Dramatis Personae

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Chapter One

By Diocletian

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August 15, 2005:

Monday morning in London was just as hot and humid as everyone had expected it to be. The people went about their daily lives, trying to pretend that they weren't feeling as miserable as they actually did due to the nearly inhumane heat wave they had been suffering through since the beginning of July. Mild traffic was coursing through the streets, people were walking along the sidewalks, albeit rather sluggishly, and vendors were selling their wares. It was just like any other morning in urban England during the broiling-hot summer. And at 215 Fairview Crescent, a pair of friends were getting ready to go out to lunch...

"For heaven's sake, Ginny! Stop bitching about it and just go see a medi-wizard!" Colin shouted as he stormed, half-naked, across the flat that he and Ginny had shared for the past four years. He was in search of his favourite purple t-shirt and was starting to panic because it seemed that, no matter where he looked, he would be sure he'd just seen a flash of purple only to discover that it was sweatpants or a sock or something light blue instead. Needless to say, he was becoming, very reasonably in his opinion, quite distraught.

Ginny, on the other hand, he noticed vengefully, had been ready to go for at least an hour, but instead of trying to help him find his shirt like a REAL friend would be doing, she was sitting in front of the bathroom mirror, pouting as she adjusted and readjusted the silk scarf she was wearing around her neck over her sundress. She, being her brothers' sister, had stubbornly refused to seek any medical attention after the mission the previous night and now dark purple bruises circled much of her neck like some sort of esoteric necklace. The blood splotches in her eyes had thankfully faded for the most part, but she was still planning to wear sunglasses and her bruises were standing out more than ever. She was trying to hide the garish marks behind the scarf, but it wasn't working because the scarf kept slipping.

"Why are you trying to keep it hidden, anyway?" Colin demanded, stalking into Ginny's bedroom across the hall, still in a desperate search for his shirt. "I thought you caved and admitted to your mother that you were more than a secretary, like, more than three years ago."

Ginny grimaced at herself in the bathroom mirror and then, in a childish fit of temper, threw the scarf down on the floor. She took a few deep, calming breaths before speaking. "I did, but I think she thinks I only do lab work or something. You know, safely, in a safe laboratory... that is safe."

Across the hall, Colin frowned. "Why in the name of Merlin would she think that?" he demanded. "You're a Senior FIELD Researcher. One of the few and the proud. If you haven't told her so, than your dad must have done it by now. How could she not know?"

Ginny glanced at him through the door out of the corner of her eye. She sighed and reached for her foundation, absently wondering if covering her bruises that way might just make them a little less obvious. "Maybe because I asked Dad not to tell her about that 'Field' part," she said. Sensing his disapproval, she stuck her tongue out at him through the open door. "Well, come on, I don't want Mum to worry! She's had more than enough trouble already from children who went around getting themselves involved in 'adventures.' Besides, you didn't tell your father you were gay until you were 17. What's the difference?"

Colin scowled and replied darkly. "I'd only known for sure that I even WAS gay for about a year, Gin, even if you say you'd suspected since we were 12. One year. You're 24. You've been an Unspeakable for five years now. FIVE! You have a Jacobian Schmidt Achievement award for your work as a FIELD RESEARCHER. You'd think she might want to know what you really got it for." He paused when he spotted a bit of purple inside her closet and pulled out his shirt. He held it up and grinned triumphantly before realizing exactly where he was. "And aside from that, what the hell is MY shirt doing in YOUR closet!?"

Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes. "I don't know. You keep telling me what a flaming homosexual you are, so I don't see what business you'd ever have in a girl's bedroom, but I certainly didn't put it there. I have no use for such a flagrantly PURPLE shirt. So I suppose the only conclusion that I can come to is that you've been lying to me all these years." Ginny smiled pleasantly at herself in the mirror as she carefully continued covering her bruises over with make up. "It's probably some psychologically disturbed ploy to get me into bed."

Colin stormed into the bathroom, still topless, carrying his wrinkled t-shirt. He was frowning as he reached for his toothbrush. "That's right, Gin," he said. "You've got me all figured out. Almost ten years of being best friends, confiding in each other, telling each other everything. You setting me up with as many boys as you could find so we could double date. Me assuring your father just how utterly gay I am so we could live together. Which was the single most embarrassing moment of my whole life, I might add," he mentioned when he saw the tiny smirk Ginny was trying to hide as she remembered the incident in question. After a second, he ignored her and went on. "The two of us spending entire summer afternoons sitting on the steps outside eating ice cream and rating all the guys who passed on a scale of one to ten. Me sneaking fellows up here some nights so that we could have hot, sweaty, passionate boy-sex. It's all just an involved plan on my behalf to sleep with *you*." He turned and grabbed Ginny in a mock embrace. "I want you, Ginevra Molly Weasley. Make me into a REAL man!"

Ginny gave him a quick, light kiss and patted his cheek. "Maybe later, baby."

Colin rolled his eyes and released her as she retied her rescued scarf overtop of her now-disguised neck. He went back to brushing his teeth. "When are Molly and Arthur expecting us, anyhow?" he asked through a mouthful of toothpaste.

Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Ginny checked herself in the mirror one last time before grabbing Colin's shirt to go and iron it for him, knowing that, left to his own, "manly" devices, he would wear it the way it was: wrinkled and horrible-looking. "Lunch is being served at 12:30," she answered after a moment of fruitless iron-hunting in her bedroom closet. "So they're probably expecting us at about eleven." Colin's eyes widened and he glanced at his watch, nearly spitting out his toothpaste when he did.

"Gin! It's already ten after eleven!"

Ginny shrugged nonchalantly and went into the kitchen to continue the search. "I said they were expecting us at eleven. I didn't say we'd be there by then. Besides, if they DO notice we're late, the blame lies solely upon you and your stupid shirt." Colin rolled his eyes and finished brushing his teeth.

Twenty minutes and several arguments regarding the degree of gay-ness needed for a person to wear a shirt like Colin's later, the two were finally ready and apparated to the Burrow where they'd been invited, as usual, for a monthly weekend lunch. Colin was pretty much used to Weasley family gatherings by now, but recent situations had him asking Ginny a couple of questions before they got to the door.

"So, what do I say to Hermione?" he questioned, running his fingers through his hair.

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know. What you would normally say, I guess. But don't mention her...er...'situation' to anybody other than Ron or me, okay? I don't think anyone else knows and I'm not sure whether I was supposed to tell you in the first place, though Hermione must've known when she told me that I was going to sooner or later."

Colin nodded thoughtfully. "What about Ron? What do I say to him?"

Ginny thought for a minute. "Something around the lines of: 'For the love of Pete, mate, the girl's pregnant, marry her, already!' would do fine," the redhead replied after a few moments of thought. Colin simply nodded again.

"Alright."

By now the two had arrived at the door. Ginny barely had time to knock before the door was pulled open, revealing two familiar, identical, heavily freckled faces. "Ginny!" her twin brothers exclaimed happily, yanking the young woman into a hug. George held his hand out to Colin briefly, shaking the younger man's hand warmly. "'Lo, Colin. How you been? Taking good care of our baby sister, I trust?"

Colin nodded and followed the redheaded siblings in through the door. "Of course."

As he stepped into the Burrow's living room, the staggering wave of noise washed over him. Aside from Ginny and Colin, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's current guests consisted of Bill, his wife Fleur, their two daughters, George, his wife Cora, their three children, Fred, Ron, and Hermione. The children, who varied in age from 5 and a half years to ten months old, were running and crawling around playing and, as could only be expected from the offspring of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes co-CEO George Weasley, screaming and laughing at the top of their lungs.

The twins were still happily pulling Ginny around, so Colin took a seat by himself on the couch. Fleur was sitting across from him in an old but comfy-looking armchair with one of her two pretty, blonde three-year-old twin daughters sitting in her lap. She gave Colin a brief smile as the brunette sat down.

"'Ow 'ave you been, Colin?" she asked. "Every zing going well at work?" Colin nodded. "Still, um, I mean, are you, um--still--" Fleur cleared her throat awkwardly and tried to phrase the question in a polite manner.

"Gay?" Colin supplied cheerfully. "Yeah."

"Ah. Well, zat's, um--well..." Fleur paused for a moment while she thought up a proper response and the brunette watched her in amusement. "Er... Good fer you, dear."

Colin nodded politely, biting back a grin and sarcastic comment. "Thanks."

Across the room, and after much struggling, Ginny had finally gotten out of Fred and George's grasp by feigning a need to visit the bathroom and the two had decided to play with the kids instead. She watched the bunch of them for a few moments and couldn't help but smile even as she shook her head at them. After a few seconds of careful deliberation, they and the kids all decided to head outside and play hide-and-seek and so Ginny went and sat down near the ottoman Hermione was perched on, deciding to entertain herself with a bit of updating.

Almost four months pregnant, Hermione was currently living on the outskirts of Brighton, sharing a cozy house in the suburbs with Ron, and she often told Ginny that she couldn't be happier with her life. She had cut her hair to her shoulders and the curls that had plagued her for most of her childhood were still there, though slightly tamer. She gave Ginny a grin as the redhead sat down. "Hey 'Mione. How's it going?" Ginny asked.

Hermione looked happy to see her, and her cheeks were flushed a rather rosy pink colour, one that had normally been hard for her to achieve, seeing as how she usually spent her days inside at the Ministry and the rest of her time cooped up at home reading, away from the light outside. But pregnancy seemed to agree with her and, even though she wasn't showing yet, she seemed to give off a kind of cheerful, exuberant aura these days. She grinned and replied enthusiastically to Ginny's question.

"I'm great, Gin," she said. "I'm healthy and Ron hasn't been smothering me too much. And the ICW Summit next week is finally all set! The embassy was cleaned up and all the portkeys have been arranged, we've got accommodations ready for all the delegates and all the extra security has been authorized, the meeting schedules are finished, thank heavens, and now the biggest thing most of us have to worry about is what we're going to wear." She paused and took a deep breath while the redhead quickly tried to process what she had said before she concluded. "I'm good."

Ginny rolled her eyes. She knew Hermione would be excited about work these days. One, because the older girl had always been weird. And two, Hermione was employed as one of the Ministry's British delegates for the International Confederation of Wizards, the ICW, who were ambassadors of a sort on the international political stage. A world summit was to take place the following week, right outside London, and delegates from all over the world were going to be present.

About a thousand people were supposed to be there, when local Heads, Deputies, Juniors, and Undersecretaries of Department and all the security personnel were added in. It was no Quidditch Cup, to be sure, but it was complicated just the same. Plans for the Summit had been taking place for at least three years now and some of them were still being completed. Portkeys to and from a hundred countries were hell to set up and organize, especially when they had to do it in a way that kept muggles from noticing, but the Department of International Magical Relations was doing a wonderful job. British delegates like Hermione had been trying to organize meeting schedules for months now and the DMLE was sending a large number of agents over for the week to act as extra security and surveillance.

But, since Ginny worked at the Ministry herself, she hadn't heard about much else in months. And so the subject, for her at least, could quickly become tiresome.

"That's great, Hermione, real mind-blower," she commented dully. "It's wonderful that everything's all set." The redheaded girl paused before asking about what she actually cared to listen to. "So tell me: Did that miserable bastard propose to you yet or not?"

Hermione shook her head, exasperated. It was a question she had obviously been asked before, and probably more than once. "You know, Gin," she replied, "Harry just asked me the exact same question when I was on the phone with him this morning. And do you know what I told him? The truth. No, Ron hasn't asked me yet, and I'm perfectly fine with that. And it's the same answer I'm going to give you."

Ginny sighed impatiently. "The two of you have lived together for two years now, Hermione. You've been dating since Hogwarts. It's not like you haven't waited long enough. You are already four months pregnant, for god's sake. If he doesn't ask you before you start really showing, he's never going to, and then you'll be stuck changing all those diapers by yourself. Please make him marry you. We all want you as a sister. Besides, Mom will never let Ron hear the end of it if he doesn't marry the mother of his kids and then we'll all have to listen while the two of them snarl at each other every time we get together. Nobody wants to listen to that. And if we have to, we're all going to blame you for it. Is that what you want? Huh?" Hermione just rolled her eyes again. Ginny threw up her hands in defeat.

"Fine. Don't listen to me. You go ahead and have as many of Ron's illegitimate children as you want. Hermione and the redheaded Grangers. See if that will fool anyone. A blind, deaf man with half a brain who's been living in a sack that was dropped in a muddy pit for ten years would be able to tell that you two belong together." She paused, then scowled and added, "Don't look at me like that."

The brunette, whose eyebrows were raised up in her bangs, obviously very highly amused, didn't look away at all, even when Ginny glared at her. Finally, Ginny gave up and stuck out her tongue. "I'm leaving."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh as the redheaded girl stalked away, sulking and unhappy, and into the kitchen.

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August 18, 2005:

Feet thudding quickly and rhythmically on the heated pavement, Harry Potter ran through the crowded Kyoto sidewalk with great difficulty. It was hot, far too hot to be running, especially INTO people, but nobody seemed to notice him until after he'd already bumped his way past them. The man he was pursuing was quite far ahead of him, but the good thing was that he wasn't moving any faster than Harry. There were just too many people out and the sun was beating down on them like a Quidditch Beater with an overly large and pointy club.

Sweat streamed down Harry's face, but he ignored it and started abandoning courtesy, so that anybody who was in his way was rudely pushed out of it. The fleeing Dark Wizard seemed to sense his closing proximity and, unable to apparate because Harry had grabbed his wand several minutes before, he tried running faster, but he hadn't had to go through the strenuous training Harry had gone through to become an Auror. The distance between the two began to shrink.

When he was finally close enough, Harry bent his knees and launched himself at the man. They both fell to the ground, hard, to the astonishment of the surrounding Japanese muggles. They rolled around for a moment or two, and the other man banged Harry's head savagely on the cement of the sidewalk, but even when dazed the raven-haired young man knew better than to let go. And so in the end Harry's more attuned, experienced skills overcame the other man and Harry had him pinned.

He pulled the Dark Wizard's hands behind his back and pulled a pair of what looked like handcuffs out of his jacket pocket. They weren't handcuffs, strictly speaking, because they were used by wizards and therefore worked with magic, but they did basically the same thing, only better. After making sure the man's hands were secure Harry pulled him to his feet. He pulled out his DMLE badge and flashed it quickly to the nearby muggles, fast enough so that none of them would actually be able to read it, before putting it back in his pocket, hoping it looked enough like a police badge to keep anyone from getting suspicious. He muttered, "Gomen. Gomen-nasi, minna-san," while searching for an alley he could portkey from. Now that the action was over, nobody paid enough attention to him to notice the fact that he was walking in the opposite direction of the nearest police station. It was too hot.

As soon as he was out of sight, Harry muttered "portus" under his breath while tapping the handcuffs with his wand and he and his prisoner went straight to the Japanese Ministry's DMLE headquarters. Harry ignored the looks he was being given by several of the workers who recognized him and took the prisoner to a holding cell.

Next, Harry knew, he was going to have to sign some forms and make arrangements for the man's transportation back to Britain. He strode up a flight of stairs and down a thin-walled corridor until he arrived at the end of the hall. There stood a door, which Harry knew, even though he couldn't actually understand it as it was written, said "Yasuo Kameko, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement".

Harry knocked on Kameko's door and opened it just a bit to peer in. The attractive Japanese woman motioned for him to take a seat as she bent to pick up her ringing telephone. "Yasuo," she answered briskly. "Moshi, moshi." She paused for a moment, listening to the other person talk. "Iie," she replied after a minute, shaking her head, "Iie." She muttered a string of instructions Harry could never hope to understand, waited another moment before saying "Hai," and hung up.

She turned her blazing, almond-coloured eyes to look at Harry, taking in his sweaty, slightly sunburned face, and grinned. "You'd better be here with good news, Potter," she said teasingly. "I'm anxious to finally be rid of you."

"I completely understand, *Miss* Yasuo. I'd like to get home myself. This rather sudden and unexpected delay came at an inconvenient time," he replied. Kameko shook her head, slightly exasperated, but a hint of the grin remained on her face.

"Harry, there is something seriously wrong with your country. I mean, you come here to catch that Rookwood person and, the day you're supposed to go home, another one of your convicts escapes and you're sent to catch that fellow, too. I mean," she sat down behind her desk and pulled out a sheaf of paper and a quill from one of the drawers, "You've just got too many Dark Wizards who like coming to Japan. Do they have secret societies who distribute pamphlets and get group rates or something?"

Watching as Kameko filled out the prisoner transfer forms, shaking her head at the absurdity of the world, Harry smiled. "I don't know about that, but I definitely understand how you're feeling."

She nodded, filled out another couple of lines and looked up at him questioningly. "You taking a portkey home?"

Harry shook his head. "Naw. I'll portkey Nott back, but I think I'll take the muggle plane. It'll give me a chance to get some sleep." Kameko nodded again and finished filling out her forms. She handed them to Harry, pointing to a couple of spots at the bottom of the first page.

"Sign here. Anyway, you have fun with your plane and everything," she replied, standing up. "And don't worry about Nott. Just floo your fellow Englishmen and let them know he's coming. We'll sedate him and send him on his way, and everyone will be happy again."

Harry nodded, leaning in to kiss his friend lightly on the cheek before starting off back down the hall. "Yeah. Well, I'll miss you, Kam. Be good and don't forget to write."

"I won't," Kameko promised, calling after him. "And hey! You take care of yourself, you hear me, Potter? If you don't, I'll know about it. I know your shrink!" Harry waved vaguely back at her in reply before he disappeared around the corner.

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Zacharias Smith was one of half a dozen Aurors who had been assigned to receive the escaped prisoner Theodore Nott when Harry Potter sent him back to the British Department of Magical Law Enforcement from the one in Japan via a chopstick-turned-portkey. Nott's head lolled around on his shoulders when he arrived, unconscious for the most part, and he stumbled unsteadily about the portkey station until two Aurors firmly took hold of both of his shoulders and held him still. He had apparently been well and fully sedated by the Japanese. So after searching him for anything that he might intend to use to help while he tried to make a second escape attempt, the Aurors took him straight to a holding cell to await the Ministry's decision on what to do with him.

Once Nott was securely behind bars again, with extra guards thrown in for good measure, Zacharias made his way to the Junior Deputy Head of the Department's office. He knocked lightly on the JD's thick oak door, but he didn't wait for an answer before opening it and stepping into the well-furnished room. The Junior Deputy himself was busy at that moment, arguing with someone whose face was currently glaring at him from inside the fireplace, but it didn't take Zacharias long to realize that it was not a business call.

"Honey, I've told you a thousand times," Ron said, his tone the long-suffering kind of a person who has already repeated what he is saying several times and has yet to yield results. "I can't go tonight. I'm working. Tell your Mum I send my best wishes and I hope she has a happy birthday, but there's really nothing I can do. My hands are tied."

Hermione Granger 'hmphed' from the fire, sending green sparks swirling around her face. "Don't you believe for one second that I'm swallowing that, Ronald Weasley. You just don't want to have dinner with my father. Honestly, what is it between you two?!"

Ron sighed exasperatedly. "Well, how would you like spending the whole evening with a man whose only opinion of you basically boils down to 'that evil, corruptive, horny little bastard who stole my sweet, innocent daughter away from me'?"

Zacharias, still at the door, cleared his throat to get Ron's attention. Ron glanced over his shoulder at him and his freckled nose gave a minute twinge of irritation. He returned to the fire for a moment. "Mione, look, I've got to go. I hope you have a good time. I'll see you when I get home." Hermione made one final noise of disapproval before her head vanished with a 'Pop!' Ron turned back to the blonde standing in his office door.

"What can I help you with, Mr. Smith?"

Zacharias pointed back over his shoulder in the general direction of the Department's holding cells. "We've just returned something you lost." He paused for a moment before adding, "Sir."

"Nott?" Ron asked anxiously. Zacharias nodded. The Junior Deputy let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. "Harry catch him?" He nodded again. "Good. Excellent work. It was sharp of you to suggest checking the muggle airport surveillance cameras, Smith. I'll commend you in the report." Zacharias frowned slightly.

"That's not going to get me promoted, is it?" Ron gave him a funny look.

"There's always the possibility, but...no, probably not. It's very doubtful, in any case."

"Good." Zacharias smirked. "Wouldn't want to end up like you, now, would I, SIR. I remember back when you were still a lowly Auror-in-Training with me and Potter and the others and then they commended YOU in some report and you started thinking you were too good to work with us anymore, so you went for some desk job instead. And then you got involved in that whole conspiracy thing and then they promoted you again. And now look at you. Stuck in some fancy corner office with a spectacular view you can't even enjoy because you're so busy working that you don't have time to go to your in-laws' place for dinner." Ron's face was screwed up with distaste, but Zacharias had to ask one last thing before he was thrown out. "Does your father-in-law really think that you're an 'evil, horny little bastard'?"

Ron glared at him. "Get out of my office, MISTER Smith. You won't have to worry much about being promoted anytime soon, not with that attitude." He went back to his desk, which was covered in files and documents that all needed to be thoroughly read and signed. Zacharias gave him one last smug look before heading out the door. But just before he left, Ron muttered something just loud enough for him to hear. "And that old goat is NOT my father-in-law."

"Yet," Zacharias answered snidely back. "Granger is starting to get a bit wider round the middle these days, you know. Don't think her parents won't notice it. So, good luck there, whenever you do finally end up seeing her dad again." The blonde smirked then turned on his heel and headed back down the hall. If he had stayed, he would have had the immense satisfaction of seeing his boss stick his tongue out at him.

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