Reign O'er Me

cts

Story Summary:
This fic picks up from where OotP ended; unlike many fics dealing with this period that are angst-ridden, this fic explores a different direction - what might happen if Harry should instead start to get his life together.

Chapter 20

Chapter Summary:
Draco Malfoy spends some quality time and travels with a long lost aunt and doesn't like the Concorde. We learn that Hermione is widely read - even including Edgar Rice Burroughs - and that Sirius knows how to make travel arrangements. And who IS the oldest living wizard?
Posted:
11/10/2004
Hits:
3,000
Author's Note:
My website at


Chapter 20 ' Goin’ Mobile

I can pull up by the curb
I can make it on the road
Goin' mobile
I can stop in any street
And talk with people that we meet
Goin' mobile
Keep me movin'

Out in the woods
Or in the city
It's all the same to me

- Goin’ Mobile, The Who


"Draco!"

Draco Malfoy, sitting in the library of Malfoy Manor, involuntarily cringed, both wondering what his lunatic aunt was doing up this early and worrying over what the crazy bitch wanted this time. He sat quietly, hoping she would move past this room, but luck was not with him; Bellatrix Lestrange entered and said, "Dammit, Draco, didn't you hear me calling? You need to get packed now! You'll need casual Muggle clothing suitable for hot weather; it gets into the high thirties where we're going. You'll want jeans, t-shirts and shorts...."

"I do not own or wear 'shorts,'" Draco said, as he looked up from the book he had pretended to be reading when he heard Bellatrix approaching.

"Then pack only long woolen trousers and roast for all I care," his aunt said. "But be ready in half an hour. We have reservations on a Concorde flight from London to New York..."

"Muggle transportation?" Draco said disdainfully. "And Muggle clothes, and Muggle..."

"I'm sure I can arrange for you to discuss your concerns with the Dark Lord," Bellatrix said in a cheery tone. "After all, you're only coming along because He said to take you, not because I enjoy baby-sitting your worthless carcass. But then we'd miss our flight, and you know how He feels about a carefully planned schedule going awry..."

"I'll pack," Draco said, sullenly.

"And take your broom. We'll be meeting your father in New York, and then..."

"My father!" Draco exclaimed. "How...?"

"Did you think the Ministry would hold him any longer than the Dark Lord permitted? Foolish boy. Be by the drawing room fireplace within the next twenty-seven minutes; we have a schedule to keep."

Draco closed the book he was holding with a snap, not caring if the ancient leather volume was damaged, as Bellatrix watched his reaction with a smile. He stood and started to walk from the room when his aunt spoke again. "Draco... how's your self-control?"

Draco stopped and looked back at her, wondering what this mad witch could possibly want now. "My self-control is superb, Aunt Bella," he said, icily.

"I hope so, for your sake," Bellatrix said with a smirk. "The Dark Lord suggested gelding you before we left, but knowing how much an heir means to your father, I have not... yet... though at this particular moment, the idea seems rather appealing. However, if I should think it necessary, I will not hesitate; and your attitude and lack of respect, Draco, aren't exactly filling me with confidence. My sister was certainly lax, and she indulged you to the point that you have become insolent, disrespectful, and lazy. I will not tolerate much more of that, Draco, even if you are my favorite nephew. Now get packed."

Draco left the library and went directly to his room. He located a carpetbag in his closet, and angrily stuffed in several changes of clothing, a spare pair of trainers, a light windbreaker, two books, and his toiletries before closing the bag. He picked up his broom and set it beside the bag, and then changed into a pair of jeans and a shirt he'd set aside as he'd packed. He looked at himself in the mirror and nodded to himself; if he were going to travel like a Muggle, he'd damned well look like one. His jeans were ragged and had holes; a four or five inch square was missing from both knees. The black T-shirt depicted a short-haired man holding a martini glass and bore the legend "Also Available in Sober."

Draco grabbed the carpetbag and his broom and went down to meet his aunt. When he entered the drawing room, she looked critically at him, and to his surprise did not object, but said, "You do at least make a credible though somewhat plebeian Muggle." With her wand, she shrank his broom and told him to place it in his bag, then told him to floo to The Leaky Cauldron and wait for her there. Bellatrix took a bottle from her pocket, opened it, and swallowed, then replaced it in her pocket as her features changed slightly. A few moments later, she too entered the fireplace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The eastern sky had begun to brighten at Hogwarts, although sunrise was still some time away. In the Great Hall, three figures sat around the single round table which occupied the center of the otherwise empty space.

"In retrospect, calling for an emergency meeting of the Confederation no longer seems such a good idea," Dumbledore said. "I had hoped that by moving quickly, we would be able to mobilize help and be able to act from strength before open conflict erupted. But instead, I have ensured that both Nicholas and I will be unavailable should Harry..."

"Would any other answer than the one he gave you last night be worthy of a Guardian, Brian?" Nicholas asked.

Dumbledore did not answer at once. "No. But he is far too young to carry such burdens, and while he has gained confidence and focus in the last few days, it is a new and largely untested paradigm for him, and he lacks experience. I would not see him thrown into the breach less than fully prepared."

"Your first encounter with Grindelwald still haunts you, Brian," Perenelle said to him, gently, "But Harry's formative years have been quite different..."

"I certainly succeeded in ensuring he had a horrible childhood," Dumbledore said. "Given the things we have learned recently about his life with the Dursleys, it almost seems surprising that Harry has managed to get past the anger and hatred."

"In the end, my boy, that may serve him well," Nicholas said slowly. "Harry at least... has an understanding of how evil human nature can be that you did not gain until it was... too late. That was my greatest failure."

"There is little point in rehashing old ground," Perenelle said. "In the end, Brian, you did what had to be done, and you did prevail. Yes, the cost was great, but it was willingly and freely paid; and had you ultimately failed, the cost would have not only been horrifically greater, but the sacrifice Cassandra made would have been for naught."

"Ultimately, that was my own... doing," Dumbledore said quietly. "But Harry need not be placed in such position."

"In that we all agree," Nicholas said. "But we do not leave him unaided. What was it you asked me in Diagon Alley? Who, between Perenelle and I was his advocate? I am not concerned at all on that score."

"Even should they find themselves in combat?" Dumbledore asked.

"Perenelle had largely withdrawn from the public eye in your youth and in your ascendancy to the Guardianship," Nicholas said. "But for many years before, she was almost undefeated as a dueling champion. Indeed, she could take me three times out of four over five hundred years ago, and no doubt could do at least that well even now. Not only was she quite serious when she threatened to call out young Snape, but you would have really done better to have persuaded her to instruct defense."

"Pay him no mind, Brian," Perenelle said. "But rest assured, if it should come to combat, I am not helpless."

"I most sincerely hope that it will not come to that," Dumbledore said. "But from what Severus showed us, Voldemort will go to great lengths; and Lucius Malfoy may have his own agenda. What Narcissa told us is not encouraging."

"True, but for now our course is set. We should be off," Nicholas said. "There is much we must accomplish before the first session begins."

They all rose from the table, and with two trilling notes, Pymander and Fawkes dropped from the ceiling. Each majestic bird flew near to its master, and each wizard grasped his bird's tail-feathers, and both disappeared in a flash of fire. Perenelle stood silently for a moment, and then reached into her robes for a Portkey. A moment later, the Great Hall was empty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cat had been staring at the ceiling for hours. She had gone to bed as soon as the bleeding had stopped; the scar had hurt - sometimes badly - a number of times over the past year or two, but it had never bled before. Joe had wanted to take her to some hospital, and most likely would have anyway if the bleeding hadn't tapered off pretty quickly, but she had insisted she would be okay. Her experience with doctors, on the whole, had not been good.

Then Joe had started in with a new round of questions; it had been troubling to her. In some ways it seemed as if he knew more about who and what she was than she did, and in others, that he had no clue whatsoever. Maybe it had been a mistake to drop her guard even a little; perhaps she would have been better off to keep moving; it would have been easy enough to leave this morning when he'd left her alone.

Then, again, if she had, she wouldn't have the glasses, which were certainly making a difference, and the movie had been pretty cool, too. Outside of the occasional film in school, she had never been to a movie before.

But maybe now was the time to get out. She had felt a sense of unease several times when her scar had hurt, but never as strong as tonight, and even after the bleeding had stopped, this feeling had remained; she could still feel it even now; it was as if she were being watched. But somehow, she did not think that leaving would make any difference; whatever it was, this touched her directly, not the place where she happened to be.

Then there was Joe. He was a hard one to figure out; he did not seem to have the same motivations as anyone she had encountered before, and in some ways that was troubling. If she at least had a handle on what someone's angle was, that would at least make it possible to figure out where she stood, but she was still uncomfortable about where she was here. He'd spent a lot on her today - she'd been shocked at how much the glasses and the spare pair he had insisted on had cost - and the lessons she'd learned about the way of the world kept telling her that there was a mounting debt that would have to be paid.

On the other hand, this... clean sheets, clean clothes, and decent meals... well, it was pretty attractive. But Joe was really taking far too much interest in her, and she couldn't shake the feeling that he knew more about her than he let on. And some of the books he had - the titles had jumped out at her with the glasses - were pretty scary: vampires and monsters and other weird stuff like that... and these looked like serious books, not novels. And the direction some of his questions had taken touched on that... and worse, put some things she could remember into perspectives that were distinctly uncomfortable.

She shifted, trying to get comfortable, but sleep was elusive. No matter what she did, it seemed that things never worked out like she had planned... or hoped. Atlanta was certainly not what she had expected; for one thing, there had been a lot more cops that she had anticipated, and the tales the other street kids told made it clear that the local authorities wanted all of her kind out of sight well before the Olympic Games. So much for her dreams of several weeks of good pickings.

But to continue to stay here was to risk getting comfortable, and the few times she had done that had never worked out well. And Joe, from the little things he had said in passing, clearly moved around pretty often. There was no indication there was any room for anyone else in all that; otherwise, he would not be alone now. And it would be better to leave on her terms than on his.

Her ankle was still not fully healed. She sighed, and rolled again. What could it hurt to give it at least another day, or even two? If nothing else, he seemed to be willing to trust her, and if he continued to go out as he did today, it would be easy to leave when she wanted to. That decided, she continued to turn restlessly for some time before finally falling into a fitful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry awoke abruptly as a hand lightly touched his shoulder. "I'm sorry to wake you in such a fashion, but time is short," Perenelle said. "You both must rise now."

Harry felt Ginny stirring and reached for his glasses. As the world came into focus, he looked at the clock and found it was a few minutes after 7:00. "What's going on?" Harry asked.

"Events are in motion," Perenelle replied. "We received word a short time ago that Draco and Narcissa Malfoy arrived by Floo at The Leaky Cauldron, carrying bags as if prepared to travel. They immediately entered Muggle London and entered a waiting vehicle."

"I thought Mrs. Malfoy was at Hogwarts," Ginny objected, still somewhat sleepy.

"She is," Perenelle replied. "We suspect this may actually be Bellatrix, though we cannot be certain. And from what was overheard, we believe their destination to be the Heathrow airport."

"What do we need to do?" Harry asked.

"Prepare to travel. Pack Muggle clothing for a week; most likely you will need clothing suitable for very warm weather, but be prepared for the possibility of cooler weather as well. And include at least one robe. In short, be as prepared as possible for a range of possibilities. And pack your brooms as well," Perenelle replied, as she moved toward the door. "As soon as you are ready, bring your kit and meet downstairs in the kitchen."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Half an hour later Harry and Ginny entered the kitchen. Ginny had transfigured their trunks into backpacks, while Harry had shrunk their brooms and most of their other belongings; they had decided on the backpacks after deciding it might be difficult to add or remove items from shrunken trunks. Ron and Hermione were preparing plates for themselves; Perenelle, Sirius, Snape, and a very pale-looking Remus sat around the table.

After preparing plates for themselves, Harry and Ginny claimed places at the table. After tucking in, Ginny asked, "Where's Mum?"

"She went upstairs a few minutes ago to check on Penny and Madam Pomfrey," Sirius replied. "Uh... she's not very happy right now with some of us." Harry felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach; he had a pretty good idea why.

"How are you feeling, Professor Lupin?" Hermione asked.

"Better than I look," Lupin replied with a wry grin. "Professor Snape was able provide a potion that has helped a great deal in just the last half hour." Snape gave Lupin a sour look for a moment, and then seemed to catch himself and his expression quickly became neutral.

"What are we doing?" Harry asked. "What did we pack for?"

"We are still waiting for confirmation of the destination of Draco Malfoy and whoever is posing as Narcissa," Perenelle replied. "If their destination is as we expect, we will attempt to confirm it, and either head there, or perhaps directly to Atlanta. The investigators are also attempting to find out if they can determine the Malfoys' destination. After you finish..."

Perenelle stopped as Sirius picked up his communicator from the table in front of him; Harry thought he recognized Charlie's voice, but he wasn't certain. After listening for several moments, he glanced at Perenelle, who nodded. Sirius said into the communicator, "Thanks, Charlie. We're going on to Biggin Hill shortly." He set it down, then said, "Okay, gang, hurry up and finish. Looks like we're going somewhere, anyway. Charlie confirmed they were heading to Heathrow."

The four teens rushed through their breakfast; as they finished, the group around the table began to stand and move toward the center of the room. Harry noticed that Perenelle had the key ring that had been used several times as a Portkey. As Harry stood and carried his and Ginny's plate to the sink, Molly entered and realized that they were about to depart. She went first to Ron, then to Hermione, and then to Ginny, where she stayed the longest, hugging and whispering with each of them. Then she moved to Harry and pulled him into a hug and whispered, "Please be careful, Harry. You don't have to do this."

"I do, Mum. You've shown me just how important family is. But we'll be careful, and I'll take good care of Ginny."

"I know you will, son." That last word shook Harry; suddenly it was very hard to continue along this path that he knew would worry Molly so much. "And let her and the others take care of you," Molly added.

Harry nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak. He turned and moved toward the others, who had gathered around Perenelle. She said briskly, "I have communicators for the four of you," as she passed them out to the four students. "Brian and Nicholas prepared these before their departure this morning. I will instruct you in their use later today. Are we ready?"

As she held out the Portkey, all of them touched it, and a moment later Perenelle triggered it. Harry felt the familiar tug behind his navel. A moment later, they were standing in a lounge with dark wooden paneling; there were several sofas and chairs scattered about; a table on one wall held juices and pastries. Bill Weasley and Jon Howe were rising from their seats as the group arrived.

Howe wasted no time. He approached Sirius and said, "Our people were able to find out about the Malfoys' travel plans. Narcissa and Draco are traveling under their own names; they are booked on the morning Concorde flight from London to New York..."

"So we should head to New York," Sirius interrupted.

"No, there's more," Howe replied. "In New York, they are making a connection to another flight that will take them to Atlanta. And another passenger is joining them there, Sirius. Lucius Malfoy. But if you head directly to Atlanta, you will be a few hours ahead of them, even though they are taking the Concorde to New York."

"Why would they travel like Muggles?" Harry asked.

"Lucius would certainly want to avoid any of the normal magical means," Howe said after a moment's thought. "Very few wizards are capable or daring enough to Apparate through such great distances, and a Portkey of that sort would be quite hard to come by on short notice and quietly. Many of the same reasons, actually, that Sirius selected the method he did." He turned back to Sirius and handed him a thick leather folder. "This has all the travel documents you... requested. Passports, an itinerary, hotel reservations, two vehicles... I assume you and at least of one the others can handle a SUV?"

Sirius nodded and Howe continued. "All the details are in there. You'll be flying into Peachtree-Dekalb airport, which is smaller airport north of the city, similar to Biggin Hill." Howe thought carefully through the arrangements he had made, then added as he looked over the group, "Some of you are Muggle born, right? And know about mobiles?"

"I am, and I do," Hermione said.

Howe pulled two mobile phones from his coat pocket. "The instruction manuals for these are in the folio Sirius has. These will work both here and in the U. S. Sirius, you should keep one on you, and if you should need to split up, there will be one to send with each group. For now, here's one for you, and I'm going to hand the other one to Ms. Granger for now. Is there anything I've missed?"

"It sounds like you've done the usual superb job, Jon." Sirius said. "Anyone else?"

When no one spoke up, Howe said, "Be careful, all of you. The US is a bit different from what you're used to, and some things don't work quite the same way. For example, wizards are far more integrated and familiar with Muggle society there than they are here. And the Yanks can be a bit peculiar, and you're heading into a town that's already stirred up over the big sports event happening there in a few weeks, and according to everyone I've talked to, things are strange and there's a lot of paranoia. Be careful. I'd rather not have to untangle any legal problems across the pond if at all possible. Are you ready?"

"We're just missing Charlie," Bill said.

Howe nodded. "Why don't all of you wait here, and I'll take Sirius and Harry out to the plane and introduce them to the flight crew, and we'll join you back here in a few minutes."

Bill nodded, and Howe led Sirius and Harry outside through a set of double doors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You actually paid more than one thousand Galleons for this... this... cramped, crowded, noisy, uncomfortable, Muggle-filled conveyance?" Draco drawled sarcastically. "Your standards are..." he paused, seeing the look in her eyes, "not what I would have expected." Draco had backed off as much as he could from what he had intended to say, but he could tell his aunt was rather angry even so.

"Watch your tongue," Bellatrix whispered savagely. "It would not be wise for you to draw unwanted attention, or you might find yourself swimming home... after a long fall. And for your information, it was well over a thousand Galleons. Each. Your comfort was not a consideration; this was the fastest suitable transportation, and speed is essential."

"Will you at least tell me what this charade is about?" Draco asked, this time more quietly.

"Let's just say that You-Know-Who thought there might actually be a use for your natural proclivities... for a change," his aunt replied. "Save the rest of your inane questions for Lucius."

Draco shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, and then closed his eyes, hoping sleep would spare him from both the trip and his aunt's company.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Actually, I think it's brilliant," Ron said, smirking. He and the other three students sat around a small table in the rear of the small charter jet. Ron and Hermione, sitting beside each other on one side of the table, were holding a copy of that morning's Daily Prophet, one of three copies Charlie had brought with him. In the forward part of the aircraft, Remus held another copy with Sirius reading over his shoulder, and Charlie was sharing the final copy with Bill, sitting together on the sofa in the middle section of the cabin. Charlie had tossed a copy on the table after the pilot told them they could take off their seatbelts, and Hermione had managed to grab it first.

Harry gave Ron a betrayed look; Ron merely grinned before adding, "Better you than me, mate, and I figure if I keep a copy or two of this around, you won't be having much to say about me and Hermione."

Hermione gave Ron a disapproving look before quietly saying, "I think it was sweet... and romantic."

"You thought Lockhart was romantic," Harry said, annoyed. "Can I at least see what you're chortling about?"

Ron folded the paper and handed it to Harry, still snickering, as Hermione returned his annoyed glare. Harry opened it and groaned after looking at the front page; Ginny took it as he started to let it fall to the table. The front page was topped by two headlines in huge type: "BONES!!!" on the left side, and "POTTERS???" on the right. Under each was a picture, one showing Amelia Bones waving and nodding as she was declared Minister for Magic; the other depicted Ginny throwing her arms around Harry and the two of them kissing - it seemed to go on a lot longer than he remembered - until they finally broke apart, blushing and turning toward the camera, looking surprised.

"It's not that bad, Harry," Ginny said softly.

"Look at what it says under the picture," Harry replied. Ginny saw the caption, in large type, "Mrs. Harry Potter???" and then, only slightly smaller, "The Boy Who Lived and The Girl Who Loves Him Sack Fudge!"

"It's true, isn't it?" Ginny said. "I know you don't like them to use The Boy Who Lived, but that's just how the papers work. Besides, it's worth it if Rita sent a copy to Cho." She grinned at Harry, but when he didn't grin back, she asked, "You're not ashamed of me, are you?"

Harry looked startled. "No! Of course I'm not."

Ginny took his hand. "Then don't let it bother you. I'm perfectly happy being The Girl Who Loves Him. I'm sure there'll be some teasing when we get back to Hogwarts, but it'll die out after a few days. And I'd rather it be out in the open, even like this, than trying to hide it. And look, they at least got my name right this time."

"You did announce it about sixteen times," Ron commented. "Though maybe that headline should have said '...and The Girl Who Snogs Him.'"

"Or maybe they'll ignore us if something else new comes along," Harry thought through their link, along with a touch of his annoyed feelings towards Ron. "Maybe I should loan Colin my cloak and ask him to get some pictures of Ron and Hermione."

"We'll think of something. Ron's gong to pay for that last one."

"They're doing it again," Ron whispered to Hermione. She nodded, but didn't look nearly as amused as Ron did.

Sirius and Remus walked toward the back of the plane; both had wide grins. Harry, facing forward, noticed their approach and said, "Don't you two start in, too."

"Come on, Harry, relax," Sirius said. "If they get the Prophet on the other side, James is going around to everyone he knows saying, 'That's my boy! And they got Fudge, too.'"

"Huh?" Harry asked.

"James would have been far more impressed by the picture and where it was taken than just throwing the election. He was never that much into politics," Sirius explained.

Remus nodded his agreement and then added, "It did have a certain... flare. James certainly would have loved it. I'm just sorry I missed all the excitement."

"Are you feeling okay now?" Hermione asked.

"Better than I expected," Remus replied. "Whatever it was Professor Snape gave me really did the trick. But I would like a cup of tea. Hermione, would you give me a hand in the galley? I have enough trouble in a wizard kitchen."

Hermione rose and they went further back into the aircraft; Sirius dropped into the chair she had vacated. As he settled, Harry asked, "I let it slide last night, but I really want to know what's been going on."

"You know most of it, this charter and all the stuff related to it," Sirius replied. "Jon played a few games; we're not traveling under our own names, and the packet he handed me at the airport this morning had two sets of identification for each of us. The real ones aren't so bad, other than technically; we didn't really have the authority to do them for Ron and Hermione. And the fake ones; well, in addition to the names, they all say the four of you are eighteen."

"Eighteen?" Ginny asked. "Why eighteen?"

"That's the age of majority in America," Hermione said as she returned; with Sirius in her chair, she leaned against the credenza.

"We also played rather fast and loose with immigration and other official stuff," Sirius continued. "You heard about as much as I know from Jon last night about the investigators, and you've seen all the stuff Jon's given me."

"What about Portland?" Harry asked.

"Portland?" Sirius asked.

"You mentioned Portland last night, when Jon Howe first called," Harry reminded Sirius; Ron nodded as well.

"That's not related to this at all, Harry," Sirius replied.

"What's it about?" Harry asked.

"Hey, you've got a birthday coming up. Your godfather's entitled to a few secrets until then," Sirius said with a grin. Harry looked at him suspiciously, but Sirius' expression did not change; Harry didn't really believe him, but decided not to push it right now.

Remus came forward with a tray with several cups and a glass coffee pot of hot water; he offered everyone tea; only Sirius accepted, then Remus continued on to the front of the cabin. Sirius stood as well and apologized to Hermione for taking her seat, and also returned to the front.

During their flight, Perenelle showed them how to use the communicators, and Hermione went over the mobile phones with everyone other than Snape, who claimed to be familiar with them. Sirius passed out their ID cards and documents; the name on Ron's fake ID was Ronan Wilson, Harry's listed his as Harris Prescott, Ginny's bore the name Virginia Wilson, and Hermione's read Jane Greystoke.

Sirius explained, "When these were made, Jon tried to keep the first names as close to your real names as he could, and we kept the last initial the same, but we couldn't come up with anything for Hermione, but I remembered her middle name was Jane, so we used that instead. You should at least be ready to respond to those names; all the reservations were made that way. In fact, it'd be a good idea if you commit all the info on your ID to memory."

"Jane Greystoke?" Hermione asked incredulously. "Just who came up with that?"

"Jon, his assistant, and me," Sirius replied. "I thought it had a posh, society-girl type ring to it. There's a Greystoke castle, you know."

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she looked closely at Sirius, but he seemed to have no idea what she was objecting to. Ron and Ginny also had blank looks, but she couldn't decide if Harry was successfully holding back a smirk or not. Hoping it was the latter, she decided to let it drop for now. Fortunately, before anyone asked a question, Ginny spoke up.

"Why does everyone insist on trying to make me a Virginia?" Ginny grumbled as Ron whispered something to Hermione, who fought to suppress a grin before giving Ron a disapproving look.

"Because we didn't want Voldemort's followers to be able to find us like we did the Malfoys," Sirius answered. "We kept the first names as close as possible so that if someone calls you or hears the four of you talking, there's less chance of a slipup; Virginia's close to Ginny, Harris is close to Harry, and Ronan is close to Ron; only Hermione needs to remember to respond to Jane - especially from the hotel staff and things like that. And no one will wonder if they hear you call a Virginia Ginny. But it might not be a bad idea of Hermione went by Jane for now, even when it's just us."

"Jane is a bit shorter," Harry said.

Damn him, Hermione thought. I still don't know if he's ever read the books or would make the connection even if he had.

"But somehow, plain-Jane just doesn't fit Hermione," Ron said. "Though I bet even Krum could get it right after a few tries."

Hermione was about to make a retort, but Ron was saved by Perenelle's arrival. She asked Ron and Hermione to sit with her for a few moments, pointing to the sofa in the middle of the cabin; she wanted to talk to them about the morning when they had succeeded in reaching Sirius. They stood and moved to the sofa and Sirius went forward at the same time and took one of the empty seats in the middle section. Bill and Charlie had moved into two of the four forward seats and were talking with Remus; Snape, who had been sitting in the forward part of the cabin, stood up and walked back towards the rear of the small jet.

When the Potions Master reached the area where Harry and Ginny remained sitting, he paused for a moment and then took one of the unoccupied chairs. To both Harry and Ginny, it seemed as if Snape had been gathering his resolve before taking the chair; it was certainly a reversal of the usual sequence of events; both had stood outside his office door or classroom many times in a similar fashion.

Snape looked toward Harry and said, "Potter," with a slight nod, then looked at Ginny and hesitated before continuing though his tone remained civil, "and I suppose you are now going by Potter as well."

"Actually, Professor, it really hasn't come up," Ginny replied. "I'd planned to remain Ginny Weasley until after Hogwarts, at least until yesterday, but that seems rather pointless now. Potter is fine, or you can just call me Ginny."

Snape nodded briefly once and then asked, "What do either of you know of Nimue, or of her descendant, Cassandra Trelawney?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco moved through the airport, carrying his bag, trying to avoid being jostled about by the crowd of Muggles streaming through the same passageway. The flight over had been noisy and cramped, then they had been treated like common criminals as they passed through customs; one of the inspectors had threatened Draco with a strip search after he had made a surly reply. Bellatrix had quickly smoothed things over, mostly with her wand, Draco suspected, and now, after all that, here he was again, surrounded by more sweaty, stinking Muggles who pushed along and bumped up against him like he wasn't there or was no more than a peasant beneath their boots. Draco's hand itched for his wand, to put a few of these Muggles in their proper place, but he was very much aware of Bellatrix's presence beside him, and frankly, she made him rather nervous.

The wide hallway they were moving through finally opened into a large hall, and the crowd quickly spread out; Draco recognized his father, standing and looking in their direction, perhaps a hundred feet away. Draco made a slight adjustment to their course, and Narcissa must have seen Lucius about the same time; she also made a minute adjustment to her direction.

As they reached Lucius, Draco thought something seemed out of place until he realized Lucius was not carrying his customary cane. Lucius made a slight bow toward Bellatrix and said, "Bellatrix," and then looked at Draco and said without bowing, "Draco."

Draco nodded his head somewhat deeper than Lucius had to Bellatrix and replied, "Father."

Lucius made an obvious point of looking Draco up and down before saying, "I had no idea your wardrobe was so... lacking. You dress is not even proper for a manual laborer, let alone a Malfoy."

"I was trying to look the part, Father. Aunt Bella suggested that I should not want to draw any attention to us, and so I attempted to dress as most other Muggles my age do." Draco nodded to a group of teens who walked nearby, with jeans and other clothing more tattered than Draco's.

"It is not necessary, Draco, to attempt to look as if you were a member of the working class or some sort of bohemian."

"It was clear from our trip that Draco has inadequate exposure to the Muggle world," Bellatrix said, "In fact..."

Lucius cut her off, "Yes; that is perhaps to be expected; after all, even though he is a Malfoy and my son, your disloyal and faithless sister coddled him. I suppose the Black family history should have been a warning given how your sister and Sirius turned out. But I will be much more involved with Draco from this point forward. It is clear that there has been more than enough feminine influence." He pulled a watch on a gold chain from his pocket. "We have a connection to make." He started walking, not even looking to see if they followed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry and Ginny exchanged a quick glance. This was the strangest conversation with the Potions Professor that either of them could remember. First, the questions he had asked had been just that - questions; there were no wrong answers, a vast departure from Harry's experience where there was never a right answer - even if an answer was correct, it would be assessed as being delivered with the wrong attitude or with some other flaw, usually resulting in the loss of points as well. Secondly, Snape seemed to actually be interested in their replies. They had both known something about Nimue, of course, but very little about her later life, which seemed to be where Snape's interest was focused. And they had both known that Cassandra Trelawney was a famous seer, but not a lot more beyond the brief outline listed on her Magic Frog card and that she was somehow related to the current Divination Professor.

"You could, no doubt, tell me quite a bit more about the various Goblin Wars," Snape wryly remarked, though his expression did not change. Both Ginny and Harry nodded, a little surprised. Neither could recall Snape ever making a comment this close to a joke before.

"What should we know about Cassandra Trelawney?" Ginny had asked, perhaps emboldened by Snape's manner.

Snape's eyes flashed for a fraction of a moment, but he replied after a thoughtful pause, "She is regarded as the most significant seer of the past two centuries. Not only did she make several prophecies that came true in every detail, she gave new insight into what Nimue, her ancestor, had written well over a millennium before. Of course, not all of her prophecies... have yet been fulfilled." Snape paused for a moment, looking between the two of them thoughtfully. Finally he added, "The Headmaster could tell you more. They were contemporaries, though he finds it a difficult subject."

"Why?" Ginny had asked, almost as if forgetting who she was asking.

"She was killed by Grindelwald," Snape replied, as if that should explain it. He then shifted the subject slightly. "You both might find it... useful... to spend some time reading about both of them, particularly their prophecies."

"Is this homework for Potions, Professor?" Harry asked, carefully.

"No, Mr. Potter, merely a suggestion," Snape replied, with just a bit of his familiar sour scowl showing through for the first time. "However, you would also be well advised spend a significant amount of time revising Potions theory if you intend to continue in my class. As improbable as it seems, you have managed to obtain an acceptable overall score on your OWL, though your performance on the theoretical portion of the exam was rather lacking. The material to be covered in the NEWT class does not allow time for remedial instruction."

"I will, Professor," Harry replied.

"Did you mention OWL scores, Professor?" Hermione inquired as she moved beside them and leaned against the credenza again. Ron stood beside her, and Perenelle next to him.

Snape turned, then seemed to deflate slightly before answering, "Yes, Ms. Granger. It is still Granger, and not Weasley?" Noting Hermione's expression with a raised eyebrow, he continued on, "As you are no doubt aware, your performance on the exam was almost adequate. Your theory was acceptable, your practical somewhat less so. Nonetheless, you have the option, like Potter, of taking NEWT Potions. Some work on your technique, especially in using your eyes and other senses and thinking as opposed to blindly following directions, would be appropriate."

Ron looked at Snape with a mixture of hope and dread displayed on his face. Snape looked at him for several moments before shaking his head and saying, "And then there's Mr. Weasley.... Your work was not remotely close to NEWT standards; you managed only an 'E' in the practical portion of the exam, and a second 'E' by the smallest of margins in the theoretical." He paused and gave Perenelle an annoyed glance before continuing. "However, the Headmaster has directed that, given the situation with the Dark Lord and the overall dismal performance of this year's OWL class, students with an overall of 'E' will be permitted to take the course on a provisional basis, should they so choose. Thus, Mr. Weasley, you may attempt to sit the class, but it will not be the leisurely pace to which you have become accustomed the past five years. And at the first sign of unacceptable performance, you will be dropped from the roll."

Ron's face again showed a mix of emotions. "Er, thank you, Professor," he said.

"Professor Snape, do you have any suggestions as to where we should concentrate our revision?" Hermione asked.

"I believe I have already answered that for you, Ms. Granger. Instead of following the instructions by rote, pay closer attention to the details of how the potion is to look, smell, or feel, and make adjustments to your work accordingly. Potions is an art, unlike making scones from a tin," Snape replied, looking rather put upon. "Potter, as I said earlier, is lacking in his understanding of theory, in particular of how various substances and ingredients interact. Mr. Weasley suffers from insufficient attention to detail, a sloppiness in his technique, ignorance of how small changes in preparation can have significant impacts, and a lack of understanding of interactions similar to Mr. Potter."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said. "We'll be ready. All of us."

Snape looked as if he were choking back a reply as he stood. Perenelle gave him a slight smile as she said, "Perhaps, Severus, you might spend some time with them when we return to Headquarters. Nicholas had planned to work with them, but perhaps that time would be better spent introducing you to the Book of Abraham the Jew."

"I... I... will give it... serious consideration," Snape replied, a strange expression on his face. He glanced at the four students before moving toward the front.

Perenelle said with a faint smile, "Sometimes a carrot... Would all of you mind coming toward the front? I believe we can all get a bit closer together, and we need to discuss what we will do when we arrive."

The teens followed her into the middle section of the small jet. The two front section chairs had been turned sideways, facing each other, as well as one of seats across from the couch, resulting in nine seats more or less facing each other. The four teens squeezed together on the sofa which was clearly intended only for three by the number of seat belts present.

Perenelle took charge. "When we arrive," she said, "we should be almost two hours ahead of the flight the Malfoys are taking from New York. Severus, Sirius, Bill, and Charlie will leave as quickly as possible for the Atlanta Airport, and attempt to observe their arrival and track their destination. It is my hope that our presence is unexpected. Remus, the students, and I will proceed to our hotel. It is located in a part of Atlanta known as 'Midtown' that is between the business district to the south and an entertainment and commercial district to the north. It is near a major university, so our students should not appear to be out of place, and it is centrally located."

"What then?" Harry asked. He was not intending to wait quietly at some hotel.

"We will unpack and get settled," Perenelle replied. "We have two adjacent suites reserved. Then we shall react according to how events unfold. Do not think we will sit idly by, Harry."

"Do we have any idea what forces Voldemort already has here?" Charlie asked.

"I would guess at least six to eight Death Eaters in addition to Malfoy and Lestrange," Snape replied. "I would not expect many more; not many of the Dark Lord's followers are adept at moving among the Muggles. It is possible they are not all in Atlanta yet."

Perenelle nodded. "True, though there is no doubt that Voldemort's efforts are now focused on Atlanta, as are ours. Still, it appears that we each have roughly the same numbers, though hopefully we will have more of an element of surprise."

"We should have thought to use the address writer," Hermione said.

"Once we are settled, we will contact Minerva, and she will do just that," Perenelle replied. "We attempted it once at Hogwarts. It did not react at all to the name Jamie Potter; however, Lena Rosier produced an address of 'Stuck In Traffic, Interstate 85 North, Atlanta, Georgia, U. S A.' We thought to attempt it again when we were here."

"Doesn't the address writer know a person's home address?" Ron asked. "My letters always arrive at home whether I'm there or not."

"It can be directed to do either," Perenelle replied, "Either the home address or the current location." Harry nodded, remembering the flocks of owls that had followed them all over Britain before his first year. "However, in the case of Lena Rosier, the address writer failed to react when directed to write a home address. Thus, our best chance seems to be to make the attempt again, and hope it is a nearby location that we can identify and reach quickly."

"How about the investigators?" Harry asked.

"Three of them will meet us at the airport," Sirius replied. "The other two should join you at the hotel. Hopefully by the time we get there, they will have had time to find out exactly what was going on that caused them to look up her file. Don't push these guys too hard, Harry. They aren't real happy about us getting directly involved."

"I thought it was our money and your party," Harry grinned.

"Even so, we would do far better to have their help than lose it," Perenelle said. "Particularly at this point. Fear not, Sirius, I have dealt with this sort before."

The discussion continued until the pilot announced they were starting their approach and that everyone should put on their seat belts, particularly given some rough air they would be descending through.

As the four teens returned to their original positions in the back of the cabin, Ron said, "How did Snape know our OWL results when we haven't seen them yet?"

"Nicholas Flamel knew some of the Defense results several days ago," Harry replied.

"I suppose it makes a certain amount of sense," Hermione said, "that Hogwarts would get the results first. I just wish I knew what the rest of the scores were."

"Probably came this morning since none of us are there," Ron said.

This thought seemed to worry Hermione. "Perhaps we can use the communicator to check with your Mum," she said to Ron.

"They'll be there when we get back," Harry said. "Besides, we all know how you did. Only Ron and I have anything to worry about."

"I'm not confident of several scores. I know I made several mistakes," Hermione said. "And the Astronomy Final was very confused. And...."

"Okay, okay, I'm sure we'll end up talking to Mum at some point," Ron said. "I'll ask if they came. You want her to open yours and read them?"

Hermione looked a little worried before saying, "I'll think about it. Probably."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later found them on the ground, through a cursory customs check, and in a large SUV on a multilane freeway. Remus drove, while Hermione sat beside him in the front passenger seat, trying to make sense of the road map. Ron and Perenelle sat behind them, and Harry and Ginny were in the back of the vehicle.

"I thought the traffic was supposed to be really bad here," Hermione said.

"Today's a holiday." Lupin grinned at her. "You'd best keep a close eye on the map."

"I only hope Sirius and the others have no problems reaching their destination," Perenelle said.

Another half hour and they had reached the hotel. They did not have any problems finding it; the exits were well marked, and their destination was only a short distance from the motorway, or freeway as it was apparently called here.

After they had checked in and were walking toward the elevators, a man wearing a rather loosely-fitting sport coat approached Perenelle and asked, "Madam Flamel?"

She nodded and he continued, "I believe you were expecting us," as another man, similarly dressed, joined them. "Perhaps we might continue this upstairs?"

Perenelle nodded again, and when they reached the elevators, the first elevator to arrive was half full. Perenelle and the two investigators took it, leaving the four teens and Remus to wait for the next car.

They had been checked in by a young clerk who seemed to be fascinated by their accents and Ron's red hair, and Ron had seemed to enjoy her attention just a little too much from Hermione's point of view. As they rode the elevator to their rooms, she was giving Ron the cold shoulder and he was trying to figure out what was upsetting her, and was not getting much in the way of cooperation or having much success.

On reaching their floor, they saw Perenelle and the two investigators entering a doorway at the end of the corridor. A short time later, they had all settled around a table in the suite, and Perenelle asked, "Where shall we begin?"

The man who had first approached her replied, "Well, first, you can call me John, and my partner, there, Sam. These aren't our real names; it just what we use on the job, nothing personal. I'm a wizard, Sam's a tech." Seeing their puzzled looks, he explained, "In the U. S., the word Muggle has sort of fallen out of favor. Techs are those who use technology instead of magic. Anyway, Sam's an okay guy, even though I still don't think he's fully convinced that magic is real."

His partner's expression didn't change other than one raised eyebrow as he continued, "Now, let's see, Ma'am, you've already told us you're Madam Flamel, and the older gent must be Mr. Lupin, the lycanthrope. And the two young red-heads would be the Underecretary's son and daughter, Ron and Ginny Weasley." Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance, but said nothing. "The other young lady must be Ms. Granger, and it would be hard not to recognize Harry Potter, even on this side of the pond."

"You have clearly done your homework," Lupin commented dryly.

"We try to have the best possible understanding we can of our clients and their requirements," John replied. "And having Harry Potter involved and Madam Perenelle - who has rarely been seen in public for the past two centuries and who is reportedly the oldest person alive - openly here with him makes this the most interesting op I've worked on in a long time."

"You have indeed done some homework," Perenelle said, "though I'm afraid your research is off by one and some of your other information is dated as well; for example, Arthur Weasley is now the Secretary of Magical Law Enforcement. But here and now that matters little; what of the task at hand?"

"We got into Atlanta late last night," John replied. "There wasn't a great deal we could do then, other than check into the hotel and call the home office for any news or updates. But this morning we got an early start. You know there are five of us here, right? We split into three teams: two of our guys made some inquiries with the local juvenile authorities; Chris - that's the boss on this operation - made a few calls on some of the private groups that work with street kids and runaways; and Sam and I went to see what we could find out from that precinct office where the last database inquiry was made. We were able to narrow the query down to one particular detective, but he was out all morning. He's expected back in the office later this afternoon, and we're planning to head back there after we wrap up here.

"Anyway, the team - that's Rick and Carl, by the way - doing the local JV stuff didn't turn up anything, so we're about ninety-nine percent sure that she's not being held in one of the detention centers, at least in the Atlanta area. Chris had a little more luck; no one actually knew anything useful, but a couple of the other kids claimed to recognize her and said she was in the area, so we've got additional confidence that she's somewhere nearby. And as of about an hour ago, there hadn't been any more hits on her records."

"The other kids... I mean, the ones who had seen her, were they wizards?" Harry asked.

"No," John replied. "They were - well, it's hard to call these kids techs - about as Muggle as you can get. Occasionally I've heard of wizard kids running away or striking out on their own before their parents thought they should, but I can't ever remember hearing of one living on the streets like, er, your sister has."

"Is there some way I could... well, meet them?" Harry pressed.

John and Sam looked at each other for a moment, then Sam shrugged, as if to say, "It's up to you," and John turned back toward Harry. He sat for a minute or so, drumming his fingers on the table, then replied. "Kid, you really need a dose of objective reality, so I'm going to give it to you straight. You really shouldn't be here, none of you should. First, it's not the way we work: when we get an assignment, we go deal with it until the job is done or the job can't be done. We do our thing and hopefully deliver the results you wanted, and all that time you're supposed to be going about your business and letting us handle all the risk and worry. We normally drop any project immediately when the client insists on getting directly involved.

"This particular case wasn't so simple; when the big boss told the guy who'd been fronting for you that we were off the job, a couple hours later the phone rang and the Secretary of Magic was on the line and asking him to change his mind. And the big guy doesn't change his mind very often, either. Seems this 'request' didn't come directly from your Minister of Magic to our Secretary, which would be the usual channels - not that the Department of Magic getting involved with what we do can be called usual, mind you - but the 'request' came by way of Number Ten Downing Street and Sixteen Hundred Pennsylvania Avenue instead. So on top of everything else, you're political, too." John's tone implied that being political was not a good thing.

"What are those addresses he was talking about?" Harry asked Hermione.

"He means it went through the Prime Minister's office to the U. S. White House," she replied. Of those who had traveled from England, only Perenelle seemed unsurprised.

"Yeah, what you'd call highest level official channels. Anyway, the call was made, a couple arms were twisted, and here we all are, so we deal with it the best we can. But, Kid, you've got to understand that you're what we call a high value target. It's distracting enough having you here at all, but having you out in public where you could be targeted or have a hostage rescue scenario develop isn't going to make the job easier. We don't have the manpower or the firepower to keep you safe."

"I'm not concerned..." Harry started to say, but was interrupted by Sam, who spoke for the first time in a gravelly voice.

"But I am, Kid. Having something happen to you on our watch wouldn't exactly be a career-enhancing move, you know? I don't understand exactly why you're such a big deal in the magical world, but I do understand you're pretty important. Somebody sure pulled in some markers on your behalf."

Perenelle started to say something, but Harry spoke first. "Look, I don't want to get in your way or interfere with what you're doing, but until a few days ago, none of us... I didn't have a clue that she existed. After she's found, hopefully you can forget about us and go on to your next job, but it's not over for me then; it's just beginning. Anything I can find out now might be an advantage. And we need every advantage we can get, there's a bigger picture here than just finding her."

John and Sam again exchanged a look. "It's only fair to warn you these kids wouldn't be much like anyone you've probably encountered before. You're not going to have much in common..." Harry's expression didn't change. John sighed and said, "Okay, I'll talk to Chris about it, but I really don't think it's a good idea."

"Thank you," Harry said. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

"Stay put, keep a low profile, and don't draw any attention to yourselves," John answered. "I think the Department of Magic already has or at least will shift some Aurors to keep a watch on things here. But things are already confused with the dog and pony show downtown, so don't take any chances."

"What of Lucius Malfoy and his party?" Perenelle asked.

"Chris was planning to talk to Sirius Black," John answered. "Really, it would be better for all of you to just let us handle it, but I guess we'll live with whatever the two of them work out." He looked at his watch, and added, "We need to get back to the precinct station. Anything else?"

"Will you be updating us?" Lupin asked.

"We'll call if there's anything new, and if something should come up, you can call me on this number." John took a business card from a small case that had been in his pocket and wrote down a number that he pushed across the table toward Perenelle and Lupin. "I put Chris's number on there too. Well, if there's nothing else, I guess we'll be on our way." John and Sam stood, followed by the others, and started toward the door. Just before exiting, John turned toward Perenelle and asked, "Madam Flamel, if you'll permit a personal question, our information was that you were older that M. Flamel. And I'm also curious about what else in our profile was dated."

Perenelle permitted a slight smile for a moment and then said, "Your information is correct as far as Nicholas and I are concerned. I am three years older. However, to the best of my knowledge, I'm the second oldest living person, not the oldest. You have already been told of Arthur Weasley's new responsibilities; you were correct with regard to Ginny's relationship to Arthur, but her surname is no longer Weasley. If you obtain a copy of today's Daily Prophet, all the details are there."

"Then who is the oldest?" John asked, obviously intrigued.

"I suspect the individual in question is just as pleased not to appear in your records," Perenelle replied. "I'm afraid you will have to work that one out on your own."

"I was afraid you'd say something like that," John replied, then turned all business again. "Remember, keep a low profile, and we'll be in touch." John and Sam walked out, closing the door behind them.

Perenelle waited a few moments, then suggested that everyone get settled. They worked out who was stay in which rooms, and a short time later Harry and Ginny found themselves alone together, unpacking and enlarging their belongings to their normal size. Ginny said, "It might have been better if Ron and Hermione had ended up in different suites."

"What was Hermione so upset about anyway?" Harry asked.

"Didn't you notice how that girl at the counter was flirting with him?"

"Yeah, but that's hardly Ron's fault."

"Maybe, but he looked like he was enjoying it too much, and I kind of thought he was flirting back. And he didn't have to do that. And you know something's been bugging her. This didn't help." Ginny paused for a moment, and then looked at Harry until he met her eyes. "Is it because of me, Harry? Did I change things too much between the three of you?"

"No." Harry's tone showed no hint of doubt. "And even if it did, it wasn't because of you, it was because of us. But I really don't think that's it, other than maybe they can see something else is possible. Their arguing is legendary." They both smiled at this. "Do you think I should say something to Ron?"

"Maybe so. He's probably not even figured out what he did wrong yet. If anything, he'd say that he was just being friendly. I really think he cares a lot for her, but there are some things he's still pretty clueless about."

"I thought we both were."

"You used to be... but not so much, not any more. You've grown, Harry." Ginny looked down for a moment before adding, "Sometimes, so much that it almost scares me. Like with those guys just a little while ago."

"If I have, you've made it possible. By myself, I can't even get my hair to lay halfway flat."

Ginny giggled at that, the darkening mood that had been creeping up on her dissipating. "I'm going to keep working on that, and eventually I'm going to get it flat. Then the Prophet can write about The Boy Who Lived and The Girl Who Tamed His Unruly Hair."

"That sounds more like something that'd be in Teen Witch Weekly," Harry said, as they walked back into the living room of the suite.


Author notes: Com'on, review. Reviews do speed the next chapter along. Really.