Replay

Replay

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Chapter Thirty-Two

Hope of the Hopeless

"So has everyone here read the parchment about Zabini's house?" Harry asked, noticing that Hermione's composure was quickly eroding. "According to the letter, Narcissa Malfoy wrote it herself, and she's Zabini's Secret Keeper, so that amounts to her telling anyone who reads this."

He hoped his taking charge would help Hermione to cheer up and focus on what they had to do, just like when they were younger; Ginny had told him that Hermione was more than a little neurotic about the safety and well-being of her only child, who had been so long coming, and he was already seeing the tell-tale signs of an impending emotional outburst from his best friend, after her initial anger. Not that he could blame her for cycling between anger and despair, given the situation, but he needed her to focus on what needed to be done, not have an emotional meltdown, as tempting as that was.

"Pass it here," Arthur said urgently. "Blaise Zabini lives at number three, Albemarle Street, Mayfair, London," Arthur said mechanically, reading the parchment Harry had handed him. "Got it."

There was utter silence, then a faint pop! from the vicinity of the garden; Harry looked at the window expectantly but saw no one there, so he decided that the noise must have come from the cooling dinner on the cooker. He turned back to the others gathered in the kitchen; Arthur had instinctively crumbled the parchment after reading it and was now trying to smooth it out on the table, while he could see that Hermione was over her anger and now in the throes of her emotional side, rather than her rational, planning side. Tears hovered in her eyes; she started to turn to Ron but he neatly sidestepped her and put his arm around Luna, so that Hermione ended up clinging to Harry. He noticed that Luna was glancing back and forth between Ron and Hermione, her expression giving nothing away as usual; he couldn't tell what she knew or didn't know.

Ginny was grim and Penelope paced impatiently while Molly followed Hermione's example and flung herself at Arthur even as he was still smoothing the parchment about Blaise Zabini's house. Bill held Fleur tightly, saying, "Why hasn't there been anything on the Wireless about Draco Malfoy escaping from prison?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. But we need to do this right. Hermione, you go to the Ministry and convince them to let us have some Aurors--preferably Tonks and Shacklebolt--to take the Slytherins into custody. Penelope, do you have a mobile? Never mind; use mine. Ring up Severus and Tilda; tell them what's happened. You and Hermione bring the Aurors and Severus to the back of Zabini's house. Hermione, you take the Secret Keeper's parchment and show it to Tonks, Shacklebolt and Severus before you try going into the house. The rest of us will go in from the back first and disable any alarms or wards they may have on the place..."

Harry heard the popping noise again just before Hermione suddenly said, "But what about Neville?"

"Hermione, I'm sorry, but we haven't time to wait for him. For us to get a message up to Azkaban--"

"--would be completely unnecessary," Neville finished for him, striding into the kitchen from the garden, his face flushed as though he were in a tearing hurry. Harry realised that the popping noise had been Neville Apparating. When he saw the stricken-looking faces around him Neville immediately asked, "What's wrong? What's happened?"

Hermione turned and fell on him, sobbing. "I was just about to owl you--"

"Why? I thought I'd stop by to say 'Happy Easter' very quickly before going to the Ministry. The situation I'm reporting has been that way for years now, so I reckoned I could afford to see you for a few--" He stopped abruptly, as Hermione had backed up and was looking at her husband in shock. "I'm not shirking my duty," he said hastily, evidently thinking that was the reason for his wife's reaction. "It's all strictly business. Guess who wasn't in his cell when we came round with the Easter dinners?"

As one, everyone else present said, "Draco Malfoy."

Neville looked dumbfounded and was speechless for a moment. He turned to stare at Harry. "Okay, Harry, that was just eerie." Then he glanced around the kitchen, frowning. "What's going on here? Where are the kids?" he asked his wife.

"Here," was all that Hermione said. She thrust Percy's letter at him, while Arthur gave him the wrinkled parchment on which Narcissa Malfoy had written the secret she was keeping for Blaise Zabini. When he had read both, Neville looked up, his eyes wide with fear and the hand holding the parchment shaking visibly. "I-I'm glad I came back." He looked around the room again. "H-how many of them?"

"All twelve," Harry told him. "My four, Ron's four, Penelope's boys, Marguerite and your little Frances." He explained the plan to Neville but Neville wanted to change it slightly.

"I'll go to the Ministry with Hermione. Penelope can fetch Snape. I think the rest of you should get over to Zabini's now, before any more time passes. I'll just take the parchment and show it round to anyone at the Ministry who joins the raid." Neville's voice was a little calmer but Harry could see the worry behind his eyes.

Harry agreed; a moment later Hermione and Neville Disapparated at the same time as Penelope. Then Harry nodded at the rest of them and they raised their wands; the noises from their Disapparating echoed in the empty kitchen while their Easter dinner languished on the cooker, burnt and uneaten.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Draco looked around; he had successfully Apparated to the entrance hall of Zabini's house; behind him the usually raucous sound of the London traffic was somewhat subdued because of the holiday. He felt a certain smug satisfaction when he thought of how near to the Clearwater flat they were. So close to home for "his" son--and yet so far.

He rubbed his hands in anticipation; he couldn't wait to stop playing the doting father to Nate and stepfather to Julian, Snape's bastard. But first he was going to have a little fun with the kids--and then pull the rug out from beneath them.

He frowned when he heard children's voices on the stairs above him; they were laughing and cheerful! What were their captives doing laughing?

He crept up a flight so that he could see better, and what he saw was Crabbe tossing Granger's baby in the air and catching her, saying cheerfully, "Who knew? I can change nappies! And I like babies!" he added before carrying the child into the drawing room from the stair hall.

What is that wally up to? Draco wondered. And Goyle; was he really carrying two little boys up the stairs, one on each shoulder, and singing a silly nursery rhyme with them? Draco recognized little Hal and Cedric, whose piping voices combined strangely with Goyle's booming bass. He knew it was Goyle because he was half a head taller than Crabbe; at least the idiots had done something right and were still wearing their masks and hoods. He decided that he would quite enjoy what he was about to do, even more than he'd originally anticipated; when he'd first thought about it he hadn't known that Crabbe and Goyle would make him want to stun them quite this much.

"Stupefy!" he cried, pointing his wand at Goyle. Hal and Cedric screamed shrilly as he went over; he just avoided crushing them. However, with the resilience of youth they were up in a trice, staring at Draco, who still wore Percy's face. He put his finger in front of his mouth, to indicate that they weren't to say anything. They nodded, wide-eyed, as Draco crept past them. Crabbe, slow as ever, came lumbering to the doorway of the drawing room, where he'd evidently given the baby to someone else.

"What the--?" he started to say when he saw Draco, but a moment later Draco had stunned him as well and he also crashed to the floor, narrowly missing Hal and Cedric again. This brought Teddy and Nate running to the door.

"Dad!" Nate cried, elated, hurling himself at Draco.

He thumped Nate on the back congenially, grinning. "There you all are. Safe and sound, I trust? Everything all right?"

"It is now that you're here! Wow! And here I thought that it would be Uncle Harry who--" Nate stopped abruptly, reddening. "I mean... it's not that I didn't have faith in you..."

"I understand," Draco said magnanimously. "Is everyone here? All twelve of you?" Nate nodded, clearly proud as could be that his father was their rescuer. "Everyone gather round here," he told them, going to one of the couches and picking up a small, square cushion. "Now, I'm going to make this into a Portkey, understand? We'll be out of here in a trice. But everyone needs to be touching it, so someone has to help the babies..."

They were all completely cooperative, jabbering at him nonstop, making his head ache, but he smiled and nodded and accepted their thanks. Draco felt odd for a moment, seeing the upturned faces, the pre-adolescent girls holding the babies, the trusting expressions of the little boys, including "his" namesake, who flung his arms around Draco's waist and cried, "I'm glad Mummy and Daddy gave me your name, Uncle Percy! You're a hero!"

Draco swallowed and carefully removed little Percy's arms. "That's--that's great," he told the small boy, who was still beaming up at him. A strange ache started up in the vicinity of his stomach, making him think, Bloody hell. The sooner we're out of here, the better...

Suddenly a crash erupted from the rear of the house and he thought about Azkaban again, his small cell, the long stretch of empty days, weeks, months, years... "Portus!" he cried, concentrating as hard as he could on his house, his mother's house, the large, empty drawing room there. "Everybody get ready--the others are coming! They're in the house! Three...two...one..."

And they were off, in a swirling maelstrom of light and colour and chaos, the children bouncing all around him as they flew toward Wiltshire and safety, away from Harry Potter and the others who would just love to put him back in prison. The thirteen of them landed in an awkward tangle on the floor of his mother's drawing room; some of the smaller ones were crying, but the older kids were trying to pacify them. Draco stood and brushed himself off, surveying the children again, from the teenagers to the babies. Everyone seemed to be all right. That was good. He swallowed, feeling strange again. And soon, he thought, soon I'll have all of their magic and they'll all be dead....

But for some reason, this thought made him go cold inside now; he felt as though his stomach were an icy, leaden weight at the thought of looking each child in the face and then cursing him or her, removing that spark of life forever...

He couldn't take it any longer, he had to leave them. Making me soft, he thought irritably, shaking himself. They almost got me caught, sent back to Azkaban. No matter what, he was never going back there. "Stay here!" he said to Teddy and Nate, feeling annoyed with himself for his temporary weakness. "I'll be right back."

He let himself out into the hall, closing and magically locking the doors behind him, breathing a sigh of relief. They'd believed that they were being rescued! It had worked; all of the time he'd spent as Percy Weasley had paid off. The children had trusted him completely. He was their hero. This thought made him feel strange again, but in a different way. No one had ever looked at him the way that Nate and little Percy and the other children had; he'd never been anyone's "hero" in his entire life.

He heard footsteps on the stairs and shook himself angrily. Little warts, messing with my mind, he thought, as the familiar change stole over him. He looked down to see the fine red hairs and freckles disappearing from the skin on his arms as the footsteps drew nearer.

When the real Percy Weasley stood before him, a strangely surprised expression on his face, Draco knew that he'd reverted to his own appearance, because Percy immediately said, "Good afternoon, Mr Malfoy. Will you be joining your mother, Mr Zabini and Miss Parkinson for tea? Are Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle expected?"

Draco felt paralysed; Percy again had the same, blank servant look that he usually wore, no longer appearing to be surprised. "Um," he said, hesitating. "Right. Tea. Listen, we have a dozen guests for tea. In the drawing room. Meet me back here with, let's see, eighteen toasted cheese sandwiches, some fruit, some biscuits, a pitcher of pumpkin juice, a pot of tea, some milk, and--well, that should do, actually."

"I always provide milk with the tea, Mr Malfoy," Percy said, clearly nettled. This seemed odd to Draco for some reason. But then, he felt odd in general.

"Sorry, Weatherby," he said immediately. "I didn't mean milk for the tea. There are some babies. I meant the milk to be for them. In addition to the tea milk."

"Yes, sir. Very good." Percy nodded at him and did not question his orders. He turned toward the kitchen without looking behind him. Draco watched him go, wondering how he would have felt if he really had been meeting his son for the first time when he'd met Nate...

Shaking himself and feeling rather annoyed, he went to the dining room, where he expected to find Zabini and his mother and Pansy. The Pansy problem would need to be dealt with immediately.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Percy turned slowly and walked in the direction of the kitchen without any indication that he felt a need to rush. He wasn't even certain that Draco Malfoy was watching him but he didn't want to take chances.

Once he was in the kitchen, away from prying eyes, all bets were off; he waved the wand he'd stolen from Pansy Parkinson, making food and dishes fly into place on a tray, so that everything was ready in no time. However, he knew that he shouldn't return with the food too soon or it would seem odd; he also had to resist the urge to just Apparate into the drawing room, meet his son for the first time...

But why were the children here instead of in London, at Zabini's house? He wondered whether he should dare to take hope that Penelope had already received his owl. Did everyone know now that the man they'd thought was Percy Weasley was really Draco Malfoy? He couldn't imagine any other reason for Draco to have brought the children to Wiltshire.

Unfortunately, he had to conclude, Draco Malfoy also knew that his cover was blown. It had done no good for Percy to have owled Penelope; the children were in more danger than ever and he was extremely unlikely to be able to convince Blaise Zabini to write out the secret he was keeping for Narcissa Malfoy so that Percy could send another parchment off to some possible rescuers.

He had failed. Again.

Percy's throat tightened as he thought of all of the failures in his past, one of which was responsible for his having missed fourteen years with his son--and even longer with the woman he loved.

No. No, he would not accept defeat. That was not going to happen. Those children were not going to lose their magical power and their lives, not on his watch.

He picked up the tray of food and took it back to the entrance hall. Placing the tray on a chair next to the door, he tried turning the knob but met resistance; Malfoy had locked the door with magic. Putting his hand in his pocket and wrapping it around the wand, he pointed the tip of it, through his apron, at the locked door, furiously thinking, Alohomora! He didn't dare speak the spell aloud but he'd performed this spell non-verbally many times in his life with no trouble.

Nothing.

If he Apparated into the room--assuming Malfoy hadn't used a jinx to make that impossible--he would blow his cover as a dupe who still thought his name was Weatherby, which would probably make it completely impossible to save the children. It was time to continue to be the model servant. He picked up the tray and walked to the dining room; after placing the tray on a table near the dining room door he knocked to be admitted.

"Yes?" came Zabini's impatient voice.

"It's Weatherby, sir."

"Not now, Weatherby! We have a situation--go away!"

He moved closer to the door, frowning, wondering what was going on. The children had been moved to the Malfoy house, so wasn't everything going swimmingly for them? He tried the knob; the door wasn't locked, so he let himself in, despite Zabini's words, saying, "Mr Malfoy had me prepare some food for guests in the drawing room but I can't take it to them; the door is locked..."

To his surprise, he found that Malfoy and Zabini had Pansy Parkinson up against a panelled wall, their wands pointing at her throat, while she looked back and forth at them, wide-eyed. Narcissa Malfoy stood nearby, her arms crossed and a satisfied smirk on her face that distorted her features into something very similar to a stereotypical wicked witch's visage; all she needed was green face-paint, dark, wiry hair and a pointed hat to look like every Muggle child's image of a witch.

"I didn't say you could come in here, Weatherby!" Zabini growled at him.

Percy decided to ignore him, maintaining his composure as best he could as though Pansy were not being held at wand-point, looking like she expected to be hexed any moment. "What would you like me to do with the food, Mr Malfoy?" he said, turning to address Draco, who looked more reluctant about cornering Pansy than Zabini or Narcissa. Percy's heart was going very fast. What's going on here? he wondered. He understood Narcissa being hostile toward Pansy, but Malfoy and Zabini? It didn't make sense.

Both Malfoy and Zabini ignored Percy's question. "How did they find out, Pansy?" Zabini demanded. "Who did you tell? Thanks to you, Crabbe and Goyle are probably under arrest. Draco had to leave them behind."

"That's not my fault, it's his!" she proclaimed. "I don't know what you're talking about!" She looked at Draco desperately; he backed up and paced, neither looking at her nor answering Percy, who decided that if he hovered near the door perhaps he could find out what was going on. He decided not to say anything else about the children or the food; something was very strange here. He'd always heard that there was no honour among thieves--which also meant, presumably, kidnappers--but he'd never seen it demonstrated in the flesh. Why had they turned on each other?

"You don't know anything about how Potter found out about the kids being at my house? Nothing at all?" Zabini said menacingly, backing up from her just a little. Pansy reached her hand into her pocket and Zabini immediately pointed his wand at her again. "Expelliarmus!"

The crackling light hit her and made her slam against the wall; she was winded but managed to reach into her pocket and pull her wand out--except that it wasn't her wand, Percy knew. It was an old wooden spoon from the kitchen. She pointed it at Zabini and tried to disarm him in turn--but nothing happened for her; Zabini didn't even fly backward. Both she and Zabini frowned down at their respective wands but Percy knew what had happened: the disarming charm didn't work on the wooden spoon because it wasn't a weapon and she hadn't even been holding it in her hand as though it were a weapon that could be used for stabbing or at least poking. And since it wasn't a real wand she couldn't very well use it to disarm anyone in turn.

The effect for the others, however, was that magic had ceased working in the dining room of the Malfoy house. He could tell that the four of them were quite perplexed by this possible development. What perplexed him was how on earth they'd got the idea that Pansy had informed someone of the children's location. Perhaps, not crediting him with being anything more than a dupe, they'd decided that Pansy was the only likely candidate. Therefore anything that happened to her was his fault, just as the children's fate would be his fault.

Malfoy, Zabini and Pansy continued to stare at their wands; Percy saw Pansy's eyes flicker up and down the useless piece of wood in her hand. "Wait a minute, I don't think this is--" she started to say.

"A little test," Zabini said at the same time, ignoring her. Percy was completely unprepared for Zabini to point his wand at Pansy and cry, "Crucio!" before she could finishing voicing her suspicions concerning her "wand".

The curse hit her for a long moment before Percy could make his feet move; knowing that she was under suspicion because of him, he couldn't just let her suffer, no matter what he thought of her taste in boyfriends. She was on the floor immediately, screaming shrilly from the pain, a blood-curdling shriek of agony. He threw himself on top of her and was unable to stop a scream coming from his own throat when the curse hit him full-force; he abruptly remembered, as the pain travelled to every nerve in his body, all of the times he'd been tortured while he was spying for Dumbledore, something even his efforts at memory-retrieval had not allowed him to do (his mind evidently having decided to protect him from those memories). He remembered those times now, though, as his mind screamed out for mercy and Pansy shivered beneath him, no longer suffering.

"Stop! Stop!" someone was shouting in his ear. After Zabini lifted his wand, looking very confused, Percy realised that it was Pansy. Percy was breathing very quickly, looking around the room, trying to bring his eyes back into focus by blinking rapidly. The pain still felt like it was with him, a dark cloud just out of his range of vision. Then, quite suddenly, he couldn't see anything once more as Pansy threw herself on him and hugged him tightly. When she let him breathe again she stood shakily and offered him a hand; once they were both on their feet she put her arm around his waist and looked at Draco, his mother and Zabini, her chin lifted proudly. Somehow Percy thought it would be rude to pull away from her but he felt very uncomfortable nonetheless.

"Torturing me! When I've done absolutely nothing! And he protected me! I can see who it is around here really cares about me!"

She steered Percy toward the door; he looked over his shoulder at the Malfoys and Zabini, who were clearly still in shock; his own shock was considerable. When they were about to go through the door, however, Draco stepped toward them. "Pansy! I didn't curse you..."

She turned and sneered at him. "No. You just told Zabini that I had betrayed you, and then he did it." She looked back and forth between them, obviously quite hurt. "It's clear to me who's been betrayed here..." She swallowed and her eyes shone with unshed tears; Percy suspected that what had really cut her to the quick was not Zabini's reaction but Draco's belief in her treachery. He'd seen both of them display what he'd felt certain was genuine affection toward each other and his suspecting her seemed to be quite jolting to Pansy.

However, as she helped him toward the kitchen he took hope from the news that Crabbe and Goyle were very likely arrested; he suspected that, through sheer stupidity, they'd crack very quickly when being questioned. The only problem was how to bring the authorities to the Malfoy home while it was still protected by the Fidelius Charm. For that problem he had no solution.

Yet.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Harry and Hermione sat down at Blaise Zabini's kitchen table across from Vincent Crabbe, who was looking oddly small for someone who would have had to turn sideways to fit through the doorway into Harry's old cupboard at his aunt and uncle's house--and even then that might not have worked. Crabbe seemed to have shrunken, slouched in his chair as he was, looking at Harry and Hermione nervously and swallowing. Harry almost felt sorry for him--almost--before he remembered that he had been working for the vile worm who had kidnapped his children.

He glared at Crabbe, who was looking cowed and abashed, making it difficult for Harry to maintain his anger. "Where are my children and the other kids?" he demanded before he could lose his head of steam; he pounded the table and looked at Crabbe over the top of his glasses.

Hermione put her hand on his arm as if to calm him, but it was an act; she was no calmer than Harry. They'd all felt that sending in couples who weren't married to do the interrogations--Harry with Hermione and Neville with Ginny--would be the best approach, since Crabbe and Goyle might be more inclined to suspect married couples of playing games. Neither Ron nor Bill were rational enough at the moment to cope with interrogating the pair of Slytherins, rather than cursing them, and neither were their wives; Luna wanted to use mother's milk from Blibbering Humdingers as a "natural" Veritaserum and Fleur seemed to have completely forgotten that she could speak English and simply hurled a stream of rapid-fire, unintelligible French at everyone within hearing. Molly and Arthur were also livid, while Penelope was still off getting Severus; it was taking rather a long time. Shacklebolt was the only Auror who had come from the Ministry, as the others were already on assignments or observing the Easter holiday.

As they quickly decided that involving Shacklebolt in the interrogations could frighten Crabbe and Goyle into muteness, that left Harry, Ginny, Neville and Hermione; Kingsley had reluctantly agreed to allow the interrogations to proceed without him being present but he was using Extendable Ears to listen to Neville, Ginny and Goyle from the other side of the dining room door while Harry and Hermione carried on with Crabbe. Harry was supposed to be the tough one during the interview and Hermione would pretend to placate him, but she was so stiff and clenched he wondered whether she'd just start hexing Crabbe first and asking questions later. He didn't think she was much better than Ron and Bill at the moment, and that was saying something. After she'd had a good cry on Neville she seemed like she'd pulled herself together, but Harry still worried that she might snap at any moment.

Crabbe threw up his hands. "Wish I could tell you, but I can't. I ain't the Secret Keeper. That's Zabini."

"You wish you could tell me? Don't treat me like I'm stupid," Harry growled at him. He didn't look at Hermione, whose dark eyes were blazing; he was starting to think she should have been the tough one.

"Honestly, it's true!" Crabbe looked around furtively. "Where's Greg?" he whispered, looking toward the door.

"Why?" Harry wanted to know, suspicious of tricks.

"The thing is... my heart ain't in it anymore," he said quietly, looking toward the door again. "I mean... I never spent any time around little kids. Not even when I was one. Not unless you count Greg and Draco. I mean other people's kids. They're... they're fun," he said even more quietly. "And... they seem to like me," he said into the table, facing downward so that Harry had to bend over to catch his words. His face was very pink and Harry didn't get the impression that he was lying.

"Neville Longbottom is interrogating Goyle," Harry told him, his hostility ebbing away. "He's an Auror now, remember. Hermione's husband. My wife is with him. He and Hermione," Harry said, nodding at her, "also have a daughter you kidnapped. Are all of the kids all right?"

Crabbe looked furtively back and forth between the two of them. "So far," he said, his voice shaking. "But I don't know for how long..."

Hermione walked around the table and put her hand on his shoulder; Harry could see that she was shaking with nerves. "What do you mean, Vincent?" she asked him quietly.

"Well... you know...." he couldn't look at her and kept staring at the table.

"Zabini and Malfoy plan to take the children's magical power and then kill them, isn't that right?" Harry said as stoically as he could, trying not to think about what this would mean.

Crabbe's eyes widened. "How'd you know that?" He swallowed and looked up at Hermione. "But there's a timing thing. It's supposed to work best at midnight on Easter for some reason..."

"Must be the cycle of the moon," Hermione said, removing her hand from Crabbe's shoulder. "The date for Easter is set by the moon." Harry could see her hands shaking.

"So there's an ideal cycle of the moon to steal children's magical power?" Harry asked.

Crabbe shrugged. "That's what the spellbook says. That's why I wish I could tell you where they are." He sniffled and wiped his nose with a swipe of his large, meaty hand. "Them kids don't deserve this. They haven't hurt no one..."

"Even someone who's hurt someone else doesn't deserve--" Harry started to say, but then he thought of what Zabini and Malfoy deserved--in his opinion--and didn't finish his sentence.

"But it's hopeless," Crabbe said, leaning his elbows on the table and putting his head in his hands. "There's no getting around it. I can't tell you and Goyle can't tell you..."

Harry frowned down at the table, wishing that some Polyjuice Potion would fix the problem, like when he and Ron were in second year and had gained entrance to the Slytherin common room that way. Unfortunately, the Fidelius Charm didn't care what someone looked like; they still needed to be taken there by someone who knew or the Secret Keeper needed to tell them, and--

"--only Zabini can do that," Crabbe continued, as though echoing Harry's thoughts. "And all this was his idea, so he'd never--"

"You can do it," Harry said suddenly as an epiphany came over him. We can't send in a fake Crabbe and Goyle, so what about the real thing? "You--you sound as if you're really sorry and want to help the kids. You can help them. And you're just about the only one. We can't go in--but you can. You can rescue them and get them out of there again..."

Hermione stared at him as though he'd gone mad; so did Crabbe. "Harry, are you serious?" Hermione wanted to know. "You'd let him go again? He's in custody! We can't just--"

"Hermione, we have to trust him. We can't do it. There's no getting around the Fidelius Charm. This is the only way to get the kids back."

Crabbe looked rather nervous. "I'm--I'm not really...well, Zabini is very fast with his wand. And Draco's not bad. I was never very... You expect me to take them on by myself? Couldn't I just... I--I think I can face prison..." Harry had never heard Crabbe's voice squeak before; he looked quite nervous.

"You won't be alone. You've already got an ally in the house; you just didn't know it: Percy Weasley!" Hermione said, perking up suddenly when she thought of this.

Harry felt like throttling her. "Hermione! You can't just blow Percy's cover like that!"

"He's got to know who's on his side!"

"You mean Weatherby?" Crabbe frowned at them both. "But--but he's got no memory of even being a wizard. He just works as the butler. Don't know a thing. He don't even properly remember what went on when he was in school, even when he's been given Veritaserum...well, okay, sometimes he does when he's had that, but the rest of the time..."

"It's all been an act," Hermione told him cheerfully while Harry seethed. "He's the one who managed to send us a note written by Narcissa Malfoy herself that allowed us to enter this house, even though it was protected by the Fidelius Charm. Mrs Malfoy was the Secret Keeper and Percy tricked her into doing it."

Crabbe let out a long whistle, looking impressed. "He's good, that Weatherby. All right; that'll help, that will." He looked vaguely hopeful, as if he were no longer expecting to be hexed into a pile of dust by Malfoy and Zabini. "Won't he need a wand? I reckon I could take one to him..."

"He's got one already. So you'll do it?" Hermione asked excitedly, clapping her hands together.

"Wait just a minute, Hermione," Harry said, shaking his head; they'd definitely changed places in the good/bad game. "It was one thing for him to be going in by himself, but now you've given him Percy! He can tell Malfoy and Zabini about him and they'll kill Percy..."

"I wouldn't do that!" Crabbe exclaimed, as though this would never have crossed the mind of a minion of Malfoy. "I really don't want those kids hurt..."

Harry wished he'd never suggested sending Crabbe in but he didn't know how else they were going to get to the kids in time. Hermione waved her wand and conjured up a curling parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink. "Do you remember a girl in school called Marietta Edgecombe?" Hermione asked Crabbe slyly, looking at Harry with one brow raised.

"I reckon. Wasn't she that girl who had SPY written across her face in purple pimples?"

"It was SNEAK, and do you remember the reason that it was there?" Hermione asked him, her arms crossed.

Crabbe bowed his head again. "You did that to her because she grassed on you and the others in that Dumbledore's Army thing."

"Which was how you and your little friends in the Inquisitorial Squad knew where to find us," Harry added bitterly, worried more than ever that the situation was hopeless. He remembered the ruthlessness of Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy and Parkinson during the 'raid' and wondered what he could have been thinking to trust Crabbe.

Hermione waved her wand over the parchment she'd conjured and said to Crabbe, "Do you see what's written on this parchment now? Read it."

Crabbe struggled through it. "I, Vincent Crabbe, p-promise to do everything in my p-power to bring the k-kidnapped children and Percy W-weasley safely b-back to their famblies--erm, families. If I betray their trust my--" His eyes went wide and he looked up at Hermione. "It'll--it'll just drop off?"

She nodded, tapping the parchment with her wand. "Only if you turn on us or reveal the truth about Percy to Malfoy or Zabini or anyone not on our side. If you're trustworthy there should be no problem. We're not sending you in unless you sign this; then we'll know you're serious, because you won't want to risk that happening," she said, tapping the parchment again.

Harry was shocked when Crabbe nodded and swallowed, pulling the parchment toward him and grasping the quill sitting in the conjured pot of ink, sloppily signing his name at the bottom of the parchment. Harry pulled Hermione aside and hissed at her, "Are you mad? Do you honestly think it would make any difference?"

"What?" she hissed back.

"Well, isn't he practically a eunuch now? Why should he care if he doesn't have the equipment?"

Raising her brows, Hermione whispered, "Aren't you being a bit presumptuous? No one thought you'd been up to anything when you were sixteen, then your son turns up years later..."

"I wasn't up to anything when I was sixteen," Harry whispered through gritted teeth. Unfortunately, he thought. "Well, maybe a little kissing, but I wasn't up to shagging when I was sixteen."

"Oh. Right. Well, then we all thought that you and Ginny were getting up to something and it turned out that you weren't until your wedding had nearly arrived, so you can't assume..."

"Can we leave my sex life out of this, please?" Harry grumbled, before he was tempted to throw what she'd done with Ron in her face. "We were talking about whether this is an effective threat to him..."

She smirked. "He cares, you heard him. He still has hope, like all men. Don't underestimate that. Anyway, it won't happen."

"You're so confident that he won't betray us?"

"Yes. I think he genuinely wants to help and it's given him a bit of confidence to know that Percy's in on it. But it won't happen because there's no charm on the parchment," she added, dropping her voice so that it was even softer. "I didn't have time. It's just words. But he believes that it'll happen if he betrays us, and that's the important thing. He knows about Marietta and thinks I'm capable of doing something like that again, so let's let him believe that I am." Hermione's eyes glinted with mischief and Harry shook his head ruefully.

"I definitely think Ron and I were a bad influence on you."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Blaise Zabini closed the dining room door and paced for a moment, fuming. "Do we still have any Veritaserum?" he barked at no one in particular.

Draco answered. "No; used up the last of the lot weeks ago. You want to use some on Pansy?" He frowned, wondering why they should bother. But then he turned to his mother. "Wait a minute," he started to say, observing his mother's satisfaction concerning Pansy. "You can't stand Pansy, Mother! I'll bet you've just been waiting for the chance to set her up!"

His mother scowled and then laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, Draco! She clearly--"

But now Zabini had turned and was scrutinising her as well. "Yes, Narcissa, there is something I've been wondering about... you're my Secret Keeper and someone told that secret to Potter and Weasley and the rest. Pansy couldn't have done it, unless she managed to trick you into writing that note. So tell me, Narcissa, have you betrayed us all just because you're jealous of your son showing attention to Pansy Parkinson or did little Pansy trick you into writing the note?"

"That blithering idiot!" Narcissa exclaimed. "She couldn't trick a--" she started to say. When she realised what her words sounded like a panicked look came over her and she changed tactics. "What I meant is--"

"Stupefy!" Draco cried, pointing his wand at his mother and watching listlessly as she started to fall over, ending up at an odd angle, stiffly leaning against one of the tall-backed chairs around the long table. He pocketed his wand.

Blaise shook his head, looking at her with his mouth drawn into a line. "Women," he said simply before turning to Draco. "All right, we obviously don't need Veritaserum. You do have more Polyjuice with Weasley's hair in it, right? Drink a little more and take that food tray he made up to the drawing room. We won't be starting the power transfer until the stroke of midnight anyway, so we have some time to get to the bottom of this." He glared at Narcissa again. "She could have been the consort of the next great Dark Lord..."

"Mother, you mean," Draco said, giving Blaise a sharp look.

"Well, yeah, you call her Mother, of course..."

"No, you meant to say 'mother of the next great Dark Lord'--right?" Draco bristled, moving his hand slowly toward the pocket where he'd put his wand.

Blaise froze. "Yes, of course," he said mechanically, a stiff smile appearing on his face suddenly. "The mother of the next great Dark Lord. That's what I said."

Draco looked at Blaise through narrowed eyes. Had he heard wrong? Had Zabini said 'mother' or 'consort'? If his mother had told the secret, could it have been Zabini himself who'd tricked her into doing it, to cast suspicion on Pansy? They would expect Draco to defend her, of course, thereby disposing of both of them and leaving the way clear for him to be the next great Dark Lord... Had Zabini ever been planning to make Draco the next great Dark Lord or was Draco just being used?

"The food. For the kids," Blaise reminded him tersely, turning to leave. Narcissa was still tilted stiffly against the chair, her fair hair hanging in her face. Her lover seemed neither to notice her nor care.

After Draco took the Polyjuice Potion, as he waited for the change to come over him, his mind raced. Why am I even here? Not because my mum broke me out of prison. Because Zabini did. But why did he? If someone has an idea for how to become great and powerful why would he decide to make someone else the great and powerful one? Why not use that power yourself?

He glanced at his mother after the potion had taken effect. Zabini had come to her and offered to get her son back for her. And it wasn't in exchange for being in her bed. There was more at work here...

Draco left his mother right where she was, leaning at roughly a thirty-degree angle, like an abandoned broom. He carried the tray to the drawing room and levitated it while he unlocked the door and pushed it open slightly; grasping the handles of the tray while it still hung in mid-air he backed into the room and closed the door with his foot.

Most of the children were sitting next to the sofa in a circle on the remaining oriental rug that his mother hadn't sold. He knew of a couple of reasons why she hadn't sold that rug, too, and was glad that she still had a little sense. They looked up when he appeared with the food and Nate in particular came bounding over to him like a puppy.

"Dad! There you are! Wondered what happened to you. How soon can we get out of here?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Nate's dad was very pale beneath the scattered freckles across his nose, which gave him an oddly youthful look, as though he were still Head Boy at Hogwarts. He drew his mouth into a firm line and put the tray on the floor, as there was no table.

"You'll get out of here when we've decided that everything is all right. Let the adults deal with the details, Nate," he said brusquely before turning toward the door again.

"Dad!" Nate called, running to him. "Is everything all right? At least tell us what happened to those two wizards who were--"

"They were arrested. Just keep an eye on the younger kids and wait until I come back," his father barked at him, opening and closing the door very quickly. Nate immediately tried to open it but it had been locked again and wouldn't budge.

"They got to him." Teddy couldn't help the words escaping him; he'd been feeling uneasy and suspicious ever since Percy had "rescued" them and now that he'd reappeared Teddy didn't feel any better about the situation.

"Stop saying that," Nate growled at his best friend. "He wouldn't--he couldn't do that..."

"Then why are we still in here if he's not working with them?" Teddy demanded.

He'd been trying to convince Nate that there was something wrong with his father after he'd left them waiting for so long, locked up in another ornate drawing room, although this one had clearly fallen on hard times. Nate didn't want to hear it and they had both lapsed into a hostile silence--until Percy had returned. So Teddy had set about investigating their new prison.

No one had locked or shuttered the room's tall windows; unfortunately, the drawing room wasn't on the ground floor. There was at least a twenty foot drop to a hard stone terrace that looked quite unforgiving. It was scattered with uncomfortable-looking stone benches and unfriendly-looking spiky potted plants, nothing that could offer even a semi-soft landing, like grass. There were no curtains at the tall windows nor anything else that could be used to fashion a means of escape, so even though they weren't as thoroughly locked up as they'd been in the other house they were still trapped. They couldn't even hail anyone outdoors, as they might have done in the house that seemed to be in a city (if they could have opened the windows), since the view across the desolate landscape was persistently flat and unpopulated, bordered by what seemed to be a forest. Scrubby grass stretched to the treeline, which was so far away that the trees were just a blur of green to Teddy. The fact that they seemed to be in a grand manor house on an extensive estate was not comforting; The lack of people was the main problem, from Teddy's view.

"I don't know why we're still here," Nate admitted grudgingly. "But whatever the reason, it's not my dad's fault!"

Teddy was about to ask him how he could be so sure about that but stopped himself when he saw the look on Nate's face; he was as unsure as Teddy. Looking around the room, Teddy thought about the shabbiness of the place and how elegant it must have been once. Then he remembered that he'd worked out that their captors were Crabbe and Goyle...

"Nate, I've just thought of something," he said slowly, still staring around at the peeling gilt and dark, unfaded patches of wallpaper where art must once have hung. "Those two goons who were at the other house... they were the best mates of Draco Malfoy when they were all in school. My dad told me. Maybe this is his house."

Nate frowned. "Hasn't he been in prison for years? Anyway, it was his mum who helped my dad come back home from Gibraltar. If we are in her house, maybe it's part of some sort of holiday celebration."

Teddy stared around. "This doesn't look like much of a celebration. Mrs Malfoy doesn't seem to have very much to celebrate, if you ask me." He looked levelly at Nate. "Maybe she asked your dad for payment of some kind for helping him out and this is it."

Nate fumed, his hands forming into fists by his sides. "I said to stop saying that! My dad's not kidnapping us! He's not--"

"--interested in your mum anymore," Teddy said, feeling awful, but determined to get Nate to face the truth. "Nate, come on! You've been telling me how disappointed you've been that your mum and dad haven't really got back together. What if he's with Mrs Malfoy instead and she asked him to do something for her? I mean, this place is pretty bad. Hasn't been properly kept up in a long time, by the look of it." He kicked at the leg of the sofa; stuffing was starting to emerge from a couple of rips on the arms where the damask fabric had worn very thin.

Nate rushed at him and pushed against his chest hard, with both hands, and Teddy could see that there were tears in his eyes now that his best friend was so close. "Shut up! Shut up! He's not, he's not..." Nate insisted, his teeth gritted.

Teddy staggered back in surprise under the sudden attack while Ruby and Rory took Nate's arms and pulled him away from their brother. Nate continued to mumble, "Shut up, shut up..." as the twins held firmly onto their cousin's arms. Despite Nate's being the tallest--something he seemed to have inherited from his father--he was painfully thin. Teddy had been surprised that he'd managed to push with much force at all; he knew how bony Nate's arms were, although he evidently had a wiry strength when he was angry enough to use it. Teddy could see that Ruby and Rory were straining to keep Nate in check until he decided to stand down.

"It may not be him."

Teddy, Nate and the twins turned in surprise at the soft voice. Marguerite was sitting gracefully on the carpet, Charlotte and Diana sitting next to her, running their small hands delightedly through her fine, cornsilk hair while Frances bounced in her lap. The little boys--Julian and the three sons of Ron and Luna--were running around the far end of the room, playing tag.

"What did you say?" Teddy asked her, something familiar prickling at the back of his brain.

"It may not be our Uncle Percy," she said calmly in that oddly musical voice of hers. "I heard my parents talking about how different he has been ever since returning from Gibraltar. My father said that he understood that his brother has probably not recovered all of his memories, but he has talked to him a great deal and Uncle Percy has said some very odd things..."

"So your dad thought he was an imposter but didn't say or do anything?" Teddy demanded.

"No, he never said his brother was an imposter. But he said that there was something 'off' about him. I do not think it ever occurred to him that his brother might not be his brother. I am the one suggesting this. Either that or he is cursed."

Nate, Teddy and the twins all stared at each other and said, "Imperius," as one. They'd all heard numerous tales from Harry and Ginny about people being placed under Imperius.

"I do not think he is cursed. My father discussed that with my mother too, and they both ruled it out; he encountered many people who were cursed when he was in the Order of the Phoenix and when my mother was in the Triwizard Tournament she said that Viktor Krum was placed under Imperius. Uncle Percy's behaviour is not consistent with that, they said."

Nate swallowed. "So, if he's an imposter... that means that I might not have ever met my real father. Still." He stared into space and Teddy wondered how he'd feel if he'd met Harry--and then learned that it wasn't Harry at all.

"We don't know that," Teddy said quietly, but stopped when he saw Nate's distress, realising that it would be far more comforting to Nate not to have a dad at all rather than one who could turn on his own son and nieces and nephews. Teddy kicked the sofa again impatiently. "Damn! I wish I had a wand. At least then I could conjure a Patronus to send a message to Harry and Ginny..."

"A Patronus? You can conjure a Patronus?" Marguerite asked, looking impressed.

"Yeah," Teddy said, his face growing hot. "My dad said that he learned when he was my age so he gave me some private lessons last term and I got pretty good at it. He also told me how to use them to send secure messages to people. He didn't learn that when he was my age but he wished he had; if he'd been able to do that when he was in his fifth year, he said, a lot of bad things might not have happened..." However, in that none of them had a wand, they all quieted and stared helplessly at each other.

"What do we do now?" Ruby asked. "We can't just stay here and wait for whoever brought us here to do something nasty to us."

Rory scoffed at her sister. "In case you hadn't noticed, Teddy and Nate don't have their wands, there are no brooms conveniently lying around, and we probably can't even eat the food, since the last time we did it was drugged."

"Not true," Teddy said quickly. "At the other house the food Crabbe and Goyle gave us was fine." They all looked suspiciously at the tray sitting on the floor. "Of course, that doesn't mean that this food is fine. We won't know without letting someone test it first."

Just then Julian ran to Nate and asked, "What's going on?"

"We need someone to test the food, to see if it's drugged," Ruby told him.

Without batting an eye, Julian replied, "Okay. I'm hot from running around. I'll do it."

"No!" Nate cried, grabbing his brother's arm.

"What's wrong with you?" Julian demanded, pulling his arm away. "Ruby just said that someone needs to test it."

"Let him try it, Nate," Rory said in a placating tone. "Better than all of us being knocked out again, and if it's all right then everyone can have something to eat. At least they're feeding us."

"The question is--why?" Teddy said quietly, watching Julian sit down on the carpet and reach for a toasted cheese sandwich. "Why are we here at all? What are they playing at?"

Ruby looked around the shabby room again. "Well, as you pointed out, this place is falling apart. I would guess that they want to ask for a big ransom for all of us. They certainly need the money, by the look of things."

"But that's stupid," Teddy countered, "when we can tell our parents where we've been and what we've seen. They'd never get away with it. And that other house we were in looked fine."

"If they memory-charm us they could get away with it," Rory said, hungrily eyeing the food as Julian stuffed another sandwich into his mouth.

"Or if they weren't planning to give us back at all," Marguerite said quietly, brushing her hand over Frances's soft curls. She met Teddy's eye for a moment and he shivered, wondering whether even a one-eighth veela had special powers. He also wished she hadn't said this, even though he'd been thinking it for some time.

"I don't know," Nate said, frowning. "If they were going to kill us you'd think they'd have done it by now."

"I think she meant that instead of giving us back after getting the ransom they might be planning to kill us," Ruby explained calmly, joining Julian on the carpet and picking up a sandwich. She leaned to one side, her hand supporting her weight, as she bit into the bread and cried out, "Ouch!"

Teddy went to his sister's side. "What is it? What's wrong? Something in the sandwich?"

Ruby had pulled her hand up from the carpet abruptly and was still chewing. "No, you idjit," she said thickly, her mouth full. She quickly chewed and swallowed. "I hit something with my hand. There's something under here."

Teddy ran his hand over the threadbare carpet and felt the sharp, jagged piece of metal that had made Ruby cry out. His mind racing, he cried out, "Everyone off the carpet!" The others scrambled to pick up the tray and the babies, moving to the bare wood floor while Teddy and Nate moved the sofa out of the way and went to the edge of the carpet, rolling it back.

"A trap door," Nate whispered in awe when they had laid bare the dark patch of floor that had been covered by the carpet. Teddy crouched and ran his hands over the rusty hinges; Ruby had put her hand on a screw that had begun to work its way loose from one of them. A splintery hole large enough for a man's hand was on the opposite side from the hinges and Teddy couldn't resist the temptation to put his hand through the hole, grasp the splintery wood, and lift.

"Keep the babies away," he said quickly to Marguerite and his sisters, who each grabbed one of the little girls. Julian and the other little boys watched, awestruck, as Nate helped him to lift the heavy wood door, which they dropped as quietly as they could on the rolled-up carpet behind the opening. A slimy-looking set of stone steps descended steeply into the darkness; stone walls were on either side. It was impossible to see where the steps went.

"Could be a way out," Rory said quietly as she held the squirming Charlotte tightly.

"Or," Ruby said, pausing ominously, "the way to the torture chamber or underground tomb where they plan to take us and kill us painfully."

Teddy glared at her murderously and Nate cried out, "Ruby!" She widened her eyes and shrugged.

"What? I'm just saying what everyone else is thinking."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"You just sit there... I'll make some tea," Pansy said, her voice quivering. Percy wished he had the strength to get up and stop her but it was too late; she was pointing her wand at the cooker and trying one incantation after another that she thought should produce a fire; none worked. Percy hoped that she wouldn't examine her wand again; she seemed to have forgotten, after being tortured and then "rescued" by Percy, that she'd been about to say something about this.

"It's all right, really. I don't want tea. You were also tortured; you should sit and rest. Perhaps you can't cast a spell right now, because of, erm, being tortured. You're drained."

She frowned, sitting next to him. "So--you know what happened in the dining room? The magic? You know that Narcissa and I are witches and Draco and Blaise are wizards?"

"Well..." he started to say, reluctant to admit this and trying to think quickly. "I've suspected for a little while that you all had some--abilities--that most people don't... But at first I thought it was mad to think that. Why would people who could do magic need someone like me to cook and clean, after all? But after what just happened in the dining room..." He couldn't help putting his hand up to his neck and rubbing; it was as though the curse had made all of the nerves in his neck ache permanently. Unfortunately, Pansy noticed this and stood behind him, starting to give him a neck rub that was quite possibly more painful than the Cruciatus Curse.

"Well, it's true that we could do our own cooking and cleaning. It's a class thing, I suppose. Lower class people like your fam--I mean, like families that don't have as much money probably use cooking and cleaning spells all of the time. I've never actually done either, so it's no wonder that I couldn't light the cooker. There's probably a specific spell that I should have been using and don't know."

Percy was glad to hear that, as it would be even less likely that Pansy would suspect her wand was a fake due to this failure. He smiled weakly up at her, but when he turned his face away from her again he indulged in grimacing every time her hands roughly squeezed his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck. Finally, he could take no more and put his hand on one of hers. "I'm all right now. You sit and rest. Thank you."

Pansy sat next to him and took his left hand in hers. "No, thank you. I've never known anyone so gallant. Someone who would take torture for me." The way that she was gazing into his eyes was making him very uncomfortable but he wasn't certain how he could remove his hand from hers after his earlier profession of love for her. He wished he'd come up with some other lie for why he was in the bedroom but the damage was done now.

"To tell the truth," he said, lying, "I didn't know what it would feel like. That was much more--intense--than I ever--"

"I know!" she interrupted him. "But you stepped between me and the spell anyway!" she added, tears in her eyes. Percy couldn't look at her; he stared at his right hand where it sat on the kitchen table.

"Anyway," he went on, "I'm very fortunate that Mrs Malfoy brought me back to Britain and gave me a job... I wasn't even certain that I was British when she found me in Gibraltar. Perhaps she doesn't use these housekeeping spells you mentioned so that I can have a job?"

"Oh, no, not Narcissa," Pansy said, sneering, the dislike for her boyfriend's mother evident in her voice. "She's never lifted a finger to do anything like that in her life. Why do you think anything remotely valuable has been sold and the house is falling to bits? She doesn't even attempt to use spells to take care of that; there was a leak in the ceiling in my and Draco's bathroom and Draco had to cast the spell to keep the place from flooding. Of course, spells like that don't last, so he has to renew it every week, but she can't even be moved to do simple things like that. She's always had house elves to do the work, even after Lucius went to pri--after her husband died," she amended, looking at him nervously.

"H-house elves?" Percy said, realising abruptly that he should find this phrase odd. "Elves as in elves? Little magical creatures? Like--like leprechauns? Those little mythical green men from Irish folk tales?" He hoped that he sounded convincingly new to the concept of elves.

"Oh, they're not mythical. The leprechauns, I mean. And no, house elves and leprechauns don't have much in common except for being small. Otherwise they're quite different." She paused for a moment. "Hmm... I suppose there's no harm in talking to you about these things. It's not as though you're actually a Mug--I mean, it's not as though the Ministry of Magic will ever find out that I've told you..."

He forced himself to frown, remembering the days when he worked for the Ministry. "There's a Ministry of Magic?"

"Oh, yes. At any rate, they'd probably be a lot more upset with me for protecting Draco than telling you about things you already--I mean, telling you about magical creatures like elves and leprechauns."

"Why would they be upset with you for protecting Draco? What are you protecting him from?" Percy remembered to ask, with wide-eyed innocence. She patted his arm patronisingly.

"Don't you worry about that. Not to mention, I think I'm done protecting Draco. Especially after that. Torturing me!"

"Erm, Mr Zabini was the one who actually--"

"But he didn't stop him, did he?" she spat indignantly. "You're the one who leapt between me and the curse! He didn't do that either, for all that he claims that he wants to marry me..." She looked so miserable now that Percy actually felt a little sorry for her, wondering whether Draco really was just using her or whether he simply suffered from a lack of physical courage and couldn't even contemplate taking a curse for the woman he loved.

"There is... there is something rather odd," Percy told her, speaking slowly, as though he were just now having these thoughts, rather than having been ruminating on the subject for some time. "Whenever I think about going outside--I don't. And if I'm late with lunch or make a mistake of any kind, I have this very strange compulsion to try to shut my ears in the oven door or to iron my fingers. I even tried the oven door once but my ears aren't long enough."

She looked at him quizzically. "Hmm... that's not so odd, really. It sounds like they've put a servant spell on you. At least they let you wear clothes... although perhaps that's not such a good thing," she added with a smirk, running her free hand over Percy's forearm in a rough manner that he assumed was meant to be a caress. Instead she was making Percy want to retch at the thought of running about the Malfoy home in nothing but a loincloth made of an old pillowcase while Pansy Parkinson leered at him. Percy swallowed and tried to smile feebly at her as she went on: "And to think that I was once rather upset with Draco for wanting me to go out with him while he looked like you..."

She leaned toward him and Percy could tell that she was going to kiss him. He couldn't help himself; every bone in his body was telling him to run before she made contact and he fought this urge, although he did end up standing next to his chair suddenly, pulling his hand away from hers and leaving her leaning forward, falling onto his vacated chair, her lips puckered expectantly.

"Erm, I'm sorry, Miss, but if I were to kiss you right now I feel that I would be taking gross advantage of you. You're obviously distraught over what happened and grateful to me for stepping in. I understand that you're grateful; that's probably what you're feeling right now, gratitude, not love. It would be very wrong of me to try to capitalise on those feelings of gratitude; that wasn't why I tried to protect you, so that you would want to thank me like this. I had n-no thought of reward..."

Pansy sighed. "But that's exactly why..." She stopped, then frowned again. "You're as 'noble' as ever, aren't you? Even though you don't remember much of anything," she said, her mouth twisted; she said this as though pointing out his flaws. "Hmph! Should have known. Leopards don't change their spots..." She sighed again. "Still, you did step in. Thanks for that."

"And I think... I know it's not my place, but I think that Mr Malfoy still has feelings for you. I think he was as shocked as anyone when Mr Zabini started to torture you."

"Maybe..." she said, looking unconvinced. "You know what Draco was saying to me just last night, when we were in bed? He wishes that we could just run off to Gibraltar, the two of us, and live a peaceful life. None of this Great Dark Lord nonsense that Blaise has been harping on."

Percy shrugged. "So, why don't you?"

Pansy looked up at him, smiling slightly. "Yes...yes... Why don't we?" she said softly. Shaking herself, as though waking from a dream, she added, "That would mean getting Draco out of Blaise's clutches first... Of course, the Ministry usually reward people who give evidence like this. They could reward Draco as well, give him amnesty, let him leave the country and promise not to come back..." She smiled up at Percy and he concentrated on gazing blankly back at her, as though he'd just been memory charmed. "You make an excellent point, Weatherby. Why don't we?"

Percy tried very, very hard not to whoop with glee; Pansy was on his side now and he hadn't had to reveal to her that he knew he was a wizard and had stolen her wand. She would try to convince Draco to betray Blaise Zabini now and run off to Gibraltar. Despite what he knew Malfoy had done to more than one person in his family and that he deserved the life sentence he'd been serving in Azkaban, he was feeling inclined to just let him go, if it was up to him. The whole operation hadn't been his idea; that was Zabini. He was the one who'd broken Draco out of prison and had the idea to steal the children's power. He didn't much care what happened to Draco if he and Pansy helped bring Zabini to justice. Draco Malfoy had already served many years of his sentence; if he finally did something right and helped send Blaise Zabini to prison, Draco and Pansy going free and running off to the good life in Gibraltar was definitely worth it.

Pansy stood and walked to the kitchen doorway. "Thank you again for what you did. And for--for not taking advantage of me and my gratitude. I didn't even realise, I think, that I was waiting for Draco all of these years. I tried going out with other men, but... Well, maybe this is our second chance. I don't really want to be the wife or girlfriend of a Dark Lord." She sighed. "I just want to marry Draco and settle down and have a quiet life. Is that too much to ask?"

At that moment Percy felt a genuine affection and sympathy for Pansy; he smiled at her and shook his head. "No. It's not too much to ask. And I want you to be happy, so you can ask anything of me and I'll do it if it will help you to be happy. Remember that."

She looked shrewdly at him and nodded, her eyes narrowed in thought. "Yes, yes, I will. Thank you, Weatherby. I need to think a little about this and talk to Draco. But thank you."

She left the kitchen and Percy sat down, sighing with relief. He'd done it. He hadn't meant to when he'd leapt between Pansy and the Cruciatus Curse, but he'd done it regardless. He was no longer alone in the house.

Pansy was now on his side.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Harry looked around at the others gathered in Blaise Zabini's drawing room and took a deep breath. "We have good news and bad news. The good news is that Crabbe and Goyle are on our side and don't want to see the kids hurt."

"Both of them?" Ron said, frowning sceptically.

"Yes," Neville said, nodding. "After Ginny and I were done talking to Goyle in the dining room Shacklebolt helped us to take him down to the kitchen so we could talk to Harry and Hermione. They said that Crabbe's the same."

"He really likes the kids," Hermione said, her voice shaking as Neville put his arm around her shoulders. "He doesn't want to help Malfoy hurt them anymore..."

"How is that good news? They aren't there in the house to keep Malfoy from hurting them, so what's the point?" Ron demanded. Arthur put a gentle hand on his arm.

"So what's the bad news?" Arthur asked quietly, glancing at Molly, standing between Severus and Penelope near the mantel. Penelope and Severus had just arrived on the Knight Bus with Tilda, who was sitting on the couch next to Luna looking pale and drawn. She wasn't supposed to have come but Severus couldn't convince her not to, which was why they'd had to take the bus rather than Apparating to London. Luna was patting Tilda's hand consolingly, although she looked quite pale herself. Fleur sat on Luna's other side, her eyes blazing as she teetered on the edge of her seat, Bill standing by her side.

"Why are we seeting 'ere?" she demanded. "Deed they tell you where ze children are or not?"

"Well, I was about to explain the bad news," Harry said, trying to be patient. "Wherever the kids are it's protected by the Fidelius Charm, like this house was. Or still is, I reckon, except that all of us know the secret now, so we were able to come in. But neither Crabbe nor Goyle is the Secret Keeper, so we still don't know where the kids are..."

"You're joking, right?" Penelope said, pacing the hearth rug nervously. "They're at Draco Malfoy's house, obviously! It should be obvious, at any rate. Who needs to be told a secret when we can just guess the answer? Even though Percy didn't say that clearly in the letter, he said he was working for Narcissa Malfoy. Where else would he be doing that? The only reason he couldn't write it himself is that he's not the Secret Keeper. Honestly! We know where they are, so what are we waiting for?"

Fleur sprang to her feet, her hair whipping about her head, hitting Hermione in the face as Fleur pushed past her to grasp Harry's arm in a surprisingly strong hand. "Zen we must go to get zem!" she declared while Hermione sputtered and tried to get the long strands of hair out of her mouth.

Ron enthusiastically strode across the room to join Fleur and Harry. "Okay!" he said loudly, clapping his hands together. "Fleur's right! What are we waiting for?"

Hermione glanced at Luna and then scowled at Ron. "What are we waiting for? I don't know, for the sun to set in the north and the moon to fly out of your arse, Ron?" she said acidly. "You seem to have forgotten that that's not how the Fidelius Charm works."

Fleur glared at Hermione angrily. "Don't be absurd. We merely need to go to ze house and retrieve ze children. Zere must be a record at ze Ministry of where ze house eez..."

Arthur shrugged. "We don't even need the Ministry to find it. I could Apparate there in my sleep, I went on so many raids at the Malfoys. But just knowing where the house is won't do any good, my dear."

Fleur looked at her father-in-law more kindly than she had at Hermione; Arthur had the unique attribute, amongst the members of the Weasley family, of neither being held in contempt by Fleur nor subject to her considerable charms, as most of his sons were, married to her or not.

"Why won't it do any good?" she asked more calmly.

"Well, it's as Hermione said. That's now how the Fidelius Charm works." Harry could see that Hermione was itching to give the explanation but a look from Arthur quelled her and he went on. "We could go to the Malfoy house and press our noses against the windows--"

"--and we wouldn't see a thing," Harry said hollowly. His eyes met Arthur's and he grimaced. "Sorry to interrupt. That's what I remember McGonagall, Flitwick and Hagrid saying when we overhead them talking about the Fidelius Charm that had been protecting my parents'--my house. They said Voldemort could be right there, looking in the windows, but it wouldn't matter if he hadn't been told the Secret."

"Precisely," Arthur said, putting his arm around Fleur's shoulders and giving her a sympathetic squeeze.

"Which is why," Neville said slowly, looking around nervously, "we've talked to Crabbe and Goyle about going back in as our spies, to save the children."

Those who hadn't been speaking to the prisoners stared at Harry, Ginny, Neville and Hermione as though they'd gone mad. Ron started laughing, in a way, except that it sounded more like choking. "You've got to be kidding! Why should we trust them? We're just going to send our two prisoners back and we're going to believe that they're going to try to rescue the kids?"

"And just suppose that they are really on our side," Bill said, frowning; "how on earth are they supposed to overcome Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini and Narcissa Malfoy--"

"--and Pansy. She's there, too, even though Percy has her wand now," Hermione added with a shudder. She looked at Harry, her expression saying, We didn't think this through.

Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair. "That's a good point, Bill. They were never exactly brilliant when they were in school... And we were just feeling rather glad of that, too, so Percy wouldn't have such a hard time..."

"Having incompetents on the other side isn't a bad thing. Good intentions aside, incompetents on our side could be worse. Neither one of them can even Apparate," Neville groaned, sitting on a footstool and putting his head in his hands.

Ginny's mouth twisted. "Plus, they'd have to explain how they somehow managed to overcome all of us to escape. Malfoy'll never buy that," she said softly, chewing on a thumbnail as Harry always noticed her doing when she was trying to work out a problem of some sort.

"They'll be spotted as spies right away," Neville agreed, head still in his hands so that this was a little muffled.

"There has to be a good reason for them to go back," Hermione said, frowning fiercely and pacing the hearth rug.

"A hostage," Luna said softly from the couch. Everyone turned to look at her. She shrugged. "If someone went in as their hostage then that could do it. They escaped with a hostage."

"I'll do it," Harry said right away. Ron made a scoffing noise.

"Are you mad? Malfoy'd kill you on sight. Once Crabbe and Goyle are back there they don't need you to stay alive or anything." Ginny grasped Harry's arm possessively, nodding her agreement with her brother.

Neville stood and said, in a very official voice, "Well, I'm an Auror. It should be me."

Ron snorted again. "I think Draco Malfoy would get even more pleasure out of killing you, Neville, than Harry, and killing Harry would make his life. Not you either, Hermione," he added. "It can't be anyone he hates or he'll just kill them as soon as they arrive..."

"Me. It has to be me." This time everyone turned to look at Penelope. Severus was looking very angry; she had noticed. "Don't look at me like that, Severus! Yes, I know that he did a despicable thing to masquerade as Percy, but that's why it needs to be me! He may have a bit of a soft spot for me. I doubt he'd kill me as soon as look at me. The rest of you...why should he want to let any of you live? We've got to play the odds here. And another thing," she added, "I won't be a hostage. I'll be a traitor."

When Penelope explained her plan everyone but Severus looked as if they were satisfied with it. He frowned deeply, his hands in his pockets as he stared at the carpet; Harry noticed that Tilda was looking darkly at Penelope. Harry wasn't happy about the plan either. "Are you certain about this, Penelope? There's no guarantee that Malfoy won't kill you, either. I'd feel a lot better if you let me go in. I could use one of your hairs and put it in some Polyjuice Potion so that they think I'm you..."

Neville looked up, surprised. "Polyjuice Potion? You've got Polyjuice Potion on hand, Harry?" he said hopefully. "I didn't know that. Is it because you and Ginny teach Defence?"

"Erm, no, Neville," Harry sputtered. "I--I assumed that the Ministry would have some on hand. For Aurors."

Neville looked at him as though he was mad. "No offence, Harry, but you're not an Auror. Yeah, you're Harry Potter and all, but the Ministry still doesn't give out Polyjuice to anyone who asks for it, even if you've had a year of Auror training. I could probably get some, but frankly, I think Penelope's right: it has to be her. We don't know how long any of this will take; if I take the potion and it wears off, I can't very well help Crabbe and Goyle to get the kids out. I'll be dead. And I could be dead well before the potion wears off if Malfoy asks Penelope about something that happened between them, something only she would know. There's too much ground to cover; she can't tell me everything I would possibly need to know, nor could she tell you. We haven't time."

Ginny nodded. "Yes. Goyle told us... Malfoy will want to do the spell to take the kids' magic tonight. He'll start a ritual at midnight. We're working against the clock." She put her hand on Harry's arm. "We'll still go to the Malfoy estate. We'll be waiting right outside, so that when they get the kids out-of-doors and they're no longer in a house protected by the Fidelius Charm we can take them to safety. We'll all be on hand to help. But only Crabbe and Goyle can get into the house to begin with, and only Penelope could pass as the traitor who helped them escape without Draco Malfoy killing her on sight. Probably," she added, looking hopefully at Penelope. "You're certain about this, Penny? You could still be in great danger. You'll probably be in great danger."

Penelope looked rueful. "Draco Malfoy could have hurt me any number of times when we were together since he's been pretending to be Percy. I've been thinking a lot about it and I believe that the reason he's been distancing himself from me a bit is because he was starting to care a little bit and Pansy Parkinson didn't like it. Once I could have sworn he called me 'Pansy' instead of 'Penny'. It was close enough that he insisted he'd said my name. I have to assume that if he's concerned about being faithful to his girlfriend, even though he's escaped from prison and is part of a conspiracy to kidnap our children, there might be some hope for him."

"Well, then, at that rate," Hermione said, frowning, "there's a danger that Pansy could try to kill you."

Penelope gave Hermione a small smile. "Then it's a lucky thing that Percy has her wand, isn't it?"

She looked round at everyone and Harry saw her hands shaking as she folded her arms across her chest, trying to look cool and unflappable. "It's settled. I'm going in. I've got a good cover story: I'm a mother. If my boys are going to be killed I want to see them one last time, even if it means being killed myself as well," she said softly, a small choke in her voice.

Harry suddenly felt that his own throat had tightened considerably. "Yes," he said to her quietly. "That's what a mother would do," he added, remembering the first time he'd heard his own mother's voice asking Voldemort to kill her instead of him, offering up her life, unable to step aside and watch her child die without doing something...

"Penelope," Severus started to say.

"No. The discussion is over," Penelope said in a hard voice while staring at the carpet; she wouldn't look at him. Harry couldn't help thinking that he probably wanted to be the one to go in but if Malfoy was likely to kill Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, or Ginny on sight he was certain to kill Severus Snape. (Bill, Fleur and Luna wouldn't work either, because of their connection to Ron, which also eliminated Molly and Arthur.) For the first time Harry could almost picture Severus Snape and Penelope Clearwater as a couple, which he'd never tried to picture before, even once he knew about Julian Snape, but that was because he tried to avoid disturbing mental images whenever possible.

They went over the story of Penelope's betrayal of the others in extreme detail, although to Harry it seemed very rushed. They had no choice; she and Crabbe and Goyle needed to return to the Malfoys' in time to rescue the children, before the midnight ritual began and any of them lost their magical power, let alone being killed.

"What about me?" Tilda asked suddenly. "What am I to do? I assume that I'm not being permitted to come to Wiltshire to wait outside the house, as I'm not a witch," she grumbled, crossing her arms.

Harry looked pleadingly at Molly. "Molly will take you back to their house, won't you? You're not going to be waiting at the Malfoys', are you?" he said to his mother-in-law, raising his eyebrows.

Molly's mouth was twisting rebelliously but Arthur patted her on the arm and quickly jumped in. "That's right, my dear. You just go back to The Burrow with Molly. Let the others take care of this. Neville, Harry, Bill and Severus know what they're doing, and so do Fleur, Hermione, Luna and Ginny. I won't be fighting either, I expect; I just need to show everyone how to get there. And Shacklebolt will be going as well."

Ron cleared his throat meaningfully and Fleur rolled her eyes. "Oui, and ze reportaire is so much more experienced zan an Auror and two Charm Breakers and two Defence Against ze Dark Arts professors, and--"

"You'd be surprised," Hermione said stoutly, partly to Fleur and partly to Arthur. "He gets a lot of people refusing to be interviewed and reacting a bit violently, to say nothing of the reactions of people he has written about..."

Fleur's pale brows flew up and she eyed Ron with amusement. "Did you get a new wife and neglect to tell ze family?" Fleur insinuated. Harry saw Ron swallow and look away from her, his face furious.

"Okay," Harry said a little too loudly, "Molly will need to take Tilda back to The Burrow while Arthur comes with us," Harry said to his father-in-law, "since we can't risk anyone seeing us with Crabbe, Goyle and Penelope. They should take the Knight Bus; we'll have to go separately."

"Well, I usually Apparated to the courtyard of the Green Dragon in Alderbury and had a broom with me to fly north to Clarendon," Arthur said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "The Green Dragon is a Ministry-approved safe Apparition point. No danger of Muggles seeing."

"The town of Clarendon? Is that where the house is?" Hermione asked.

"No, Clarendon is the house. That's its name. Used to be Clarendon Palace but the Malfoys moved it years ago. That's why almost nothing is left of it where it used to be; Muggles think it tumbled down. It was just moved, magically. The Malfoys have always been very powerful in Wiltshire; the first one to come to this country was William the Conquerer's court wizard, and a Malfoy was also very tight with the Plantagenets. Not sure when they got tired of working for Muggles," he said softly, frowning, "but that's probably at the heart of the Malfoy anti-Muggle feeling. Could be why they simply made off with the palace and turned it into the Malfoy home." Arthur sat wearily on the arm of the sofa. "The house is actually in Clarendon Forest itself, surrounded by a large park that's edged with anti-Muggle charms to keep them out." Suddenly looking like he'd forgotten something, Arthur added, "And we need to be careful at the Green Dragon; it's owned by an old friend of the Malfoys, a Septimus Flint. We need to hope that he stays inside and doesn't happen to be wandering into his courtyard. Don't know if he or his son are in on this with Malfoy, but you never can tell..."

"Flint!" Ron exclaimed. "As in Marcus?"

"That's the one. Septimus is Marcus's father. Lucius Malfoy's old haunt, that pub. The wizarding half of it, anyway. It can't be seen behind the Muggle one of the same name. At any rate, a lot of us at the Ministry used to speculate that Lucius named his son after his favourite pub, just to upset his wife. I shouldn't be surprised. So we'll Apparate to the courtyard behind the pub, take brooms with us, and then fly north, all right? It's a little hard to spot the house if you don't know what you're doing."

"Is it Unplottable?" Harry wanted to know.

"Probably. Which is why we have to do it this way. Can't Apparate to a place that's Unplottable unless you've got a sort of password for getting around that, but you can fly there if you know what you're doing. It takes skill not to be fooled by the shifting landscape. It'll look like it's moving about a bit as we get closer, like. As if it's not sure where it belongs. We'll land nearby and walk the last stretch. Otherwise we could overshoot, because of the Unplottable spell." He sighed. "I'm remembering now why it was always such a bloody chore to raid the Malfoys..."

"And we'll have to use Disillusionment Charms when we fly, so Muggles won't see us," Hermione said grimly, looking a bit pale. Harry knew she'd been very glad to get her Apparition licence, as she'd never liked flying much.

"And Crabbe and Goyle and I actually have to get the kids out of the house," Penelope said weakly, looking even paler than Hermione.

"We need to work on their story with them," Harry said, nodding, wondering how well the two Slytherins would be able to remember what they had to do.

"It'll work. It's a good plan," Luna said calmly. "We've finally got hope." Everyone looked at her when she suddenly spoke but no one dared to agree or disagree.

Yes, Harry thought, looking around at the others. We need all the bloody hope in the world.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"All right," Teddy said slowly, "who's going in?"

The other children looked at him as if he were mad. "In?" Nate said, his voice squeaking. "In there?"

"We need to find out where the passage goes," Teddy said, trying to sound reasonable. "All right, I'll go in--"

"Don't be stupid," Ruby said dismissively. "If they come in they'll notice you missing right away. You look just like Dad! I should go; Rory can just run around and make it seem like there are two of her if they come to check on us."

"Well, you can't go alone. There should be two, at least," Teddy countered.

"Probably not more than two, or they'll notice the difference," Nate said reasonably.

"And if your dad comes back, he'll notice you missing as well..." Teddy frowned, thinking hard, but unwilling to volunteer someone else to go. There weren't many other people he could see going, other than one of the little boys, and he didn't want to volunteer either his cousins or his best friend's little brother, who was also now his stepbrother.

"I should go," Marguerite said suddenly. Everyone turned to stare at her.

"You?" Teddy said hollowly.

"Yes. We'll need some light, after all," Marguerite said calmly, as though this made sense.

Teddy looked up at the candles mounted high up on the walls, and at the chandelier hanging above the centre of the room, which had to have at least four dozen candles. "Well, if we can work out a way to light one of these and a way to get it down, you can carry a candle into the tunnel..."

"No need," Marguerite informed him before she snapped her fingers and a small ball of fire that evidently did not burn her appeared in her right hand, blazing brightly and casting a golden glow on all of their faces. Marguerite looked like she was trying not to smile at Teddy's shocked expression. "It's a veela thing," she explained simply.

Turning to Ruby, she said, "Ready?"

Ruby nodded and followed Marguerite down the stairs, which did not look more inviting for the glow of the magical ball of light sitting in Marguerite's palm.

"Be careful!" Teddy told them unnecessarily.

"Close the trapdoor and roll the carpet back where it was!" Ruby called from the foot of the stairs. "We'll wait for you to open it again before coming up. We won't knock in case one of them is in there. Open it up again in--twenty minutes. Okay?"

Twenty minutes sounded like an eternity to Teddy but he nodded grimly at his sister and cousin, watching the glow move away into the darkness of the mysterious tunnel. He and Nate managed to close the trap door together and the other children helped them to roll the carpet flat once more, after which they all sat down to eat the evidently non-drugged food.

The food disappeared all too quickly and Teddy realised, too late, that they should have saved some for Ruby and Marguerite. The other children were yawning and beginning to tire out, stretching out on the carpet, which was the only real comfort the room offered other than a small horsehair footstool and the old sofa, which was so lumpy the floor was more comfortable. Julian thumped the floor through the carpet. "I wish this was a giant cushion instead of a carpet," he grumbled, lying down again.

Suddenly it was as though the carpet had been inflated with feathers and down; it sat several inches off the floor now. They all gasped as one, feeling the carpet carefully, experimentally pushing against what would have been the wooden floor, through the carpet, but was instead a soft yielding cushion.

"Bloody hell," Teddy breathed, testing the carpet with his hands and finding it uniformly soft.

"It must be a magic carpet!" Nate said in awe, lying back and sighing in comfort.

"I wish this carpet were lying flat on the floor again," Teddy said experimentally. With a thud, the carpet went back to being flat. The other children complained bitterly and little Charlotte started to cry. Teddy shushed them, trying to explain. "I always thought that magic carpets could only fly. This one seems to grant wishes. One of the things it might be able to do is fly, so this could be our way out of here. Hold on tight, everyone, we're going to test this." He took a deep breath and said, as authoritatively as he could, "I would like this carpet to rise two feet off the floor."

The little ones started crying out again when the carpet obligingly rose two feet above the floor; unfortunately, the weight of the children caused it to be a bit unstable and little Cedric rolled off one corner. Where each of them sat on the carpet a dent was created. It didn't just sit flat, like the flying carpets Teddy had seen in films. Cedric climbed on again with help from Nate and he sat closer to the centre this time, although that was developing into a bit of a "pit", with most of the smaller children creating a large dent that actually made contact with the floor in the very middle, rather than being elevated two feet in the air. Teddy was finding it very difficult to prevent himself from tumbling into that pit or off the edge of the carpet.

"All right, carpet, please move us toward the fireplace and stop right in front of it," he commanded. The carpet moved forward, making the other kids squeal with delight and uncertainty. This time Rory tumbled off the edge, holding onto little Diana, whose fall was broken by her cousin.

"Not a very good form of transportation, is it?" Rory grumbled, rubbing her bottom.

"It's too heavy with all of us on it at once," Nate said reasonably. "It's probably not built to take twelve people."

"There are only ten of us right now," Rory pointed out. "So how is it going to take two more?"

Teddy didn't know how they were all going to get out at once. He looked at Nate and knew the answer: They weren't. Some of them would have to stay behind. And even those who got out...

He told the carpet to go back to where it had been; walking to one of the tall windows, he opened it and peered down again at the stone terrace so far below; if the kids who did ride the carpet out of here rolled off the edge and fell...

"We need to find out how many people can safely ride the thing," he said, his heart in his throat. "There'll need to be more than one trip."

"And we need to hope that they don't kill whoever stays behind while waiting for the carpet to come back," Rory said ominously, making her brother glare again.

"Yes," Teddy said through gritted teeth, leaning wearily on the windowsill and staring down at the ground again. "We need to hope."

Because of their conversation they hadn't noticed that the doorknob was turning, so when the door to the drawing room suddenly opened and Percy Weasley stepped in everyone was jolted, including Teddy. When Percy saw Teddy at the open window, he lunged for him.

"Don't jump!" he cried, sprinting across the room and pulling him back from the open window roughly. Teddy tried to prise his hands from his arms but a moment later the hands were released; Nate had unceremoniously leapt onto Percy's back. His legs wrapped around his waist and he had his arm across the older man's neck, threatening to cut off his air.

"You are not my father!"

---