Cherchez La Femme

Thank you to Wotan for once again demonstrating Wagnerian energy in performing beta-reading and sundry other editorial assistance.

CHERCHEZ LA FEMME PART 2: Toil and Trouble

Monday morning at the Burrow proved hectic. They'd all stayed up late the night before and as a result no one had awoken very early. Mrs Weasley took charge in the kitchen, believing a healthy breakfast did wonders to compensate for sleep deprivation.

"Arthur, have some bacon," commanded Mrs Weasley. She turned towards the table, frying pan in hand, and observed her husband as he walked to the table twitching his shoulder. "You’ve forgotten to take your robes off the hanger again, dear," she said, tipping the sizzling bacon onto a plate.

"Oh?" Mr Weasley reached into the back of his robes and pulled out the hanger. "I wondered what that was."

Mrs Weasley bustled back to the stovetop. "Good morning, Harry," she greeted as Harry entered, yawning. "Care for some bacon?"

"Thanks." Harry joined Mr Weasley at the table, while Sirius jumped up to assist Mrs Weasley with the cooking. A flash of bright red hair near the doorway caught everyone’s attention.

"And Ginny will be keeping body and soul together with…a banana?" Mrs Weasley regarded her daughter dubiously. "Do you really think that’s enough?"

Ginny didn’t come further than the doorway. She held the banana with one hand and with the other yanked her hair into a messy ponytail. "I’ve got to get going," she mumbled through a full mouth.

"But there’s plenty of proper breakfast food here," insisted her mother. "I can do some back bacon – I know you like it best."

"I don’t want any kind of bacon," called out Ginny as she darted past her mother and towards the kitchen fire.

Harry caught her eye and gave her a sympathetic wink. Rolling her eyes as she tossed a handful of Floo Powder at the flames, Ginny turned, waved at her family and hopped into the fire while calling out "Diagon Alley!"

* * * * *

Although spared the chaos of a Weasley family breakfast, Ron suffered his own rude awakening when he dragged himself out of bed that morning.

"AAARGH!" He had stepped on something cold and squishy.

"What is it?" murmured a still-drowsy Hermione. "A spider?"

Ron was now wide awake. "Damn it Hermione! That cat of yours has been sick on my slippers!"

At the mention of Crookshanks, Hermione sat up. "Sick? Where is he? Where’s my little boy?" she crooned and was rewarded by Crookshanks jumping up next to her. "He’s not as young as he used to be," she reminded. "We have to be nice to him."

"That cat hates me," Ron swore, dabbing at his bare foot with a tissue. "Always has."

Hermione leaned across the bed and peered down. "It’s just a hairball, Ron. All cats get them."

"Maybe so, but does he always have to deposit it on my side of the bed?" Thoroughly disgusted, Ron tossed the tissue into the waste-paper bin and stomped off to the shower.

He and Hermione had only recently moved in together. Hermione had been the one to suggest it, pointing out how much time they spent at each other’s places already, and how they might as well get a place together rather than transfer things back and forth all the time. She'd also rejected Ron's suggestion they get married before moving in together, which made him feel a little uneasy. Nobody else in his family had lived with a significant other before marriage and he was frankly surprised by Hermione. But that was one of the best things about her – just when she seemed completely predictable, she did or said something unexpected. Today, however, the initial bliss of cohabitation seemed to be wearing off and reality setting in.

When Ron reappeared, freshly shaven and adjusting his robes, Hermione had pulled on her dressing gown, a pot of tea sat brewing on the kitchen table, and Crookshanks was happily crunching his cat food. "Where’s the bread?" Ron asked, opening the pantry.

Hermione glanced up from reading the paper. "In the fridge."

"I thought we agreed to keep it in the pantry."

"No, dear, it gets mouldy that way."

Ron closed the door with a bang. "But I don’t like cold bread," he complained petulantly.

"What’s the difference? You’re just going to toast it anyway, aren’t you?"

"I suppose." With a sigh, Ron flicked his wand, sending two slices of bread to the toaster.

"Are you always going to be this grumpy in the morning?" asked Hermione, giving him a dark look over the rim of her mug.

"Sorry." Ron leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Just got a busy week ahead and you know I’m not much of a morning person."

"So we’ve seen," she commented dryly.

Ron's toast popped up and flew across the kitchen, landing neatly on a plate. Feeling they'd both had their recommended daily allowance of bickering he changed the subject and said, "Harry thinks he saw a ghost this weekend near the Burrow."

"Really?" Hermione put aside the paper and gave Ron her full attention. "A visitor for your family's ghoul, perhaps?"

Ron shook his head and smiled. "Don't think so." He proceeded to describe just what Harry had seen, concluding with "I still think she's a veela. Who else could charm a complete stranger - especially someone like Harry - into helping her hide from St Mungo's mediwizards?"

"Well, there's nothing in the Daily Prophet about an escaped mental patient," pointed out Hermione. "She couldn't have been that dangerous."

"Maybe they're keeping it quiet - don't want to upset people."

"Has he seen her again?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know. I only saw him the one night then I met you for that lovely theatre experience, remember?"

"Yes, and I must admit you were a very good sport once we got there. I'll have to think of a suitable reward for you, apart from the pleasure of knowing you're not a complete philistine." Hermione smiled prettily at him.

Ron felt he'd got off easily on that one and was relieved when Pigwideon appeared at the back window. The tiny owl remained as frenetic as ever and when Ron opened the window Pig barreled over to the table, loaded down with the morning post.

"Here. This one’s for you." Ron handed Hermione a thick piece of parchment sealed with an impressive-looking crest.

Hermione opened it, scanned the contents and let out a yelp of surprise.

"I don’t believe it!" She turned to Ron, face shining. "I’ve been invited to give a paper at the European Society of Runic Studies in Dublin next month! They say my interpretation of Old Saxon use of runes in spellcasting has the potential to change the entire field."

"That’s great!" Ron picked up the letter and read it too, forgetting about his vague worries over the mysterious stranger.

Hermione stared again at the letter. "This is so unexpected! I mean, one always hopes for such an honour but it’s still so early in my career –"

"You deserve it." Ron kissed her again, then noticed the time. "I’m going to be late!" he cried, dashed for the fireplace and narrowly avoided tripping over Crookshanks. "See you tonight!"

* * * * *

After consuming more pork products than he suspected was healthy, Harry had left the Weasleys and now sat in his office, studying the necklace. Taking out his wand, Harry placed it on the engraved silver surface and muttered "Simulacrus." Carefully, he removed the wand and touched it to a blank piece of parchment, where a perfect copy of the engraving appeared in black ink. Harry picked up the parchment and stared at the image but still couldn’t make anything of it. He opened his office door and called to a passing young trainee.

"Take this over to the Imaging and Interpretation department," Harry instructed, rolling up the parchment and sealing it with a touch of his wand. "Have them notify me once they’re finished."

The trainee’s eyes widened and his chest visibly swelled. "Right away Mr Potter, sir," he chirped and dashed away.

Harry returned to his desk and sighed. This case was quickly becoming more complicated than he’d anticipated. He’d mentioned the Knockturn Alley incident to a friend in the department regulating Misdeeds of Magical Creatures, but they were already working on it. Apparently there was some dispute over whether the fatal injury was indeed a vampire bite.

Harry opened the locket again. Sirius had said the thing bit, but Harry had examined it several times without incident. Until now - he jerked back his hand in alarm on feeling something soft and tickling against his palm. Looking down he realized the lock of hair was dancing around on his open hand. "Yeesh." He closed his fingers around the strand and stuffed it back inside. It was one thing to carry a lock of hair in a necklace, but quite another to have enchanted it to dance on a person’s hand. Maybe the girl did belong in St Mungo’s after all.

* * * * *

Squinting against the late afternoon sunshine, Ginny stood on the corner opposite Gringotts and waited for Seamus. On her days off she liked to indulge in her favourite hobby, shopping for vintage wizarding dress robes. Today she wore one of her newest finds – robes circa 1959 in bright yellow with large white polka dots and a matching witch’s hat. She’d even found a puffy crinoline, and pointy-toed yellow pumps adorned her feet.

People began trickling down the massive white stairs and Ginny felt her heart jump as she recognized Seamus. She felt she ought to be beyond the stage of experiencing that little jolt of excitement whenever she saw Seamus but the feeling still came, every time. He hadn’t seen her yet and smiling to herself, she watched him navigate the stairs. Once he crossed the street she waved vigorously.

"Good god, Ginny!" he exclaimed on seeing her. "What the bloody hell are you wearing?"

Her smile evaporated. "Don’t you like it?"

"Have you completely lost your head?" he demanded, staring at her sunny form. "We’re supposed to meet the people from my division for drinks at the Merlin Club."

"I know."

Seamus covered his eyes with one hand and shook his head. "Then why did you wear that?’

"I thought it was fun."

"Fun! Gin, this isn’t about fun, it’s about work! Look at me – look how I’m dressed."

Ginny looked at Seamus’ navy robes with charcoal pinstriping. "I can change. I’ll just apparate back to the Burrow and –"

"There isn’t time!" Seamus sighed. "Look at us!" he repeated. "We don’t even look like we –"

"Like we what? Belong together?" asked Ginny in a tight voice. "Is that what you were going to say?" She could feel tears pricking her eyes.

Seeing her expression, Seamus became instantly contrite. "No, Ginny, of course not. I’m sorry. I love your stuff, I do. I’m just a little nervous about tonight that’s all."

"I could wear your cloak over my robes," Ginny sniffed.

"No, don't do that," he assured her in a soothing tone. "You wear what you want. You really do look cute." He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss.

"Cute?" Ginny's eyes narrowed.

Ignoring the many passers-by, Seamus wrapped his arms around her and kissed her more seriously. "Did I say cute? I meant to say ravishing," he murmured into her ear. "Sometimes all I can manage to do is breathe when I'm around you. Your body is the most -"

"Okay, that'll do." Ginny cut him off, smiling a little. Even though Seamus said these things with a half-joking air of exaggeration, she knew he meant it. In fact, sometimes she almost felt embarrassed at the extravagance of his love for her, like now.

Ginny felt a stab of anxiety when they entered the posh Merlin Club, however, and were shown inside the room reserved for the Gringotts group. Everyone else was dressed like Seamus and she felt one dour-looking witch’s eyes upon her. Apparently Seamus’ division was a lot more conservative than the one her brother Bill worked for. Ginny snatched the first drink to pass her by, conveyed on a floating silver platter that was making its way around the wood-paneled room.

Several people came up to Seamus and chatted but conversations halted as an elderly, dignified goblin entered the room. Ginny didn’t need to be told this was Seamus’ boss and briefly considered attempting a garment-dying charm to change her outfit to a more demure navy.

Everyone parted respectfully to let the old goblin through. He pressed hands and murmured words of greeting to each employee, then stopped in front of Ginny.

"Seamus Finnigan!" he cried, clapping a hand on Seamus’ shoulder. "Still setting the pace in investments I see."

"Thank you, sir." Seeing the goblin’s eyes turn to Ginny’s brilliantly yellow outfit, Seamus hastily added, "This is my girlfriend, Ginny Weasley."

"Of course. Your eldest brother does fine work for us. And I see you share his whimsical sense of style." The goblin smiled and everyone in the room visibly relaxed. "Yes indeed, I appreciate someone who’s willing to take risks," he continued and gave Ginny an appraising look. "What’s your line of work?"

"I’m with the Ministry, sir - Auror." She braced herself for the inevitable ‘what’s a pretty girl like you doing in such a dangerous job’ line, but it never came.

Instead the goblin simply nodded and looked resigned. "If you ever take an interest in banking, young lady, let me know." He squeezed her hand and moved on.

Despite winning the goblin’s approval for her fashion sense, Ginny was relieved when the gathering ended. The stuffiness of the place put her on edge and it was strange to see Seamus in that kind of setting. A pin-stripe-wearing investment banker wasn’t how she viewed him at all, and she regarded his banking persona as a necessary alter ego he adopted for eight hours every day. The Seamus she knew wasn’t uptight at all.

In fact, as soon as they had turned the corner from the Merlin Club, Seamus undid the top fastenings of his robes and shoved back his sleeves. "Feel like going out?" he asked, taking her hand as they walked rapidly along the street.

"Sorry. Big day at work tomorrow."

"Really? What?"

"I was just notified I’m being transferred – a promotion." She couldn’t suppress a smile of satisfaction.

"Why didn’t you say anything before?" Seamus demanded. "That’s great news! I know how hard you’ve been working."

"I was going to tell you earlier but I believe your first words to me today were ‘What the bloody hell are you wearing?’ Hardly conducive to sharing news."

"Okay, point taken." Seamus appeared suitably chagrined and steered them towards his flat.

Ginny thought Seamus had not only the best flat – roomy and modern in décor – but also the best location in the heart of residential Diagon Alley. Maybe with this promotion she could finally afford to move out on her own.

"So how do witches get their skirts to stick out like that?" inquired Seamus once inside. He reached for Ginny’s robes playfully.

"Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll show you." Ginny led him over to the sleek leather couch and pushed him flat against it. Seamus reached up and took her hands, and Ginny toppled onto him, laughing. "It’s a simple starching charm," she explained, sitting up and pinning him to the couch. "I could demonstrate on your robes if you like."

"Um, no thanks. Plenty of starch already."

Ginny cocked a shapely eyebrow at him. "I think you’re right," she murmured and slithered down along his chest.

Seamus reached for the back of her robes and fumbled with the complicated system of hooks and zips. "Did you hex this thing?" he demanded, deciding he preferred modern, more straightforward robes.

"No." Ginny smiled, sat up again and reached behind her back, slowly undoing the various fastenings and letting the bright material slide down her shoulders.

"Much better." Seamus had already cast his own clothes aside and swept Ginny’s away as well.

She moved back to display her seamed stockings, each attached to a delicate suspender-belt. "I looked all over Diagon Alley for these. I hope you appreciate the level of historical accuracy details like this represent. You know, before you denigrate my taste in clothes again," she added.

Seamus sat up for a closer inspection and groaned. "How could I have ever criticised this outfit? I’m sorry."

Ginny placed a manicured nail on Seamus’ bare chest and pushed him back down. "No, you’re not. But you will be," she added with a wicked little smile.

* * * * *

The next morning at work Harry was confronted with a strange new development regarding the girl he'd met near the Burrow. A notice had been circulated among his Auror team informing them of a young woman wearing St Mungo's Hospital robes being seen by at least two wizards in both Diagon and Knockturn Alleys. It further stated St Mungo's denied any escape had occurred, and that a Daily Prophet reporter would be investigating the story. Anyone with information related to the case was asked to report it immediately and to be available for press interviews.

Reflecting on his various interactions with the press over the years made Harry even less inclined to respond to the memo. He certainly didn't think these latest actions would serve the girl's best interests. She was skittish enough as it was - a swarm of press and possible Ministry attention was unlikely to aid in locating her. Harry puzzled over the St Mungo's denial - the men he'd seen that night had worn robes with St Mungo's Hospital written on them. Something was clearly amiss. Just as Harry was sighing over this latest complication, his door burst open in an abrupt manner that could mean only one thing: his director, a short but fierce-looking woman, wanted a word with him.

Harry knew that part of his job required being able to respond quickly to unexpected situations and was more than ready to deal with a dark wizard ambush, not to mention the vagaries of his boss's temper. However, when his director walked in with Ginny in tow and announced Ms Weasley had just joined their unit on probationary status, Harry responded about as nimbly as if he’d just been hit with the Confundus curse.

Following the announcement that Ginny would be Harry's new partner, the director suggested, "Harry, why don’t you take Ginny to the briefing room and catch her up on the current situations we’re pursuing?"

Harry nodded and after opening the door for Ginny, followed her silently down the corridor. "Why didn’t you say something?" Harry hissed as they gained the privacy of the briefing room.

Ginny shrugged. "I didn’t know myself until yesterday. Very secretive lot you work for. And nobody told me I’d be working with you."

"Is that so bad?"

Ginny grinned and swung her feet up on the table. "No. In fact, I think it may be pretty good."

The door opened a sliver and they both turned as a thin voice cracked, "Mr Potter?" It was the young trainee.

Harry flicked his wand at the door and it swung all the way open. "Yes?"

"Here’s that report from Imaging and Interpretation you asked for." The trainee handed over some parchment, then noticed Ginny. Her feet remained on the polished conference table and her hands were resting behind her head. He looked from Ginny to Harry and after uttering a tiny croak of surprise, scuttled away.

"That's odd. He's supposed to be a real up-and-comer among the trainees. Do you always have that effect on men?" asked Harry, watching the intern hurry down the corridor. With a lazy stroke of his wand, the door locked shut again.

Ginny frowned and removed her feet. "Not often enough, unfortunately. What’d he bring you?"

"Oh, this." Harry tried to appear off-hand. "Nothing. Just a sideline interest."

"Sideline interest?" Ginny smirked and grabbed for the papers. "Isn’t it your job to brief me on your interests?"

"Uh, not this one."

"Oh, come on. Unless you’re carrying on an office romance with someone from Imaging and Interpretation?"

"Of course not! That sort of thing is really frowned upon," Harry looked shocked.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Relax. Joke."

"If you must know, it’s to do with that girl I told you about a few weeks ago. Sirius found a locket of hers and neither of us could figure out what the engraving on it meant."

"So let’s see what it means." Ginny gestured to the parchment. When Harry still hesitated she said, "You know, you’re sounding awfully like Percy all of a sudden."

Her words had the desired effect and Harry undid the scrolls. While he hunched over them, Ginny sighed and popped a piece of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum into her mouth.

"What’s it say?" she asked, snapping her bubble gum.

Harry gave a short laugh and shoved the parchment towards her. "Not much. They’ve sent it out to an expert for further study."

Ginny laughed as she read the note. "Hermione! Is that girl ever going to stop helping you with your homework?"

But Harry wasn't laughing. "Take a look at this," he said and handed her the notice he'd received earlier.

Ginny scanned the document and looked back at Harry. "What are you going to tell them?"

"Nothing. And I was hoping you might, er, avoid saying anything about her being seen so near the Burrow." Harry's face grew anxious and he spoke rapidly. "I know this puts you in an awkward position. But assuming the Daily Prophet runs a story we'll be flooded with false reports, people thinking they've seen her, that sort of thing. No help at all."

"So what you going to do?" Ginny asked.

"We are going to try to find her before the story breaks. I just need a little time - once this goes public my guess is she'll go even further underground and we might never find her." He frowned and looked again at the notice.

"Why do you care so much?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "But something odd is going on - why would St Mungo's deny an escape? If those weren't hospital employees I saw, who were they? She said someone had harmed her…if I make an official report of my sighting I can't help feeling I'll be harming her too, somehow."

Ginny had been blowing an enormous bubble while he spoke. She now popped it and said with a smile, "Well, you are my supervisor for the next three months. And you know how many things get shoved at you when starting a new job - I’m sure I'll be much too busy today to read all the parchment stuffed in my box, let alone talk to any reporters."

"Thanks." Harry looked relieved. "I wouldn’t usually ask but -"

"You want to find her before someone else does," Ginny finished for him. "Don't worry, Harry. I trust your judgement."

* * * * *

The next evening found Ron, Harry, and Seamus seated around a pub table, rehashing the midweek Quidditch match they’d just come from.

"Ever wish you’d gone the Quidditch route instead of Auror?" Seamus asked Harry.

"Sometimes," Harry admitted. "But it never really felt like a choice, what with everything that was going on our last year at school."

They all nodded and Seamus regretted having brought up any reference to the events of their final year at Hogwarts, the year Dumbledore had been killed.

Ron quickly changed the topic. "So what's happening with that blond you told me about?"

"Who's this?" asked Seamus, turning to Harry with an amused smile.

"Nobody," muttered Harry, glancing around to see if anyone had overheard.

But Ron continued, grinning broadly. "Last time Harry came to visit the Burrow he ran into a damsel in distress. Or thinks he did - reckon she's a ghost or just a figment of your imagination?"

"She's real enough," answered Harry. "Sirius found some jewelry she sold to Borgin and Burkes. Supposed to hold dark magic. I'm having the engravings checked out. And listen, I'd appreciate it if you could keep this between us."

Seamus whistled. "Is she that dangerous, then?"

Harry shook his head in an aggravated way. "No. I've examined the necklace. It doesn't seem harmful. For some reason I just don’t think she’s evil."

"Right. There’s just something about her," Ron said. "That irresistible way she has of vanishing in the middle of a conversation. Nothing like a temperamental female ghost."

"I know it sounds stupid, but if you’d seen her –"

"Go on, Harry," interrupted Seamus. "You hardly need to be chasing after ghosts or witches involved in the Dark Arts when you could get just about any woman to go out with you. Or maybe you’re so interested in her because she’s a ghost? Hear they don’t photograph very well – could be a clever way to avoid the paparazzi."

"I’m serious." Harry scowled at both of his friends.

"Seamus is right," declared Ron. "It’s too easy to get wrapped up in some stranger – you don’t know anything about her so you can make her out to be as perfect as you want," he added in a rare moment of insight.

 "Yeah, for all you know she's a nutter. Get her alone in a room and it'll just be 'My mother! My sister! My mother! My sister!'" advised Seamus.

Puzzled, Ron looked from Harry to Seamus.

"Muggle joke," explained Seamus. "Faye Dunaway and - oh, never mind."

Harry swallowed the last of his beer and looked warningly at Ron and Seamus. "Just don’t start about some nice girl I have to meet - I get enough of that from Sirius and Ron's mum."

Seamus smirked at Ron and said, "Who said anything about nice girls?"

* * * * *

That night, while Seamus teased Harry and while Hermione worked late interpreting the complicated figures the Auror office had sent to her, the necklace’s former owner found herself drawn back to Borgin and Burks. She recalled the first time she had ever felt the pendant’s weight around her neck and the sudden surge of power she had experienced. Supposedly the thing brought good luck or something like that – she couldn’t quite remember. When she’d first wandered into Borgin’s shop, she’d felt lucky when he agreed to buy it. Now she rather regretted selling the piece; she found herself constantly reaching up to touch it, only to be reminded the silver disk no longer hung from her neck.

"You again," said Borgin when she pushed through the door. "Come to try selling me another cheap trinket?"

"I just wanted to look at my necklace."

"I’m afraid that’s not possible."

She took a step forward and peered past him towards the glass case. "Why not?"

He snorted. "For one thing, it’s not yours anymore and for another, I don’t have it. Someone’s bought it." He noted with satisfaction that her face looked even more pale, if possible, at this news.

"Bought it?" she repeated.

"Yes. So unless you have some business with me, I suggest you get out of my shop."

Her grey eyes narrowed with anger and she took another step forward. "One of these days you’re going to wish you’d treated me better," she said quietly.

"I seriously doubt that. You seem to confuse me with someone with a conscience. Now get out of my shop! It's loiterers like you who drive off my better business."

Despite her angry words, the girl jumped at Borgin’s raised voice and with an unhappy glance back at the place once occupied by her necklace, she turned and ran out the door.

Borgin watched her go, then yanked open a thin drawer and pulled out parchment and a quill. Maybe the girl hadn’t anything to sell him today but he knew at least one person who might be interested in buying further information about her. Borgin quickly penned his message, rolled it up and summoned a mangy-looking owl. "Take this to Sirius Black," he ordered.

* * * * *

Having spent the previous day and much of the night examining the engravings Harry’s office had sent her, Hermione paid a visit to the Auror building the next morning. She sat at the polished oak table and spread out numerous rolls of parchment and several reference books.

"Where did you find this engraving?" she asked Harry, while Ginny looked on interestedly.

"From this necklace." Harry dug in his pocket and handed the locket to Hermione. She eagerly examined it and as she did so, Harry told her what he knew of it – and its owner’s – history.

Hermione nodded. "Ron did mention you'd seen someone on your way to the Burrow recently."

Harry pointed at Hermione's notes. "So what does it all mean?"

Frowning, Hermione placed the pendant in front of her on the table. "I wish I’d known this was from a talisman," she said and pulled her notes to her. "Would have saved me a bit of time last night."

"A talisman? What are you talking about?" said Harry in surprise.

But Hermione was already leafing through both her notes and her reference guides. "Part of the reason it took me so long is you sent me something written in bind-rune, which can be extremely difficult to interpret accurately unless you have some sense of the original author’s intentions. It seems to be a kind of protection spell and if you found this on a talisman, then it makes a lot more sense."

Ginny and Harry turned puzzled glances to Hermione. "How does it make sense?" Ginny finally asked.

Hermione eyed the locket with concern. "Harry, you need to find who owns this. Whoever made it placed an extremely powerful array of protective magic around the talisman, which makes me think its owner is probably in a lot of danger right now without it."

She turned to look at him. "Tell me again – was the girl actually wearing this when you saw her?"

"I don’t know. We didn’t exactly have a leisurely conversation." Harry reached irritably for the pendant.

"Careful," warned Hermione.

"Of what? I’ve been carrying it around ever since Sirius brought it back."

"Have you?" Hermione shrugged. "That’s interesting."

Ginny picked her head up from the conference table and yawned. "It is?"

"Come to think of it," started Harry, "Sirius did tell me Borgin claimed it snapped at him. Maybe it senses Dark Magic?"

Hermione looked unconvinced. "Maybe. More likely it knows who it belongs to."

"So why didn’t it bite me?"

"It seems to think tickling you with hair is a better repellant," smirked Hermione.

Remembering that particular sensation, Harry quickly snapped the face shut. "So is this thing…alive?"

"Like I said before, it’s animated with an extraordinary amount of magical energy," said Hermione. "I’d be very interested to meet whoever had the power to create it. You don’t see many inscriptions like that these days." Hermione began gathering up her things. "Mind if I keep this copy of the runes?"

"Sure." They all stood up. Harry and Ginny walked Hermione back to the main reception area. "Thanks for coming by," said Harry, opening the front door for Hermione.

"My pleasure. Let me know if you find any other developments on that talisman."

When Harry arrived back at his office, the first thing he noticed was Sirius’ head in his fireplace.

"Finally," said Sirius. "I’ve been holding ages for you."

"Sorry. Just saw Hermione about that locket. Turns out it’s some kind of runic protection spell. She seemed to think its owner could be in danger without it."

Sirius’ expression turned alarmed. "I think she’s right. Last night I got an owl from Borgin. He says the girl was back in his shop and if I want to know more he’ll be happy to owl me the details for a small sum."

Harry snorted. "Optimistic bugger, isn’t he?"

"Strangely, yes."

"Let me go and see him this time. If he’s bought anything else from her I’d like to get it checked out right away. According to Hermione that locket is infused with powerful magic. I’d hate to see anything else like that fall into the hands of Borgin’s more typical customers." Harry paused, then mentioned the likelihood of a Daily Prophet story and Ministry requests for related information. "You'll keep this quiet, right?"

Sirius laughed. "You have to ask? The last thing I want to do is talk to any Ministry officials. Besides," he added with a wry grin, "I'm reporting my knowledge to an Auror. Isn't that enough?"

"Yeah. Thanks Sirius." Harry smiled at his godfather's face in the fire.

Sirius nodded; his image flickered and then disappeared. Harry grabbed his wand and headed for Ginny’s office, where she was using her wand to try to send a toy quaffle through one of the small plastic hoops hovering near her ceiling.

"Come on," Harry said, ducking to avoid a poorly-aimed quaffle. "I’ve got a lead on that girl – seems she recently paid a visit to Borgin and Burks again. Thought you might want a little experience in interrogating unpleasant wizards."

Looking remarkably like her twin brothers George and Fred, Ginny grinned and stood up. "Excellent."

* * * * *

Will Harry end up with a girl or a ghost, a vampire or a veela? Will Seamus ever dare disrespect his girlfriend’s outfit again? And most importantly, will Ron convince Hermione to feed Crookshanks cat food that prevents hairballs? All this and more next time…