The Temple of Le Fay

Chapter Three: Diagon, Draco, Dead Eye

"I still can't believe I can do this whenever I want, even after all this time."

"All this time? Come on, Ginny. It's only been six months."

"I know, but I just spent so long wanting to be able to hold your hand. . ." Ginny blushed as she once more thought back to her time as Harry's number one fan. While she was still happy to claim that position for herself, she was no longer as shy or as quick to embarrass as she had been. She knew that the maturity forced upon her by events in her first year was at least partly responsible for the change. It was a change that she had long held mixed feelings about, and yet if it had brought her Harry Potter, who was she to complain?

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Hmmm? Sorry, Harry, what did you say?"

"You were looking pretty far away there. Thinking something nice, I hope?"

"I was thinking about you," she said.

"Thinking something nice?"

"Just thinking about how weird it is that we came to be together."

"Well, not really," Harry said, striking a pose of thoughtfulness. "I mean, look at how long Fred was chasing Angelina, and how long Ron liked Hermione. Persistence seems to be a Weasley trait."

"Not that, you idiot!" Ginny laughed. "I meant, if it weren't for Tom's diary, I'd probably still be that silly schoolgirl who couldn't look you in the eye."

Harry smiled, and squeezed her hand. "Something very good coming from something evil," he said. "But I think you'd have come out of your shell. You have it in you to do whatever you want, we all do. And I meant what I said earlier about your persistence. I'm sure you'd have won me over sooner or later."

"You could have told me that when I was eleven," she said. "It would have saved me a lot of heartache."

He grinned, and bent over to kiss the back of her hand. She shivered slightly, but smiled. "It was only a matter of time until I noticed you properly," he said, sitting up straight again.

"So what finally convinced you?" she asked. He sat in thought for some time, staring out over the crowd of people doing their shopping, his fingers moving idly against hers. Eventually, he spoke.

"Dumbledore," he said. "I went up to his office one day with Hagrid, and he said that I shouldn't worry about things I don't control. He made me realise that our being together would make us happier than our being apart, if I did the right things."

"Remind me to thank him," she said.

"He likes socks."

"I'll knit him a dozen pairs."

"You knit?"

"How do you think mum managed all those Weasley sweaters? She taught me when I was about four. I started off small, but by the time Fred and George went off to Hogwarts, I was almost able to do a whole one by myself."

Harry had a thought. "My first year at Hogwarts. . ."

"Did you like it?" Ginny asked. "I helped mum a lot with that one. I picked the wool. I wanted you to be wearing it when you came to visit that summer, so that mum could drop it into conversation."

"It, uh, got ripped up in the fight with Quirrell," Harry said, blushing a little. "I really liked it, though."

"It's okay," she said, amiably. "I'm glad you liked it." She looked at her watch. "Where are Ron and Hermione?"

Harry snorted, but didn't say anything.

The two of them were sittting in Diagon Alley, outside Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour. The remains of two large chocolate sundaes sat between them, eaten while they waited for Ron and Hermione to join them.

"Maybe they dropped in on Fred and George?" Harry suggested.

"No, I asked Ron to wait so that we all went down together. Fred was so excited last night that we'd be dropping by. I can't wait to see what the shop looks like."

"Me either," Harry answered, remembering for the first time in a long time that he had given the twins the money to start their business. He was keen to see what sort of investments the twins had made. Certainly, if the sounds emerging from their bedroom at the Burrow were anything to go by, they'd been busy ever since they'd returned home from school.

Harry had felt rather worried that Mr and Mrs Weasley would have objected when they found out that the twins would be going in to jokes as a career, but they'd taken the news well.

"Well, we always suspected they didn't have the right temperament for the Ministry," Mr Weasley had said.

"Besides, I'm almost glad they're not going to be doing anything dangerous," Mrs Weasley added. She had looked at Percy and Mr Weasley nervously, something Harry had noticed her doing more and more often during his latest stay at the Burrow. Every report of increased Death Eater activity seemed to heighten the tension in the Weasley's home.

Harry shook his head, reminding himself that for today, at least, he wasn't supposed to be thinking about such things.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Ginny asked, smiling at him as she gave his hand a slight squeeze. Harry smiled back at her, all thoughts of Death Eaters and the approaching conflict driven from his mind.

Today he was thinking only of his wonderful girlfriend, and how best to celebrate their having been together six months.

*

"Look, they'll appreciate the time alone. Besides, I really want to see the new Comet."

"Honestly, Ron, they're probably wondering where we've got to."

"I seriously doubt it. Remember how we celebrated six months together?"

Hermione coloured a little, and allowed Ron to lead her towards Quality Quidditch Supplies. When they got there, she left Ron to drool over the Comet 320 -"with built in anti-nausea charm"- while she browsed listlessly through the selection of Quidditch books.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my favourite Muggle born."

Hermione turned on her heel, already knowing whom she was going to come face to face with.

"Malfoy," she said shortly, staring directly into Draco Malfoy's cold, grey eyes.

"Having a good summer, I trust? I suppose you're staying with the Weasleys."

"Yes, I am," Hermione said, forcing politeness into her voice. "And you?"

"Well, my father is awaiting trial for suspected Death Eater activity. You could say that it makes it difficult to enjoy things."

"If you expect an apology-"

"From you? Hardly. And from Potter even less so. No, rest assured Granger, what I expect of you and your little circle of friends is worth much more than an apology."

And with that, Malfoy spun on his heel and stalked off through the crowd in the store. Hermione watched his blonde hair gleaming as he pushed through the bustle of Diagon Alley until he turned a corner and disappeared from view.

"Wonder what he meant by that?" Ron muttered. Hermione jumped.

"You heard that?" she said, turning to face him.

"Yeah, I was standing behind that display," he replied, pointing at a stack of half-price Nimbus 2001s. "I'd have stepped in if you'd needed help but, well, I don't think Malfoy would be a problem for you, Hermione. He must have just come in here to get a new broom and decided to try and put the wind up you."

"I doubt he was here for a new broom," Hermione said, feeling a little burst of pride at Ron's compliment. "His father's finances have been frozen, pending further investigation. He's as poor as any of us."

Ron snorted. "I don't reckon that the Malfoys know what poor means. Besides, all they'd have to do would be borrow some money from their mates."

"Maybe, but do you think that anyone would want to be caught helping a Death Eater?"

"Who cares? Why are we wasting time talking about Malfoy? Did you see the 320? It's fantastic-"

Hermione listened with half an ear as she thought about what Malfoy had said. Was he just trying to scare her, or did he really have something planned for the coming year at Hogwarts?

*

Harry finally gave in. It had been three years since he'd first seen the model, and now he was convinced. He still wanted it, and no matter how much it cost, it was going to be his.

He stood in Astronomical Astronomy, the shop run by Professor Sinistra's brother, and stared unmoving at the perfect working model of the galaxy. It shimmered gently in the darkened shop, and Harry was dimly aware of other wizards moving around, testing enchanted telescopes and comparing star charts.

"Back again, Mister Potter?"

Harry half turned, finding it a wrench to take his eyes away from the galaxy.

"Yes," he said, looking up at Saturn Sinistra with a faint smile. "I just need to be absolutely sure."

"I understand," Sinistra said, twirling one end of his heavily waxed moustache. "You know how it works, of course. Probably as well as I do, you like it so much."

"Can you show me again?" Harry asked, smiling self-consciously. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny sticking her tongue out at him.

"Of course," Sinistra said, tapping the model's cabinet with his wand and pulling the glass globe gently from within. "It is protected with an Unbreakable charm, of course, but sometimes I wonder what would happen if I shook it." He laughed, but Harry felt his stomach jump slightly, before he laughed too. As realistic as the model was, it was still just a model. Shaking it wouldn't affect the galaxy at all. But it was still hypnotising to watch.

Saturn Sinistra set the model down on his counter, and stared reverently at all. "How did you do with your O.W.L. last year?" he asked.

"Well, I got an A," Harry said.

"A for Acceptable. Hmm. . . I understand that there was some problems with the test?" Saturn asked. Harry nodded, smiling at the memory.

"Peeves the poltergeist decided he wanted to liven things up. Because the exam is outside, Professor Sinistra couldn't protect the area with the spells used on the other exam rooms, so Peeves messed with all the telescopes. They all had fake stars painted on the inside of the lens in glitter. In the end, we had to have a theory exam, which nobody had really prepared for, so no-one did very well. Professor Sinistra was furious."

Saturn laughed loudly, disturbing two witches who were whispering back and forth about the latest Muggle space mission.

"Well, this will make sure you never have to take another Astronomy lesson," Saturn said. "Although if you tell my sister that, I shall deny having met you, Mr Potter."

He tapped the model with his wand, and said "Alpha Centauri." The view changed, and Harry stared at the star.

"Sol." The view changed again, and Harry was looking at the solar system, with the sun and its nine planets. Harry could just make out the Earth, and its tiny moon. He sighed happily.

"How much is it?"

Saturn named a figure, and Harry nodded resignedly.

"You're sure, Mr Potter?"

Harry nodded again.

*

By the time the four friends had met up and started walking towards Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, Harry was grateful that Fred and George had offered to let them store their purchases in the back room. The galactic model on its own was far heavier than it had seemed in the shop, and Harry and Ron were now carrying it between them. Hermione had taken one look at it, and while impressed, had raised a pertinent question.

"How are you going to get it to school?"

Harry's face fell. He'd already be struggling to get everything in his trunk, what with all the new books he had to buy. Now he'd have the model as well, and it was well over eighteen inches across.

"I'll figure something out," he said, scowling at the thought of spending so much money on something he might not be able to use. He and Ron struggled up the steps of the twins' shop, and Harry backed into the door not looking where he was going as he walked unsteadily into the shop.

"LOOK OUT!" someone yelled. Harry felt something collide with the back of his head. His glasses went flying as the object burst against his head, leaving a thick powder coating his hair. He began coughing, his eyes streaming, his nose running. Someone took his end of the model, and he staggered backwards, strong hands claiming him and guiding him into a chair.

Dimly, he was aware of people rushing around the shop, but his eyes wouldn't clear long enough for him to see anything. He tried to speak, but his body was racked with a fresh coughing fit. When that calmed down, he began to sneeze.

"Hay Fever Hand Grenade," he heard someone say. "Gesundheit," the voice added as Harry sneezed loudly. "Newest thing. Fred decided to test it on me, but someone knocked his arm as he threw it."

Harry sneezed again, but he seemed to be getting over the worst of it. He could even see a little now, although without his glasses he couldn't make out much more than two redheaded blurs kneeling in front of him.

"Harry? Harry, it's me, Fred. Listen, sorry about that. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Harry, listen, this is very important, can you talk?"

"Bit," Harry wheezed.

"Good, that's great. Um, listen, do you think the dose was too strong? I mean, we don't want kids getting seriously h- OW!!"

Harry heard someone hitting someone else, Fred, by the sound of it, being the receiving party. Harry suspected that Ginny had been the one doing the hitting, in her mother's absence. He grinned weakly as his eyes finally stopped watering. He made a guess at the identity of the blurry person handing him his glasses from the colour of her hair.

"Thanks, Hermione."

"You're welcome. Fred saved your model, by the way," she added, as he put his glasses back on. "You may want to thank him. Or save him."

Harry looked to where Fred was standing, looking extremely cowed as Ginny ranted at him.

"Ginny," he said, rising shakily from the chair. "It's okay. It was an accident."

Ginny turned away from Fred, who took the opportunity to dart behind the shop counter and bang down the access hatch.

"Someone could have been hurt, Harry," she stated, her cheeks glowing.

"But they weren't," he said softly. He hoped he could placate her. They were here in Diagon Alley to enjoy themselves, not start another Weasley argument. "And I think Fred and George have both learned their lesson, am I right?"

The twins chorused "Yes, Harry" and looked suitably contrite. Ginny scowled at them.

"They don't mean it for a second," she said, but the fire was gone. Harry exhaled, grateful that he had never been on the receiving end of Ginny's temper.

"We did mean it, Ginny," Fred said. George nodded vigorously. "Look, we'll have the testing area set up any day now, and then we won't have to do our research in the shop itself."

Ginny glowered briefly at the twins, but was calm again.

"Why don't you show us what you've been working on," Hermione suggested, diplomatically. George and Fred immediately perked up, and Fred dashed into the back room of the shop, reappearing a few seconds later with a tray bearing several interesting looking products.

George flicked his wand at the sign on the shop door, which said "Off to lunch, cuties? Well, I'll be sure and let everyone know you'll be back soon. Don't be too long, now."

Ron grinned at his brother, who blushed, and mumbled something about the sign being a gift from Katie and Angelina. Fred saved his twin's blushes by coughing loudly, drawing attention back to himself and his tray. Harry knew that Fred was excited, sacrificing the opportunity to tease his twin in this way.

"Ton Tongue Toffee you all know," Fred declared. "This is its sister product: Babble Brain Bubblegum. George?"

George took a piece of the gum from Fred's hand and began chewing. After a minute, he blew a huge bubble, which Fred burst with a pin -"Sterilised, of course, we're very serious about hygiene at Weasleys Wizard Wheezes"- releasing a stream of unintelligible gibberish that echoed around the room until Fred waved his wand and yelled "Finite Incantatem!"

George spat the gum out and took the next item from the tray. Fred grinned.

"As my lovely assistant is unable to say anything but nonsense for the next ten minutes -not much of a change, I admit- I shall guide you through the rest of our new line.

"First we have Boomerang Spellbooks. We hope to market these to the educational market, a special charm ensuring that no matter how hard someone throws them, they always come back." Fred grinned. "Unless they know the special phrase that makes them stick to the ceiling. We devised them in honour of our great friend Mr Filch."

Harry and Ron laughed at the idea of the horrible Hogwarts caretaker trying in vain to remove the spellbooks from the ceiling of various classrooms at Hogwarts. Hermione looked torn between amusement and the desire to tell Fred and George off. Ginny, who apparently was sill yet to forgive her brothers, remained silent.

"Next we have the newest addition to the Half-and-Half range," Fred continued. "As with all previous Half-and-Half products, this converts any potion your unwitting victim has left untended into something quite useless. In this case, at George's suggestion, the entire potion will turn into that half melted sugar gunk you get in the bottom of your cup when you don't stir it properly."

George gave the others a thumbs up, and nodded his head appreciatively. Harry guessed that he had a fondness for that particular mixture.

"Next we have the Personal Disorganiser," Fred went on, throwing a look at Hermione. "This little baby tells you exactly where you can stick your homework, what you might want to do instead and suggests excuses for why you haven't done it. When the worst comes to the worst, and you absolutely have to do the work, it sits there and suggests helpful books that may help with the work. Of course, by the time it does that, the library will be shut, but it's the thought that counts, right?"

George waved his hands, emitted several nonsensical sentences, and then made out an hourglass figure in mid air.

"Oh, yes, and if you have a date, the Disorganiser will suggest chat up lines, decent places to go, and generally dispense the accumulated wisdom of its creators vast experience with the opposite sex."

"So it's useless for that as well?" Ginny said, smiling slightly.

"No catcalls from the cheap seats, thank you," Fred replied breezily. "Now, the piece de resistance of our new developments is this little beauty."

He reverently took a small object from the tray.

"It's a spoon," Hermione stated.

"Dear Hermione, so many brains, so little imagination," Fred replied, patting her patronisingly on the head. "No, okay, fair enough. It looks just like a spoon. But this is going to make us our fortune."

"How?" Ron asked, looking sceptical.

"Because, brother mine, this spoon is the Food Fight Four Thousand," George said in a hushed voice, apparently having recovered from the Babble Brain Bubblegum. "Load it up with the foodstuff of your choice and it will fire it with perfect accuracy at whoever you want it to hit."

"Anyone?" Ginny asked.

"How far can it throw?" Ron asked at the same time.

"How much can it throw?" Harry asked, a fraction of a second later.

"Really perfect accuracy?" Hermione asked, when the other three had finished.

Fred and George looked at one another, wide smiled on their faces. "Brother, I think we have a winner," Fred said. George nodded happily in reply.

"There are some limitations. It can do the length of the Great Hall easily, for instance, but it can't do anything bigger than a potato at the moment," Fred said.

"We're hoping to work our way upward to watermelons on later models," George added. "And if your target moves, well, you'll probably miss. We might be able to add a seeker charm to it later on, but we'll have to see how that affects the cost. We want every kid at Hogwarts to have one."

Hermione looked apprehensive. "It's really impressive," she said. "But it could be dangerous."

Fred shook his head. "No, it won't be. It won't throw anything solid, so T-bone steaks are right out. It's just gooey, messy stuff like mashed potatoes, trifle, blancmange, that sort of thing."

"Snowballs, too," Ginny said, suddenly.

"Ah, yes, very true," Fred agreed. "Actually, we're hoping to change the design a bit and re-launch it in November so that people will buy two."

Ginny looked at them sternly.

"But we probably won't. That wouldn't be very morally correct, exploiting our customers by making them pay twice for the same thing. No, not at all. We're big on morals. Really!"

Ginny had turned away, apparently unable to stop herself from grinning.

In the end, George and Fred chose to placate Ginny by offering liberal discounts on their entire stock. Ron in particular seemed eager to spend his money, pointing out "There's a whole new crop of prefects this year. We can relax a bit and give them all the nasty jobs to do."

Hermione just shook her head, knowing that anything she said would turn into another session of bickering. She chose some Babble Brain Bubblegum "So that when you try and get me to help with your work this year, I'll just start chewing and you'll have to do it yourself."

"Before you ask, there's no antidote," George said.

"No refunds, either," Fred added quickly, scooping the shining pile of coins into the cash register, which shut with a satisfied-sounding snap.

"Now, we have real customers to serve," George said, indicating the swell of people inspecting the products on display in the shop window. "So, if you please, hop it and let us make some money.

"See you at dinner," he added cheerfully, as he shooed them from the shop. As the door closed on the new crop of customers, they could hear the enchanted sign flirting shamelessly with the twins.

*

Once again, the four friends had split into the two couples. Ron and Hermione had moved off in the direction of Flourish and Blotts, where Hermione was eager to search for the books on her reading list, plus anything that seemed remotely connected to her subjects. Ron was dragged at speed through the wizarding masses, at one point nearly dislocating his shoulder as Hermione orbited a vast warlock who was showing off a new amulet that he claimed protected him from all unwanted house callers, "Except for those chappies who sell double glazing," he added testily.

They saw Malfoy again, walking alone and sullen-looking, and pointedly ignoring Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode as the two girls called out to him.

"Seems like he's had a falling out with his pals," Ron said shortly, as he was led into the wizarding bookshop.

"Do you feel sorry for him?" Hermione asked, already distracted by the sheer volume of books on display. On a table nearby stood several autographed copies of Gilderoy Lockhart's Magical Me, which was on sale with sixty percent off.

"I can't believe they're still selling this rubbish," Ron said, scowling at the smiling, preening photograph of Lockhart that adorned the cover of each of the books.

"Well, they were very well researched, I suppose," Hermione said absently. "Anyway, you didn't answer my question."

"What, do I feel sorry for Malfoy? No. I reckon he'll be worse than normal this year, though. D'you reckon with his dad in jail that the other Slytherins have dumped him?"

Hermione didn't answer. While Ron was glaring at Lockhart, she had wandered off to talk to the manager about what books might compliment Really Evilly Complicated Numbers: Why They're Not Just There To Cause You Hassle which was apparently the sixth year Arithmancy set text. Ron took one last look at Lockhart, scowled, and went off to try and find a new book on the Chudley Cannons.

*

Harry and Ginny spun through the hall, their laughter trailing behind them as they danced. The orchestra played on for them alone, it seemed, the other dancers moving out of their way as they passed.

Neither pretended to be a great dancer, but they were having fun at the small tea dance that Harry had discovered was being held that afternoon. It was the first part of the surprise that he had arranged for Ginny, and he was relieved that she was enjoying it. In truth, he'd not put as much effort into the day as he'd hoped he would have done, but at times it had seemed like the summer holidays would last forever. It was only with a few days to go that Harry had suddenly awoken in the middle of the night and realised the importance behind a comment Hermione had made on their way to bed.

"I expect Harry will be busy in Diagon Alley this Friday?" she had said.

Harry had drifted off to sleep with the comment having barely registered, but when he had awakened in the depths of night, he knew immediately that he had only just averted a major catastrophe. With Ron's reluctant and rather tired help, he'd sketched out a number of things that he thought Ginny would enjoy, and used Fred and George to find out if any of them were possible. It was with great relief that he had learned of the tea dance, even if it normally was an event for older wizards.

Ginny eventually danced the two of them breathless, and deposited Harry on a basket chair. Summoning herself a footstool, she dropped on to it and grinned at him.

"This is wonderful," she said, her eyes gleaming. "How on earth did you find this place?"

"I have my ways," he replied, laughing. "But we really should do some shopping while we're here. Your mum will kill us both if we come back without new robes and our new books."

"I guess," she said. "But at least I don't have to get any new books this year. Following in my brothers' footsteps has its uses."

Harry shrugged. "I guess so. Well, you can help carry mine."

"Didn't we have this argument last year?" Ginny asked, her eyes twinkling.

"Argument? No. You dumped all the stuff on me and ran off. Not the last time I chased you that year, either."

"And now you've caught me, I suppose?"

"Well, yes," Harry said.

"Guess again, Potter," she said, and jumped up. Harry watched in disbelief as she sprinted out of the hall before struggling to his feet and trying to give chase.

*

Ron and Hermione were walking hand-in-hand through Diagon Alley, trailing a shopping trolley full of purchases behind them. They were quite oblivious to the outside world, bickering as they were over a new house directive that had been appended to their Hogwarts letters.

"Hermione, we can't start supervising Hogsmeade visits ourselves. That's teacher stuff."

"Ron, I don't believe you. Didn't we see last year that Hogsmeade can be attacked?"

"Which is why it shouldn't be up to us to defend it."

"Ron, you're just arguing because you want to spend all your time in Zonko's."

"Don't need to now, do I? Not with Fred and George running their own shop. Zonko's was always dead expensive anyway."

"You didn't say that last year when you were buying tha-"

Hermione's analysis of Ron's shopping list was interrupted by a red-haired blur dashing across the street just in front of them. The two managed to stay upright by sheer luck, and were greeted by Harry.

"I suppose you saw Ginny?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "Where's she running off to?"

"I wish I knew," Harry replied. "There's something about Diagon Alley that makes her run away from me."

"Oh, well, in that case it doesn't matter where she's gone," Hermione grinned. "She'll be somewhere you'll have to work hard to get to, Harry. You'll just have to work hard to find her."

"I'm already working hard, Hermione," Harry protested, but Hermione just walked past, chuckling in a most unhelpful manner. Ron stopped only to give his friend a sympathetic shrug of the shoulders before following his girlfriend back among the crowds, shopping trolley in tow.

Harry frowned for a moment, thinking about whether he should follow Hermione's advice or act sensibly and wait someplace where Ginny would find him. He couldn't help but remember something Remus had said about dating the previous year: A nice, complicated mess was how Lupin had described the sort of situation he was in now. With a slight grimace, Harry turned his mind to trying to work out exactly where he might find Ginny, and how long she'd keep leading him on before she allowed him to find her.

*

In all, it was a little over an hour before he saw Ginny again, sitting outside Florean Fortescue's once more and enjoying another sundae with Ron and Hermione. He was sure that she hadn't been there when he'd passed by just minutes before, and yet she was already more than halfway through the mound of ice cream in her glass.

"Please don't do that again Ginny," he puffed, dropping heavily into a seat and wiping his sweat-drenched brow. Ginny laughed, and threw him a napkin.

"Out of shape, Harry?" Ron asked, with a wicked grin. "Better watch that, or I might have to drop you from the team."

"You can't drop the co-captain," Harry said, eyeing Ron's chocolate sundae enviously.

"Well, maybe not, but we're going to have to work really hard this year. You know we've got to replace five players? We should have advertised at the end of last term, but what with everything that was going on. . ."

"Yeah, well, we can ask around on the Express, can't we?" Harry said absently, looking around for Florean so that he could order himself an ice cream.

"Maybe, but did you know Seamus might not play this year?"

"What? But I was counting on him to be a Beater. He did really well against Hufflepuff last year."

"Yeah, but with Lee gone, the commentator's place is open, isn't it?" Ron pointed out. "You know what Seamus is like. He never shuts up, and he knows loads about Quidditch." Ron toyed idly with his spoon, before sliding his sundae away from him, but still just out of Harry's reach.

Harry groaned, both from hunger and memory. Seamus and Ron's discussions about Quidditch had become the stuff of common room legend among Gryffindor students. The two could argue for hours without agreeing on a single point, and then the next morning they could start off again without missing a beat.

"Okay, okay, first day, on the train, we'll ask everyone to try out. The first is a Sunday, so we'll have lessons from the second to the sixth, and choose our new players on Saturday the seventh, yeah?"

Ron grinned. "Sounds good."

"Great. Now give me some of that ice cream before I chuck it at you."

Ron laughed, and pushed it across the table to a grateful Harry.

"You know, you don't have to wait until we're on the train to start asking people to try out," Hermione said.

"Yeah, I know," Ron said. "I already saw Dean earlier, mentioned it to him. Dunno if he'd be interested, though."

"No, I mean you haven't asked us if we'll be trying out," Hermione said.

Ron laughed loudly, before Harry kicked him under the table. He tailed off, and looked incredulously at Hermione and Ginny.

"You're. . . You're serious?" he asked.

"Well, maybe not me, but Ginny's really good," Hermione said. Ginny, for her part, was blushing furiously and studying the inside of her sundae glass, apparently not listening to a word anyone was saying.

"Well-" Ron said, but the rest of her sentence was cut off by a pop of air as someone Apparated beside their table. The four friends watched in surprise as a short, balding man crumpled to the ground, breathing heavily. Harry slid off his chair and knelt beside the man, rolling him onto his side. The face looked a bit familiar to him, but he couldn't put a name to it. Ron joined him,

"That's old Dead Eye Diggle," he said, staring in surprise at the unconscious man.

"Who?"

"He's an old friend of dad's," Ron explained, rolling up his jumper and pushing it under Diggle's head. "His real name is Dedalus, Dedalus Diggle. He was an Auror, worked with Mad Eye Moody. Mad Eye and Dead Eye, right? Looks like he's been in a fight."

Harry looked closer at Dedalus' face, and saw Ron was right. One eye was swollen shut, and the other cheek was badly bruised. The older man's good eye flickered open.

"Wh. . . Where. . ?"

"Diagon Alley," Harry said, looking around for help.

"Close," Diggle said, thickly. "London, at least. Wand. Give me my wand."

Ron looked around, picked up Diggle's wand, and went to press it into his hand.

"Ron, wait," Hermione said, catching his hand. "How do we know-"

"Smart girl," Dedalus coughed. Harry leant back on his haunches as Dedalus was racked with a dreadful sounding coughing fit. "No time to argue though," he croaked, snatching his wand from Ron. With a hiss of imploding air, he was gone.

Ron looked from Harry to Hermione.

"Blimey, there's always something, isn't there?"

*

The door to the interrogation room swung open, and the ash blonde man sitting inside looked up. His expression was neutral as his usual interrogator walked stiffly into the room, his wooden leg clunking with ever second step.

"Good afternoon," the prisoner said evenly. "At least, I assume that it is the afternoon. I will admit that your efforts to wear me down have left me somewhat confused as to the exact time of day, but I am still fully aware of exactly who I am."

"Then you won't mind answering some more questions, Malfoy," Moody growled.

"I will of course assist you in any way that I can," Lucius Malfoy said. "As I have attested numerous times, however, I was placed under the Imperius curse while I was working for Voldemort. I have a particular susceptibility to that curse, as my family doctor will attest."

"I've seen the note on your file," Moody growled. "Signed the day that you donated five thousand Galleons to St Mungo's, I note."

"As I was there, I took the liberty of consulting him with regard to how large he felt my annual donation should be," Malfoy said calmly. "He is an old friend. If you are insinuating that I received anything for my donation, well, I will admit that Minister Fudge arranged for very good tickets for Narcissa, Draco and I at the World Cup final later that month, but I don't think you need concern yourself with that."

Moody glared at him. Malfoy stared evenly back.

"That'll do for now," Moody said, rising stiffly to his feet. "I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow, Malfoy."

"You or someone much like you, I've no doubt," Malfoy said, inclining his head slightly. "Still, where would I be without these little chats? Stuck in solitary confinement for twenty-three hours a day. I welcome your visits, Moody, you and the other interrogators. Until tomorrow."

Malfoy smirked as Moody clumped out of the room.

To be continued...