A Cloud Before the Moon

Chapter 23

When Adams was out of sight, George Bailey put down the newspaper and ambled over to Letha. His presence did not fill her with glad tidings. "What are you doing, following me?" she hissed.

"Yes, actually," he responded pleasantly, "you should be glad too. Crouch would have a fit if he knew you were here. And it's not the first time either, is it? Are you trying to lose your job? This has to do with Black, doesn't it?"

Letha sighed. "Listen George, I think it's worth another look."

"The case is closed. Move on, love. You're wasting time and energy, pissing off Crouch, and worst of all, you're mucking around with Muggles. If even one of them should suspect..."

"Oh, I'm very careful," she said hastily. "I've taken great pains not to arouse suspicion."

George looked at her doubtfully. "Are you all right? You look very pale." Of course she was pale. The thought that the Ministry might find out exactly what she was up to was very worrying. Even worse - if they found out about Adams, if they decided he should be Obliviated....

"Why have you been making trips here?"

"What makes you think I have?"

"Oh come on, you must know. Magical activity has been detected in this area several times in the past few weeks. Who else, but you?"

Letha bit her lip, considering the options.

"Listen", he said, "if you have something - some evidence - show me. If it looks like something, I'll talk to Crouch."

She considered - he had the means to track her magical activity - that was how he'd found her. Perhaps, they could track down the missing evidence the same way. "Very well. In fact, I'm even going to make you useful, possibly. But we have to wait until late tonight, I'm afraid. So, I guess - "

George grinned broadly "I guess we have the whole day to spend together! It'll be lovely!"

Letha managed a sickly smile. "Oh, a whole day together - how wonderful!" It was going to be a long day...

- - - - - - - - - - - -

After Norma Jean and the blond man were out of sight, Adams doubled back and returned to his flat. He hoped she would be all right - she had looked awfully upset to see that goofy-looking wanker. Adams went up stairs, wondering if Ronnie had flooded his apartment by now. He opened the door and went into the kitchen. Ronnie sat on a chair, staring into space.

"Ronald! Just what are you doing? Have you finished with the pipes?"

The young man looked at him vaguely. "Pipes? What pipes?"

"Ronald?" He sniffed the young man's breath - no trace of alcohol or marijuana. "Are you all right?"

"Am I? I suppose - - who are you, anyway?"

Adams looked at him in alarm. "Ronald - we have got to get you to a doctor right away. Come with me." Adams led him downstairs, and steered him over to a nearby medical clinic. After giving them some information - Ronnie was apparently incapable of giving any himself - Adams stuck around until a doctor said they would be admitting him, and Ronnie's mother had shown up. By the time Adams finally got home, it was already evening, and he first had to eat, shower, and get ready for another shift. It was awfully disturbing; just like Mick McCullough! Could this be a coincidence? Davy Adams was very skeptical about 'coincidences'.

------------------------

In the meantime, Letha had resigned herself to spending the entire day - and evening - with George Bailey. As they wandered around, she wracked her brain for innocuous topics of conversation. It was giving her one hell of a headache. She didn't dare tell him a thing, and she remembered that Adams had said she wasn't a very good liar. Then again, he was unquestionably a whole lot brighter than George Bailey.

As the hour grew late, George suggested they find someplace to eat and have a drink. He pointed out Mulligan's, but Letha persuaded him that it looked 'unappetizing' and steered him to a brand-new-looking restaurant, all gleamingly antiseptic brass and green ferns. George was amenable, and pleased as punch that they were finally 'having a date'. Letha was careful not to touch any alcohol, despite her companions rather strident urging. For a number of reasons, she wanted to be fully alert, and had certainly learned a thing or two about her susceptibility.

A short while after midnight, George and Letha left the bar and headed for the park. As they walked, a police car rolled past, and she recognized Adams and Harris. She pulled George into the shadows with her, a move that he misinterpreted. Letha quickly disabused him of that, after which he became a bit sulky. She led him to a deserted corner, and said, "Follow me". They Disapparated.

When they reappeared, they were in the basement of the police station. Letha set about hunting for the box she had seen on her first visit. It was nowhere to be found.

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

"A box. It was here before, but it's gone now."

"Maybe the Muggles moved it. "

"That's possible, but let's find out - shall we? Could you get out your Aurometer? I want to know if any magical activity has taken place here, other than ours, of course." She looked around again. "Here, right here", she said, pointing to the spot where the box had been. George took something out of his pocket, while Letha took gave the room another scan.

Something tickled her ankle - a spider, no doubt, or some other sort of crawly thing. She leaned down to scratch it, and her fingers encountered a rope, winding its way around and up her legs. She turned around. "George, what the..." He had his wand pointed at her. She reached for her bag to pull out her own wand, but he said "Accio!" and the bag was in his hand.

"What are you doing, George?" she asked, as calmly as she could.

"Solving a problem," he answered. By now, her legs and arms were completely bound.

"Why, Letha?" he asked.

"Why what?"

"Why couldn't you just leave it alone? All the evidence was against Black - he was already convicted."

"But he didn't do it, did he, George?"

"That's not true - it was as much his fault as it was Peter's."

Pettigrew, she thought. Trevor was right. "How do you fit in?"

George grinned. "You think you're so clever - but you didn't figure it out, did you? I figured out what you've been up to."

"Really? What have I been up to?"

"Poking around where you shouldn't. I bet you went to Dumbledore, didn't you, like a good little girl? Never did much like him anyway, but you always knew how to play teacher's pet, didn't you?"

"What are you talking about?" What he said made no sense to her at all.

"Well, how did you get to be Ravenclaw Prefect, then? No one made ME Prefect, you know."

"I worked hard. You didn't. There's your answer."

Oh that must be it!" He snorted sarcastically. "I suppose that explains why the old fart was so keen on those prats Potter and Black? I told Peter I figured ol' Dumbarse wanted a piece of Black, y'know?"

"A piece...?"

"You know..." Bailey smirked and made a rude gesture with his hands.

"That is sick!" she spat. "You know it's not true!"

"Look, all I know is I wasn't one of the Golden Boys, was I? Just a fat, stupid Hufflepuff."

"The problem wasn't Hufflepuff!" she said coldly.

"You kidding me? Boring. Mediocre. Not like Slytherin. I should've been in Slytherin - I got the right blood for it! " His eyes lit up. "But I hated most of them too - thought I didn't have what it takes. The Dark Lord knew better." He smiled like the cat that ate the canary. "I was the only Death Eater from Hufflepuff."

"Something to be proud of."

He nodded, puffing out his chest.

"George, what have you done?" she asked softly.

"You should be more concerned with what I'm going to do."

"What's that, George?"

"I'm not sure yet. But you're not going to like it."

"What did I ever do to you?"

"Nothing. Always too busy, aren't you? Think you're hot stuff, do you? You're no great beauty, y'know."

"I know."

"Lots of girls better looking than you."

"I know."

"Don't even try to fix yourself up nice."

"That's true."

"Frigid cunt!"

Letha was taken aback for a moment. Then she curled up the corners of her mouth. "Now there you're wrong. But of course you'd never have reason to know that."

"Bitch!" He raised his wand, but then lowered it. "I wouldn't touch you anyway. Not after you've contaminated yourself by screwing a filthy Muggle."

"But I - you're right. I'm forever tainted."

"Damn right! But that's one Muggle less to worry about."

"What do you mean?" asked Letha, attempting to keep the rising panic out of her voice.

"I paid him a little visit. He's been taken care of, quite painlessly, you'll be glad to know. Won't remember a thing about any unfortunate- um - pillow talk. "

"What?"

"I thought you were supposed to be smart. Don't you understand? It's just like what I did to that nosy policeman. He wasn't satisfied, either, even though all the witnesses agreed! He..."

"You put a memory charm on him?"

Bailey grinned. "Oh, and what a memory charm it is! Silly me; I never could get it just right. It's really much more useful how I do it, you know. Serendipity, you might say. He's lucky if he can remember how to walk straight."

For several moments, Letha was speechless. It was too awful to think about. And all her fault! She felt such loathing for Bailey - at that moment she was sure she could have successfully performed a killing curse. However, she was not likely to get the chance to try.

"But why are you doing this? It's all over - Voldemort is dead."

"Well," he answered slowly, "I suppose I can tell you. It won't matter, really. I don't intend to spend the rest of my life in Azkaban. I helped Pettigrew set up the business with the Potters. And I helped him clean up the mess afterward. And no one was the wiser - hence, I've got this posh job at the Ministry and I can keep an eye on what goes on. Clever, eh?"

"You're a contemptible piece of slime and an imbecile to boot!"

"How dare you!" he huffed. "Skanky little smartarse! Bitch!" He pulled Letha's own wand out of her bag and pointed it at her. "Crucio!" She doubled over as searing pain wracked her entire body.

When the pain let up, Letha found herself curled up on the floor. He was saying something. "- be prepared when Dumbledore sends somebody looking for you." He grabbed her wrist. "Come on then; let's get out of here." She remembered nothing more.