The Paradigm Of Uncertainty

HARRY POTTER AND THE PARADIGM OF UNCERTAINTY

Chapter 7: The Good, the Bad, and the Innocent

Hermione sat at a corner table in the Three Broomsticks with an untouched mug of butterbeer in front of her, bouncing her foot nervously and trying not to look too much like she was watching the door. She had the hood of her cloak pulled up around her face; there were a lot of people in town who knew her and she didn't feel like being trapped into casual conversation by an oblivious if well-meaning acquaintance.

The crowd wasn't too heavy, just heavy enough that she didn't feel conspicuous sitting alone. Her mind was whirling with a thousand questions and doubts. She was certain that when Harry found out what she'd done he'd have some choice comments to make, and she still wasn't too sure that she wasn't placing herself in mortal danger. What if Sorry was Voldemort's servant? Killing her would be an excellent start to a brilliant career as the right hand of the dark master.

She looked up at the door, and all at once he was there. He was standing just inside the doorway, looking at her calmly. She wasn't sure how she knew that it was him, but it was achingly clear that it couldn't be anyone else. Hermione blinked, unable to keep the amazement from her expression...whatever she'd been expecting, he wasn't it.

He looked like an angel, come right down from heaven just to make the mortals feel inadequate. He was tall, strong and blindingly handsome, with chiseled Greek-god features, a head of thick golden hair that shone like the sun and blue eyes like the curve of a July sky. He was wearing a wine-colored sweater that set off his fair skin, black leather gloves and a long forest green cloak. He walked directly to her table and sat down next to her, casually, as if they were old friends. "Hello, Hermione," he said.

She looked at him, trying in vain to assess his loyalties just by looking at his face. "Sorry?"

He smiled a smile that could have melted any woman's heart right down to Vegemite, exposing perfectly straight and white teeth. "We shouldn't talk here. There's a garden around the back where there won't be nearly as many listening ears," he said, casting a glance around at the dozen-odd patrons sitting in small groups all around them.

One of her eyebrows shot up. "If you think I'm going anywhere alone with you then you haven't the sense God gave the common rodent."

"I understand your caution, but you're in no danger...not from me, that is to say."

"I'm sure the citizens of Troy had the same assurance from the horse."

He turned and looked her in the eye. "You asked me here to find out if I'm a dark wizard. I came, in spite of my own better judgment, to tell you that I'm not. It's enough of a risk to my cover just being seen with you...I can't further risk being overheard talking with you."

Even though she knew that he could very easily be lying, Hermione's heart loosened a bit at the sincerity of his words. "How do I know you're telling me the truth?"

"You don't."

She looked into his eyes for a long moment. "All right, let's go."

They rose and left through the front door. Hermione followed Sorry around the side to the backyard. He walked through the garden and into a shaded glen with a circle of stone benches. He sat down facing her and crossed his legs. For a few moments they said nothing. "How's Laura?" he said finally.

Hermione couldn't think of a suitable answer for a moment, thrown for a loop by the off-topic question. "She's fine." Something more seemed required. Hermione thought about the sad and lonely expression that sometimes came over Laura's face when she thought no one could see her. "She misses you."

He nodded, an equally wistful expression coming over his own face. "As I do her."

"I didn't ask you here to talk about Laura."

"No, but you can't begrudge me taking the opportunity to broach the subject." He bit his lip and looked away. "You did ask me here to see if I'm something that you couldn't even bring yourself to say on paper. Can you bring yourself to say it to my face?"

"I can," said a voice from out of thin air to Hermione's right. They both jumped up, her hand flying to her throat. They stared as Harry's head appeared out of thin air, then his shoulders and the rest of his body as he flung off his invisibility cloak. "She asked you here to find out if you're Voldemort's new lapdog."

"Harry!" Hermione cried. Harry stood up and crossed his arms over his chest, looking like the personification of stern authority. "I know what you're going to say..."

He looked at her for the first time. "We'll discuss it later," he said, a promise of tense exchanges to come in his voice. Hermione fell silent, bridling at being reprimanded like a recalcitrant schoolgirl. He turned back to Sorry. "For now, I'm fascinated to hear what Sorry has to say."

"Well, well, well...if it isn't Harry Potter himself," Sorry said, in the sort of smug I-expected-this tone usually reserved for Bond villains. "This is turning into quite a day." He resumed his seat on the stone bench; Hermione and Harry followed suit. She could feel the anger towards her radiating off Harry in waves; she only hoped he could feel her annoyance at his interference. "How shall we do this?" Sorry asked. "Would you like to interrogate me or shall I just tell you the story of my life?"

"Start at the beginning," Harry said. "I know Hermione thinks I've pre-judged you, and perhaps she's right, but I'll try to keep an open mind."

Sorry nodded, took a deep breath, and began to speak:

"I never wanted any of this. I'm just a naturalist, all I ever wanted was to do my little work and lead my uneventful life. Unfortunately for me, I have intimate knowledge of an arcane and little-known ritual called a changeover. I see by your expressions that Laura's told you of it. It's a powerful ritual, capable of bringing forth magical abilities in those that have none. My mother's family is descended from the wizards who created the ritual, and it's stayed within our line, passed from mother to daughter, for centuries...what I didn't know was that the Circle had, not too long ago, unearthed some ancient texts that described the ritual. You see, not only can the changeover affect the non-magical, but if it is used properly against someone who is already a wizard or a witch it becomes a powerful weapon. Not only is the wizard killed by the ritual, but every spell or charm he's ever cast in his life is undone, and the consequences of all the magic he's ever performed are reversed. You can see how devastating this could be in the wrong hands. If it were used on you, Harry, just as an example...Voldemort would immediately return to his full power because the original effect you had on him when he attacked you as a baby would be undone." Harry and Hermione exchanged an alarmed glance. "What the Circle fails to realize is that these consequences, all of which cannot possibly be predicted, could be just as deleterious to them as to us...if there's one thing that dark wizards as a group lack it's foresight. They want it all now, praise Voldemort and pass the ammunition.

"And so, without knowing it, I had become a wanted man. The Circle had some details of the ritual, but what they didn't have was anyone who had ever actually participated in one, and they knew that it would be too easy for the ritual to go very badly wrong. They discovered my identity and sent one of their members to capture me. I was in Greenland working on that pesky greater kudzu problem, just minding my own business, when one night about four months ago I was attacked in my tent. Now, I wasn't skilled in defensive magic but I managed to hold off my attacker for a short time, mostly by using my fists. I would most certainly have been overcome had it not been for a wizard named Jack Liu."

"Jack?" Harry said.

"You know him?"

"Yes. He's what we call a regulator...a wizard who fights evil freelance, so to speak. He's quite possibly the most insane man I've ever met."

"Correct in all respects. Jack had been following the wizard who attacked me, and he arrived quite literally in the nick of time. Before my wondering eyes he killed my attacker and then uttered the words that almost convinced me I was trapped in some sort of weekly serial: 'Come with me or you'll be dead within an hour.' It sounded so canned, but in my situation it didn't take much to convince me. He told me that my attacker hadn't been alone and that others would soon arrive, so I went with him."

"But they weren't trying to kill you," Hermione said.

"He didn't know that, and at that moment neither did I. Seemed reasonable enough to me. We ran, and after a few days it was clear, even to me, that these people were serious. We couldn't stay in one place for more than a few hours before they were on us. I'm still not quite sure how they kept finding us so quickly. It couldn't keep going that way forever, and it didn't. One night they caught us off guard, and Jack was mortally wounded. But here's the rub: before he died...and I'll never forgive him for this...he transferred his memories and knowledge into my head."

"I didn't know that was possible!" Hermione said.

"It is," Harry said. "But it's a very dangerous spell only attempted by those who've grown up practicing it. A lot of the Eastern wizarding cultures pass down this ability though it's rarely put to use. I'm not surprised that Jack was able to pull it off...in his line of work he'd probably been preparing himself for just such an eventuality as he faced with you."

"After that, I couldn't go back. I had no choice to but to assume his quest. I may have had the sum of his experiences but I didn't have his biceps or the coordination to use all the strange martial arts he knew. I knew I was in no shape to challenge them directly as he had, so..."

"You decided to join them," Hermione said, smiling, beginning to get the picture. Harry still looked skeptical.

"Exactly. I decided I had to get into the Circle and find out the extent of their knowledge of the changeover. It's my family's legacy and I'll be damned if I'll let the Circle use it for their own purposes. I planned to destroy the texts they found and, if necessary, wipe the memories of the members who knew about it. I'm no good with memory charms but Jack certainly was, and with his help I knew I stood a chance. The first job was to shake my pursuers, and I knew if I played it right I could start formulating a persona for myself as someone the Circle would want to recruit."

"They already wanted to recruit you," Harry said.

"No. They wanted to capture me and force me to use my knowledge of the changeover. I wouldn't be able to accomplish very much as their prisoner. I wanted them to seek me out as a member in equal standing, and with the changeover as my trump card I knew it wouldn't be too difficult."

"So you began building a reputation as a dark wizard," Hermione said, fascinated.

"I turned the tables and began chasing my own pursuers. I caught up to them and imprisoned them with a charm-locked body bind to give me time to escape, knowing that when they finally got free they'd begin unknowingly assisting me by telling others about their experience."

"Your reputation does seem to have spread," Hermione said. "Quinlan Cashdollar is convinced you're Voldemort's successor."

Sorry smiled. "Quinn Cashdollar is in on it. She's one of a few wizards in prominent positions that I've enlisted to help me by talking me up, so to speak. For a few months, and with Jack's help, I managed to stay out sight and away from my Circle pursuers while my helpers continued to plant rumors. I'd pop up now and again to stage attacks that I could then take credit for."

"And this worked?" Harry said.

"A bit too well, actually. My reputation grew faster than I could have predicted. No one knew who I was, no one had ever caught more than a fleeting glimpse of me, I was this omnipresent nebulous phantasm and people would believe anything that anyone said I'd done. Before too long, almost any activity by the dark forces was being attributed to me. I shouldn't have been surprised...the greater the lie, the more people will believe it."

"Is that Oscar Wilde?" Hermione said.

Sorry shook his head, smiling. "Adolf Hitler. Anyway, the Circle and their followers didn't mind my getting all their press, it took the heat off them for awhile...they're like cockroaches, you know, they don't like the spotlight. I began to worry about attracting attention from the Enforcer community."

"You haven't," Hermione said. "An Enforcer friend of mine has never heard of you."

"Nor had I, until a week ago," Harry said. "That's a credit to you, my intelligence is usually excellent," he said in a mortified tone. Hermione wondered if his intelligence wizards would soon have to provide a reasonable explanation as to why it wasn't quite so excellent on this subject.

"It's not my doing, it's Jack's. He knew everything about staying underground and out of sight. The trick was to make sure the Circle knew just enough about my activities to pique their interest while making equally sure I didn't get Enforcers after me. Quinn has performed more than her share of Memory Charms on my behalf, I can tell you." He sighed. "I held them off as long as I could, when about two weeks ago the time seemed right. I contacted the Circle and told them I was willing to help them with the changeover if they'd make me an equal member of what is laughingly called their "organization." They agreed, as I knew they would, and told me that some time before they'd kidnapped a wizard to practice on."

Harry straightened up. "Leland."

Sorry looked at him sheepishly. "Correct. The ritual had gone wrong, of course. He wasn't dead, but his brain was well nigh mush. I tried to help him. The best I could do was to bring him out of the near-vegetative state he was in when I first saw him. I tried to let him know I didn't mean to hurt him but I'm not sure he understood me."

"It was you who took him to that rock in Canada," Harry said.

Sorry nodded. "If I couldn't help him I had to at least get him away from the Circle. I told them he'd escaped and sent a note to a witch who lived nearby describing where she could find him."

Hermione watched Harry's face. She was convinced, but she couldn't tell if he was. He was looking at Sorry with a poker face that revealed very little. "I imagine that when you gained access to their little club you learned some things you'd rather not have known," he said.

Sorry's eyebrows twitched. "You mean, such as the fact that Voldemort isn't as dead as most people think? It was quite a shock, believe me." His face turned serious. "After that, I knew I couldn't turn back. It was no longer about me, or the changeover. It was about the safety and future existence of every witch and wizard in the world, including my Laura."

"I can't believe you've risen to be Voldemort's lieutenant in so short a time," Harry said.

"I haven't. That's another rumor that's been flying about...though not one that I started myself. I admit I find it rather amusing. I occupy a position of a certain prestige because of my knowledge of the changeover and all the horrible things they think I've done, but I'm hardly a member of the inner sanctum."

"If it's not you, then who is it?"

Sorry looked at him flatly. "You already know the answer to that question."

Harry nodded. "Allegra."

"Yes. I know you've had a lot of dealings with her, Harry, and you probably think you know her. I'm here to tell you that you don't. She's very dangerous, and she's personally committed to returning Voldemort to his full power. She has a black hole where her heart used to be. You have no idea what she's capable of."

"I'm well aware of her capabilities," Harry said. "She's always been my most...frustrating adversary." He stood up then, moving to stand over Sorry. "Why didn't you ever come to me for help? The sort of operation you've mounted alone is what I do for a living, you know."

Sorry nodded. "I know, and don't think I didn't consider it. But I couldn't risk it. You're just too...you're too Harry Potter. I couldn't risk contacting you, the chances of someone finding out about it were too high. I'd spent months buildng a reputation and insinuating myself into the Circle, and I couldn't justify jeopardizing it by being seen with you...and the longer I waited the harder it became. Would you have taken my word given the reputation I've acquired? As it is, you probably don't believe me."

Harry stood there silently for a few moments. "I do believe you, Sorry. Perhaps that isn't smart of me, but I can't get past the fact that if you were really a member of the Circle you would be endangering your position by not killing at least one of us." He smiled. "Then there's this," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pointed crystal. Hermione's eyes widened...it was the Pocket Sneakoscope that Ron had gotten for him in Egypt. "A friend gave me this for my thirteenth birthday. He thought it was a tourist's novelty...you never know where you're going to find a real talisman. If you were untrustworthy I'd know about it." He sighed, slipping the Sneakoscope back into his pocket. "But there's something you're not telling us."

"What makes you say that?"

"About a week ago I asked my best agent to gather information on you, and he found a lot of it. He heard your name everywhere, and he was very embarrassed that he hadn't heard it before. He shouldn't be embarrassed, should he? There was nothing to hear. One week no one's heard of you, the next week everyone's heard of you. Why might that be?"

Sorry just stared at Harry for a few moments, his face carefully expressionless. Harry matched his gaze, waiting. Finally Sorry exhaled and let his head drop. "A week ago I found out that the Circle has time manipulation magic...magic that does not require a talisman. You can imagine my horror. With that kind of power a lot of things are possible that wouldn't ordinarily be so. I realized at that moment that I was in over my head. I needed help, and fast. I intentionally allowed a few key people in the intelligence community to learn of my activities, and I released Leland knowing he'd tell you about me if he could. I was hoping to attract some attention from people like you, Harry, knowing that once you began poking around you'd find out what has been going on." He smiled at them. "I can't tell you how relieved I was to receive Hermione's note. Even with Jack's memories, when all is said and done I'm still just a naturalist. This isn't my game. I..." He sighed. "I suppose I wanted to hand over some of the responsibility to the professionals."

"Well, you should have done that at the outset, but I understand how this sort of thing can quickly spiral out of control. Before you know it you're neck-deep in something you've no business being involved in at all," Harry said.

"What happens now?" Sorry said.

"I don't know. You've asked me for help and now I find I can't offer much of it. I just lost my closest source in the Circle, and I can't get another agent to infiltrate fast enough to be of any use. That kind of operation takes a long time, as you've learned firsthand. You can't just have an agent show up at the door and expect them to trust her." He walked a few steps away, looking off into the distance. "They're planning to escalate, is that right?"

"I heard that they sent you a warning."

"I received it."

Sorry ran a hand through his hair. "You're not wrong about the escalation. They've got me examining the changeover texts so that I can guide them through the ritual...once they have someone to use it on. I don't know who they're planning to changeover, but it's a fair bet you're their leading candidate. I can only put them off for so long."

"What about the time manipulation magic?"

"I don't know exactly how it works, but I know it's only good for short hops. I don't think they can use it very often, either. I once saw Allegra right after she'd performed the spells and she was damned near unconscious. She stayed in her room for almost a full day."

"Do you have any insight as to what I might expect from them?"

"I hate to keep saying it, but I don't know. I do know that Allegra has been spending a lot of time with her astrometrics consultant. I don't how she communicates with Voldemort, none of us has ever seen him, but she's been coming back with a lot of orders she says come directly from him. He's planning something, that much is certain, and I have the feeling it won't be long before we know what."

Harry nodded. "I suspected as much."

"It sounds to me as though his best course of action would be to capture Harry," Hermione said, "once he's satisfied that the changeover ritual will work as it's intended to."

"We couldn't have planned this better," Harry said. "If the only thing holding him back is the Circle's imperfect knowledge of the changeover, then you can stall until I can find a way to stop them."

"That doesn't help us figure when they might come after you," Sorry said.

"They already have. Voldemort blames me for his fall from power, as well he should. He won't be satisfied just to capture me. He'd rather torture me and then have me give myself up of my own free will. He knows that to spare the lives of innocents I'd gladly sacrifice myself, and so he threatens the people I care about. It's already started." Harry's expression was bleak. "If I don't stop him first he'll kill someone. I won't allow that to happen...not again." He looked away. Hermione bit her lip, a lump rising in her throat. "Perhaps I should just give myself up right now."

Hermione jumped up. "Don't you dare! He'll use the changeover on you and he'll be restored to full power! That helps no one, and without you I don't know who can defeat him!"

Harry rubbed his forehead absently, his teeth clenched so hard the muscles in his jaw stood out like walnuts. "Dammit, I can't think straight. I need to sit down, consult my colleagues and formulate some sort of strategy."

Sorry stood up. "I must get back, I'll be missed."

"All right, but I need a way to contact you covertly. The I.D. is in possession of a few enchanted owls who appear invisible during flight, I'll send one to you daily and you can send her back with any new information. Agreed?"

Sorry nodded, and the two men shook hands. Sorry turned to Hermione. "Thank you, Hermione, for being optimistic enough to think I couldn't be so evil after all."

She smiled and shook his hand. "I'm just glad I was correct." Sorry stepped back, grasped the edge of his cloak and swirled it around his body...it flowed around him, collapsing in on itself and vanishing along with its owner.

Harry and Hermione stood there for a few long seconds. "You're welcome," she finally said.

Harry turned and stared at her, incredulous. "You expect me to thank you?"

"Well, why not? Thanks to me you've contacted an extremely valuable plant in the Circle!"

"That doesn't change the fact that it was exceedingly stupid to come here alone, or even to contact him in the first place! What if he'd been a real dark wizard? What then?"

"Why do you insist on treating me as though I need protection twenty-four hours a day? I arranged for the safest meeting place possible!"

"And how, exactly, are you qualified to make that determination?"

"You're just in a flap because you didn't think of it first!"

"I'm in a flap because you could have been killed!" he cried. He sighed and relaxed, pushing his anger away. Hermione sagged, her annoyance fading. It was difficult to stay angry at him when she knew he was only upset because he cared, and she also couldn't deny the fact that he was correct. If Sorry had been a dark wizard she would have been tomorrow's headlines. Harry ran a hand through his hair, already sticking up from previous repetitions of this action. He stepped forward, reached out and drew her into his arms; Hermione hugged him back. She hated fighting with him and was always glad when it was over. He rested his chin on top of her head. "Do you know what I went through between the time I realized where you'd gone and when I found you in the Three Broomsticks? I was positive I'd get here and find your body."

She could feel his heart beating beneath her cheek. "You weren't supposed to know about it until it was all over."

He drew back and looked down at her. "You have nothing to prove to me, you know."

"It wasn't about proving something. I wanted to know the truth about Sorry and I knew you wouldn't be receptive to the idea of finding out. Not everything is about you, you know."

He smiled. "Fair enough." He gave her a quick squeeze and they stepped apart. "Come on, let's get out of here." Hermione nodded; they walked back around to the street. "Fancy a stop by Honeyduke's? I've got a terrible yen for some lime cheek-puncher sours."

**********

Lupin trotted down the long flights of stairs to the Potion laboratory, his bubble floating before him. The lab didn't move nearly as often as the more sensitive areas of the I.D. but you couldn't be too careful. The Potions mistress was out, but she'd anticipated his arrival. It was the first day of the full moon, and if Lupin didn't take his wolfsbane draught he'd be placing anyone around him in mortal danger.

She had left the smoking goblet on the countertop for him with a note reminding him to drink it before sunset, as if he needed reminding. Lupin stood there and stared at it for a moment, thinking.

He'd spent most of the day seeing to security arrangements for Bailicroft and the people who lived within its walls. He and a few Ministry wizards from the Office of Dark Arts Defense had set up a rather elaborate system of wards around the mansion. Protective wards, alarm wards, anti-curse wards, anti-Apparation wards...it hadn't been an easy piece of conjuring, especially considering that the stakes were so high. Lupin had felt rather flattered that Harry had charged him with protecting his home and his friends, and he was grimly determined not to let him down.

It was sometimes strange for him to remember the days in the not-so-distant past when he'd been Harry's professor, teaching him about boggarts and dementors and grindylows and who knew what else. The entire year he'd spent at Hogwarts was a bit of a blur. It had been both terrifying and immensely rewarding. Despite the grave misfortune that he'd fallen into after leaving, exacerbated by his increased notoriety from his stint at a teacher there, he didn't regret the experience. Looking back, one of the most gratifying parts of his tenure had been his interaction with the young Harry. He'd still been so unsure of himself then, but Lupin had looked into his eyes and seen the powerful wizard lurking inside him, waiting for him to mature enough for it to show itself. He'd tried to help Harry touch that potential within himself, and he liked to think he'd succeeded at least a little. He was excessively proud of the wizard and the man Harry had become, but wasn't certain how much credit he could take for it despite the fact that Harry frequently mentioned him alongside Dumbledore and Sirius as his personal heroes.

He remembered the day three years ago when he'd been reacquainted with Harry Potter in rather dramatic fashion. He'd been working as a vampire hunter, but wherever he went his reputation seemed to precede him...people were hesitant to trust a werewolf to fight their battles for them. He'd wandered from town to town, homeless and increasingly hopeless, at times forced into minor acts of thievery to feed himself...a loaf of bread off a truck, a few apples from a farmer's wagon. These dishonorable acts had troubled him, but the pangs of a guilty conscience ran a distant second to the pangs of gnawing hunger. The low point of his life had been the day he'd been arrested for placing a notice advertising his services on a public bulletin board in a town square. The local magistrate had been a hard, unfeeling man...he had given him some sort of codswallop about unlicensed soliciting and thrown him in jail without even asking him his name. Remus had heard those bars slam home and knew he couldn't possibly sink any lower. The next day the magistrate had drug him out into the town square and announced to the gathered crowd that a werewolf had come to prey upon their innocent children and carry them off into the night to eat them. Horrified and shocked at this medieval and downright cliched behavior, Lupin could only watch as the townspeoeple, goaded into a lynchmob by the boorish magistrate, rushed to grab him and in all likelihood string him up from the nearest oak tree. Partly out of sheer terror but mostly out of exhaustion and hunger, he'd passed right out...as he hit the dirt he was dimly aware of people yelling and pointing upwards, and of bolts of lightning striking the ground near the crowd, scattering his would-be lynchers in all directions.

He'd opened his eyes to find himself lying on a bed staring up into a pair of bright green eyes behind rimless spectacles. Scarcely able to believe he wasn't dead, it took him a moment to realize that it was his former student Harry Potter, grown to adulthood, who had swooped in and rescued him. In awe of his very presence, the townspeople had quite willingly released Lupin, and Harry had taken him back to the house he was staying in while on assignment in a nearby city. He'd given him food and let him rest, all the while picking his brain about his experiences. After four days he'd offered him the job he now held. At one point, while Harry was out of the house, Lupin had wept with relief. Harry had believed in him when no one else had, he'd trusted him when no one else would. Harry had never been willing to accept Lupin's words of thanks, saying that he was just evening the score from all the help Lupin had once given him, but Remus had no illusions about who owed what to whom...had Harry not interfered, that mob would have killed him. Even if they hadn't, he wouldn't have survived much longer the way he'd been going. So he'd be damned if he'd fail him now when it was so important.

But none of it would matter if he ran around the countryside tonight eating people. He picked up the goblet, his lip curling...the wolfsbane potion wasn't a pleasant experience, but at least the I.D. Potions mistress didn't go out of her way to add horrible-tasting herbs as a certain Hogwarts professor used to do. He pinched his nose and knocked the entire thing back in one gulp, suppressing the urge to gag.

He left the goblet on the worktable and started back to his office. The potion roiled in his stomach as it always did...he would have a mildly queasy feeling for a few minutes and then he'd feel normal again.

Remus reached the top of the stairs and paused, his stomach giving a sudden lurch. He frowned, one hand rubbing his abdomen...that's strange, he thought. He took a few steps and stopped again, his eyes widening. Suddenly a horrible pain tore through his midsection and he doubled over, crying out. He saw through the prisms of his watering eyes wizards coming to bend over him but they hardly mattered, the only thing in the world was this pain, as if he were being ripped into pieces by butcher's meathooks. He cried out again, collapsing on the floor. The pain shot through his neck and head and pounded behind his eyes. "Wolfsbane," he croaked to the wizards bending over him with concerned looks on their faces. "Poison..." His head fell back against the stone floor, his vision blacked out and he knew no more.

**********

Laura stuffed the night's paperwork into her briefcase, past caring if it wrinkled. Raymond, her secretary, sidled into the room, a petrified look on his face. "Um...Ms. Chant?"

"What now? Can we not do this again, please? My scalp is bleeding as it is."

"It's just that I've got these memos from Marian..."

"Oh, sod Marian," Laura muttered, her usual good humor fled to some distant corner of her personality. "We're the last ones in the bloody building, I've been here for fourteen hours today and I'm not staying another minute. There's a foot massage at home with my name on it."

She picked up her briefcase and her cloak and swept past the stammering young man into the hallway. "Shall I..."

"Just put them on my desk, I'll look at them tomorrow. I suppose it's more demands about the Fudge meeting...I'm beginning to wish I'd never gotten her to agree to that." Raymond followed her out of the building.

"But if you'd just look at this one in particular..."

Laura stopped on the front walk, putting out a hand to halt Raymond's progress. "Ray, what part of 'I'm going home' didn't quite penetrate that thick skull of yours? I can't possibly..."

At that moment and with no warning, the elegant Tudor-style mansion that housed the SPMG headquarters exploded in a huge gout of flame and fire. The shock wave knocked both of them to the ground, Laura's briefcase flying out of her hands to land in some yew hedges, pain ripping up one of her legs as she hit the concrete. She lay on the ground, stunned, staring up at the raging inferno that had been her workplace just moments before. "Bloody fucking hell," she groaned, her eyes widening in horror. "Ray! Are you all right?" She struggled to sit up. Ray was rolling over.

"Yeah, I'll live...but Laura...dear God, was there anyone in there?"

Laura tried to get to her feet but pain sheared up her right side from her feet all the way to her hip...she looked down and her stomach turned over at the sight of her shinbone poking out of the side of her leg. She just sat there amidst the rubble, blood pouring down her face from a cut on her forehead, wizards and witches converging on the site from all directions. She paid them no mind, her hands clutching at her cheeks. "Oh sweet Jesus..." she moaned. The building burned merrily, the flames shooting into the sky and belching clouds of black smoke to drift over the dumbstruck onlookers.

**********

Harry and Hermione came out of Zonko's, happily awash with teenage nostalgia. "I can't believe you bought fireworks," she said. "Isn't that against the law once you leave your teens?"

"I was strangely compelled. I might even suspect they'd been enchanted."

"Whatever are you going to do with them?"

"Oh, I thought I'd shoot them off the gazebo...if I'm careful I might be able to fly them right into Cho's room."

She burst out laughing and slapped at his arm. Night had fallen over Hogsmeade and people were strolling up and down the shop-lined streets...Hermione saw a few couples walking hand in hand, their heads close together in intimate conversation. None of them knew anything about Allegra, or time manipulation magic, or the changeover...and all of them were absolutely certain that Voldemort was gone forever. She glanced up at Harry and saw that he was thinking the same thing. "What are you going to do?" she asked quietly.

He sighed. "I don't want to think about it now. I'll think about it tomorrow."

"It seems as though meeting Sorry should have been a good thing."

"You'd think, wouldn't you? What he told me only reinforces how dangerous Allegra really is, and illustrates just how successful she's been in keeping things from me. I had no idea she was Voldemort's new second. They've both been playing me like a violin and I don't much like it."

"You'll defeat him. You've done it before."

"Perhaps, but at what cost? Allegra could have killed George, but she didn't just to torment me with the knowledge that she could have. If it goes on long enough she'll stop pulling her punches."

"You said you were taking precautions."

"I am, but it's an exercise in futility. There's no house secure enough, there's no place safe enough, there's no magic strong enough. If shedecide s she wants to hurt one of you then eventually she'll succeed...unless I stop her first."

He sounded so grim and looked so worried that Hermione just wanted to sit him down and wrap him in a blanket and give him some soup. She reached out and took his hand; he twined his fingers through hers with a grateful smile. "Let's take a walk down by the lake. Remember all the spring afternoons we spent down there? Dean and Seamus arguing over soccer? Neville chasing around after Trevor?" He smiled.

"All right. It's a nice night for a walk."

It was. Just cool enough to be comfortable, light breeze. They took the footpath down towards Hogshead Pond, away from the lights of the main street. The moonlight was reflecting off the surface of the pond, making Hermione think of Lupin. They strolled around the perimeter of the water in silence, just enjoying the fragrant night air.

After a few minutes Hermione began to sense that Harry was tensing up. His fingers were tightening on hers and he was keeping his face carefully blank. She didn't ask him about it, some instinct warned her not to. She didn't have to wait long.

"Don't look around," he said quietly, out of the corner of his mouth. "Keep walking casually. We're being followed."

"Who is it?" she whispered.

"Probably one of Allegra's goons."

"Just one?"

"Yes. He's just a teaser." He sighed. "I didn't expect it to start so soon."

"What do we do?"

"Wait for him to make his move, then we'll see." He steered her off the main path onto one that branched off and led into a small sheltered glen of sycamore trees...dead end. They walked into the glen, not speaking, then suddenly Harry pushed her away. She stumbled and crashed into a bush, looking around in time to see a large man run into the glen, swinging his arm in a punch that whistled as it went through the air. Harry ducked and darted around the guy, motioning her to stay back. Their attacker turned around and faced Harry, grinning and looking like his IQ might have had some serious competition from his waist measurement.

"You Potter?"

Harry, tensed for a new attack, nodded. "It's nice that you check my identity before starting in with the brass-knuckle treatment. A touch of quality control, it's appreciated. We wouldn't want the wrong man squished to a grease spot, would we?"

Harry's sarcasm was miles over the thug's head. "She said I should watch meself, but you don't look like much."

"I hate to rain on your parade, but you're far from the first to make that misjudgment, old chap."

The guy chuckled dully. "You're about to be in a world of hurt, guv."

Harry straightened up a bit. "Is that the best you can do? A 'world of hurt?' Would it be too much to ask for some decent pre-fight repartee? I'm doing my best, it'd be nice to get something back from you."

The thug's brow furrowed. "Huh?"

Harry spread his arms. "Are we going to do this or not?"

"She said I'm s'posed to put you and the bitch in the hospital. Don't take it personal-like, see."

"Of course not," Harry said, though his eyes had narrowed to deadly little slits. He reached up and removed his glasses, setting them carefully on a nearby bench. "Let's get on with it, shall we? I've got to get home and clean my andirons."

Without further ado the thug lunged, swinging a ham-sized fist in his direction. Harry quickly sidestepped him and stuck out his foot, sending him crashing to the ground. Hermione got out her wand but Harry shook his head at her. The thug picked himself up. Before, he'd looked almost sorry that he'd been sent to beat the stuffing out of them, but now he looked glad for the excuse. He stood up, faced Harry and began throwing punches at him from all directions. Harry bobbed and weaved, blocking most of the blows until he finally bobbed when he should have weaved and one landed squarely on the side of his face. He stumbled back a step, bent over with his hand to his cheek. The thug hesitated, taking a step forward to see if Harry was down for the count. He raised his fist again and Hermione winced, wand raised, prepared to stop the guy from knocking Harry into next week...but she didn't have to. As the thug was about to hit him, Harry straightened abruptly and his fist crashed into the thug's jaw. The guy staggered backwards, surprised. Harry quickly leaned to one side and pistoned his leg into his opponent's midsection. He doubled over, clutching his stomach; Harry spun and whipped his leg around, his foot smashing into the thug's jaw; he landed on his arse with a bleeding face. Harry stepped back and put a hand to his cheek again.

"Ow," he muttered, rubbing the mark the thug's fist had left. He looked over at Hermione. "Are you all right?"

She just stared at him in amazement. "I'm fine, but...he...you..." She looked past him and her eyes widened. "Look out!"

The thug, back like a bad penny, wrapped his arms around Harry's chest from behind, pinning his arms to his sides and lifting him clear off the ground. Harry's legs kicked at the air as he tried to free himself. Hermione raised her wand again. "No magic!" Harry yelled. Thinking he was out of his head, she opened her mouth to incapacitate the thug anyway. "Expelliarmus!" Harry cried before she could say anything. Her wand flew out of her hand and through the air to land somewhere on the other side of the glen. Hermione couldn't believe it. She just stood there and watched, helpless...she was disarmed and she didn't think that in this situation she'd be able to muster the concentration required to perform magic without a wand.

Harry had problems of his own. The goon's grip was like an iron manacle and no matter how much he struggled the guy held on. Hermione began to fear that he'd have the breath crushed out of him...then Harry suddenly threw his head back violently, smashing his skull into the goon's nose. The guy released him at once, one hand to his face, and staggered back a few steps. Harry seized the opportunity and struck the him backhand across the face. "You little bastard!" the guy yelled, his mouth bleeding along with his nose.

"I warned you!" Harry said. "I had an excellent hand-to-hand combat teacher!" The thug rushed him, swinging his arm forward; Harry jerked backwards and the guy's fist passed in front of his face. He grabbed the guy's arm as it carried forward and took a step inward so his back was to him...Hermione watched, stunned, as Harry flipped him neatly over his hip, using the guy's own forward momentum to carry him through the air. He made a rather impressive 'thud' when he hit the ground. Harry put his foot on the guy's neck, pressing hard enough for the sole of his boot to leave tracks but not hard enough to hurt too much.

"Why did you disarm me?" Hermione cried. "I could have helped!"

He glanced up at her. "Can we talk about this later? Tad busy just now."

"Is this some sort of macho testosterone display for my benefit?"

"What, the swing-dancing wasn't macho enough for you? He started it!"

"So why didn't you...Harry, watch it!" she cried. Noticing their involvement in conversation, Allegra's goon took his chance. He swung his arm around, knocking Harry's leg out from underneath him and sending him sprawling to the ground. Hermione jumped back, feeling guilty for distracting him. Harry quickly scrambled to his feet, but not quickly enough to duck another blow. It rocked him back on his heels; before he could recover, the guy had his hands around his neck. Harry's arms flailed at the huge hands, his face going purple. Terrified but knowing she had to do something, Hermione took a deep breath and jumped onto the guy's back, hooking one arm around his neck and hitting him about the head and shoulders as hard as she could. The goon let go of Harry and began turning in a circle, trying to shake Hermione loose; she hung on for dear life. He jerked to one side and Hermione wasn't able to keep her grip...she slid off his neck; the goon grabbed her and hit her across the face. Pain exploded through her skull and then through the rest of her body as he threw her to the ground.

She heard Harry make a sound she wouldn't have thought him capable of producing, an angry roar that made even this hulking baboon take a step backwards. She looked up, her eyes watering and her cheek throbbing, in time to see Harry advancing on the guy, landing blow after blow while dodging the ones thrown at him. He was right...he had been taught well. Even she could see that while the goon was clumsy and lumbering, relying mostly on body mass, Harry was quick and efficient. He moved lightly, his cloak flying around him...Hermione flashed back to her dream about the Chamber of Secrets. As it had been then, she stood and watched while he fought off an attacker, though she'd be damned if she knew why he didn't just pull out his wand and blast the guy into the choir invisible.

The goon managed to get in a few good licks at Harry but he paid for them. Finally Harry knocked him out with a roundhouse kick that landed on his jaw with a sound like someone hitting a watermelon with a sledgehammer. The guy dropped like a stone. "You see? This is what happens to people who call her a bitch in my hearing," Harry said. Their attacker didn't move. Harry exhaled hugely, bending over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Hermione hurried over to him. "Good God, are you all right?"

He straightened up and palpated his abdomen with his fingers. "I'll live." He turned and touched her cheek where a knot was already rising. "My, he got you a right one there," he said, glaring at the goon's unconscious form on the ground.

"Oh...you're bleeding," she said, pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket. He stood there patiently as she dabbed at a cut on his forehead.

"That wasn't very smart, what you did," he said, but his tone was admiring. He picked up his glasses and put them on.

"Saved your arse, didn't it?"

"You're lucky you only got a black eye for it."

"You're welcome, for the second time. I noticed that you weren't exactly giving peace a chance."

"No, but that's my job. I've been trained for that sort of thing."

She lowered the handkerchief. "Why? Why would you need it? Why didn't you just turn him into a newt?"

He frowned, as if puzzled that she didn't know the answer to that question. "Hermione...that guy was a Muggle. I can't use magic against Muggles. It's against the law...besides, it's not fair."

"Fair? He's trying to kill you and you're worried about fair?"

"He wasn't trying to kill me, you heard him. Even if he was, well...there are more important things than just not getting killed, you know. I wouldn't want to win a fight by using magic against a Muggle. It'd be...I don't know, cowardly. Like an army using machine guns against an opponent armed with sticks and stones."

"What if he'd had a knife? Or a gun?"

"Then I would have used magic against the blade or the bullets, but not against him. We're not allowed to use magic on Muggles, you know that. This is why Allegra sends Muggles to do this kind of dirty work...negates any magical advantage I might have. But we're trained to even up the score a little bit. I spent a full year being pummeled senseless by Lefty Mamakos just so guys like this waste of skin here before us won't get the better of me when I can't use my wand."

She sighed. "I suppose you're right. It's just...you could have been really hurt."

"Not likely," he said, smiling. "Don't mean to boast, but I had the highest cumulative training score the I.D. had seen since Lefty went through." He turned and headed for the bushes. "Let's find your wand, shall we?" He bent and began scanning the ground.

Hermione just stood there, her arms crossed over her chest, still processing what had just happened. "Do you think she knows about Sorry? The timing seems rather too convenient to be coincidence."

"Here it is!" he said, straightening and holding up her wand. She took it and slipped it into her purse. "I put up some sneaky wards around the Three Broomsticks while you waited for him to get there, I don't know how she could know. It is rather odd timing, though." He frowned. "If she knows, there's not much I can do about it. I hope Jack's memories will be enough if he has to make a quick getaway." He stepped closer to her and sighed. "I'm sorry you had to be here for this."

"So am I," she said, touching the bruise with one finger and wincing.

"Let me take care of that," he said, raising his hand to her cheek. His fingers began to glow with a soft orange luminescence as he placed them against her skin. She could feel her cheek tingling as he rubbed the rising bruise for a few seconds. Hermione stared up into his face, transfixed...he was looking not at her cheek but into her eyes. His expression was one of strange concentration, as if he'd never seen her before and was trying to memorize every detail of her face. A knot was forming in the pit of her stomach...she could feel that the bruise was gone but he was still rubbing her cheek. She was suddenly and acutely aware of how close together they were standing; she could see the beginnings of night-time stubble on his cheeks and smell the light pine scent of his soap. This is Harry, she thought. I'm not supposed to be standing here thinking about how he smells, for Christ's sake. She cut her eyes away and Harry took his hand off her cheek, leaving a footprint of warmth behind.

"Thanks," she said, touching the smooth skin where the mark had been. "Where'd you pick that up?"

"Field training. First aid."

"You could use some yourself."

"I'm fine. Let's get out of here." They walked out of the glen, keeping a few feet of space between them, but they didn't get far. Out of the sky came a white streak to land on Harry's shoulder. "Hedwig!" he said, taking the note from her beak. Hermione gave Hedwig half a muffin she'd stashed in her purse while waiting for Sorry; Harry read the note. She watched as his face went white as a ghost and he sat down heavily...not so much sat as that his legs suddenly wouldn't hold him anymore. Fortunately there was a bench behind him or else he would have ended up on the ground. He looked up at her with a naked expression of horror on his face that was almost childlike in its shocked confusion.

"What?" she said, her stomach dropping. "What's happened?"

"It's from Justin. Someone blew up the SPMG headquarters in London. It's gone, leveled."

Hermione's blood went like icewater. "Oh God," she breathed. "Laura?"

"It doesn't say. He just says we should come to the Ministry hospital." He stood up, rubbing at his eyes, and grabbed her by the hand. "Let's go."

**********

Hermione held her composure by sheer force of will as she and Harry ran up the stairs at the Ministry hospital. If Laura was hurt, or God forbid dead, she didn't know how she'd handle it.

They came into a circular waiting room; Justin was there already. He stood up to meet them, looking harried and exhausted. "Justin!" Hermione said, rushing up to him. "Laura...is she..."

"She's all right," he said, making calming gestures with his hands. "She was hurt, but she'll be fine." Harry and Hermione exchanged a relieved glance and Justin pulled them both into a three-person hug.

The initial relief passing quickly, Justin led them down the hallway towards Laura's room. "What the hell happened?" Harry said, his lips pressed together until they vanished into a thin white line.

"I don't know. Laura said she had just left the building when it exploded. If she'd been fifteen seconds later she'd have still been inside."

Hermione glanced at Harry's stone face. An attack on them in Hogsmeade, Laura's building exploding...her heart skipped a few beats as she wondered what was happening to the rest of their friends right now.

Laura was sitting up in bed arguing with her nurse. "Why can't I have my own pyjamas? It makes no sense!" She stopped when she saw them. "What, no flowers?" she said, giving a tired smile.

Hermione hurried forward to hug her. "Oh honey, are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I broke my shin...that was really gory, by the way...and I've a cut on my head, but they fixed me right up." Harry went around to the other side of the bed, forcing a smile. Laura looked up at him, a stricken look on her face. "Harry...five people hurt in the explosion. Thank God no one was killed, but...was it...is this about..."

"I'm afraid so, Laura. As you know, there are dark forces in the world, and I've been fighting them since I was eleven years old. They want me to surrender, and to get to me they're attacking everyone around me. I'm so sorry this has happened. All I can say is that I promise you I will find those responsible and make them pay."

Laura nodded, one tear trickling down her face. "I should tell Sorry what's happened..."

"I'll get word to him," Hermione said.

One of the wizard nurses came in. "Mr. Potter? There's a message for you at the front desk." Harry met Hermione's eyes, the same thought passing between them: what now? Without a word he left the room with the nurse.

"Are you going to have to stay overnight?" Justin was asking Laura.

"I don't think so. The doctor said that I could go home as soon as she was satisfied that my shinbone was healed."

"I owled George, he said he couldn't get away right now but he'd be here soon."

"I'll be right back," Hermione said, patting Laura's arm. She rose and went out into the hallway, taking a seat on one of the benches and letting her eyes fall shut. The full seriousness of this situation was just striking home for her...until now it had almost seemed like a game. The Baubel bubbles, the moving corridors, the mysterious agents, even Harry's fight in the park...but now people could have been killed, and Laura was one of them. She looked up and saw Harry coming back down the hallway, and the sight of him chilled her to the bone. He was walking swiftly and determinedly, and for the first time she thought she might be seeing him as his enemies saw him...as someone not to be trifled with. His black clothing made his body seem to disappear against his black cloak as it billowed out behind him, his entire form blending into the dark stones of the corridor so his pale face appeared to float along on its own. His face was white as a sheet, made even more so in contrast to his dark turtleneck, his hair sticking up wildly and his eyes flashing in the dimness. At that moment, he looked like the very spectre of Death itself.

She stood, dreading what he was going to say. "What? What is it?"

He stopped in front of her and spoke in a steady, pedagogical tone. "Lupin is being held in critical condition at Confinement, his wolfsbane potion was poisoned. He may not survive. Argo Pfaffenroth went missing for three hours. She left the office as usual, her husband called the I.D. when she didn't come home. She was later Apparated into the I.D. infirmary, unhurt except for some superficial wounds on her arms. Her car was later found by the side of the road with the word 'Potter' scrawled across the windshield in her blood."

Hermione thought she might faint. "Oh my God," she managed. Harry looked like the only way he was keeping himself together was by completely shutting himself off.

"I'm going home to check on the wards...you and Justin stay here. Later tonight I need you to go back to the house...you'll be safer there and I want you home in case we get any more news, good or bad. Justin can bring Laura home when she's ready. "

She nodded. "What are you going to do then?"

"I've got to make some preparations. I won't stand by and watch her destroy innocent lives. It's time I took the offensive." He started to leave but Hermione held him back.

"Harry, please be careful. I..." Her breath caught and a lump rose in her throat. "Don't let me get an owl saying they've found you by the side of the road."

His face softened just a touch; he reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. "I'll be fine. Don't worry. I'll be home soon and then I'll tell you..." He paused and seemed to think better of what he'd been about to say. "I'll tell you what's to be done." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then turned and walked away. With each step his form became more and more indistinct, then it went transparent, then there was only the hallway, empty where he had been mere seconds before.