Reign O'er Me

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Chapter 21 - Let's See Action

I don't know where I'm going,
I don't know what I need,
But I'll get to where I'm gonna end up,
And that's alright by me.

- Let's See Action, The Who

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Joe was about to leave the mission office for the day when the phone rang. Another ten seconds, and he'd have been safely out the door - but his sense of duty won out, and shaking his head, he returned to his desk and picked up the phone.

"Hello? Ponce de..."

"Father?" The voice on the other end interrupted his greeting; Joe recognized the caller as his detective friend from the precinct.

"Yes?"

"Listen, Father, that girl you were asking about a few days ago, the runaway? Level with me, Father, are you mixed up with her? I'm asking personally, not professionally. My cop hat is off."

Joe hesitated for a moment; something very unusual must be up for the detective to ask a question of this sort - particularly in the fashion he had. They had an unspoken agreement about such things. "I suppose I am. She was in the doorway one morning when I arrived here, burning up from a fever and starved. She's..."

"Look, I probably don't need to know any more than that, at least right now. Father, something's up with this kid. It could be something big... or possibly dangerous. There were two guys waiting for me here at the precinct. They had credentials from some agency in Jersey, but I'm not sure if they were real or not. At least one of these guys was military or ex-military, almost certainly Special Forces of some kind. The other guy... he was just downright spooky. I'm sure he knew I was giving him a bunch of malarkey about it being a name we'd run after picking up another kid.

"I've been on the force here for almost 20 years, and I was Military Police before that, and I don't exactly get intimidated very easily, Father. Especially sitting here with Mr. Smith & Wesson in easy reach, and in my own office surrounded by half the cops in the zone. But these two guys scared the... er, dickens out of me."

"Do you have any idea what this might mean?" Joe asked.

"I'm not sure. These weren't the kind of guys who go looking for runaway kids, at least normal kids. These were more like the type you want to hire if you were a billionaire or a head of state and you needed bodyguards, or something dangerous done -- the type that Ross Perot hired to get his people out of Iran. I can't come up with any reason someone would be after a runaway orphan with this kind of muscle unless she ran off with a briefcase from the Pentagon or something."

Joe was becoming concerned: Lena was alone, and he hadn't told her how to reach him here. "Do you think she's in any danger?"

"I really don't know. But I'd be very careful. Some of these guys only play by their own rules."

Joe thought for a moment. "Can you at least tell me what they looked like?"

"I can do better than that. They were caught several times by the security cams as they came in and left; if you drop by on your way home, I'll show you."

Joe considered that for a few seconds; it wasn't much out of the way. "Ok, I'll see you in twenty, maybe thirty minutes, depending on traffic.

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

Sam pulled the speaker bud from his ear, looked at John, and shook his head. "You'd think a cop would know better. He could have at least made it a little challenging and used a payphone or called from somewhere other than his office."

"So he did know something, eh?"

"Yeah, he called some guy he called 'Father.' Odds are some kind of religious type involved with a shelter or something along those lines. Anyway, the guy he called is heading straight to the precinct; should be along in around twenty to thirty minutes. We can make him them, and then play it by ear."

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Aubrey Wilkes was not pleased. Instead of being home, tending his affairs, running his business, he was here - stuck in this sweltering, uncivilized, stinking hole the yanks called a city - and looking for, of all things, a child. Wilkes allowed himself to wonder for a few moments if the Dark Lord had lost it - he had been rather focused on children since his return. At first, it had been the Potter kid this, the Potter kid that - and now, apparently, there were two of the damned brats. And on top of that, there was Lucius Malfoy.

It was bad enough being here, but to have Lucius Malfoy show up now, to take over after he had done the setup, the planning, and the legwork was intolerable. While Malfoy had been careless and had gotten caught, Wilkes had been careful, cagey, and mindful of his master's needs. While Malfoy had been locked away in the Ministry, he had ensured that things continued to run smoothly - at least until that damned Potter bastard had shown up - and that all of the Dark Lord's requirements were met. He knew full well that when they did get the girl, Malfoy would manage to snare the credit and whatever advantage would be granted, regardless of who actually found her. That meant his one shot at this was to find her before Malfoy took over, and it wasn't long until that happened. They were supposed to rendezvous tonight.

He took a deep breath and entered the building. He stated his business to a bored-looking young woman sitting behind the safety glass, and was told to have a seat. Wilkes picked a chair - a straight-backed, uncomfortable wooden chair that had clearly seen better days sometime during the previous century - and settled down to waste still more time.

Ten minutes later he was being escorted back by a uniformed officer to an office. He was announced, and the man sitting at the desk motioned him in and pointed to a chair, which at least had a cushion and was several decades more modern than the antiques in the lobby, but was still uncomfortable.

After a moment, the detective looked up from the papers he had ben pretending to read while getting a read on his guest. "So you're here about the Rosier girl, too. What agency are you from, and what's your interest?"

Wilkes was surprised; clearly someone else had already gotten to this wretched Muggle. "I am not from any agency, sir," Wilkes replied. "I am representing myself. I am Edwin Rosier."

The detective's expression didn't change. "And your interest is?"

Everything he'd heard about the bloody yanks must be true. This one, supposedly a mid-ranking police officer, should have made the connection. "I've been led to believe that you might have some information on my long-lost niece."

"Your long-lost niece, eh?" The detective slowly rolled each word, as if trying to make a connection. "What can you tell me about her?"

Wilkes repeated back many of the details he'd memorized from the girl's file, spinning a story that Electra Rosier had been his sister, who had left home after a family fight over becoming an unwed mother.

The detective listened, his expression unchanging. After Wilkes had finished, the detective sat quietly for several moments, looking at him. Finally he said, "You got some ID?"

Wilkes reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the passport that had been prepared for him. He handed it to the detective, who opened it, looked at it for a few moments, and handed it back. The detective asked, "Just what sort of work do you do, Mr. Rosier?"

"I have a small import-export business," Wilkes replied.

"Oh?" the detective asked. "I'd had you figured for some sort of government official."

"No, I'm afraid not. What gave you that impression, if I might ask?" Wilkes asked, with just a touch of nervousness.

The detective shifted, and suddenly Wilkes found himself looking at some sort of Muggle handgun. "Because business men - even in the import-export business - don't go around carrying diplomatic passports. If that passport were real, you'd have come here with a lot more fanfare, and you'd have started higher on the food chain than with me. Suppose you tell me who you really are, and while you're at it, who those other two guys were earlier this afternoon?"

"I think you really should take another look at the rest of my identification," Wilkes said.

"Take it out, then. Do it very, very slowly. If I have to shoot, it means a lot of paperwork, and I've got another appointment today."

Wilkes reached back into his coat, moving very slowly, but when his hand emerged, it was not holding a passport or what looked like any sort of ID. It looked like some kind of stick. The last thing the detective saw was a flash of green.

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Outside the building, both John and Sam now had ear buds jacked into the listening device. As soon as they heard the word "Avada" they were both out of the car and moving. John was talking into what looked like a cellular phone, and both moved rapidly toward the front entrance of the precinct station. Sam was still listening to the monitoring device.

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

Wilkes calmly returned his wand to his coat as the detective slumped over his desk. Fortunately, there had not been much noise. He stood, glanced around, and then stepped out of the office, closing the door behind him. He then started walking, trying to remember the route he had traveled to get here.

He hadn't traveled far when another uniformed officer walking down the hall said, "Excuse me, sir, but you really shouldn't be in this area without an escort. Who are you here to see?"

"Ah, thank you, officer," Wiles replied. "I'd just finished my meeting, and I was trying to find my way out..."

"I'll show you to the main door. That's where you came in, right?"

Wilkes nodded.

"Okay, that's where you'll need to sign out. This way, sir."

Wilkes heard some sort of commotion start behind them. It had started with a scream, and then there was something about getting an ambulance and a doctor. The uniformed officer also heard, took note of it, and was suddenly giving him a suspicious look. "Sir," the officer demanded, "just who were you meeting with?"

Wilkes didn't answer; at the first noise he had begun reaching for his wand, and again, there was a flash of green. Wilkes looked around quickly as the policeman slumped to the floor. The nearest door was marked Men; perfect, if it were not occupied. Wilkes stepped inside, and, seeing no one, Apparated away just as someone discovered the second officer he had dispatched.

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

John and Sam were standing on the street outside the precinct station, near a bus stop. Sam gave a running commentary from what he was hearing. The detective had been found, and it sounded as if something else had happened as well. A few minutes later, two armed officers took up stations outside the door.

Fortunately for John and Sam, no bus came while they were waiting. The officers by the door had turned away several people who had tried to enter, telling them that an emergency drill was in progress. John noted another man approaching. This one had a clerical collar; perhaps this was their guy. Even better, he was coming from the direction where they had parked. Odds were this was the "Father" they had been watching for. He was trying to enter the station, but he wasn't being turned away like the others had been. One of the officers was saying that he was needed inside at once.

John and Sam exchanged a look; no point in remaining here. Loitering here would draw unwanted attention, and they knew their target had arrived by car - and he'd have to retrace his steps to return to it. They shrugged and headed back towards their vehicle.

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

Joe found himself in a stirred-up hornets' nest. Two officers - both senior men, well-liked, family men - had apparently been murdered, here, inside their own station. There were no visible wounds and no apparent cause of death, just two dead officers - and no explanation other than a visitor who had signed in to see one of them and who must still be somewhere in the building. But whoever this perp was, he should not be able to hide for long; a search had been started, and the internal affairs people were already pulling the video. As Joe was led back, he heard the desk sergeant reading from her logbook to a group of officers, including a grizzled white-haired man in a uniform with a dozen gold hash marks on the sleeve, "...and after that, another man came to see him, alone. He had a funny accent, said it was about a missing relative. He gave his name as Edwin Rosier." Joe almost turned back there, but realized that doing so suddenly without explanation might draw him - and Lena - into the middle of what was going on around here.

No one seemed to know of what faith the fallen uniformed officer was, so Joe said a quick blessing and prayer, and was then led to his friend's office. The detective was no longer in his chair, but had been laid across his desk; his tie had been removed and his shirt had been opened, though no one was with him now.

Joe again said a prayer and blessed his friend. Their conversation of just a few minutes ago kept running through his mind. This had to be related... Joe's reflection was interrupted by the arrival of a pair of paramedics. One of them bent over his friend while the other led him from the room.

He exchanged a few words with an officer who seemed to be in charge, before making some sort of inane excuse - any excuse - to get out of there. Lena was alone and whatever was going on was very serious indeed - deadly serious. She would have to have some idea of what; he had to find out, and also find out how to keep her - them - safe. They couldn't stay at the house; if those people had found their way here, they were no more than a single step away. He allowed himself to be led back to the entrance.

As Joe walked back to his car, he noticed something going on a row over, where two men were apparently being arrested by several police officers. Two men... could it be the two that had called on his friend earlier? Could this Edwin Rosier have been with them? Joe noticed that both men seemed to be watching him; shuddering, he unlocked his car and drove away as quickly as he could. He took an indirect route home, making several unnecessary turns, trying to make sure that no one was following him.

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

Hermione had intended to unpack. She had carried her shrunken pack into the bedroom that she was to share with Perenelle, picked a bed, and set her pack down. She then sat down on the bed, intending to restore her things to normal size and put them away; but whatever had been eating away at her for the past few days suddenly overwhelmed her. Somehow, her hands at least had known what to do; they freed one of the pillows from the comforter, and Hermione collapsed onto it, hoping it would muffle the sobs she was suddenly powerless to stop, and thanking Merlin that she had closed the door behind her.

What was wrong with her? There was work to be done, the last time she had... had lost control like this - she had almost gotten all of them killed by a troll. There was nothing wrong; okay, maybe Ron was being a little bit of a prat, but that was just Ron, nothing to get upset about. She needed to pull herself together now; she didn't want any of them to see her like this. She refused to be like Lavender or Parvati; she used her mind, her knowledge, her logic... not... not... tears. Harry needed her now...

Did he? A voice from somewhere asked. Yes, Harry's finally getting some of his needs met, but you're not part of it. It's Ginny he turns to now. He's outgrown you. He doesn't need you.

But he said... he needed me - we'd not have gotten Sirius back without me - that he's depending on me to... to figure out how....

But did you have the courage to pull it off yourself? No, you went running for help - you have no confidence in your magic, your knowledge - or yourself. Harry's too nice - he'll say what you want to hear because it makes you feel good. Harry's like that. But Harry can't depend on you. He knows that. Ginny has stood up to Voldemort. But you won't even stand behind your own magic.

Harry... Harry's not like that... He wouldn't... not to me... we've been through too much together...

Harry's outgrown you. And Ron is outgrowing you. Ron's thick, not stupid. He's starting to figure it out. He's already said if he weren't seeing you, that he'd be interested in Harry's sister. He's even flirting with Muggle girls. Of course, they're real girls. Not unfeeling, nagging know-it-alls.

But... but... I have... feelings...

Feelings? People with real feelings don't snog and think about how interesting the physiological reactions are. People with real feelings for someone don't wonder how someone else - would compare. But what would anyone expect from a Mudblood? Molly and Arthur Weasley would probably rejoice if their Pureblood son wised up and became interested in someone like Harry's sister. They've never treated you like they have Harry. Did Molly say all seven of her boys... and Ginny and Hermione?

Hermione had not heard the door open and was unaware that she was no longer alone in the room until she felt a hand touch her shoulder and Perenelle softly ask, "What is wrong, ma chère fille?"

Hermione lay there for several moments before she finally turned her head enough to see Perenelle standing beside her, looking concerned. "I... I don't know."

Perenelle motioned for Hermione to move over; and when she did, Perenelle sat beside her and made a motion with her hand. The door, which had been standing ajar, closed. Perenelle asked, "Will you share it with me?

Hermione shook her head slightly, then said, "I'll... I'll be all right. I'm... I'm just tired, I suppose. Jet lag."

"Something has been bothering you for several days, Hermione. Even your friends have become aware of it. Soon we may need to step into harm's way. Child, will you not let me help?"

Pride be damned, she wasn't going to become a liability and hold them back... if she caused them to fail... Harry might really... "Okay. I'm not... sure what..."

"Non, ma petite, not like that," Perenelle said. "Fear not, child, just take my hand and clear your mind... allow yourself to drift..."

Hermione hesitated; she had put together enough clues to realize that Perenelle was either a powerful, skilled Legilimens or something that was close enough that it made no real difference. This... this was a bit more than she'd bargained for... but Ginny had experienced this... and had encouraged her to talk to Perenelle. Well - in for a penny... Hermione took Perenelle's hand.

Hermione felt herself drifting, through the conversation she had just had with herself, through her talks with Harry and Ginny, and with Ron - though that was more than just talk. Then she felt the two of them drift through her memories of the OWL exams and other exams - and then, her memories of the Ministry and the aftermath in the infirmary.

Perenelle freed her hand at last, and looked at her several moments before speaking. "Hermione, were you not given potions to take home with you, that you were to continue taking daily, following the events at the Ministry?"

Hermione nodded, a little guiltily. Those potions were sitting at home - if she could call her parent's house that any more - where she had unpacked them. Before everything had - well, gone crazy - the plan had been that she would be spending her nights at home, as well as some quality time with her parents. "Uh... I guess I... forgot. I was feeling okay...I'd taken most of them before the term ended."

"The curse that bâtard Dolohov used - if you do not complete the treatment - and sometimes even a longer regimen is required - the chances of your becoming anemic are quite high. I believe this may have happened."

"Anemic? But..."

"Anemia sometimes causes mood swings and depression, child. And you already have a disposition towards self-doubt..."

"Self-doubt?" Hermione said, not quite believing what she was hearing.

"Yes, self-doubt. Chérie, how long have you worried about your OWL scores? Even though you know your preparation and execution were excellent, you have still spent hours and hours wondering and worrying about a few minor errors. And this is hardly unique; you have done this time and time again, over every test, every exam - and for naught. Ron and Harry have both called you - justifiably, I might add - the best witch in your year if not in all of Hogwarts - and though the latter is closer to the truth, it still does not fully reflect your gifts."

"But..."

"And, Hermione - you need not doubt Harry's faith in you. If you desire, I believe he would willingly - non, eagerly share that with you, and I would facilitate it. He does in truth place his faith in that it will be you--not Albus Dumbledore, not my Nicholas, but you--who will be the one to help him find the way to overcome Voldemort. His trust in you is steadfast - and he would feel lost without you."

"And Ron?" Hermione asked quietly.

"I do not doubt that he cares greatly for you. Of the four of you, I have spent the least time with him, but his feelings and concern for you are evident. Would you like me to talk with him?"

"No. I... I need to do that." Hermione sighed. "There's a lot we need to talk about... I'm... just not sure where to begin."

Perenelle thought for several minutes before replying. "Harry and Ginny did not find their answer until they had opened themselves totally to each other. Ginny's unintentional inability to do that was what stalled them for a time. But their path has been... unusual, to say the least, and there is more to it than meets the eye or that we yet know. Yet, the underlying truths are the same. If this is what your heart desires, chérie, why do you pursue it with less resolve and intensity than your other pursuits?"

"I... don't know..." Hermione replied, intending to stop there, but the last word slipped out, "...how."

"What do you do when you need an answer?"

"I go to the library," Hermione replied, automatically, as if the answer should be obvious.

"And what do your friends do?"

"They go to the library...." Or did they? Something suddenly clicked. "Or... they come to me."

"Precisely. You actually took a step in this direction with Ginny, and would have accomplished more had you been more open. And there are others to whom you might turn as well. Including your peers - and not only Ginny - and your mentors, including me."

"I... need some time... to think..."

"And you also need your potions. I will speak with Severus when they return, and see that you obtain what is necessary; however, for now, this will suffice, I think." Perenelle cast a cheering charm, and added, "Now, if you will dry your eyes and join us in the main room, I plan to call Minerva and see what success we might now have with the address writer."

Hermione nodded, and as Perenelle started to rise, Hermione took her had again for a second, and whispered, "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it, child. Together we are always more powerful than alone."

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

The flight from New York to Atlanta had been somewhat more comfortable - the plane was quite a bit larger; they had the first class compartment mostly to themselves; and Lucius and Bellatrix had sat together, leaving Draco in a row by himself. Lucius had given him a sheaf of papers to read with the instructions that he had until they arrived in Atlanta to commit the information they contained to memory.

The Atlanta airport was less crowed than New York, and apparently, having successfully entered the country, another trip through customs was not required. Lucius led them to an area called Baggage Claim where a uniformed man holding a sign reading "Malfoy" was waiting. They removed their bags from a large machine, and then followed the sign holder to a limousine that was apparently to take them to their hotel. Lucius had given his bag to the driver, leaving Draco and Bellatrix to deal with their own luggage.

In the car, Lucius had quizzed Draco on what he had read, and thankfully, had seemed satisfied with his answers. Lucius had then taken to questioning Draco about the trip; his answers here, apparently, were not as pleasing.

They reached the hotel to find porters waiting for their bags and a Concierge with their keys. He was about to conduct them to their rooms, when Lucius asked him to wait for a moment, then pulled Draco aside. He pushed a roll of bills into Draco's hand, and some sort of ring. "It is obvious that your knowledge of the Muggle world is lacking. I do not need you underfoot for the next several hours; there will be a meeting here later, and you would only be in the way. I've given you two thousand American dollars - around three hundred Galleons - I expect you to spend this on increasing your knowledge of the Muggle world, not on buying trifles - and when I see you again, I expect you to be wearing suitable clothing. The ring I've given you is a Portkey that will return you to where its companion is. When it grows warm, touch the center stone, and it will return you here. Make yourself scarce until I call for you."

Lucius rejoined Bellatrix, then nodded for the Concierge to continue. Draco stood there for several moments; then he pocketed the money and turned resolutely toward the street.

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

Hermione emerged from the bedroom and saw Perenelle and the other three students sitting at the table. With a smile, she joined them, noting Perenelle's careful inspection of her face and demeanor, and gave her a slight nod as she settled into a chair.

Perenelle drew her communicator from her robes and said, "Minerva McGonagall."

"Perenelle?"

"We have arrived, Minerva, and would like..."

"One moment."

There was the faint sound of a door closing, and then McGonagall continued, "Sorry, I'm at the Ministry now. Things here are somewhat confused. There has been what was initially thought to have been a Dementor attack, but it appears that whatever the thing was that came back with Sirius was involved as well. I've learned that there has been a series of such attacks, but this was the first one where anyone got enough of a look to be sure it wasn't a dementor... or with anywhere close to this many people killed. There are almost one hundred dead, most of them Muggles."

"The creature did that by itself?"

"No, there were a number of Dementors with it. And thus far I have not been able to reach Albus. The confederation is in session, and all messages are being held."

"I will contact Nicholas, Minerva. Is there anything else we can do?"

"Nothing. So far, I have not indicated that we have any knowledge of the creature, but Amelia is gravely concerned. I hope to be back at Hogwarts within the next two or three hours."

"Let us know if there is anything we can do from here," Perenelle said. "And I will make Nicholas aware of the situation."

"Thank you. I must now return to the Minister. Take care!"

Perenelle placed the communicator on the table, then closed her eyes for several moments before saying, "It would appear for now that we wait."

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

Everything looked tranquil as Joe pulled into his driveway; nothing seemed out of the ordinary as he entered the house, and Lena was in the den, curled up in the armchair with one leg hooked over the arm, by the looks of it most of the way through The Two Towers.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi, Lena." He sat down heavily at his desk, trying to decide just how he was going to explain what had happened during the past two hours.

Lena sensed something was up almost at once; she set the book aside and asked, "Is something wrong?"

There wasn't really any way other than to play it straight. "Lena, I found out today that there are people looking for you." Joe paused for a moment; Lena seemed to deflate before him; she didn't seem especially concerned, just resigned.

"The cops, eh? Well, I knew this was too good to last..."

"No, it's not the cops." She looked at Joe, not quite believing him. "At least I don't think it's the cops." She wasn't going to like it very much, but at this point, he pretty much had to come clean. "I know... knew a guy who was a detective. I had him run your name through the computer; it just didn't make sense to me that no one was looking for you. Didn't tell him any more than that, and we have an understanding - I wouldn't have asked him if there were a chance that he would turn you in or come looking for you.

"Anyway, he called me this afternoon. Said two guys had come to his office looking for information on you, said they had ID's saying they were private investigators, but they didn't look the part - he thought at least one of them was military or maybe ex-military. Said they weren't the kind that go looking for lost kids - unless they'd stolen a briefcase from the Pentagon or something. I asked if he could describe them, and he offered to show me what had been recorded on the video, so I was going to stop by on the way here - but when I got there..." Joe's voice dropped. "He was dead. Just before, someone else named Edwin Rosier had come to see him."

Lena eyes had become feral; all of her instincts were telling her to run like mad, but - where? "I've never heard of Edwin Rosier - or any other Rosier, other than Electra. That was supposed to have been my mother, but I don't remember her at all."

"Can you think of anything you've done - or seen, or been involved in that would have someone... trying this hard to find you?"

"No!" Lena looked as if she were starting to get scared; it sounded like she really didn't know anything, which was as strange as these people looking for her in the first place. Almost plaintively, she added, "I'm just a kid."

"Until we know more, you probably shouldn't stay here. I know plenty of safe places where you can stay for a few days, at least until we find out what's going on. Why don't you get your things - if you've not found them all yet, there are more clothes in several of the drawers - and let's get out of here."

Lena sat there staring for a moment, then nodded and headed up the stairs. Joe then stood and walked to his first floor room to gather a few belongings.

Climbing the stairs, Lena's mind was racing. All of her instincts had told her she'd stayed too long, and it looked like they were being proved absolutely right. She'd had the cops looking for her before - usually after pilfering something to eat, but occasionally from being in the wrong 'hood at the wrong time... even so, that was still almost a casual thing. But somebody wasting a cop over her... it just didn't make any sense.

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Perenelle found herself attempting to maintain some sort of equilibrium among the four youths. She had insisted that Lupin rest while he could - despite his protestations, he still had not completely recovered from his monthly ordeal. Harry was restless - and, linked as they were, this put Ginny on edge as well. Ron had known that Hermione had been upset earlier, and kept trying to find out why, effectively undoing the virtue of the cheering charm she had cast. Like most of lads his age, Ron seemed to have an uncanny ability to pick the worst possible time and way to show his concern.

She had attempted to distract them by a discussion of what they had learned about Apparating, but that had quickly devolved into her telling stories from her own past. She was a plausible storyteller, and she'd certainly lived long enough to have a few interesting tales, but with this group, even that was a bit of a challenge. Hermione had been as intrigued by the question of the oldest living person as John the investigator had been, and she was not quite as easy to put off. And Harry... Harry had developed a sudden interest in Dumbledore's first confrontation with Grindelwald, no doubt beginning to connect some of the dots Severus had haphazardly - and perhaps ill-advisedly - tossed in front of him on the flight over.

She had been telling them about some of the duels she had been involved with, including one with the All-England champion Alberta Toothill in 1434 when the room phone rang. They had all looked at each other, and then Hermione stood and answered the phone. She listened for a minute and then looked up. "It's Sirius. They've all been arrested."

"Zut!" Perenelle stood and, moving to Hermione, took the phone. She listened for two or three minutes and then said, "No, that would take too long, and I am even more concerned if Aurors are involved. You must wait there, all of you. Remus and I shall take the necessary steps. From what you have described, it seems obvious they have become aware of our actions. Say nothing, and if possible, restrain your mercenaries from further complicating matters. Where are you being held?" Another pause. "Very well, we shall hopefully see you shortly." Perenelle sighed as she handed the receiver back to Hermione, and stood thinking for a moment. "Harry, please go and wake Remus. I'm afraid I will need his help. Hermione, if you would, there is a small leather case in our bedroom. If you open it, you will see a bundle of passports. Please gather those for Sirius and the others that were with him - and mine and Remus's as well. And Ron's."

"I thought we all had passports," Ron said.

"Nicholas had these prepared as a contingency. I hope it will not be necessary to use them, but we cannot afford to have matters drag on for days or even hours," Perenelle replied.

Lupin followed Harry into the room. Perenelle briefly explained the situation, and Lupin was dispatched to retrieve their vehicle; she would meet him at the front of the Hotel. Perenelle stepped into the room she was sharing with Hermione and emerged a short time later holding a wand. "Ron, would you come with us?"

Ron nodded, and Perenelle continued, "I should perhaps take you all, but I'm afraid that would only slow matters down. Perenelle looked at Hermione as she said this and allowed a ghost of a smile for a moment; Hermione understood that Ron's inclusion was more about giving her a little space than a need for Ron's assistance. She nodded her appreciation as Perenelle nudged Ron toward the door.

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

Draco was not having fun. It was hot, almost unbearably so, on the streets of Atlanta. He had tried hiring a taxi and had asked to be taken to a suitable establishment where he could obtain a meal; not only had the driver been flippant and rude, he had refused to close the windows and turn on whatever Muggles used to cool their vehicles. The smirking cabbie had dropped him off in front of a pub called McDonalds. It certainly was not anything like the pubs to which he was accustomed; it was brightly lit and seemed popular with those around his age - but there were no waiters. Apparently you purchased your meal, and then carried it to a table. The Americans certainly had some strange customs. Still, the food had been superb, though he still wasn't sure exactly what he had accomplished by accepting the value meal and then super-sizing it.

He'd barely made a dent in the roll of bills Lucius had handed to him. Different clothing should be his next priority. He had been observing the Muggles; as far as he could tell, various sorts of jeans seemed to be the uniform of almost everyone his age, but most of them were not as faded or ripped as the pair he wore. His shirt was quite mild in comparison to many that he saw.

Draco stepped back onto the street, looked in both directions, and ended up picking the direction that looked to be more shaded from the brutal sun. As he walked along, he suddenly spotted two familiar figures walking together on the other side of the street: Aubrey Wilkes and Reginald Travers. Both of these men were Death Eaters; they had been regular visitors to Malfoy Manor.

They didn't seem to take any notice of Draco, who decided to postpone his quest for clothing and try to find out more about what these two were up to. Lucius had given him what looked like some sort of official records on a Lena Rosier - the name was familiar, and somehow, the face had been as well - but he still wasn't quite sure what they were doing here. He let them pass him, and when they were far enough past his position, he crossed the street and followed them. Moving within a few paces, he found that he could make out most of their conversation.

Wilkes was on a rant about Lucius. Draco initially found this amusing. Wilkes' lips had been firmly planted against Lucius' backside not long ago when he had sought a loan - a loan his father had granted after Wilkes had groveled long enough. He was certainly gnawing the hand that fed him now. Then Wilkes's comments turned more sinister: "Anyway, it seems the Lestrange witch is here with him, and she's about as happy with Malfoy as I am, and even less with his arrogant prat of a son. I talked to her a short while ago. She didn't come right out and say it, but I could get her drift. If something were to happen to Malfoy and his boy - maybe accidentally getting caught in the crossfire - there would be both advancement and riches for those responsible. She seems to have become accustomed to having the ear of our Lord, and apparently does not like sharing it with Lucius."

"Yeah, but it's dangerous to screw around with Malfoy. He's taken out several people that way himself, and made more just disappear. He's a dangerous wizard to cross."

"But he's lost his edge and gotten soft. Even that Potter bastard outwitted him, with just five of his little friends against a much larger group of Death Eaters."

"Okay, you were mostly running things while Malfoy was a guest of the Ministry and would do that again. But what does that do for me?"

"Don't you - like most of us - owe Malfoy a huge amount at high interest?"

Travers nodded glumly.

"All of that would go away. And if I were to move up, naturally there would need to be someone who would have the skills and ability to step into my current role."

Travers said nothing for several moments. "Well, if the opportunity should come up - here's to bloody wars and sickly seasons!"

Draco turned into the entry of a building, out of their sight should they happen to look around and leaned back against the wall. These - bastards - had been talking about... killing both him... and Father. And that crazy bitch was behind it.

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

Harry's restlessness had grown. Since Perenelle had taken Ron and Lupin with her, the three of them had done little more than sit around the table, half-heartedly trying to make conversation.

Hermione had been grumbling about Snape's assessment of her performance - Harry and Ginny had tried to listen sympathetically though Harry thought there might be a bit of truth lurking there somewhere - when they heard Minerva McGonagall's voice from Perenelle's communicator, which she had left on the table.

Ginny, being the closest, picked it up. "Professor McGonagall, this is Ginny. Professors Flamel and Lupin left a little while ago to pick up the others."

"Miss Weasley... I'm sorry, I suppose I should have said Potter..."

"Don't worry about it, Professor. Call me whatever you're comfortable with, and we'll sort it out before school starts."

"Very well. I am now at Hogwarts, and have submitted the name to the address writer again. You should write this down." McGonagall read off an address on Morningside Drive in Atlanta.

Hermione had grabbed one of the message pads near the phone and a pen and wrote down the address. Moving closer to Ginny, she repeated the address back and McGonagall confirmed it.

"Thank you, Professor," Ginny said. "We'll give this to them the second they get back. Any other messages?"

"No, other than my best to all of you. Good night, and thank you... Ginny."

"Good night, Professor."

Harry waited until the communicator connection terminated. "Like bloody hell we will."

Ginny looked at him and nodded. "I know. But there's no point in getting McGonagall's knickers in a knot."

"That's an image I really didn't need," Hermione said as she skimmed the index of a book of street maps. She then turned quickly to a page, and after running her finger over it for a moment, added, "Got it."

Harry stood, pocketing his wand, and locked eyes briefly with Hermione, then Ginny. There would be no argument, no discussion, no posturing, and no second-guessing this time. "Let's do it."

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

Lena - though she still thought of herself as Cat - wasted little time in stuffing the new clothes, the food she had hoarded, and her old things into the backpack that Joe had repaired. She had hesitated before stuffing the ragged blanket and her old clothes in with the new things - but it was best to leave as few traces as possible that she had been here. She grabbed the hairbrush from the desk, stuffed it into the top of the now-full backpack, and tied down the cover.

She thought longingly of the spare pair of glasses that were downstairs; however, if she'd learned anything in the past two years on her on, it was that you occasionally have to leave your luggage. She at least had the pair she was wearing; with those, and the clothes she now had, she was considerably better off than she had been a few days ago. And... Joe - it seemed like he was on the level, even if he had talked to a cop - but she couldn't chance it, not without being sure. Her instincts had been telling her to get out of there before all of this, and she'd learned the hard way to listen to them.

She took one last look around; as her eyes passed over the bed, she knew she would miss the clean, white sheets - it was strange how quickly she had become accustomed again to such things - but maybe this was for the best. If there had been more room in her backpack, she would have taken the blanket that lay folded at the bottom of the bed, but it was summer, and with luck, she could be far enough south where perhaps it wouldn't matter as much by winter.

Cat moved toward the window and looked out. Pity that the sunset came so late in the summer; it would be better if she had the full cover of darkness. She had mapped her escape route early; out the window onto the roof over the porch, then down the latticework trellis, dodging as much of the rosebush as she could.

It was time; she had delayed long enough. Cat reached out to raise the window and found a flaw in her escape plan - the window wouldn't budge. She tried again and still there was no movement. Taking a step back, she thought about breaking the glass, but that would almost certainly give her away. There were other windows on this floor, but the one in this room was the only one that wasn't a straight drop to the ground... and chances of a clean getaway were not good if she returned to the first floor. One more time, she thought, as she again gripped the handles and pulled upward with all her might.

Cracks appeared in the paint where the window met its frame; then something gave, and the window slid almost all the way up with a screech. Cat froze, certain the noise had given her away, but there were no sounds of Joe calling or coming up the stairs. She sat on the sill, shifted her feet outside, and then eased herself down to the porch roof, being as quiet as possible. Once her feet were planted, she froze again, listening. There were still no sounds of discovery or pursuit. She moved quietly across the roof, kneeling as she approached the edge. She slowly extended her head far enough to see the ground below her; the coast was still clear. She stood and gripped the trellis; it seemed strong enough to take her weight. A moment later, she was on the ground; bending low, she passed under the first floor windows and rounded Joe's car. Cat stopped again and listened; there was still no indication her departure had been detected. Remaining low, she scurried to the street and started walking away at a brisk place.

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

"Harry," Hermione asked as they waited by the elevators, "how are we going to get there? It's several miles at the very least."

Harry had not considered that. Lupin had taken the only vehicle that had been here - not that it would have done them much good. He certainly couldn't drive, and was pretty certain Ginny had never been behind the wheel of a car either. It wasn't likely Hermione had had a chance to learn during either of the last two summers. Apparition was out; they had no idea what the destination was, and they'd barely mastered short distances between two well-known locations. A portkey? Hermione wouldn't have any idea how to target it. "A taxi is the only thing I can think of. Do either of you have a better idea?"

Ginny shook her head and Hermione replied, "No, not really. I'm a little worried because we really don't know our way around here, and hiring a taxi means a Muggle driver."

Harry nodded grimly as the chime sounded; there wasn't much they could do about that. The elevator doors opened; the car was empty and took them directly to the lobby. As they exited from the hotel, and a bellman asked them if he could help. Harry answered, "Yes, actually, we need a taxi."

The bellman whistled loudly and a taxi appeared almost immediately. He asked, "Where to, sir?"

Hermione looked at the slip of paper and read off the address. The bellman repeated it to the taxi driver, and then opened the rear door for them. Hermione entered first and slid across the seat, then Ginny, and Harry entered last. Ginny noticed Harry had given something to the bellman as they entered. She started to ask, but with a glance at the driver he whispered that he would explain later. Sirius had given a crash course on tipping in the Muggle world, "the grease that ensures good service and that the staff will be favorably disposed should you need to slip out the back door," on the flight over. Ron and Hermione had been there too, but Ginny had been talking to her brothers at the time. Sirius had also given each of them a sheaf of bills of various denominations with the admonition not to spend it all in one place.

As he was pulling away from the hotel door, the driver turned back to them and asked, "Hey, you kids got dough?"

"Pardon?" Harry asked, not understanding.

"You know, dough, cash, money for the fare?"

"Yes, of course we do," Harry assured him. The driver nodded and pulled into traffic.

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

Perenelle and Lupin, with Ron in tow, had arrived at a nondescript building that housed the local office of the Department of Magic. It was clear they were expected; as they entered, a robed wizard quickly walked up to them and began talking very quickly. "Madam Flamel? I'm Prescott Harrison. I'm the Undersecretary for International Security. Personally, and on behalf of the U. S. Department of Magic and the Joint Olympic Special Security Team, I want to apologize for this most terrible mistake and misunderstanding. I can assure you in absolute terms that it was not our intention to interfere with you in any way; in fact, if matters weren't so confused with the games, we would have already been assisting. And an investigation has already been started into the bulletin that was published, and all units have received proper and corrected information so there's no possibility of anything like this happening again. I'm prepared to provide whatever resources and assistance you need to make up for this most regrettable affair, and I hope we can resolve matters to your complete satisfaction without creating an international incident."

"It would help if I had a better idea of what you were speaking of." Perenelle interjected as Harrison took a breath. "I understand that you are holding some of our people and..."

"No, no, non, nyet, nothing like that at all, Madam Flamel; just a horrible, horrible misunderstanding caused by misinformation being intentionally placed in our network. Your people have already been released and their belongings have been returned. Their cars are being brought here right now. They are waiting in a conference room for us; may I conduct you there now?"

"Please. And what is this misinformation of which you speak?"

"A few hours ago, a bulletin was broadcast to all of our field teams that included pictures and descriptions of several of your people and all five of your... er, consultants, describing them as part of a group intending to engage in some sort of disruptive action with regard to the games. In fact, the gentleman with you now was included in the photos." Harrison had started walking, and they followed him deeper into the office.

"I see."

"In any case, Madam Flamel, on behalf of our government, again, we..."

"Child, your apology is accepted, but time is of the essence. I see no need for any sort of incident diplomatique if we can move quickly."

Harrison appeared to bristle for a fraction of a second at "child" but quickly recovered and smiled. "Of course. Is there any assistance we might lend?" He also sped up considerably.

"We shall take that under advisement," Perenelle replied as Harrison stopped and opened a door into what turned out to be a conference room. Sirius, Snape, and the two Weasley brothers were seated at the table, as were the two investigators they had previously met, plus three other individuals, two men and a woman who stood as they entered. Pointedly ignoring Harrison, she approached Perenelle and after looking at her strangely for a moment, said. "So you're Perenelle Flamel. I thought you'd look a lot older. We need to get moving quickly. You should tell Cooter here that we need an Auror with some field experience and half a clue to work with us as a liaison so they don't screw the pooch again."

"Indeed. But I'm afraid I'm at a slight disadvantage."

"Oh, sorry, I'm Chris. Somewhere way back there, you're my great-great-something grandmother - though I suppose about a quarter of all wizards today can say that. Anyway, we need to get moving; I'll explain when we're underway."

"And Mr. Harrison would be 'Cooter'?"

Chris nodded as Harrison tried to keep the frown off his face. Perenelle continued, "Is the Auror that Chris is requesting within your authority?"

"Certainly, Madam Flamel. I will have the field division assign someone to your group."

"Thanks, Coot," Chris said. "I know you got my cell number while you had it, so just have them call me and we'll coordinate. And we'll be sending you the bill for changing all the numbers and any other incidental expenses along the way. Oh, and give my best to Margie and the kids. Now, can you lead us back out of this maze?"

Harrison did just that. When they arrived at the door, their other SUV and two vans were waiting outside. Two uniformed police offers stood nearby, and on seeing Harrison, they walked over and one said, "All ready to go, sir. Full tanks of gas per your instructions."

Harrison mumbled some sort of thanks, then made another profuse round of apologies before Chris cut him off. She suggested to Perenelle that the two of them ride back together in one of the SUVs, hinting strongly that Lupin and Ron should ride in the other. Perenelle agreed, and Lupin handed her the keys. Moments later, a three-vehicle motorcade was heading back toward the hotel.

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

Harry thought they would never get to Morningside Drive. They were in heavy traffic, creeping along at a very slow place. The taxi driver explained it was the Fourth of July; this sort of traffic was unusual this time of day, but there were crowds trying to reach one of several fireworks displays, and he opined they were missing a lot by not heading to something called Lenox. Finally, they turned off onto a side street and started making faster progress.

The driver slowed down and looked closely at the mailboxes for about a block before finally stopping and pointing to a house. He quoted the fare and Harry handed him two twenties which included a substantial tip. "Hey, kid," the driver said, "that house looks kinda dark and I don't see a car in the driveway. Sure you don't want me to wait here until you're sure somebody's home?"

Harry exchanged glances with Ginny and Hermione before replying "That would be very kind. We'll wave if our friend is in."

"Great."

Harry opened the door and exited cautiously, looking around in all directions, his hand gripping his wand. Ginny and Hermione followed him out, and together they slowly and cautiously walked up the driveway. They walked to the front door and Hermione rang the doorbell; they could hear it inside, but no one came, and no lights came on in the house. They waited for a minute. Hermione rang the bell again; after another wait, Ginny said, "Nobody home. Do we wait?"

Harry was thinking when Hermione took two steps to the right and picked up something - it looked like a piece of paper - from the floor. Harry and Ginny watched as she straightened it. Hermione turned her back to the waiting cab, and lit the tip of her wand, then read, "'Lena, I really blew it. Please, please, if you should come back here, please call me at the Ponce de Leon Mission. The number is 404-555-5309. I've gone to the office because all my phone numbers are there. I really want to help you. Please call me and wait here. Joe.' Harry, this was wadded up and thrown aside."

"She was here," Harry said. "Do you think she could be inside?"

"If she'd done what the note said, she'd have needed it to make the call." Hermione said, unwilling to voice what she was thinking. "I don't think she's inside. We could try driving around the area."

"How'd we explain that to the driver?" Ginny asked.

"Maybe our best bet is to try and find this Joe," Harry said. "At least then maybe we can find out how or why she left, how she might be traveling. It sounds like he really wasn't expecting her to come back here." Then he realized what Hermione hadn't said. "But if somebody else found the note first..."

"They are ahead of us now," Hermione finished.

"Do you think Joe is a Muggle?" Ginny asked.

"No idea. But he'll have to know something." Harry replied, starting back toward the drive.

"Sounds like we try to find this Ponce de Leon Mission," Hermione said, as she reattached the note to the door. Perhaps the call would come while they were en route or there.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Dammit, we were so close!"

They walked back to the cab and climbed back in. The driver asked, "Nobody home, eh, kid?"

"No, but they left a note. Said he'd gone to his office," Hermione replied. "Do you know where the Ponce de Leon Mission is?"

"Ponce Mission... yeah, I think that's on the four or five hundred block on Ponce de Leon. Kids, you really don't have any business in that neighborhood this time of night."

"If we can find our friend, we'll be fine," Harry said reassuringly.

"Ok, kid, don't say I didn't warn ya." The driver flipped the meter and pulled away from the curb.

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

Lupin inserted the plastic card into the lock, opened the door into their suite, and stepped in. The others followed, most moving to take a seat around the table. Perenelle entered her bedroom and emerged a few moments later. She walked across the suite to the other bedroom, knocked twice, then opened the door. "Ron, check the other suite. Harry, Ginny, and Hermione are not here." Then she saw her communicator sitting on the table and paled. "Minerva."

Perenelle crossed the room to the table and picked up the communicator. "Minerva McGonagall."

A few moments later McGonagall's sleepy voice replied.

"Minerva, vous avez parlé avec...pardon... did you speak earlier with the children?"

"Yes, I called when I returned to Hogwarts and spoke with Ginny. I gave her an address..."

"What was the address?" Perenelle interrupted.

"Oh, no! Just a moment."

It was longer than a moment; McGonagall must have had to go from the staff quarters to her office; even so, she must have made remarkable time, given her age. She read the address and asked for details of what had happened, but Perenelle told her they would be in touch later.

As Perenelle terminated the connection, everyone tried to talk at once; Ron was perhaps the loudest in urging Perenelle to call them on the Communicator.

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" Chris yelled. As the rest of the room quieted, she continued in a normal tone of voice, "Not a good idea, Weasley. You have no idea what their situation is. They could be in combat and you'd distract them. Or captured, and that'd give away any element of surprise we might have or maybe cause them to be moved where we wouldn't find them. Or even blow their cover. No, we go." She stood. "Let's rock."

"All of..." John started to object.

"Yes, dammit, all of us. We could be outnumbered way more than two to one. And next time - do your frigging homework. Grand-mère held the European dueling title for over a century and retired as the champion."

As they crowded out the door, Chris touched Perenelle's arm, holding her back for a moment. "Sorry, didn't mean to be presumptuous or familiar."

"Chérie, thank you. I am honored."

Chris grinned at Perenelle as they moved toward the door. "You know, I'm starting to like this Potter kid. He has balls."

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

The second taxi ride didn't take nearly as long as the first. The driver had been right about the area; this neighborhood didn't look like a very safe place to be. But the lights in the building were on; that was a good sign. Harry paid the driver again, who volunteered to wait, like the last time. They exited from the taxi and walked toward the door. Harry tested it, and it was open. He started to enter, then froze as he heard a voice - one he recognized - say "Crucio!"

Hermione and Ginny heard it too. Harry forced himself to turn long enough to wave to the driver, who nodded and drove off. Harry waited a few moments, hoping against hope that the sound of the departing cab would not alert anyone because of the open door, and then whispered, "Bellatrix Lestrange."

Hermione and Ginny nodded. They quietly moved through the door, Hermione entering last and being careful to make sure the door, with an automatic closer, closed quietly. They were in a large office that housed four desks; no one was in this room. A stairway led upstairs, which was dark, and a door opened on the far wall into what looked like another office. Screams were coming from this room.

They moved across the room, wands at ready. Reaching the far wall, they started moving toward the open door. Hermione pulled something from her pocket, and reached inside a tiny case that was obviously much larger inside. Blushing slightly, she pulled out a square compact and opened it. Harry nodded and allowed her to slip ahead of him. Bending low, Hermione took two steps forward and held the mirror so she could see into the room and looked carefully for a few seconds. She then straightened and moved back to Harry and Ginny.

"Six of them." Hermione whispered. With the screaming in the next room, there wasn't any chance of them being overheard. "Bellatrix is there; I didn't see either Malfoy. Most of them have their backs to the door, but the one that's farthest to the left can see the door. The next one to the left wouldn't have to turn much to see it either. Bellatrix is on the right. I didn't recognize any of the others."

Harry nodded. "Ok, we've got the element of surprise. When we go in, let's make sure we drop three of them on the first round; that makes it even. Hermione... can you take the one on the left, and Ginny, the one next to him? I... I'm sorry; I'm trying to be objective about this, but I... I want Bellatrix. After we the first attack, let's do like we did in the back-to-back stuff. Let me be in the middle, and I'll shield us--my shielding spells are the strongest--and the two of you attack."

"Harry..." Hermione took his hand. "Use a stunner. Please?"

Their eyes locked for a moment; Ginny took his other hand and squeezed.

"Okay." Harry hadn't intended to use an unforgivable, but had thought about using something like Diffindo or Reducto - but Hermione was right. It was too important to get the odds even before the other side had a chance to respond. "On three."

They crept near the door, and then Harry held up three fingers, then two, then one, and then made a fist as they rushed through the door.

"Stupefy!"

"Stupefy!"

"Stupefy!"

Hermione's and Ginny's targets dropped at once; Bellatrix moved just as Harry fired his spell; it hit her in the wand arm, but she didn't drop.

The other three Death Eaters turned at once, but only two of them had their wands in hand. Bellatrix was staggering; it didn't look like she had any control of her wand arm.

Hermione got off a second stunner before one of the wizards with wands could get off a spell, but the other managed an "Expellarmus," but Harry was ready with a shield charm. Ginny then stunned the Death Eater who had gotten the spell off. Hermione stunned the remaining Death Eater, who was still struggling to free his wand from his robe, and Harry and Ginny both fired stunners at Bellatrix, but they passed through empty air. Bellatrix had Apparated or managed to trigger a Portkey.

"Dammit!" Harry swore. "Hermione, you're the best at healing spells, can you check whoever Bellatrix was..."

"Okay, Harry."

Harry and Ginny methodically cast binding spells on the fallen Death Eaters as Hermione knelt beside the crumpled figure Bellatrix Lestrange had been torturing.

"Harry," she said, "he's not in very good shape. He needs a healer."

"We can't stay here. We don't know how many more there are, but we know the Malfoys are here somewhere. Can you make a Portkey to take us back to our hotel?"

"I think so, Harry." Hermione looked around for something suitable and picked up a pen from the desk. "Portus!" The pen did not glow blue. Hermione shook her head angrily, and then forced herself to relax. "Portus!" This time the pen glowed.

"Ok, ready." Hermione held out the pen as she knelt by her patient and gripped his arm. Harry and Ginny placed fingers on the pen, and Hermione triggered it, apparently with a word, "Snuggles."

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

All was quiet at the Ponce de Leon Mission for perhaps five minutes before two silenced vans and a pair of SUV's arrived in a nearby parking lot. There was a flurry of motion as Chris directed her team in storming the building, mostly by hand signals, while Harry's friends and teachers waited in reserve or were deployed to ensure no one left through the back. They entered, and after a few moments, Chris emerged and gave an all clear. She led Perenelle back to the inner office, where the other investigators were still shaking their heads over the five bound Death Eaters.

Chris gave Perenelle a vicious grin and said, "I really like this kid. Not only does the boy have balls, he's got the stuff to back it up."

Perenelle matched her grin and asked softly, so that only Chris could hear, "Would you expect less from the champion presumptive,chérie?"

Chris was not the sort to give in easily to surprise, but her jaw dropped before she could catch herself.