The Paradigm Of Uncertainty

HARRY POTTER AND THE PARADIGM OF UNCERTAINTY

Chapter 5: A Sorry Mess

Usually, Hermione found the annual meeting of the International Casting Society an interesting and enjoyable day. It was a chance to see old friends from Hogwarts, meet new wizards and witches, and learn a few things along the way...not to mention the food and social atmosphere were a blast. This year, however, she was distracted by thoughts of bloody Sorry and Harry's bloody theories.

"Hermione? Hermione!"

"What?" she said, coming back to the present. Minerva was trying to get her attention. The Hogwarts headmistress gave her a stern look, hands on her hips.

"Your mind is elsewhere, dear. What's distracting you?"

Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm preoccupied. I've got a lot of things on my mind."

Minerva stepped closer, putting a hand on her arm. "This isn't about that letter I sent you, is it? I'd hate to think I'd been keeping you up nights..."

"Oh! No, it's not that. I can't share the details with you, but Harry keeps no secrets from me any longer."

Minerva took her arm and led her to a bench nearby, sitting her down as if she were still a student about to get a good scolding. She stood over her, a concerned but serious expression on her face. "Hermione Granger, I might suspect that you're not happy in your job."

Hermione looked up at her, surprised at this astute observation. "What makes you say that?"

"Well for one thing, we've been chatting for hours and you've yet to mention it."

Hermione smiled. "I suppose I can't fool you, can I?"

Minerva sat down next to her with a sigh. "I might have known that after the life you've lived you would never be content to sit behind a desk and page through books all day. You need excitement, and a way to use your skills."

Hermione said nothing for a moment. "Oh, this is all Harry's fault!" she finally exclaimed.

"Probably."

She blew air through her lips. "I don't know what to do, Minerva."

"Something will come along. With your resume you won't lack for jobs."

They were silent for a moment, surveying the crowd. Hermione's eye fell on a striking woman talking with Professor Flitwick at the Broom Guild booth. She was tall and strong-looking with smooth black skin and a vertical mane of tightly curled hair. She was smiling with a wide mouthful of blindingly white teeth as she talked. "Who's that with Flitwick?" Hermione asked.

"Oh! That's our current Defense professor."

"I've heard of her! I remember she had an unusual name...Moneypenny or some such?"

Minerva laughed. "Quinlan Cashdollar. Appropriate name for an American, isn't it?"

"Is she good?"

"Well, she just finished her second year." Hermione nodded, impressed. "She has a vast and wide field of experience. She used to be an enforcer with the American Association of Wizards."

"Amazing. A Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who's actually practiced what she teaches."

"The students adore her, she's very charismatic." Minerva caught Cashdollar's eye and waved her over. The woman bade goodbye to Flitwick and strode over, smiling.

"Minnie!" she said. "What's up?"

"Quinn, I'd like you to meet Dr. Hermione Granger, one of our most illustrious graduates."

"Ah, the famous Hermione! Your reputation precedes you." Hermione shook the woman's hand as Minerva looked off towards the cauldron display, where Snape seemed to be about to start an argument with the merchant.

"Excuse me," Minerva said, striding off to intervene. Cashdollar turned to Hermione.

"I always enjoy meeting alums. What year did you graduate?"

"Class of 98, Ms. Cashdollar."

"Aw hell, call me Quinn. So you studied DADA with a motley crew of professors."

"Oh my, yes. Quirrell, then Lockhart..."

"Ha! That idiot. He couldn't stake a vampire with a pitchfork."

"Lupin, Gudgeon...they all sort of blend together, except for Remus of course." She cocked her head and met Quinn's eyes. "I must say this is a new experience for me, Quinn. Most people who know who I am immediately ask me about Harry."

"Who, Potter?" she said, laughing. "I don't need to."

"Don't tell me you know him!"

"I do indeed. I worked a case with him when I was with the AAW."

Hermione took her arm and drew her aside. "Then you know about his...work."

"Oh, sure." Suddenly her eyes widened and she stopped walking. "Oh geez! I forgot! He said he kept his work a secret from his friends! I haven't spoken out of turn, have I?"

"No, no, I found out about it last week." She paused for a moment, thinking. "But I only know what he's told me. Can you tell me anything more?"

Quinn motioned Hermione onto another bench tucked among some large ficus trees that offered a good deal of privacy. "You're concerned about him."

Hermione nodded. "He's my best friend. I need to more about what he does, things he won't tell me."

Quinn nodded and turned slightly to face her. "Well, here's the thing. He was famous before he ever became a spy, but that don't cut no slack in our line of work. You've got to show what you can do and earn the respect of your colleagues. There's always a sort of indoctrination period. You want to know about him? I'll give it to you straight. Potter's good...he's smart, and he's tough. Now I don't know much about espionage, I was just an enforcer, but as spies go...your Harry's as slick as they come. He's one of the most powerful wizards I've ever met, I sure as hell wouldn't want to go up against him. I once saw him take out out a guy twice his size without even using magic."

Hermione swallowed hard. "I suppose he must be good to have been promoted so quickly."

"That's right, he's Pfaffenroth's second now, isn't he? He was just an intelligence wizard when I knew him. He deserves it." She smiled. "He used to talk about you a lot, you know."

"Is that right?" Hermione said, feeling her face heat up.

"Heck yeah. It was always Hermione this and Hermione that, Hermione said this and if Hermione were here she could tell us that."

Hermione didn't quite know what to say. She was pondering her response when it occurred to her that there was another question that Quinn might be able to help her with. "Pardon the change of subject, but...do you know of a wizard named Sorenson Carlisle?"

Quinn's smiling face went dead serious. "Sorry? Why do you ask?"

"Oh...it's something I'm working on with Harry."

"Well, you want to leave it to him, I think. He's a professional, don't try this at home. Sorry is a very bad man."

Hermione felt cold all over. "Bad, how?"

Quinn sighed. "He keeps dangerous company. Dark company, if you get my drift. You might say he's their new golden boy...or so I hear. You look surprised."

"Worried, mostly. One of our housemates is dating him," she said, her tone bleak.

"If you want to help your friend, then keep her away from him."

"I just can't believe she'd stay with him if he's crossed over."

"Love is blind, you know. And when it's not being blind, it's downright stupid."

**********

Harry was sitting in his desk chair, lost in thought, when a yellow cricket-ball sized bubble floated into the room and spoke with the voice of the guard at the security checkpoint at the entrance to the I.D.

"Chief Potter, there's someone here to see you. She's not authorized." The guard's voice bore the unmistakable stamp of disapproval.

"Who is it? How did she get here?" Harry asked, though he had a pretty good idea who it was if not how she'd gotten there.

"A Dr. Hermione Granger, she Apparated in. Chief, need I remind you of the consequences of breaching the security of this facility? If you've disclosed our location..."

"I am well aware of the regulations, Agent, I wrote them. You'd do well to remember your place in the chain of command. Please ask her to wait for a moment." The yellow bubble winked out of existence with a slight 'pop' sound.

He bit his lips, thinking. "Bubble," he said. Another bubble, this one glowing a soft blue, appeared floating in midair before his eyes. "Lefty?"

A second later, a deep gravelly voice issued from the bubble. "All right, Harry?" It was the voice of Lefty Mamakos, his I.D. mentor, transmitted from Lefty's office over in Training.

"I need some advice."

"What else am I here for? What's the problem? No, no...let me guess. You've had to tell your roommates about your job."

"How did you..."

"I heard that you'd had some sort of attack and were thought to be dead. Not exactly something you can just explain away with some little white lies. I'm glad you're not dead, by the way."

"Thanks. I'm debating whether to allow a civilian into the I.D."

"Who?"

"Hermione. She's here right now and I have no earthly idea how she found me."

"She helping you a bit, is she? I might have known." "I didn't want her to," he said grimly. He knew he shouldn't have let Hermione look up those "sorry" charms...once she got interested in something there was just no stopping her.

"Do you trust her?"

"Of course. With my life."

"Then it's to your discretion. You're second in command, you can authorize her to be here if you want. What's eating you? No, no...let me guess again. You're reluctant to let her in to this part of your life."

"It's dangerous. I can't expose her to any hazardous situations, I just can't."

"She'll be safe as long as you're with her."

Harry smiled. "Thanks. Nice to know someone has confidence in me."

"Think nothing of it, everyone has confidence in you and you know it. You were the best student I ever had, Potter. You don't need my help."

"I'll talk to you later."

Harry left his office, his blue bubble floating along before him, and walked swiftly through the corridors until he reached the security checkin at the entrance. "Hermione!" he called. She was standing by the guard's desk, holding a few folders and looking uncomfortable. "What the devil are you doing here? How did you find this place? The location is classified!" He reached through the security field, grabbed her hand and pulled her through.

She took a deep breath. "Don't be angry, I brought you some information."

"I'm not angry, just amazed!"

"It wasn't that difficult to find you. I've been working on some charms designed to detect metamorphic beings, so I took one and modified it for werewolves. I used it to find Lupin at the Federation Headquarters, then Apparated there myself. I used a glamour to hide my face and followed him until I got close enough to put a homing talisman on him, then when he Apparated back here I used a locator charm to find the I.D. headquarters." She shrugged. "Simple."

He just stared, his mouth open. Simple, she says. "I think it would have been simpler still just to wait until I got home tonight."

"Well, when do I ever know when you're coming home, or even if you're coming home, Harry!" she said, looking annoyed. Harry was immediately sorry, after all she did have a point. It didn't escape his knowledge that on some level she was trying to prove that she was still game to be included once again in his escapades. The idea made him nervous, but at the same time the possibility of having all of her many skills on his side was attractive. Her vexed expression was fading away and she seemed to have forgiven him. "Besides, I enjoy a challenge. It was fun."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You never cease to amaze me, Hermione. Come on." He took her hand and led her through the labyrinthine corridors. Hermione watched the floor, where the blue bubble was pacing them a few feet ahead of their steps.

"What's that?"

"It's a Baubel bubble. A little charm we use for security and communication. The rooms and corridors in this building rearrange periodically, I never know where my office will be from one minute to the next. Every person who's authorized to be here has their own Baubel bubble that recognizes only them. When I arrive my bubble comes out of its jar and leads me to wherever I'm going. If someone ever got in here without authorization, they'd never find what they were looking for without a bubble, the rooms would keep rearranging and they'd wander forever." Harry's bubble led them around a few more corners until, at length, he saw his office at the end of the hall, a wide, red paneled door with a yellow lightning bolt mounted on it.

"Hmm. Is that the symbol you have on your cape?" she asked, wide-eyed and innocent-faced.

He shot her a withering glance. "I'll thank you not to sneer. Names are too conspicuous." He touched his wand to the doorknob and it opened. "Welcome to my office. Bit of a mess."

"I've seen worse."

Harry sat down behind his desk and busied his hands shuffling papers about. "Now, are you going to tell me what this is all about?"

She plunked herself down in one of his office chairs and set her folders on the desk. "Well, I've been through every spellbook I can find and I haven't come across any spell that begins with 'sorry' that seems relevant at all...unless Leland was interested in the growth rates of Mandrakes or how to straighten one's hair."

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled under his nose thoughtfully. "Dead end, then."

"I think you were right about it being a name...and I found out something else. Something disturbing."

"What's that?"

"Well, today was the ICS convention. I ran into an old friend of yours. Quinlan Cashdollar?"

Harry nodded. "Ah yes. Quinn. What was she doing at an ICS convention? Isn't she an enforcer?"

"Not anymore. She just finished her second year teaching DADA at Hogwarts."

"Really? I imagine she's very good at it."

"I asked her about Sorry."

"And?"

Hermione sighed. "She said he was a very bad man. She all but came out and said that he was working for the dark forces. She called him their new golden boy."

Harry just looked at her for a moment, silent. He shut his eyes and shook his head. "Oh my. I didn't really suspect that level of involvement."

"I'm still not convinced. I just can't believe he'd be so evil after all that he's done for Laura, and the environment...why should he turn to the dark forces when he's got so much going for him?"

"I know that's your affection for Laura talking, but we have to remember that we don't know the man. People don't always need reasons to turn to evil, you know."

"I tried to get some information about him from Laura. Nothing she said about him popped out at me, but she did tell me something very interesting."

"What's that?"

"Well...Laura was born a Muggle. Sorry's mother and grandmother made her a witch with a procedure she called a 'changeover,' and Sorry played a part in it as well."

Harry blinked. "Yes, I'd call that interesting. Have you ever heard of this procedure before?"

"No, never. I've heard of ways to amplify or enhance one's powers, but never a way to generate them in someone lacking."

"What does this Changeover involve?"

"It sounded like a lot of symbolic visualization. Laura talked about rivers of blood and forests of thorns, but she was always aware of still physically being in the bathroom where the ritual took place, because she saw the words 'tam htab' in the..."

Harry straightened up, his stomach dropping down to his knees. "'Tam htab?'" he said.

Hermione nodded, puzzled. "Yes. 'Bath mat' backwards. My God, Harry...what is it? You're white as a sheet!"

"Hermione...Leland Stormare will only say two things: 'sorry,' and 'tam htab.'" She shut her eyes, sighing. "Now that I think of it, he also mentioned rivers of blood and forests of thorns." They said nothing for a moment. "I think this removes any doubt of Sorry being involved with what happened to Leland."

"Why would he put Leland through a changeover? He's already a wizard!"

"Then the real question becomes: what effect would the ritual have upon someone already possessing magical powers?"

Her eyes widened. "Do you think it could be used to change in the other direction? Take someone's powers away from them?"

"I don't know, but I think it would behoove us to find out."

Before Hermione could reply, a green Baubel bubble popped out of the air. "Yes, Remus?" said Harry.

"I think you'd better come down to Detention," said Lupin's voice from the bubble.

"Why? What's going on?" he said, exchanging a glance with Hermione.

"We've captured someone I think you'll be interested in."

"I'll be right down." Harry stood up, looking down at Hermione. "Are you coming?" She grinned and followed him out of the office.

**********

Detention turned out to be a comfortable room that looked like nothing more sinister than a suburban living room. Two wizards in black and silver uniforms were by the door, they saluted Harry as he entered the room. Lupin was already there, along with a thin sallow wizard who appeared to be the jailer. Sitting on the couch was a woman. She was extremely beautiful in a hard and unfeeling way, with finely-shaped motionless features and a long mane of jet-black hair that gleamed in the soft light. Harry nodded when he saw her, unsurprised to see her. "I thought so." He turned to Lupin. "Who brought her in?"

"Two agents from Infiltration and Reconnaissance picked up her trail in Surrey. They nabbed her on the way to some sort of meeting, that's about all we know. She won't talk to anyone but you."

"Not surprising." He turned to Hermione. "This is Allegra Blackburn-Dwyer, one of the most notorious dark witches in this part of the world."

"Shouldn't she be in a cell or something?" Hermione whispered.

"Oh, she is," Lupin said. "Just because you can't see the bars doesn't mean they aren't there."

Allegra stood up. "It's about time you got down here, Harry. I've been waiting." She looked at Hermione. "Well, well. This must be the famous Hermione. She looks just like you described her." Hermione glanced at Harry, looking a little alarmed that this person knew her name.

Harry stepped partially in front of her. "You just need to concern yourself with me. Would you care to tell me where you were going and who you were going to meet?"

"I had an appointment to have my hair done," the woman said sourly, crossing her arms and looking for all the world like an impenetrable fortress.

Harry turned, taking Lupin's arm and pulling him away, motioning Hermione to join them. "She's not talking, Harry," Lupin said.

"Not at the moment, but she will talk to us, of that I'm certain."

"How can you be so sure?" Hermione whispered, glancing at Allegra. "She looks pretty tough to me."

"She is, she's very tough. Tough enough that we've been chasing her for years and we've never caught her once. Then today, out of nowhere, a couple of I&R wizards out on a routine patrol pick her up on her way to a meeting?"

"She wanted to get caught," Lupin said.

"She's got a message for us and she let herself be brought here so she could deliver it." He turned back to Allegra.

"Is the conference over?" she said. Her voice was low and throaty. She stood there with her hands on her shapely hips looking exquisitely bored with the entire situation.

"Allegra, if you have something to tell me I suggest you get on with it so we can all go back to our lives."

Allegra wasn't even looking at him, she was looking at Hermione. "He's hiding so much from you, you know," she said. Hermione swallowed. She didn't particularly want to listen but she couldn't look away. "You think you know him? You think he needs you? You're blind, my sister."

Harry stepped forward, his eyes flashing. "Don't you talk to her," he growled. "Don't you even look at her, you hear me?" He turned to Hermione. "Don't listen. Don't listen to a word she says." He looked back at Allegra, his gaze deadly. "She lies," he said, his voice flat.

Allegra took a few steps back. "I knew you'd figure me, Harry...I never could fool you for long. I do have a message for you...from my master."

"Your master?" Lupin said.

"You will meet him soon." All three of them exchanged a worried glance. "He is powerful, my master...his new servants will help him to take what is rightfully his." She held her head up high. "And as long as I serve him, none can hold me." She grinned a wide smile full of sparklingly white teeth framed by ruby-red lips. "Lovely to see you again, Harry. And to meet you, Hermione. You remember what I told you, because it can save you." And with that, she was gone.

Everyone in the room jumped. "Bugger!" Lupin cried.

Hermione stepped forward, putting her hand up to the containment charm that had been in place around Allegra; it was intact. "How did she do that? She shouldn't be able to Apparate out, should she?"

"Absolutely not," Harry said in a low voice, staring grimly at the blank air where Allegra had been mere seconds before. "This room is sealed off with wards. I don't know how she got out."

"I'll get to the bottom of it, Harry," said Lupin.

"Good. Keep me informed." He nodded to Hermione and they left the room, led by Harry's blue Baubel bubble.

"Interesting woman," she said neutrally. Harry put out a hand and stopped her in the middle of the brick hallway.

"Hermione...I hope you don't lend any credence to what she said." She looked away, fidgeting...Harry could see that yes, she had lent at least a little bit of credence to it. "The truth is antithetical to Allegra's personality, she wouldn't know it if it walked up and bit her in the arse."

"She was right about one thing...I don't think I know you as well I thought I did."

Harry just looked at her. "You're the only one who knows me," he said, his tone even, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

**********

Later that night, Harry was sitting in the winter garden room reading a book when the doorbell rang. Laura and Justin weren't home from work yet and George was out at the market, so he rose to answer it.

He swung open the large front door and his smile of greeting faded slightly. Standing on the stoop was a young man in a well-tailored, expensive-looking double-breasted suit. He was unnaturally handsome, with chiseled features and thick blond hair. He smiled eagerly. "Oh! Harry! I'm so pleased to meet you at last!" he exclaimed, stepping forward to shake Harry's hand.

Harry maintained his pleasant expression with effort. "Hello, Gerald." In his head Harry could hear George crowing "GER-ald! GER-ald!" He cleared his throat. "Come in." He stepped aside to allow Hermione's paramour entrance, scowling at the man's back. "Hermione's upstairs, I'll get her. Make yourself at home." Gerald went into the living room while Harry trotted halfway up the stairs. "Hermione! Gerald's here!"

Her head poked out of her bedroom door. "I'll be down in a few minutes. Behave yourself."

Grumbling, Harry went back into the living room, where Gerald was perched on the edge of a small gilt divan. Harry flopped down into his favorite chair. "So," he said, resolving to be nice to the man. "Where are you off to tonight?"

Gerald shifted uncomfortably, appearing to be intensely uneasy. "Um...it's just a sort of party given by my employer."

"What line of work are you in again?"

"I'm a Vice President at Spellbound Books, we're the largest publisher of wizarding texts and references. Some of our best-sellers include all grades of 'The Standard Book of Spells,' the collected works of Gilderoy Lockhart and most of the standard texts." Harry nodded politely at what was clearly part of his sales pitch. "I'm in charge of Testing and Quality Control. We surpassed our own sales record this year, the CEO is giving a grand soiree to congratulate the team."

"That sounds...nice," Harry said, trying to remember if he'd ever heard anyone actually use the word 'soiree' before now.

"Well, there'll be a nice dinner and dancing, that sort of thing. It's a bit of a fancy occasion."

"Hermione's an excellent dancer."

"I know. She's very patient with me, I'm afraid I have two left feet." He flashed Harry that megawatt smile again. Harry just nodded some more, the pleasant smile he had plastered on his face beginning to hurt. Gerald drew himself up and seemed to be bolstering his courage. "Harry, I just want you to know that I care a great deal about Hermione, and I always treat her with respect..."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "You don't have to promise to have her in by eleven, you know. She's a grown woman; I'm not her father."

"I know, but you're...you know, you're Harry Potter, and...well, she sets a great store by what you think..."

"As I do by what she thinks. She likes you, that's good enough for me. You don't have to audition to be allowed to take her out." They both fell silent. Gerald sat stiffly on the divan, looking around the room at the ceiling and at the furniture and at the floor, anywhere but as his totem-like host. Harry just sat there and glared at him, his ability to feign amicability dwindling down to nothing.

They both looked up at the sound of Hermione's shoes on the staircase. Gerald stood and went into the entrance hall, Harry hung back in the doorway as Hermione came down the stairs. The sight of her did something odd to his stomach, it rather felt as though it had gone on a roller-coaster ride without consulting him. Hermione was normally a casual dresser, with a wardrobe full of wool skirts, khaki slacks, cardigan jumpers and turtlenecks; practicality was the order of the day with her. She usually wore her hair either in a bun or a plait to keep it out of her way and was like as not to be seen with her reading glasses either shoved atop her head or hanging about her neck on their beaded chains. Tonight, however, she was wearing a sleek and elegant strapless gown of royal purple, glittering with a thousand tiny sparkles down to her feet. A ring of enchanted purple stones and beads floated around her neck and her hair was piled in elegant whorls at the crown of her head, a few long curls set loose to fall down onto her shoulders. She smiled at Gerald, one gloved hand trailing along the banister as she came down the stairs. Her eyes flicked past him to Harry; she paused and her smile faltered. Harry realized he must have had a very odd look on his face but he couldn't help it; a shiver zinged through him as they locked eyes for a moment. Hermione looked away and beamed an even wider smile at Gerald, who reached out to take her hand as she came to the bottom of the stairs. "You look beautiful," he said, kissing her cheek.

"Thanks," she said. "So do you."

Harry blinked, the world snapping back into place around him. What just happened? he thought. "Nice to meet you, Harry," Gerald said, opening the door. Hermione paused, looking outside at the rain, then turned back to smile at Harry.

"Have a nice evening," was all Harry could say. He watched as she took Gerald's arm and he held up his wand, murmuring a charm to keep the rain off them; they stepped out onto the portico and closed the door behind them.

Harry sighed and went back to his book. Several hours passed, silent except for the periodic booms of thunder outside, but he found that he kept having to read the same page over and over again because his mind hadn't been engaged the first time. Eventually he heard the back door open; he got up and went to the kitchen, where George was just coming in bearing bags of groceries. "Give us a hand, eh Harry?" he said, handing him a large frozen turkey. Harry put it in the freezer.

"Well, I met the infamous Gerald."

"Yeah? What's he like?" George asked, putting vegetables in the icebox.

"Oh, you know. Handsome, charming, rich, well-dressed...a perfect bloody nightmare."

"Hermione seems to like him well enough. I'm sure she doesn't have much trouble keeping him in line. What did he..." George stopped short, having turned around to unload more grocery bags...Harry's face had gone completely rigid and white as a sheet. "Harry? Are you all right?"

Harry's eyes slowly swiveled to look at George. He could feel it coming, inexorable like a freight train. He gripped the edge of the tabletop, but when it came it knocked him back. The pain, ripping through his scar and digging ruthlessly into the meat of his brain behind his forehead like hot knitting needles bored through his skull. George darted forward to catch him as a wave of blackness slid over his vision and he toppled forward onto the tabletop.

**********

Harry slowly opened his eyes, half-expecting the pain to stab him in the forehead once again, but nothing happened. He was in the first-floor guest room, snuggled under heavy quilts in the large four-poster bed. For a few moments he just stared directly upwards at the brocade material of the bed's canopy, then he heard a small rustle next to him. He looked over to see Hermione sitting in a chair next to the bed with her elbows planted on the mattress, her face in her hands. She was still wearing the elegant gown he'd seen her leave the house in, but her hair was in disarray. Lighting flashed outside and he could hear rain spitting against the leaded glass of the windowpanes.

He cleared his throat and she dropped her hands, revealing a tearstained face. She smiled at him. "Are you all right?"

He nodded and struggled to prop himself up. Hermione rose and put one arm behind his shoulders, helping him pull himself to a sitting position. "I seem to be. You didn't have to wake me again, did you?"

"No," she said, pouring him a cup of tea. "It wasn't the necromimetic charm this time, you were just unconscious."

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be stepping out with Gerald?"

She flapped an impatient hand at him. "George owled me, I came home immediately."

Harry stared at the teacup in his lap. "You didn't have to do that."

"And what would you rather I have done? Stayed at that insufferably stuffy party while you lay here out cold? I don't think so."

He smiled weakly, more grateful for her presence than he could have said. "It felt different this time."

"Weaker? It didn't trip the charm...perhaps it was further away."

"No. It was closer."

Hermione frowned. "That doesn't make much sense."

"I know. I can't explain it, but I have the feeling that whatever I'm sensing was closer this time...but gentler, as if it didn't want to hit me so hard."

"That's nuts, Harry. If the dark forces are affecting you they wouldn't care if they were hurting you."

"All I know is what I sense."

She picked up an envelope from off the bedside table. "This came for you a few minutes ago."

He took it, examining the handwriting on the envelope. "It's from Sabian."

"Who's Sabian?"

"He's my best agent. If a human being could be a ghost, it'd be him. I asked him to make some discreet inquiries about Sorry and keep his ear to the ground." He opened the envelope and read the note, Hermione watching his face as he did so. Finally he folded it back up again.

"Good news or bad?"

"Well, I can't say it's good. Sabian says that he's been hearing Sorry's name a lot but he's never actually seen him, once he started asking around he found out some troubling things."

"Such as?"

"Word around the campfire is that Sorry is..." He paused, considering. "He's Voldemort's new lieutenant."

Hermione just sat there. "Harry, Voldemort's dead. You killed him. You said that someone was taking his place and using his methods...perhaps Sabian meant that Sorry is that person's new lieutenant."

Harry bit his lip, then turned towards her, fixing her with a penetrating stare. "Hermione, I have to tell you something, something that can't leave this room." She nodded. "The fact is that...Voldemort isn't dead."

Her expression froze in place as if she weren't sure how to respond. "Excuse me? He's not dead?"

"Not so much, no." He looked down at the quilt, avoiding her eyes. "It was agreed, after I defeated him that last time, that we would allow people to think he was dead...for all intents and purposes, he was as dead as he was ever going to be. You see, Voldemort hadn't been really alive for many years. He'd been existing in a kind of half-death, holding himself in this world by sheer force of will and the power of his own malignancy. That which has no life cannot be killed. It was thought that I had driven him so far back into himself that he'd never have access to his powers again."

Hermione was just shaking her head, disbelieving. "I can't believe this!"

"As long as people knew he still existed, there would always be those willing to help him regain his power. We thought that if everyone believed him dead, his legacy would die as well." He looked up at her. "It seems we underestimated the stubbornness of evil."

"Who's 'we'?"

"Me, Minister Fudge...the Chancellor of the Federation, Professor McGonagall. Except that now...I'm the only one who knows. Fudge and the Chancellor and the few others who knew about it had me perform Memory Charms on them so that they could never give away the secret, because they would no longer remember it. They trusted me to remain vigilant, and if ever he showed signs of returning, they trusted me to take up the fight once more." Hermione watched his face, stunned. "This has been my greatest burden of secrecy, Hermione. Keeping my job secret from you was nothing compared to this...and I've borne it alone, fighting the urge to tell someone every minute of every day."

"But others must know about it now, if they're saying Sorry is his new servant. And when Allegra referred to her new master she must have meant Voldemort as well!"

"I know, that's what's troubling. If he is massing new forces and sending his followers to me with demonstrations of his power, then he's ready to make a new challenge."

Hermione stood up and began to pace. "We've got to tell Laura our suspicions about Sorry."

Harry's head snapped up, a horrified look on his face. "No! Out of the question!"

"She deserves to know! She could be in danger from him!"

"Hermione, he can't know that I'm on to him! If we tell Laura she won't be able to help it, she'll say something to him about it! I can't afford to show my hand this early in the game."

"I'm still not totally convinced he's evil."

Harry's jaw dropped. "What more will it take to convince you? Seeing him blow up a busful of schoolchildren?"

"Everything so far is circumstantial and second hand information..."

"That's the way it is in this business. Remember what I told you about the paradigm of uncertainty? I knew you'd never be comfortable with that margin of error."

"We owe Laura the truth, or at least a warning!"

"Why should she need a warning? According to you, Sorry is as innocent as a baby lamb!" They were both nearly shouting now.

"Stop it, Harry! I'm just trying to consider every possibility!"

"Except the possibility that if we tell her a thing it could ruin any chance I have to stop him!" They both stopped, staring angrily at each other...there didn't seem to be anything more to say.

Hermione flopped into the bedside chair, her anger dissipating to be replaced by weariness. "How do you do this?" she said, her voice quiet once more. "How do you make these impossible decisions when people's lives hang in the balance?"

Harry sighed. "It's my job."

"Does it ever get easier?"

He met her eyes. "I hope not." Hermione sighed and sagged in her chair. Harry rubbed his forehead, frowning absently.

"Does your scar hurt?"

"A little. It aches like a bad bruise."

Hermione stood up slowly and leaned over him. She smoothed his hair back from his forehead with one hand and gently pressed her lips to his scar. Drawing back, she smiled down at him. "Try to get some rest," she said. "Call if you need anything." She turned and left the room, her long skirt swishing about her legs. Harry watched her go, the pain in his forehead forgotten.

**********

The next morning Harry awoke much later than he usually did, feeling drained. These bouts of unconsciousness must really take it out of me, he thought, swinging his legs out of bed. He stumbled into the kitchen for something to eat and found Hermione and Justin engaged in a vigorous bout of tomato-canning. "Well well, look who's alive!" Justin said. "There's some bubble and squeak in the fridge if you want to heat it up."

Harry made a face. "Bubble and squeak, yecchh. It's one of Dudley's favorites, I've never been able to stand it."

"How is dear old Dudley these days?" Hermione said.

"Last I heard Vernon had made him some sort of production supervisor at the drill plant. He's completely incompetent, of course, but as far as Vernon's concerned he's the next Branson." He rummaged in the fridge and came out with some eggs. "Though I must admit that the last time I saw them, the Dursleys were almost civil to me. I was amazed. I suppose it's a lot less irksome that I'm, you know, such a deviant when I'm not living under their roof."

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked.

"I'm all right. A bit wrung out." He got out a frying pan and set to scrambling the eggs. "Where's George?"

"He's gone. He's got that broom-guild convention in the States, remember? He Apparated out this morning."

"Blast. I was hoping he'd make one of his walnut cakes, I've got a powerful craving for a slice." This statement was met with moans of rapture from the others.

"Oh, that would be sheer heaven," Justin said.

"His recipe box is right there, you could make one yourself," Hermione said, smirking. It was well known that Harry's culinary skills extended about as far as toast-making.

Harry sat down at the table with his plate of eggs and watched Hermione organizing all the jars, seals and lids. "So...thinking of making some spaghetti sauce?" he quipped.

"Ha ha. These will last an entire year, you know." The back door opened and Laura came in, toting a few crates of tomatoes. Harry and Hermione exchanged a pained glance, remembering their argument of the previous night concerning her, then both became extremely interested in what they were doing. Laura set the crates on the table.

"Morning, sleepyhead," she said to Harry. "Here's the last bunch," she said, turning to Hermione. "This should be enough for the whole lot." She glanced from her to Harry and back again, sensing something amiss. "What's going on?"

Harry looked up. "Nothing! Nothing, nothing's wrong. Is there, Hermione?" Hermione shook her head, busy trying to unscrew a stubborn lid from one of the jars. She finally got out her wand and loosened it with magic. Laura shrugged and sat down to clean the tomatoes.

They'd been going about their respective tasks for a few minutes in silence when there was a knock at the door. "I'll get it," Hermione said, jumping up. They all heard her open the front door..."Fred!" they heard her exclaim. "How nice to...what's wrong?" Quick footsteps approached the kitchen and a few seconds later Fred Weasely, looking flustered and upset, entered with Hermione close behind him.

Everyone stood up, Fred's expression putting them on their guard. "What's wrong?" Harry said.

"It's George." Laura put a hand to her chest, her brow furrowing in concer. "I went to the convention with him just for a kick, and..." He paused to run a hand through his red hair. "He was standing right next to me. I turned to look at him and he...he vanished right in front of my eyes."

"What?" Hermione said, her face white and shocked.

"He's gone. George has disappeared."