Harry Potter and the Magical Tours

A Steel Wing was something wonderful. The most expensive broomstick of the world, and you could drop it anywhere without being afraid it would be gone when returning. Not that the entrance of Gringotts had to be rated as the most risky place, but then, you never knew.

Mr Moroney was in his office, and it took not more than three minutes until Harry was sitting opposite him, in this room which seemed smaller than Mr Boonhill's file cabinet.

"Mr Potter", said the Goblin, "your visits have all the ingredients of excitement and thrill."

"Unfortunately so, Mr Moroney. Thank you for seeing me at such a short notice. The reason for my visit is Sirius Black. He disappeared." Harry explained what had happened, and why he felt sure about Sirius being in the hands of Voldemort.

The Goblin had listened silently. "Is there anything particular where we can help you, Mr Potter?"

"I'm not sure, Mr Moroney. My immediate target is Wesley Warrington, the head of the Transportation Department. As far as we know, he's deeply involved - more, I think he's responsible for the murder of Rita Skeeter, a journalist who worked for the Daily Prophet. Still, that's my speculation; I can't prove it. Anyway, this man has a vacation house on the Bahamas, just where the mother company of Magical Tours is located. And there's something funny with that house: the listed address is a fake. So right now, what I'm trying to find out is the address of that house."

"An interesting dilemma, Mr Potter. On one side Mr Warrington, a respected customer of Gringotts, and considered innocent until proven guilty, on the other side your speculation ... Hmm."

The Goblin thought for a moment. "Mr Potter, it won't surprise you to hear that your speculations are taken very, very seriously by Goblins. What makes you think Mr Warrington is guilty?"

"The details of Rita Skeeter's death, Mr Moroney. It was done to appear as an accident, a hit-and-run. That's so untypical of Voldemort - he never left any doubt of the circumstances when he killed, or let someone else kill for him. On the other hand, I got a post-mortem letter from Rita Skeeter's lawyer, with the list of items and facts she had gathered. And the last entry she wrote was how she planned to check Mr Warrington's whereabouts through all channels she knew."

"I see ..." After a moment, Mr Moroney explained, "Frankly, Mr Potter, a murder between wizards wouldn't be enough for Gringotts to break the rule of confidentiality, while the topic of Voldemort is something totally different. Assume you find this house, what then?"

"Well - I've got the feeling I could find Voldemort there. Once I know the address, I'll go to that house."

The Goblin nodded. "Your request is reasonable, Mr Potter, definitely so." He smiled. "Anything else would have been a surprise. I'll check around, to see if we can offer some information. How shall we keep in touch?"

"I'll be back day after tomorrow - maybe I should pass by, although I don't want to appear obtrusive ..."

"You should do that, Mr Potter - even if there may be nothing to report."

"Okay ... Aside from that, I think Professor Dumbledore in Hogwarts is the best address to send information." Harry stood up and bowed. "Thank you, Mr Moroney. Even if there's no information available, it's a great help for me to talk with you, or other Goblins - it makes me feel safe, and sure."

A wider smile. "You met another Goblin recently, didn't you, Mr Potter?"

"Huh? ... Oh, yes, of course - Wynor the Whistler." Harry grinned. "It would have been interesting to talk with him more, but somehow we didn't find much time."

"There was also a Goblin Request in play - a very interesting document, I had the opportunity to read it." There was satisfaction in Mr Moroney's voice. "An excellent sample how to meet the true intention of these rewards - somehow, I was strongly reminded of your own."

"Really?" With some effort to ban a similar emotion from his own voice, Harry said, "That might be just coincidence."

"Yes, might be ... Some people attract coincidences, don't they, Mr Potter?"

It was the closest thing to small talk Harry had ever encountered with Goblins, except that he knew for sure - Goblins didn't do small talk. So Mr Moroney had given him a message. Maybe there was still something underneath, but what he had heard was obvious enough ... The Goblins knew about his family relationships, naturally so, they suspected him to work as a ghostwriter - at least occasionally - and they didn't object.

Which was just fine.

* * *

Harry had seen the way to the Chang house only from the inside of a luxury limousine, with tinted glass preventing a clear view forward. Worse, most times he had been busy with other things, unaware of road signs passing outside. Up in the air on his Steel Wing, it took him quite some time to follow the route. Eventually, he recognized the building's unmistakable shape with its mix of styles.

"Harry!" Mrs Chang's face showed surprise, joy, astonishment, concern in a rapid sequence. "Is there anything wrong?"

"Not with Cho. Otherwise, yes."

"Come in - you took me so much by surprise, I was dropping all my manners." However, even inside, Mrs Chang seemed not inclined to raise much formality. "Are you hungry?"

Considering the time of day - shortly after noon - the question was perfectly normal. And, as Harry realized, the answer was a resonant yes.

He followed Mrs Chang into the kitchen, to sit down and to tell her what had happened while she kept herself busy preparing some food, happy with her doing, while not so happy with his story.

"I came here" explained Harry, "to ask Mr Chang whether he sees a possibility to look for this particular detail - for the address of a house under the name of Warrington."

"I don't expect him before the evening, but you can phone him in his office - after the meal, because that's the only reasonable time for important talk, at least for Chinese" - Mrs Chang smiled - "and for Japanese too. Do you mind eating in the kitchen?"

"Not at all. It feels homey, so totally informal."

A quick glance. "So for once, you can drop the burden of formality in this house."

Harry kept silent, registering with limited surprise that Cho had inherited her style of conversation from both parents.

At any rate, Mrs Chang expected no reply. She put dishes on the table. "It's our first opportunity for a private chat, Harry, and then this. Anyway, it won't be the last."

Only it was Mrs Chang herself who couldn't wait until the end of the meal before talking. "So Voldemort has caught your godfather, Harry ... Why?"

"To have a hostage."

"Obviously. And for what?"

"Hmm ... He forces me to visit him."

"Really? What's his advantage from your visit? So far, he could hide quite successfully. If he wants to see you, there'd be a simpler way."

"Sure - but maybe not under his own conditions, in his own environment."

Mrs Chang looked at him. "Harry - all your encounters with Voldemort took place under his own conditions and in his own environments, and it helped him a great deal. You take hostages for just one purpose."

"For blackmailing."

"Right. Visiting him is probably a necessary step - after all, he has to tell you what he wants from you."

Thinking it over, Harry was forced to draw a few conclusions, one less pleasant than the other. He could see only one request Voldemort might have toward him - of a kind which included Cho still more, of a nature that a mother - Cho's own, for example - would recognize the pattern quicker than anyone else. Worse, it would mean the meeting with Voldemort - if planned by him - would take place far away from where Sirius was kept.

Watching him, Mrs Chang could see that Harry had followed her thought. She said, "I'm not asking what you'll do - "

"Whatever I'll do, I won't fulfill his request."

She put a hand on his arm. "Harry - as horrible as the thought is, don't fix your mind prematurely. That's something I learned from my husband - take the time you're granted, and if we're right, it's in the nature of Voldemort's demand that there is quite some time."

"Yes, Mrs Chang, but the answer'll be always the same, only considering my own part, even without Cho's."

"And your godfather?"

Yes, what about Sirius? Refusing the demand would condemn him to death. Playing for time would not change anything, other than offering an opportunity to feel sick for months. Of course, one could argue that Voldemort would never let go of Sirius, no matter what happened, because Voldemort was no reliable contract partner. Reliable contracts ... Promises, to be kept.

---

This was a Zen riddle that could not be laughed away. But it could be solved with a similar method - provided it was done properly. Harry looked up.

"I'll get him out - without fulfilling the request."

"Then you're a true magician, and you can see more than I do. Where's the weak spot?"

"There isn't any, that's why I have to create one."

Mrs Chang examined his face. "You really have an idea, don't you? It's incredible, and so quickly!"

"Well, let's say I have a strategy. And besides, what do you mean, so quickly? I had time to think it over, sleep it over ..."

Dream it over.

"... while it was you who saw the most likely reason immediately."

Mrs Chang shook her head. "All I did was point it out - I didn't even say the words, which tells us both you knew all the time. While for me - since I've heard about this plot, I can't forget it, so it's only natural that this was my first idea."

"You're right. I violated the rule of meditation, of preparing for the fight - I wasn't honest to myself, but you've corrected this mistake." He bowed.

"You see, Harry, what can be the result when dropping formality here."

The joke didn't catch, and a moment later, the smile in Mrs Chang's face faded entirely. "Harry," she asked, "is the price very high?"

"No ... It's acceptable, considering what we get for it. From a certain perspective, it may even look as if there's no price to pay, except ..."

"There's no such thing as a free supper, right?"

"No." Harry smiled. "All you can get is a free lunch."

His own joke didn't fare much better. Mrs Chang went to the telephone. Harry heard her dialing, then a rapid sequence of sounds - apparently Chinese, then she called him.

He talked with Mr Chang, to hear that the chances were low but that Mr Chang would give it the best try he could think of, and that Harry might be very careful.

"I will, Mr Chang. Thank you - bye."

Mrs Chang came closer. "You want to leave, Harry?"

"Yes - back to Hogwarts, to get some help for the next steps." Seeing her expression, he added, "Not Cho - she's no Animagus. I'll ask Almyra - and stay in full cover until Cho's finished shouting with me." He grinned.

Mrs Chang smiled. "You know how to stop that, don't you?"

Did he? He wasn't sure.

Mrs Chang came closer. "It's very simple." Then she drew a diagram for him - raising two fingers, putting them to her lips first and his own then. "Goodbye, Harry - come again when you have something to tell, and come again when there's really time for a chat."

"Definitely, Mrs Chang. Bye."

* * *

Linkport travel would have been fastest. On the other side, Harry had a lot to think about, and he simply didn't feel like joining the afternoon classes. This, in combination with a wonderful June weather, made him mount his Steel Wing for a long-distance travel back to Hogwarts.

Up in the sky, surrounded by the thundering air outside the protective sphere of his windshield, he found the quietness for thinking his strategy over. Yes, he would find only Voldemort, and Voldemort would feel safe - assuming he could disappear any second. Would be a bad surprise for him ... And then, Harry had to play his cards - with the goal of getting Sirius back. These cards still needed a bit honing, there was one maybe too much for Harry's taste.

When touching down at the staircase to the Hogwarts Entrance Hall, Harry knew - this maybe had shrunk in size, however without disappearing, reason enough to talk with Dumbledore.

He found the Headmaster in his office.

"Harry," said Dumbledore when Fawkes had folded its wings on Harry's shoulder, "I hope you have a lot to tell, and I can listen, because - if I had to talk, it would be about Hogwarts rules and what they would mean for you."

"Yes, Prof, I have a lot to tell." Harry reported the current state, all assumptions, and speculations, as well as the planning for his next steps. With every minute, he felt more self-confident - partly because each new telling made the assumptions appear more conclusive, but mainly because Fawkes on his shoulder caused the usual effect.

Dumbledore showed a thin smile. "If you ever tell someone that the Headmaster of Hogwarts has agreed to that, I'll be fired ... What's more interesting - what if you find Voldemort?"

"That's what I wanted to discuss with you, Prof. I need someone to pick at the weak spots, and you're the only one I'm ready to tell the plan." Harry explained his strategy, outlining the chances, the risks, and the consequences.

Dumbledore listened till the end. Even after Harry had finished, the Headmaster kept silent for a while. Finally, he looked up.

"Remarkable, Harry. It's as simple as daring - and it answers a question I had."

"Which?"

"I was asking myself whether you have reached the level to confront Voldemort from your own initiative. But your plan shows so much of maturity, there's no doubt left." Dumbledore smiled. "Even if we had to expel you afterwards, we could attest the full qualification."

"Hmm ... For some reason, it's a tempting offer, Prof."

"Is it? Well, then I should take it back. But that reminds me of something else. You should discuss the crucial estimations in your plan with that Beauxbatons student ..."

"Marie-Christine?"

"... yes, that's her name - I have to admit, her psychological profile of Voldemort is the best I can imagine."

For Harry, the kind of association Dumbledore's mind was taking seemed quite interesting, to say the least, however badly suited to comment on them. So he agreed to talk with Marie-Christine and left.

In the Great Hall, he had a few minutes before the rows filled with students, waiting for supper. Cho found him first, came running. "Harry, how are you? What did you find? Anything new from Sirius?"

He smiled. "After the meal - I have to talk with Al ... Greetings from your mother."

"Really?" Cho looked pleased. "Why did you visit her?"

"Oh - I was hungry, and she cooked me a lunch, and then she showed me a trick - how to make you shut up when I'll ask Al for her help."

"You're joking!"

"Oh no - wait and see." Harry hunched his shoulders. "I mean, you could just listen silently, but that's a fat chance, isn't it?"

"Unbelievable - from my own mother ... But of course, you're courting her wherever you can."

"Right - and this investment now paid off."

---

Harry walked to his own seat, already expected by Ron and Hermione, who had many questions. He answered carefully - basically, all he told them was that there was no real news, things were in progress, and his presence here in Hogwarts was just a step in-between.

After the meal, he returned to the Ravenclaw table and greeted Almyra. "Can we talk?"

The weather offered warmth enough for doing it outside, at their common place - near Hagrid's grave. Harry explained the situation, without stressing the subject of Voldemort's motives. It wasn't exactly an attempt to hide them, only they were not relevant when discussing a way to squeeze Warrington.

"I'm going to kidnap Warrington," he said, "and to ask him questions at a quiet place. For that, I need help. You'd fit perfectly, Al."

"Why?"

"Not for the kidnapping - Deborah's currently spying out his routine, and tomorrow evening, when we'll meet again, hopefully she has enough material to select a place and a time where to catch him. No, it's for the interrogation."

"You didn't answer my question!"

"That's true. I'd prefer to explain the details only if you agree."

Cho asked, "Why not Remus?"

"One reason is that it's of course completely unlawful, and somehow I can't help feeling he'd be compromised more - a teacher of Hogwarts. The other reason is that Al knows more animals."

"More animals? What do you have in mind?"

Harry smiled. "Is it time for your mother's trick?"

"That's infamous! You're going to trick me, and you ask me whether it's the proper time? No, it's not - it's never."

Harry sighed. "Pity - it's really nice, and she demonstrated it so well ..."

Cho was twisting in her own curiosity.

Almyra saw it. "It's time, Harry."

"All right." He turned to Cho. "Your mother said it's very simple to make you shut up - so." He showed her.

Almyra applauded. "Very clever - especially considering who gave this advice."

A moment later, Cho said, "Yes, that crossed my mind too." She looked at Harry. "And you said she demonstrated it?"

"Well - she drew a diagram." Harry demonstrated how.

Hardly relieved, Cho said, "Young Potter, you're running a bit too loose for my taste."

"I told you, didn't I? By the way, just to keep you informed - after this conversation here, I have to meet Marie-Christine."

"Oh ... What for?"

"To talk about Voldemort. I have a few questions - actually, it was Dumbledore's idea."

The expression in Harry's face told Cho enough. "You want to talk with her alone, right?"

"Yes. It's ... there's a crucial aspect, and ... yes, with her alone."

Cho had a wry grin. "Don't stay too long."

Another joke which didn't catch. But then, maybe it hadn't been a joke. "No," replied Harry, "shouldn't take long." He looked at Almyra. "And you?"

"Yes, of course, Harry ... And if it's only to hear how you want to squeeze that Warrington."

"Great - thank you." He bent closer to hug her.

From behind came a voice. "There's no need to shut her up."

Somewhat handicapped from the grin spreading in her face, Almyra started, "Tweedle-di tweedle-dum doodle-ray doodle ..."

Harry stopped her as expected, turned to Cho. "Wrong, as you heard."

Almyra said, "And now - why do you need a multi-Animagus?"

Harry explained what he had in mind.

Cho whistled. "That's heavy."

Almyra had only one question. "Are you sure it was him who gave the order to kill Rita Skeeter?"

"For me there's no doubt." Seeing the other two faces, Harry added, "I'm not a jury, but then, I'm not condemning him - all I want are some answers."

"Assume you get your answers, and they confirm your assumption - what then?"

"I don't know ... My first priority is Sirius, as simple as that."

---

Harry agreed with Almyra to meet after supper tomorrow, then went back into the building to pass the port toward Beauxbatons. He had to ask several students, raising quite some glances, before he found a girl that knew where to look for Marie-Christine.

Sitting in a corner, he saw her coming through the hall. He stood up, greeted her. "I hope I didn't compromise you."

Marie-Christine smiled. "Not more than before."

"Oh ... Is it that bad?"

"I'm a celebrity." Marie-Christine looked apologetic."'arry, for the first time I really know what you meant - how it is, walking around with that scar. Did you read the newspapers?"

"No, but I know what you mean."

"Doesn't matter - they can write what they want, it's not going to change anything ... Let's find a place where we can sit without being stared at." Marie-Christine grinned. "If I still had the apartment - "

"You gave it up?"

"Sure - it was too expensive for me alone, I didn't use it, and there were too many bad memories ... I took out my things and one memory."

They found a bench in the park - the weather at Beauxbatons was even better, offering the promise of summer. Sitting down, Marie-Christine asked, "How is Cho?"

"Good, given the circumstances. How are you?"

"Just a second - what circumstances?"

"We'll talk about them in a minute, but first - how are your dreams?"

"I can handle them. I use a trick ..." Marie-Christine hesitated.

"What kind of trick?"

"Well - every now and then, I dream the scene again, and then I wake up, sweaty all over ... And then I remember the next morning, every detail, until - anyway, shortly afterwards, I can sleep." Her cheeks were flushed.

"From a nightmare to a wet dream?"

Marie-Christine smiled. "You really have a sense for nice descriptions, 'arry."

"Yeah, maybe so." He thought better than to direct this compliment toward the proper address.

Sobering up, Marie-Christine asked, "Now then - what's bothering you, or Cho?"

"Sirius, my godfather - he disappeared, and for all we know, Voldemort has caught him." Harry explained a bit more, however leaving out the details of his next planning. "Marie-Christine, what I need from you is a judgement of Voldemort's motives - in particular, his priorities."

"Oh God - 'arry, ten minutes ago, I could have talked for hours about this topic, but suddenly - you've something in mind, don't you? And depending on what I'll answer, you're going to use one plan or another. Am I right?"

"Not quite - I have only one plan. At least, Dumbledore said your psychological profile is the best he knows."

"Did he? That's a help. Okay, ask."

"Well ... What do you think is Voldemort's most important goal?"

Marie-Christine answered without hesitation. "To stay alive."

"Hmm ... As simple as that?"

"Yes. Of course, this is everybody's goal, but with him, it's extreme - simply because he has additional desires, very extreme ones, and still this first priority is dominating everything."

"Not power, or revenge?"

Marie-Christine shook her head. "Definitely not. Consider the scene at the ship, 'arry - if the hunger for power was the strongest motive, he would have tried to kill you - yes, we all think it would kill him finally, but there's just one way to prove it, right? But he didn't dare, which means the risk to die was too high."

"And revenge?"

"Only within the limits of higher priorities. If revenge was the most important motive, then Lupin would have died, rather than serving as the means to - " Marie-Christine stopped, her eyes widening. "And Sirius ... he caught him to - oh my God!"

"Yes, I know. Just for my ease of mind - he's not waiting for me to kill Sirius in front of my eyes?"

"No, 'arry. It might happen after he got what he wants - until then, Sirius is safe, so to speak."

"Excellent!" Harry felt better. "Marie-Christine, that's good news - better than I hoped."

"But how - " She looked desperate. "What are you planning, 'arry?"

"Calm down - I'm not going to give him what he wants, and if you're right, I'll come back together with Sirius."

Marie-Christine stared at Harry, then nodded. "Basically speaking, it's impossible - but so what, basically speaking, I'm dead for a while."

Harry grinned. "That's the spirit - I was telling myself, but it's good to hear it from you."

"Any time, 'arry - as long as you want." According to her expression, Marie-Christine seemed ready to offer more.

"Not today - I promised Cho to come back early."

"You should have come with her." It was suprising how quickly Marie-Christine's voice, seconds after this topic, could hint disappointment and reproach.

Harry shook his head. "Not for this conversation. She isn't yet fully aware of the plot - the later, the better."

"I guess you're right. Please keep me informed, 'arry."

He promised, expressing the hope to see her again early, with better news, and together with Cho - the same Cho who was sitting in the hall when he returned to Hogwarts, who grabbed him for another walk outside.

Where she said, "I had time to think a little bit, Harry - for example, about what Voldemort wants to achieve. It took me a moment, but then - "

"Me too. Your mother was quicker, she saw it immediately."

Cho stopped him, looked into his face. "What can we do? We can't - "

He hugged her. "I have a plan. He won't get what he wants, and he'll give up Sirius - I only have to find him."

"Really?"

"Yes - I checked it with Dumbledore, and I checked some details with Marie-Christine. It's a good plan, except that I have to think it over, that's why I don't want to tell."

"Okay - I know you well enough to feel better even so."

"Thank you." He kissed her.

"How's Deborah?"

"Well enough to spy out Warrington. First she was a mess, but then she recovered, definitely better than Jessica, who's not useful at all in this - "

Totally uninterested in Jessica, Cho interrupted him. "Did you help her to recover?"

"Yes, of course."

"Was it difficult?"

"Difficult? ... It took a while."

Cho sighed. "Harry, the walking first-aid kit ... Something tells me I want to hear every detail, but not now - I'm too shaky for exciting stories."

* * *

Mr Wesley Warrington, head of the Transportation Department in the Ministry of Magic, walked down the staircases to the exit of this large, old-fashioned office building which was so difficult to survey. It seemed a bit early for a lunch break, only this time guaranteed the best places in the restaurant across the street, and Mr Warrington saw it as a privilege that went with the position.

Reaching the landing, he stopped, staring. Some feet apart sat a large black dog!

Mr Warrington could have sworn the dog hadn't been there a second before - but there it was, out of nowhere.

The dog seemed to grow - no, he was coming at him, flying through the air, right into his face ... Mr Warrington's senses faded, with large teeth in an opened mouth the last view before unconsciousness caught him.

* * *

Barely touching the man's shoulders, Almyra jumped down, landing on all four legs. By the time she had turned, two legs had already changed to arms, and a dog to a young woman.

A second later, the collapsed body of Mr Warrington disappeared. A muffled voice, as if coming from under a cloak, said, "Okay - call her."

Almyra sprinted down the stairs, through the door, and stopped, looking around.

A car appeared and stopped in front of her. The driver's seat was occupied by another young woman.

Almyra opened the backseat door, then kept standing there as though waiting for someone to come out. Except there was nobody. Seconds later, the car twisted as if some weight had been dropped on it. Still, the backseats looked empty ... Well, maybe a bit dented.

Almyra closed the door, opened the front door, and climbed in. The car accelerated without untidy haste; seconds later, it disappeared around the corner.

Half an hour later, the car stopped at another building - also owned by the Ministry, but smaller, more modern, well suited for an employee of the higher ranks. Currently it was empty.

Only the night before, one could have heard noises from the cellar, for quite a while, as if someone was rearranging a room down there, and closing the small windows, like for a party from which neither light nor sound should reach the outside - a strange thought, in the middle of the night.

* * *

Mr Warrington came awake from a feeling as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water into his face.

He gasped, then looked around - tried to look around. It didn't work, he couldn't see anything. Total blackness. Was it a dream? No - pinching himself worked, and hurt.

For a horrible instant, he knew he was buried alive. Panic-stricken, his arms moved around, hitting empty air. Touching down, he felt concrete. He started to get upright.

With a cry, he slumped down again.

The large teeth at his neck let go, the sniffing faded. A dog - he'd seen a dog in the Ministry, and then ... Had to be the same dog. A dog in total darkness - a half-forgotten memory resurfaced in his mind, raising another terrible thought. Was he alive? Or was this the hell-hound, and he was ... A whimper escaped his throat.

He felt alive, and he had to pee - quite urgently so. Was this proof? Mr Warrington didn't know. And if this was Hell, and he was dead, how come the smallest movement sent this hellish creature on his neck, scaring him to death? A contradiction ... So he was alive - except this was Hell, and eternal fright was the punishment for ... The thought was enough to lose control of his bladder.

The smell, and the wetness, growing cold after some minutes, convinced him he was alive. Feeling extremely unpleasant, but alive. A shaky laughter was building in him -

A rush in the air stopped him cold, then a weight landed on his shoulders. Next instant, he felt a sharp pain as several needles dug into his flesh. Touching, grabbing, he felt a shape like a large bird, then a blow like from a beak hit his head.

A bird? Was there a hell bird? He started to cry, uncontrollably.

The bird went off.

Mr Warrington tried to collect himself, was intaking breath with a sob when something smooth glided over his shoulder and around his neck. A rope? No - too thick for a rope, but it was tight, and started to strangle him.

He grabbed, tried to move it off, found something hard, muscular, like a snake, not letting go, pressing harder, another blackness rising in him ...

The inner blackness faded, but the snake was still around his throat. He didn't dare to move.

"Scared?"

Mr Warrington cried and twisted simultaneously. This voice - deep, metallic, threatening, unlike any human voice.

He sobbed. "Yes - please ... I'm scared, more than - scared shitless." This was almost literally true, he could feel it. "Where ... what ... Am I alive?"

"An interesting question. Maybe."

"Where - where's this?"

"Somewhere in the middle ... Call it the place of confession."

"Con - " Icy terror grabbed Mr Warrington. If this wasn't Hell yet, his confession would certainly - he quickly choked his own thought.

"I've got nothing to confess - nothing!"

"Good."

The voice sounded indifferent, unconcerned, only the snake around his throat was again pressing, pressing, still tighter ... His consciousness faded for the second time.

When he woke again, he was alone. No snake, no dog, no bird - and he was dry. But it was still black around him.

A voice like an angel's reached his ears. "Wesley Warrington, say what you have to say."

A second chance? And maybe with another outcome ...

Mr Warrington blurted it out as fast as he could - how the offer had come to get rich, really rich, for what initially seemed not more than doing the job he was ordered to do, only not quite as unbiased as he was supposed, and how other things had occurred, at a time when he already knew the taste of money, and luxury, and just when he had come out roses from this nasty press campaign, that stupid witch was about to find some really important facts, but he had found help to get rid of her, this was his only serious crime, and he -

"You will be judged again," said the angelic voice, "later. In the meantime, you will be sent back to Earth. You may recover and think about your life. There is a house, on the Bahamas - seems a good place to - "

"Plana Cays? No, please, not there, for the mercy of God, not this place. Send me home to London, please ..." Mr Warrington started to cry.

"Good."

An instant later, his senses faded once more.

* * *

Half an hour had passed since then. Mr Weasley Warrington was sitting in the grass, leaning snugly against a tree near his home. With the data sheet from Sirius' office, the address had been found easily.

The car with Deborah and Almyra drove around a corner, out of sight.

From a safe distance, and under the cover of his Invisibility Cloak, Harry sent the destunning spell toward the man, then walked around the same corner to climb into the car, all the way careful not to make noise or crush down any grass. It was most unlikely, but Mr Warrington might suddenly start thinking of people who still were completely earth-bound.

Deborah started the engine and drove away, as leisurely as seemed appropriate in this noble neighbourhood. "What now?"

"If you don't mind," said Harry, "we could check with Mr Boonhill. Driving in a car's less suspicious than a broomstick ride."

They drove almost silently, each of them reconsidering the scenes in the cellar, and each of them with a different perspective. Only Harry had seen more than blackness, thanks to his getsumai no michi. Almyra had relied mostly on smell, as a dog, or sound, as a bird. For Deborah, the angel voice, the experience had consisted of little more than sound.

They reached the Magical Tours headquarter.

"I'll be back in a few minutes." Harry climbed out, then grabbed Nagini to take her around his body - just in case, and remembering Trelawney's advice. Anyway, he was back soon afterwards.

Driving off, Deborah asked, "Did you get anything?"

"Yes ... A name, and an address, although the address is nothing new - it's Amalgamated Enterprises in Nassau."

"And now? What next?"

Almyra said, "If you hear a growling, it's not a dog - it's my stomach. So I'd suggest, the next thing to do is to get some food."

This was a wonderful idea, and they made a stop at a supermarket, for something as simple and nourishing as grilled chicken, French fries, and a salad bowl.

---

Harry turned to Deborah. "Do you have maps of the Bahamas at home?"

She hadn't, but the Daily Prophet office had. So Almyra had to wait a little longer before they were sitting around Deborah's kitchen table, ripping off pieces of chicken meat, not bothering with a fork except for the salad.

When only a pile of bones was left, Harry looked at Almyra. "Was it enough, or are you still hungry?"

"I'll survive for a few hours - why, do you have something else to offer?"

"Sure - provided you turn into a dog." Harry pointed at the bones.

For a moment, Almyra looked very interested, then shook her head. "Not the best idea. I would have to stay a dog until the bones were digested; the human stomach can't handle them. No thanks."

Deborah cleaned the table, then came back with the map. "So what was the name our dear guest has said? Planar keys?"

"No, it wasn't keys - it sounded a bit darker, more like - "

"Cays - here, look. The Bahamas consist of umpteen cays ... Rum Cay ... Samana Cay ... Bingo!"

Deborah's finger pointed. Plana Cays were two small islands, the bigger of the two not more than ten miles diameter, between Crooked Island and Mayaguana Island.

Harry checked it. "With a broomstick, you'll have scanned the small island in ten minutes, and the big one in two hours. Super, it saves us the hazzle with official records - imagine, it would have been this one." He pointed at Andros Island, the biggest of the Bahama islands, about the size of Puerto Rico.

Almyra asked, "Okay, you scan the island, and you detect the houses. And then?"

"Then I go down and knock at the door - and in one of them, it will be Voldemort who's opening the door - no, maybe Wormtail." Harry looked grim.

Deborah had an idea. "Maybe the address was correct, only the wrong island. It was Dune Road, and that's a valid address in Nassau, on New Providence Island."

"Dune Road!" Harry snorted. "There's probably a Dune Road on every island, except they won't have street signs."

Deborah said, "We could hire a local investigator, in the name of the Daily Prophet. He could check for vacation homes of British foreigners."

Harry shook his head. "Better not - if Voldemort's there, he'll recognize everything unusual. No, the first contact must be the real one."

Almyra asked, "The name you got, Harry - what about that?"

He reached in his pocket, extracted the piece of paper, and read it. "It's a Mr Crownshield - some rank in Amalgamated Enterprises. They can be found at Hillcrest Avenue, Nassau, Bahamas. Mr Boonhill had no additional information, except that Mr Crownshield expects my visit. He said I should be careful."

"You mean, it might be a trap?"

Harry shrugged. "Could be. A trap laid by that company is unlikely - they know that I'd leave someone behind who's informed of every step. And if it's a trap of Voldemort - okay, saves me some effort."

"Are you serious?" Both Almyra and Deborah stared at him.

"Pretty much. I'll discuss it with Dumbledore, but aside from that - time's running, and Sirius will be glad of every day saved."

Almyra glanced at him. "Harry - you need help. Someone has to go with you."

"Not in the front line - that's too dangerous. For a remote post, it's okay, to check whether I'll be back in time. Why - don't tell me you want to volunteer, Cho'll never forgive me - "

"Remus or I - or maybe both. I know Spanish - for a remote post, that's just the proper qualification."

"Let's find out in Hogwarts. Since I'm a coward, I'd prefer you make this offer by yourself, in the presence of Cho."

Almyra grinned, somewhat miserably. "That's what I was trying to avoid."

Deborah had watched the exchange. "And what about me? Why's nobody asking for my help?"

Harry smiled. "For the same reasons that excluded Cho from this adventure."

"Which are?"

"Too much personal involvement, lack of combat experience, lack of qualification - in any convenient order of priority."

"You mean - don't take it personally, but ..."

"You're no Animagus, nor is Cho. That's the most significant difference."

"Then what shall I do in the meantime? Bite my nails?"

Almyra grinned.

Harry had a better idea. "Talk with Paul about the chances for another press campaign against Warrington. Or, if you like the idea, write some anonymous letters to him."

"First I'd like to hear Sirius' opinion about that, before starting any action in this regard."

"Yeah, you're probably right ... Although, I don't think there's anything that can be done at the official level. He's not going to confess in public."

Deborah looked thoughtful. "Maybe he's going to change ... This performance - I tried to imagine how I'd have reacted in his situation, and then I quickly stopped to imagine."

"Do you feel pity? You heard him, he gave the order to kill Rita Skeeter, a colleague of yours."

"Yes. Still, he might change."

Harry didn't think so. "If he changes, his business partners will talk with him, to say the least. But I agree with you to some point - I mean, if he hasn't committed suicide already, I'm not interested to push him in this direction. We know he did it, and that's enough to cover the obligation from Rita. If she wants more, she has to come back as a ghost and haunt him."

Deborah nodded. "Tell her that, Harry."

He grinned. "I'll ask Myrtle for a contact address. All right, I guess we're done. We've made a lot of progress today - now it's time to go back to Hogwarts and to figure out who's travelling to the Caribbean."

Deborah hugged Almyra, then Harry. "Be careful."

First they went to Gringotts. Almyra took the opportunity to fetch some money from her vault, while Harry had a short conversation with Mr Moroney, offering more news than he received in return.

On their way to the linkport, Almyra said, "She takes it quite well - could be much worse."

"Huh?"

"Deborah. She could be driving herself nuts - when I remember how it was with Remus - "

"You've been directly involved," replied Harry, "watching the house and so. So you had lots of time to see what could go wrong, and you heard him. While for Deborah, her biggest problem is to control her imagination. Otherwise - we all know Sirius is alive, and she's decided to believe me that I'll come back with him."

Almyra nodded. "Yes - as simple as that."

* * *

In the linkport, Harry found a phone cell which accepted wizard money. He called Mrs Chang to give her the news about Plana Cays and Mr Crownshield, to be passed further to her husband. Some minutes later, he and Almyra were back in Hogsmeade.

Reaching the school, they split - Harry wanted to talk with Dumbledore, Almyra with Lupin.

The Headmaster listened to Harry's summary, which only presented results and plannings, while no details. However, he seemed hardly satisfied with that.

"Harry - what did you use to squeeze the information out of Mr Warrington?"

"Mostly darkness, Prof, and silence. I didn't touch him, I didn't ask him direct questions."

Dumbledore still wasn't satisified. "Then who touched him instead, if not you?"

"Oh - a dog, a falcon, and a snake. He seemed to think he was in some anteroom of Hell - or Heaven, afterwards. We played a bit with voices."

"Voices in the darkness? I guess the picture is detailed enough, I shouldn't ask further. So you've tracked down a small island and a man in a large company - and now?"

"First I'll contact that man, and then I'll look around at that island, to find the house."

"Alone?"

"Erm - not quite. What I had in mind was an anchor man close by, although not when scanning for the house. Or an anchor woman."

"You're talking about Professor Lupin and Miss Benedict, right?"

"Er - yes, Prof."

"Hmm ..." Dumbledore thought for a moment, then looked up. "Professor Lupin, yes - Miss Benedict, no. I can't send you alone, but I can't send a student of this school. Remus is master of his own decisions, so his choice is acceptable for me."

"That's a strange argument, Prof."

Dumbledore looked unhappy. "Don't tell me, Harry - I know well by myself. Yes, of course you're a student, too, although right now that's more of a formality than anything else - but you return from encounters with Voldemort unharmed, which isn't true for anyone else, certainly not for students."

There was no need to remind Harry of the unlucky Cedric Diggory. "Prof - I'm ready to do it alone, if you think that's the only alternative we might call safe."

"Safe?" Dumbledore suppressed a snort. "There's nothing safe - it couldn't be farther away from that. But your idea seems the best compromise - provided your anchor man keeps away from the dangerous places. Can we agree that Remus won't set foot on that island?"

Harry nodded. "Sounds reasonable - with just ten miles diameter, it's really a bit close."

"Well, then - when do you want to start?"

"Tomorrow, after breakfast, if Re - if Professor Lupin's ready."

The Headmaster didn't smile when he said, "Professor Lupin shouldn't, but Remus will."

He was right. Lupin fully agreed with Dumbledore, found his job in this action less dangerous than many others in the past, calmed down Almyra who complained about nepotism, sexism, and other prejudices, but maybe with some guilt, feeling relieved that she wasn't part of the task force.

Cho was more than happy with the Headmaster's decision. "You're the only one with a protection that's working, Harry. Make sure Lupin's staying off - I know you'll come back, but your promise didn't extend to anyone else."

"Still, I have the intention to return with Sirius - and Remus, of course."

"Yes - but you didn't promise, and for good reason."

Ron stared at Harry. "You go to that island and visit Voldemort? Just so?"

"What do you mean, just so? You know why, don't you?"

"Yes, of course. No, it's so - I don't know ..."

Harry grinned. "Would you feel better with trumpets and drums, big banners and pathetic words?"

"Yes, probably, except for the pathetic words. No, I know what feels wrong - tomorrow, we'll listen first to Hooch and then to Boring Binns, while you travel to the Bahamas to fight Voldemort. It's so out of proportion - "

Hermione interrupted him. "There's only one thing out of proportion - the time schedule. At breakfast here, it's still deep night for the Bahamas, so they'll travel later - "

Harry laughed. "Without your remark, we really might have done this mistake - what a pity, I thought I'd miss Social Ethics."

Nobody had told Rahewa details, but somehow she knew what was going on. She caught Harry in the hall, asked for a walk outside. Near the lake, she held something up.

"I wanted to give you this - for your journey."

Harry examined it. A medium-sized knife, twin-bladed, razor-sharp, in a leather sheat, with thin leather stripes, obviously to fix it somewhere at a body.

"Thank you. I hope I'll be able to return it. Where's the best place to carry a hidden knife?"

"At your calves, just below the knee. You won't reach it quite as fast as from your lower arm, but people forget to check there."

"Well - I don't think it will be a matter of speed, since I'm not used to it - I'd cut myself when trying to draw it in a hurry."

Rahewa took it for a joke.

"By the way," said Harry, using the opportunity, "somehow, I'd expected yours would be a jack-knife."

Rahewa shook her head. "They break easily and are only single-bladed. They're toys, compared to this one."

Harry remembered a jack-knife that hadn't been a toy at all. Still, Rahewa was right - this weapon, forged of a single piece of steel, would stand more than a delicate throat.

* * *

It was just after lunch when he and Lupin reached the Hogsmeade linkport and made the jump to London. It was early afternoon when they took the link to Miami Beach, arriving early in the morning, in good time for the link to Nassau.

They found a hotel near the linkport, mainly as a place to drop their luggage and Harry's Steel Wing. Then Harry was ready to visit Amalgamated Enterprises.

But Lupin wasn't ready to stay behind. "We agreed Plana Cays is your territory, Harry, while this is Nassau, and we're discussing a visit in the office building of a public enterprise."

"Okay - but don't complain afterwards."

Lupin grinned. "Don't you listen? I'm complaining in advance."

Nassau wasn't exactly a big city; still, Hillcrest Avenue seemed too far away for a walk in this incredible heat. They took a cab.

Richer by one experience, they reached their destination; Caribbean cabs were an adventure of their own. Harry examined the building. "Seems pretty small to me - the headquarters of Magical Tours is already bigger."

"Why not? This company here owns other companies, that's all they're doing. You need just a few lawyers, a few secretaries, and some people with money. For that, it's big enough."

Inside, they realized quickly that the company was bigger than it seemed from the outside. A large array of linkport cabins, marked with street and building names, made clear that this was just the central place. Rather than building skycrapers, Amalgamated Enterprises spread over multiple smaller buildings, and made a show of using linkports where other companies might have used escalators.

The lady at the reception desk looked in a list, then dialed a number - apparently, this Mr Crownshield had a secretary to reject people of lesser importance. However, the name "Potter" seemed good enough.

The lady smiled. "You were expected alone, Mr Potter, but there's a nice lobby in that building." She pressed a button. "See the cabin with the green light? That's your link."

The cabin she was pointing had no street sign.

"Where does it lead to?"

"The directorate wing - it's activated separately for each visitor." The lady looked politely, trying to find an expression as if a snake was quite a common accessoire for visitors of the directorate wing.

"Thank you." Harry reached the gate cabin, Lupin in his trail.

He stepped through and made another step forward to give room for Lupin.

There was something terribly wrong. He was in a small room - definitely not the lobby of a directorate wing. And the air - an unpleasant smell, like some flower, only ... The room seemed to grow, the walls retreating, or Harry himself shrinking, shrinking into sleep, or blackness, a hissing in his ears that seemed to fill his entire mind.

He barely registered how Lupin came through, then there was only a black hole, and then there was nothing.