking sound was heard. It couldn't be Filch, who was now behind them. Most probably, it would be another student, but they took no chances and concealed themselves again.

The newcomer didn't use any light, which was very strange. They waited in the dark with beating hearts, as the soft steps came closer and closer, and then stopped.

"Lumos!"

They found themselves as paralyzed as Mrs. Norris, facing professor Lupin standing right before him. For a moment they simply stared at each other. Remus' face had his usual serious expression. It was Silena who reacted first.

"Good evening, professor Lupin," she said politely.

Remus said nothing. His gaze moved to the netted, and still petrified, Mrs. Norris, and he frowned. Alicia swore under her breath and Richard felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Somehow, he didn't think even Silena was going to charm them out of this one.

"We can explain everything," he said, feverishly trying to come up with a plausible justification.

"I am listening," said Remus calmly. "Somehow, I do not doubt that it will be an interesting story."

He was trying hard to keep a serious mien. The three of them were a dead match for what he, Padfoot and Throngs had been. He made an effort to push Wormtail out of the memory, although the anger it elicited could be used to mask his secret sympathy. After all he was now a teacher, and these students had been caught red handed in the breaking of several school rules. It wouldn't do to fraternize.

"Er ..." Richard fumbled for something to say. His brain was frozen with fear, and he couldn't think of anything convincing.

In the background, the sounds of Filch, still searching for his cat, could now be heard coming back toward them.

"Please. It was just a practical joke," offered Alicia. She'd come to the conclusion that there was no way they could pretend at innocence. Nothing that professor Lupin could to them, could possibly be worse than the caretaker's reaction if he saw what had been done to his cat.

"Yeah," added Richard, playing along. "We'll confess everything, but please don't give us in to him." He jerked his head toward the approaching sound.

Remus hesitated just long enough to extract the maximum effect from their fear. He had already decided to keep their common enemy outside of this.

"Take Mrs. Norris out the net," he ordered.

Richard moved immediately to obey. He was so much in a hurry, and so clumsy with the terror of being caught by Filch, that he dropped his bag on the floor. The Marauder's Guide fell out and skidded toward Remus' feet. Before anyone of them could recover it, the professor had taken it. His eyes grew large as he saw the title.

Merlin! This is one of James' legacy notebooks. Where did they find it?

He caught Richard's eyes and saw the pleading in them.

"Quite an interesting item you have there," he said. "I think that story is really going to be a good one. Too bad that we don't have much time."

The boy swallowed and somehow the panic in his eyes increased, as if the loss of the book was even worse than being caught tormenting the caretaker's pet.

Remus saw that the petrified form of the cat was now free from its prison, and Alicia confirmed that the spell would wear off in a few minutes. He had them follow him out the area, knowing that Filch would certainly stop and wait for the cat to revive.

They moved on to the entrance of the great hall, and stopped where the children would have to go different ways to get back to their dormitories. They looked back at him with apprehension, waiting for his sentence.

"I will deduct twenty points from each House," he said sternly, "and you will spend three evening of detentions with me, starting Thursday night, reordering the History of Magic archives." The full moon was coming soon, and he had to take that into account.

They didn't protest. Actually they had expected much worse, but everyone agreed that professor Lupin was not a hard teacher, even though the prospect of serving detention with a Werewolf was scary enough to Silena. Alicia opened her mouth and gestured toward the book in his hand, working up the courage to ask for it. It would be so much better if the professor didn't get a close look at its content, but Remus shook his head before the girl could speak.

"I may give this back to you at the end of your detention," he said. "If the story is good enough, including how you got it. Now, you will get back to your beds, and no detours."

Alicia's shoulder slumped, and she lowered her head in defeat. At least, they knew it practically by heart, but it was a big symbolic loss nonetheless. Richard looked at the professor and thought he detected a slight glint of amusement in the man's eyes. He didn't say anything, but it would be worth thinking about.

They separated. Remus stood there a moment more, finally relaxing the mask he had been keeping on the whole time. A happy smile brightened his face as he took out the book and caressed the weathered leather surface. Finding it was like meeting an old friend after many years. He was really looking forward for that detention.

- - -

Hermione woke up first. It took her a few seconds to realize that she was not in her bed, and still dressed in her now thoroughly rumpled school uniform. She slowly recognized where she was, and that was when the painful memories of the previous evening returned in force. She closed her eyes and moaned, instinctively throwing herself backward into the bed, and against Harry's sleeping form.

"Huh!" he said.

She turned and their eyes met, sort of. His were still fuzzy with sleep, and by his lack of glasses.

"Sorry. Go back to sleep," she murmured.

"- re you okay?" he mumbled.

"Yeah."

She stood up and went to the bathroom, before he could press her for more details. She felt sweaty and probably looked like hell, so she averted her eyes from the mirror, not wanting to confirm the impression. She just splashed some water on her face. Over the noise of the faucet, she could hear someone speaking in the main room, but she ignored it. She tried to ignore a lot of things, out of fear of what it could lead to. She even refrained from taking a hot shower. It would relax her and get her brain working, and she wasn't ready for that. She took a comb and pulled at her hair, in a half hearted attempt to make it presentable.

She caught a flash of herself in the mirror and the reflection was exactly like she felt, awful. There was no way she was coming out with a face like that, and yet she didn't really care. She was lost and the comb dropped on the floor. She sat on the toilet seat, her face in her hand.

Outside, Harry has finished giving orders to Dobby to bring them some breakfast, when he heard the sobs. He hesitated, not wanting to disturb her privacy, but then he decided that he just couldn't leave her like that. He opened the door and found her, wrapped in a towel and crying in abandon. He kneeled next to her and took her in his arms.

"Go away," she said weakly. "Don't look at me."

"Tell me what's wrong, Mione," he said gently. "I can't leave you like that. Let me help you."

"I don't want to talk about it!" There was a real note of hysteria in her voice. The idea of telling what had happened was unbearable. It was still too humiliating.

He didn't reply at first, feeling as helpless as the night before. The anger returned as well. If she couldn't speak, then Dumbledore or McGonagall would. He straightened up, while still keeping his hands on her arms to steady her.

"I'm going to talk to Dumbledore. I'll get some answers if I have to tear his place apart once again."

"No!"

She pulled him back. The look on her ravaged face was desperate. Residue of make up had mixed with the tears, and she hadn't done a good job of washing it away. Her skin showed marks from sleeping on the folds from her pillow, but none of that compared to the pain in her eyes.

"Mione, I've got to do something," he said stubbornly. "Either, you let me help you, or you let me go and ask questions. I'm just not going to just stay on the sidelines."

She exploded into sobs again, unable to resolve the situation. He muttered something inaudible and tried again. There had to be something he could do.

"Do you want me to wash your hair? It'll make you feel better, and even if you cry, I won't see the tears with the water flowing."

She gave a puff of half hearted laughter. He took the occasion to catch her eyes. She tried to evade him at first, but she finally looked back at him. He smiled and she replied in kind, quickly, before hiding her face once again against him. He felt her grip tighten.

I love you Harry. It's the one thing I can count on. We love each other. I'm just going to think about that and nothing else.

She let herself be seated against the bathtub, head thrown back and eyes closed. He wetted her hair and gently mixed the shampoo, taking his time and murmuring soft soothing words. His hands caressed her hair and face. He made sure that no soap got into her eyes. She said nothing, but she found that she could indeed relax, and stop thinking about anything else but the two of them.

When they came back into the room, the bed had been remade, and a breakfast for two was sitting on the low table.

"Dobby?" she murmured.

"Yeah, I called him."

She nodded, and they sat down to eat. He tried not to look at her too expectantly, promising himself that he would just let her speak out when she was ready. They would hold hands from time to time and smile at each other. It was pleasant enough, and they were both content to make the quiet time last as long as possible.

Hermione was slowly recovering her normal forward looking attitude. Harry saw it too, and she realized that he was going to take advantage of it to make her talk, which she still didn't want to do, not right now. She didn't want to smack him down either. Somehow, she knew that he was probably her only hope for sanity in this world. An anchor to which she could hang on. Someone to cherish, and who would never betray her, unlike ... She squashed the thought. I don't want to think about it yet.

She thought about how much she loved him.

"Do you really want another cup?" she asked suddenly.

"Uh?" He looked up in surprise. She had a new expression on her face, bright and yet not really focused. Almost as if she was a little drunk, or high on something.

She took his hand and stood up, pulling him with her. He let himself be led with a puzzled expression which turned into delight as she pushed him on the bed, falling on top of him.

"Hey! You seem - humph!" Her lips closed his mouth, and there was nothing to say after that. If wasn't often that Hermione took the lead, and when she did, it was usually no more than a mischievous hint, but Harry certainly didn't mind being so brazenly seduced. His last objective thought was that Dobby would have to make the bed once again.

Of course he wouldn't mind.

- - -

"Good morning everybody."

The early risers among the teachers were already seated in their places at the breakfast table. Remus was the latest. He noted that Severus and McGonagall had almost finished. A returned greeting came back in chorus. He pulled out a chair, but stopped when Severus caught his eye.

"Could I have a private word with you?" asked the man.

Remus had been more or less expecting that, although he had hoped to get a cup of tea in first. The potion teacher nodded an excuse to professor McGonagall and the two men stepped aside.

"I understand that two of my first years have detention with you," he said, wasting no time as usual.

"Yes, and a Gryffindor as well," replied Remus. Severus frowned.

"The Parker girl?"

Remus nodded, and the frown deepened.

"That seems a little unusual, for simply breaking curfew," he added. "But then perhaps, I am not aware of everything." He waited for Remus to elaborate but the other man just shrugged.

"Nothing important really. I just want to make a point."

Severus pondered this. He had his own idea on what might have happened. It might even have something to do with Filch's exceptionally foul mood this morning. The man had even wanted to talk to the Headmaster, but Dumbledore had left word that he was not to be disturbed.

"How did you find them?" he asked instead. Remus shrugged again, letting show a discrete smile. Severus' eyes narrowed. "Perhaps it does take a Marauder to catch Marauders," he added in a low voice.

Remus looked up sharply. He wasn't very comfortable with the subject anymore, and Severus' face was unreadable.

"One of the things I will make sure of is that some ... mistakes are not repeated," said Remus, meeting the other man's gaze firmly.

Severus said nothing for a moment, and then his expression softened. He nodded slowly.

"I will go along with that," he said, closing the matter. He walked away and Remus sighed inwardly before going back to the breakfast table. He hoped that McGonagall would at least give him a chance to drink a cup, before she started asking her questions.

- - -

Silena and Alicia had been sitting together at the far end of one of the tables. Neither was very cheerful. The grapevine had been as efficient as usual. Everyone knew about the detention, and several students had been giving them sour looks because of the lost points. Richard joined them in a rush.

"Where have you been?" asked Alicia.

He lowered his head and made them lean in close before replying.

"I just overheard professor Lupin talk with professor Snape," he whispered. Silena gasped at what that could mean, but he shushed her. "He's sticking to the official story, so that's good, but what's better is something professor Snape said." He repeated the phrase about the Marauders.

That was indeed something interesting to ponder. It hinted at a secret concerning their DADA and History of Magic teacher. Actually it was just like being given another riddle to solve, and the coming detention would be perfect occasion to start on it, just like Fred and George had said. They were still discussing it, speaking in very low voices to prevent any eavesdropping, when Silena spotted professor Snape coming toward them. He was walking very rapidly, and they interrupted the conversation in the nick of time.

"Miss Malfoy, Mister Parker?" he said in his coldest and silkiest voice.

"Professor Snape," they replied immediately.

"I want both of you in my office in ten minutes."

Not waiting for an answer, he whirled around and left the hall in his usual long strides. Silena swallowed and looked at Richard for reassurance. He didn't have a lot to share. The sobered children looked at their bowls of chocolate and buttered rolls, but no one was very hungry anymore.

At the requested time, Silena and Richard came down to the dungeons and arrived at the door of the potion master's office.

"Whatever happens," whispered Silena, "don't say you're sorry."

"Uh?"

"Slytherins are never sorry for what they do," she continued. "I you make a mistake, then you simply say that you'll do better next time." That was one lesson from her father that she remembered very well.

"Do better next time," repeated Richard. "Right." I bloody hope there's no next time.

He squared his shoulders and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Professor Snape was seated at his desk. He looked back at them severely as they marched toward him. Richard's heart skipped a beat when he saw what he was holding in his hand. A long thin wooden rod, weathered with the patina of years of use. He had never actually seen it before, but several other Slytherin students had been very vocal about this particular teaching instrument.

They waited for the professor to speak.

"It is quite unusual, not to mention embarrassing, when first year students are given extended detention," he said coldly, testing the rod gently against his hand.

Richard made a valiant effort to take his eyes away from the thing, and to look his Head of House in the eye. Terrified at what might be coming, he completely forgot what Silena had just told him.

"I'm really so-" CRACK!

The rod had snapped violently against the surface of the desk, startling the two children.

"A Slytherin is never sorry, Mister Parker," said Snape coldly. "He can however better himself, and thrive to correct any disappointment he may have caused. Do you understand?" The man's voice was biting. Richard tried not to cringe, but he had to swallow a big lump before replying.

"Yes, sir," he managed to say.

Snape held their gaze for a moment. He noted that Silena didn't try to pull her usual angelic attitude. She knew on whom it could work, and when it could backfire badly.

"Consider this to be a free warning. The next time will be very different." His hand caressed the hard wood and the two children nodded carefully.

"Dismissed!"

- - -

Hermione was lying with her head on Harry's chest. She felt much better, and she knew that she had delayed as long as she could.

Time to leave the bubble and get back to the real world.

She would have to decide what to tell him. That was the hardest part. She had already decided not to say anything to the others. Too many things had changed, and she didn't trust anyone anymore, except Harry.

But if I tell him now, he's going to go to Dumbledore. That won't be good. They trust each other too much.

She didn't want Harry to have to choose between her and the Headmaster. She would have to find a way to explain what had happened in a way that would prevent this.

I need to understand it first.

She was certain that something important was going on. She didn't know what, but she would figure it out, and decide what to do about it.

"Harry?"

"Hmm,"

"Thank you for being there ... for being you."

"Well -" He started to say something lighthearted, but he realized that it was perhaps not the right time for banter. "I love you." Those were the best words he could think of.

She pressed herself against him.

"I love you too. Never doubt that. Never."

"I won't." Her voice was firmer and he hoped that whatever her trouble was, she was getting over it, but she still sounded upset. Once again he wondered at what had happened in the Headmaster's office.

"I need you to do something for me," she said.

"What?"

She moved so that they could look at each other. He had a contented expression on his face, which he should, she thought, but a frown of concern was already forming.

"Give me some time." He tried to protest but she stopped him, shutting his lips with her fingers. "I need time to ... think."

She smiled, sort of, but he thought that her face was very serious.

"And please don't say anything to the others," she added, "or to anyone. Anyone," she repeated.

He looked unhappy, and only her apparent calm kept him from arguing. He didn't want to risk her breaking out in sobs again.

"You'll be all right?" he asked.

"I'm all right when I'm with you," she said carefully. "I don't know how I'll be with ... the rest of them." She gestured vaguely toward the door. That's one of the things I need to think about.

He hesitated, visibly unconvinced that she knew what she was doing. His heart called out to help her in any way he could, but all she asked was that he didn't try.

"Just give me a little time," she pleaded. "Please."

He felt the pain in her voice, and there was only one way to make it stop. He kissed her hand, rubbing it fiercely against his chin.

"And then you'll tell me?" You'll tell me everything? He didn't say it out loud but she understood.

"Yes," she promised. "I'll tell you everything."

Her voice was strong. He trusted her, so he just nodded and she smiled at him, a better smile than before. He smiled back, but he couldn't help noticing how grave her face was.

"Okay."

- - -

Diagon Alley,

Sir Comil pushed the doors of Gringotts and look around for an available teller. Even on a Sunday morning, the bank was open for business. It was one of the few nice things about the Goblins. He found one with no queue of waiting customers, and he walked purposefully toward it.

"Sir," said the Goblin with shrewd eyes. Comil produced the letter he had received.

"Good morning. I have an appointment with Goblin Graskut," he said, coughing discretely. Goblins always made him feel uncomfortable.

The teller took the letter and examined it with attention, as if he had just been warned that it could be to be a forgery. After about half a minute he looked carefully at Comil, and then finally accepted that the request was legitimate.

"Follow me. Please."

Comil sighed tiredly. The officers of the bank were easy enough to get along with, but the Goblins in charge of filtering the customers could be exasperating, except when one was just coming in to give them more Galleons.

He followed the little creature into one of the private meeting rooms. The Goblin opened a door, looked inside to make sure that it was the right one, and gestured for him to enter.

"Sir Comil, welcome among us," said a well dressed wizard he had never met, but whom he knew by reputation. The other occupant of the room was another Goblin, evidently of much higher status than the teller.

"Good morning," said Comil, relieved to be back in civilized company.

"I am Armand Thelas. I represent the investment fund, and this is Goblin Graskut, with whom I usually work on such matters."

"Very glad to meet you both, and thank you for organizing this meeting."

"You are quite welcome," said Graskut with his best Goblin smile, pointed teeth and all. "The idea is after all to make money."

Comil wanted to launch the new generation of Nimbus brooms in a big way, at home and abroad. That required more resources than he could spare. In normal circumstances, borrowing money would have been risky, but he was counting on the added publicity from the last Hogwarts Quidditch match, and from the participation of the new student celebrities. Looking around for investors, he had been contacted by one of Thelas' agents, ultimately leading to today's meeting.

They discussed the financial details of the deal: how much, when would the money be repaid and so on. Their proposal was quite advantageous. It would really take a string of bad luck for Nimbus Flyware not to make a handsome profit. Comil had no trouble reaching an agreement. When the general conditions were settled, the Goblin produced a contract, at least twenty pages long, and started to modify it.

There was only an unusual stipulation on the loan which formed the basis of their accord. Thelas wanted a fixed rate, with provisions for a special insurance policy, in addition to a participation of the first year's profits.

"Don't you want to consider variable rates?" proposed Graskut with a slight frown. "With the demise of the Dark Lord, the financial markets are bound to relax the price of money. With your provision, you could refinance of course, but isn't it a little complicated?"

"I'm afraid that my partners are still a little uptight about these things," said Thelas with an easy smile. He made a gesture of helplessness. "Personally, I fully agree with you, but it will take some time to convince them, and it is of little consequences anyway."

The Goblin looked at him pensively for a moment, and then he shrugged and went on to reread the next section of the contract. Goblins were notorious for checking everything at least twice.

"The Weasleys are a good choice for the tour," said Thelas, turning toward Sir Comil. The other man agreed with enthusiasm.

"Yes. Genuine fanatics. But you know, I was wondering if I shouldn't add Harry Potter to the list. He is really a fantastic flyer."

Thelas grimaced. Plainly he didn't think it would be a good idea.

"He is too famous. The crowd would probably forget about everything else but him, and it would drown out the rest of your marketing," he said.

"Well perhaps," Sir Comil wasn't fully convinced. "Still, what a billboard it would make."

He imagined the crowd who would be drawn by well advertised demonstration plays with the three most famous amateur Quidditch players of the moment. Four if he could also get Draco Malfoy. If only one in hundred visitors placed an order, it would make him a fortune and clobber his competitors. He shivered in excitement.

"Sir Comil," said Thelas, in a lowered voice and with a more serious face.

"Hum..." The man snapped out of his day dreaming. "Yes?"

"There is another reason for keeping with the Weasleys," said Thelas. His face twisted in embarrassment. "I do not know how to say it. We all admire Potter, but that girl of his ..."

"Yes?"

Comil had only briefly met Hermione Granger at the Auror Academy. She hadn't been the most charming of the Six students. Certainly she had a formidable intellectual reputation. So she's not a sports fan, what of it?

"You are familiar with her lineage?" continued Thelas delicately.

"Ah yes. I see what you mean." Her parents are both Muggles, I remember that now. He pondered the question for a moment. "You think that it could cause problems?"

"Well," Thelas grimaced. "We are aiming at the upper market, and that means the traditional families, while she ..." He didn't elaborate but Sir Comil got the message immediately.

"I understand. Perhaps you are right." He sighed. "Oh well. We'll have our hands full as it is."

"You certainly will," said Thelas with confidence. "This operation has a lot going for it. I am sure that it will be a success." He threw a quick glance at the Goblin, but Graskut seemed very absorbed in the last sections of the contract.

The rest of the meeting was quickly dispatched. When everything was signed, Comil received the notification that a sum of a round Million galleons had been transferred to his company's vault. They shook hands with each other, and Graskut escorted the two wizards to the bank's hall. Thelas and Sir Comil went their own way, and Graskut returned to his office to finish the internal paperwork.

Sitting at his desk, he read the contract once again, his left hand nervously tapping on the blotter. Something about that insurance provision didn't seem in character, and he knew that Thelas' partners let him total latitude on such matters. He thought about it a little more, and then took a small hammer with which he hit a miniature gong. The gong's surface dissolved into the face of another Goblin.

"Yes?"

"I would like to speak to Goblin Gauldbag."

- - -

Home of Cornelius Fudge,

Cornelius Fudge Apparated in the lobby of his comfortable flat. He gave a perfunctory salute to the junior Auror on guard, and went into his private apartment.

"Darling, I'm home," he called out to his wife.

He got no answer, but that could simply mean that she was busy in one of the more distant rooms, and that she hadn't heard him. More unusual was the fact that no House Elf had appeared to take his coat.

Personal service is going down the drain, here as well as everywhere else.

He marched angrily toward the living room, calling out the senior Elf's name.

"Deppo! Where the hell are you?"

Nothing happened, and that was really odd. The few times when he'd had to shout out the servant's name, the trembling creature had arrived before he even finished the phrase. House Elves were practically defined by their devotion to their masters, and his were no exception. He walked into the living room and stopped in surprise.

Deppo!

The Elf was thoroughly petrified. A solid bluish statue in his frozen likeness stood in the middle of the room. Cornelius' first impulse was to call out for the Auror outside, when he saw the other occupant of the room.

Debora!

His wife had been similarly hexed. She was sitting on the sofa with a vacant expression on her face. An icy feeling came over him.

Someone is after me. I've got to get help.

"HELP!"

He was turning around and running for the door, when he heard the sound of laughter behind him. A crystalline and feminine sound. He hesitated but safety got the better of curiosity and he seized the door handle to jerk it open. Relief flooded him when it opened to reveal the young wizard who looked back at him with curiosity.

"Sir?" asked the Auror.

"Sound the alert! Someone got inside and petrified my wife and my Elf. I'm in grave danger."

Cornelius tried to get out of the flat, and into the lobby which was outside the anti-Apparation wards, but the man was blocking the way.

"Oh, I don't think so, sir," he said, smiling.

"What do you mean you don't think so?" exclaimed the Minister. "I'm telling you, not asking for your opinion. And please get out of the way. I'm not staying a minute more in this place."

"I'm sorry sir, but I can't let you leave," replied the Auror very politely. His relaxed manner was a complete contrast with the sense of menace Fudge was feeling.

That sense was turning into terror as he realized that the Auror was part of it. It meant that he was truly alone, and that no one would come to help him.

"Wh- What do you want?" he said in alarm. He fumbled for his wand, but had barely taken it out when it flew into the other wizard's hand.

"Me? Nothing. However, someone else wants to speak with you," said the Auror, storing the Minister's wand into his robes. Fudge felt completely helpless. He only hoped that they wouldn't dare kill him out of hand.

"Why are you do- doing this?" he said. "What do you mean, speak to me? Anybody can come to see me at the Ministry."

"Some people don't appreciate all the security fuss," replied the man pleasantly. He gestured toward the interior of the apartment. "If you please."

Fudge looked at him and saw that he had no choice. The Auror, if he really was one, held his own wand pointed toward him, and he looked ready to use it. If it came to a choice between fighting and talking, he would take talking without hesitation.

He turned around and went back inside, stumbling and turning his head frequently at the man who gave him silent directions with his wand. Instead of the living room, he was led to his private office. When he entered the room he saw the woman who had been laughing before. She was still amused, supposedly at his confused and frightened face.

"Good evening, Minister," she said in a rich and seductive voice.

He didn't remember ever having seen her before, and he would certainly not have forgotten it, because she was strikingly beautiful. So much in fact that he automatically felt less threatened. How could such beauty be associated with anything evil or dangerous? That was until he caught her eyes, which were dark and much less pleasant to look into. His fear returned.

"Who are you?" he managed to say.

"You do not know me, and there is no need for that to change," she said slowly. "But I know you. Oh yes, I know you very well indeed. What you are, and what you have done, Minister Cornelius Fudge."

Those words were not calculated to put him at ease, and they didn't. He was trapped and there was no way out that he could see.

"Why are you here? Wh- what do you want with me?" What are you going to do to me?

"So many questions, but this one at least is relevant. There is something I want from you." She chuckled. "Several things in fact, but right now, one is more important than the others."

"What is it?" he said with a glimmer of hope. If there was something he could do for them, then it would be all right. It had always been that way in his life. Trading services with others.

She passed him a sheaf of papers. He took it gingerly and fumbled for his glasses, almost dropping them from his trembling hands. After putting them on, he started reading, cautiously at first. It was a proposal for a new law.

Some kind of financial and fiscal adjustment. All this, just to add a new loophole to benefit some self obsessed billionaire?

That wasn't likely. It would have been much too easy to approach him directly and convince him with an appropriate argument. Fudge wasn't a difficult man to convince, even though he didn't like the word bribe. He preferred the term contribution. He continued reading and frowned as he realized that it wasn't even about a tax reduction. On the contrary it was a call for a new tax.

Stranger still. Anything to increase the Ministry's resources would be most welcome. As if we weren't running the biggest deficit in decades.

He got to the second page and suddenly blanched. He reread the key passage to make sure it wasn't a mistake.

"Are you mad?" he exclaimed. He gestured with the papers. "This could start off a war or a depression. It would be political suicide to even talk of it!"

She burst out with renewed laughter.

"How melodramatic, my dear Minister."

"This is some kind of a joke," he insisted. "You can't be serious." He looked around, half expecting to see some of his friends come out of hiding and admitting that they had indeed, taken him for a ride.

Electra stopped laughing and her voice became much colder and menacing.

"On the contrary, I am very serious. You will announce this tomorrow, and it must come into effect before the end of the week."

"I will not!" he said, outraged. "You don't understand. It's impossible. It would be the end of my career, and even if I did, the next Minister would surely renounce it immediately."

"If you don't. It will be the end of your career in much less pleasant circumstances," she retorted.

"How dare you!" started Fudge, swelling in self-importance. "I will-"

"You will spend your retirement in Azkaban under multiple charges of corruption, and collusion with Dark Wizards," she interrupted.

Fudge gasped at the terrible words.

"This is preposterous! I have never-"

"Of course you did."

The words were spoken with such assurance that Fudge knew she wasn't bluffing. He didn't know how she knew, he had always been careful to hide any evidence, but she did. It was no use pretending otherwise. He looked away, shaken.

"You'll never prove it," he said in a toneless voice.

"On the contrary. I have proof of your dealings with Lucius Malfoy, a convinced Death Eater, and of his relations with the one called Voldemort."

He shivered at the mention of that name. How could it be? Nothing was ever recorded, and Lucius is dead.

"I don't believe you." He tried to sound firm, but there had been too many successive surprises for him to be sure of anything.

She smiled. A cold cruel smile which sent shivers down his spine, and she gestured toward the desk. He followed her gaze and recognized the characteristic shape of a pensieve.

"What-" he started to say, pointing toward the object. It cant' be... They can't have done that!

She nodded and broke into another round of laughter.

"Memories of Lucius Malfoy," she said, "of your conversations and ... exchanges."

She tapped the side of the pensieve with her wand, and two miniature figures materialized above the receptacle. No mistake could be made as to their identities.

Fudge felt dizzy with shock. Malfoy would never have done this of his free will. Wizard pledges could be used to insure that bribery would not turn into blackmail, and they had used those. But he had probably underestimated the power of the Dark Lord, who would not have been constrained by his minion's words. Whether Malfoy had been a willing participant or not was now a minor point.

They had him. His life was in ruin. He looked at Electra with despair on his face and she knew it as well. The man had been an unwitting ally before. He would now become a pliant tool.

"I will require guarantees-" he started weakly.

"Don't be ridiculous," she cut sharply. "You will take what we offer, and obey us without conditions, as long as we want." She smiled malevolently. "Besides, we'll take good care of you, even to defending your position as Minister."

He shivered. He understood very well. What would be the need to put someone in his place, if he did their bidding? And all the while allowing them to stay safely hidden. She nodded as she followed his reasoning. Desperate men could be unpredictable, but Fudge would be perfectly safe as long as he played along.

He looked at the tax proposal once again.

"Why do you want to do this? What is the justification?" She didn't respond immediately. "I have to present an argument," he insisted. "If they think I have lost my mind, they will become suspicious and your plan will not work."

Her smile turned cruel once more. He was squirming like a worm on a hook. A big fat juicy and stupid worm.

"Why should I help you?" she said. "After all, it is your job to make it convincing." And your life is payment enough.

For a moment Fudge looked as if he was going to cry, and she became disgusted by the cat and mouse game. The man wasn't even a proper adversary. He was only a pitiful victim. She briefly wondered if he would try to confess to others, if she pushed him too far.

She moved quickly, and before he could jump back, she had her hand against his temple and cheek, almost like a caress. He suddenly felt hot and very much aware of her presence.

"The Ministry needs money. They have a lot. You can build a case from that. It should be enough."

Her eyes bored into his, and Fudge felt his will dissolve. He accepted this. He would find a way.

"Do not worry. This, and other things we'll ask you to do, are trivial acts compared to what you have already done." Her head jerked toward the pensieve on the desk. "You cannot get any deeper than you are, but right now, there are only two ways out. A shameful trial and life in Azkaban, or us."

She was right. These people were his only hope, his only possible allies. The two of them stayed close for a long moment, and then she snapped her fingers and disappeared, along with the pensieve. He didn't move for a minute, until he heard the sounds of his wife talking to the Elf in the living room. He listened to her moving in the hall, until she saw the light in his office and came to check on it.

"Here you are, my dear," she said. "I didn't hear you. Did you just come in?"

He looked at her and mumbled an automatic reply. She hadn't noticed, or she didn't remember, anything strange. He looked around the room, but everything was in order. It could well have been a dream, or a hallucination. His eyes went to the empty desk, and then to his hand which was still holding to a sheaf of papers.

He didn't have to look at them to know that it had been real.

Maneuvers Ch19 - 18