Footsteps To Valhalla

Prologue

From: Remus Lupin, Phoenix Manor,

To: Harry Potter, 4 Privet Drive, Surrey.

Aug. 4^th 1997

Thank you for your reassurances, but I'm afraid I'm still not convinced. It's not that I think visiting your childhood home is a bad idea - in fact, I'm very happy that you finally have the freedom to go at last - but this will be the very first journey you have ever made alone in the wizard world, and you have enough experience to appreciate, I'm sure, that it is very dangerous for you particularly. I just want to make sure that you take precautions. Don't take any of this the wrong way, Harry, because I don't mean to be patronising or protective - I know as well as anyone how good you are at taking care of yourself - but I also remember how stunned I was when I reached my final year at school to realise just how big the world really is outside it. I only want you to take care.

From: Hermione Granger, 12 Chestnut Grove, Bury St. Edmunds,

To: Harry Potter, The Burrow, Devon.

Aug. 24^th 1997

I'm so relieved you got back safely! Ron has been worse than useless - he won't tell me anything. I wish I could have been there with you. We must have a talk when I arrive next week. There's also something I want to say to you about Ginny. How are things between you? It must be strange being in the same house after...well, we'll talk soon.

How are the wedding preparations going? Is Phlegm still acting like a whirlwind? Oh, and I never said congratulations on being finally free of the Dursleys! Have you had any thoughts on what you're going to do after this year, when we graduate? Could you get your own place, perhaps? I don't need to ask what your career plan is, do I? Apart from anything else, it might help, mightn't it, with...well, you know. I've been thinking quite a bit about all of that this holiday - what you said about the locket and the place where it was hidden. I suppose all the others will be in places which played some part in You Know Who's past too. Did Dumbledore say anything about that? Oh dear, it isn't very practical talking about this in a letter. Listen, just relax at Ron's for the next week or so, and try not to worry. I'll be there on the 28th, and we'll sit down with Ron and have a good long talk about things.

From: Ginny Weasley, Hogwarts,

To: Molly Weasley, The Burrow, Devon.

Oct. 19^th 1997

Mum, will you just please stop worrying? I'm absolutely fine, really. I guess I've just been a little tired recently. There's a lot more work to do in Sixth Year! And no, I don't know what the matter is with Ron, either. He's been avoiding me, I think. So has Harry. In fact, I've barely spoken three words to either of them since the wedding. Hermione thinks they're worried about NEWTs, so perhaps we should just let them get on with it.

From: Hermione Granger, 12 Chestnut Grove, Bury St. Edmunds,

To: Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, The Burrow, Devon.

Dec. 20^th 1997

Merry Christmas, both of you! Listen, I know we said we wouldn't write any more letters about this, but I really think I must. I was sitting in bed last night looking over my notes on the...You Know Whats - (I've been writing everything down as we discover things, just so we can see where we are and what we've got, information-wise. I thought it would be efficient!) - and it suddenly struck me that R.A.B. may have been staring us in the face all along! I really can't believe I've been so stupid! Harry, I honestly think I know who he is! Remember back at the start of term when we were talking over the week you went to Godric's Hollow? You said you thought that whoever it was who stole the locket and replaced it with the fake one must have been fiendishly clever, in order to have discovered its existence in the first place, then to get past all those traps you said were in the...um...place where it was hidden, and to get back out again. He knew he was going to die, but obviously not for stealing the locket, because when you found the fake one, the note inside was undisturbed, which means that You Know Who, six months ago at any rate, was not even aware that they had been swapped. So what did he know he was going to die for? I read and re-read that note and it really did sound as though he thought he was going to die for something he himself did, or was going to do. Laugh it off as pure fancy if you like, but I feel so certain! Who was a Death Eater, who was fiendishly clever, with the initials R.A.B., who died before You Know Who fell because of something he himself did? Look at the tapestry in Grimmauld Place! I would say that I'm completely positive, but I don't know for sure what his middle initial is. If I'm right, Grimmauld Place seems the obvious place to look first, don't you think? Although goodness knows what happened to all the stuff we cleared out when we were there last! We'll just have to keep our fingers crossed, I suppose.

P.S. I'm so relieved that you've finally told Ginny everything after all. I knew you'd see eventually that it was the only thing to do. She's been through so much with us lately, and she deserves to be told the truth. Besides, we need her!

From: Molly Weasley, The Burrow, Devon,

To: Ron Weasley, Hogwarts.

Jan. 15^th 1998

Young man, when you come home for Easter you are going to sit down and explain to me what on earth POSSESSED you and Harry to vanish from school like that! Have you NO IDEA how dangerous London is at the moment? I have never been so angry in all my life! Your father nearly fainted with embarrassment when Professor McGonagall's message arrived! He was in a meeting at the Ministry, with the MINISTER HIMSELF! I honestly don't know what made either of you think this was a good idea! WHY DID YOU DO IT? You KNOW that Harry's life is on the line! You KNOW there was another attack outside St. Mungo's a fortnight ago! Not to mention that disappearing from school during term-time could have got you EXPELLED! And just before your NEWTs too! I hope you appreciate how lucky you are, Ronald! If I was Headmistress I would have sent the pair of you home on the spot! Have an EXCELLENT explanation ready for next week, because your father and I are both dying to hear it.

From: Ginny Weasley, Hogwarts,

To: Nymphadora Tonks, Phoenix Manor.

Apr. 12^th 1998

Oh, Tonks, I'm so pleased! Congratulations! Have you set a date yet, or made any plans? We all knew it was coming, of course! Hermione and the boys send their love and best wishes too, to both of you. And you're a dear to be worrying about us, but we're all fine. No-one believes us when we say it, but it's true - honestly. I know Mum and Kingsley are getting suspicious about all these questions we keep asking about Mundungus and the Confiscation Unit, but there is a good reason. Please trust us. We're not doing anything wrong or reckless, I promise.

Did you hear that Hermione has decided she wants to go in for wizard law when she leaves school this summer? She's going to apply for an internship at various firms around the country, and she's bound to get one - you know what she's like; she'll be head of the Wizengamot by the time she's thirty! Ron still doesn't know what he wants to do, so he'll just go along with what Harry does, which I expect will be in the Auror line. He's often talked about it, but he doesn't really talk about it, if you know what I mean. Not to me at any rate. Men are very odd.

From: Arthur Weasley, The Burrow, Devon,

To: Bill Weasley, Somewhere In Africa.

Jul. 10^th 1998

I hope you're well, my boy, and keeping out of trouble. Obviously I can't ask you about the You Know What, but just a line to say everything is proceeding nicely will ease my mind. Your mother's worrying, of course, and nothing I can say will stop her. Don't forget her birthday next month, will you?

Everything is well here. No doubt somebody will have written to tell you all about Ron and Harry's graduation. It was a lovely day, and we were all very proud of the boys, and Hermione too. It's been some year for them, hasn't it? Your mother and I were only talking about it last night. Every year has some kind of drama for them. I'm still convinced that they're up to something - and I wouldn't be surprised if Ginny hasn't got involved as well. She's been acting very oddly lately; avoiding certain subjects and being mysterious - and they've all been asking peculiar questions about the Ministry and Rowena Ravenclaw. Goodness knows what they're up to! Your mother puts it down to "hormones and a sheer disrespect for rules." We both had a dreadful feeling at the start of the year that Ginny had fallen out with the other three - you remember how short-tempered she was with them over Christmas? I'm happy to say that they seemed to have resolved their differences now though. By the way, did anyone tell you that Kingsley has approached Harry about a fast-track entry onto the Auror training programme? It was always inevitable really, wasn't it? Ron has decided to follow suit, as we all expected he would.

Did I tell you that I ran into Percy again the other week? Believe it or not, he asked after you....

From: Hermione Granger, Postlethwaite, Newcomb and Postlethwaite Wizard Solicitors, Cambridge,

To: Harry Potter, 93 Diagon Alley, London.

Oct. 7^th 1998

Harry, how are you? I couldn't believe it when Ginny told me you and Ron had moved into Fred and George's with them! It must be very convenient for the Ministry, though, and right at the centre of things. Are you settling in all right? It's so strange to be without you both! The first time in seven years! How are you liking being a trainee Auror? What sort of things are you doing? It's early days, of course, but I'm sure it must be terribly exciting!

I'm up to my ears in work. I have four briefs to write opinions on, two meetings with Mr Postlethwaite and so many books to read, all before Friday! You must come and visit one weekend, Harry, because I'm dying to show you around and have you meet some of the other interns. Saturday Browne is a darling - you'd like her - and we've already decided that next year we'll rent a house together somewhere in the town. We have so much in common, and she thinks that S.P.E.W. is a wonderful idea, although she looked a little doubtful when I told her that I want to show the manifesto to Mr Postlethwaite. I'm sure any reasonable person will see the benefit, though, don't you? And then there's Sam Underbridge and Brian Gorse - they were the year above us at school, in Ravenclaw. Sam's uncle works in the Auror Department - Hubert Underbridge - have you come across him yet? I've told them all about you and Ron and Ginny, and they'd love to meet you. You really must come down when you have the chance.

From: Ginny Weasley, Hogwarts,

To: Harry Potter, 93 Diagon Alley, London.

Dec. 6^th 1998

Nothing new to report, I'm afraid. I scoured the library for a whole week for anything related to You Know Who's history, and apart from the names of a few large, highly-publicised bases which were discovered and raided in the last war, there's absolutely nothing. If there is anything to find - which isn't classified and restricted to Ministry officials - it'll be in the Square Library, I think. If I find anything else out I'll let you know, but the ball's in your court now. There isn't much I can do stuck at school. It's so frustrating! If there is anything - anything at all - that you need me to do, please tell me. I want to help in any way I can.

From: Arthur Weasley, Ministry of Magic, London,

To: Bill Weasley, Somewhere In Africa.

Feb. 15^th 1999

Before you write in a great panic after seeing the Prophet, don't worry. We're all fine and fortunately the building was so well protected with security spells that there wasn't too much lasting damage. Two fatalities, I'm sad to say. Terry King, do you remember him? And Cuthbert Crimplesham. What Cuthbert was doing in the Archive Annex I really can't imagine! He was seconded to the Department of Magical Games and Sports eighteen months ago! Your mother was quite upset about it. Ron and I were both in the Ministry at the time, but only Archives was affected. It was either a very badly-planned attack, or else Archives was the intended target. Ron was a little shaken up at first, but then he just walked right into the debris and started ordering people around like he'd been doing it all his life! He was extremely helpful and cool. I was very impressed, and so was Fotheringay - you remember him; retired Auror, head of the Strategy Office? I haven't seen him all week - (Ron, that is, not Fotheringay) - I hope he's all right. One's first hands-on war experience is always quite a shock to the system.

From: Ron Weasley, 93 Diagon Alley, London,

To: Ginny Weasley, Hogwarts.

Mar. 3^rd 1999

Thanks for the sisterly words of affection. After I finished throwing up they meant a lot to me! No, seriously, thanks. You're quite sweet, really. Don't start stressing. Harry's doing that enough for everyone - you know how he gets. Hates it when he can't save the world. Idiot. Like it's his fault!

You heard about the latest on Mundungus, then? I guess Hermione filled you in. We're now almost positive that he had the You Know What before he was arrested. It wasn't on the list we found - (yes, stole, if you want to be pedantic; but we put it back!) - in the Confiscation Unit, which means if it was in Grimmauld Place when we cleared everything out, it must have been in the hoarde Dung nicked. They still won't let us into Azkaban to see him, but Harry says he's due to be released soon. And believe me, we're going to be waiting for him!

Well, I guess I'll see you at Tonks and Lupin's wedding on Saturday. They're letting you out of the madhouse for the weekend, aren't they? Please don't look too pretty, because I don't want to spend the whole reception telling guys to bugger off and stop hitting on my sister like I had to at New Year. I'd quite like to get drunk for a good reason this time, please!

From: Harry Potter, 93 Diagon Alley, London

To: Remus Lupin, Phoenix Manor

Apr. 22^nd 1999

I don't know if you're back from Greece yet, but I thought I'd take a chance. I don't want to spoil your new marital bliss with business-talk, but I'd appreciate your advice about something. It's about what we discussed just before the wedding. I've decided to do it. I know everyone will think I'm mad, but I really feel like it's what I need to do. Do you understand where I'm coming from? It's not about having a death wish - (although Mrs Weasley and Hermione will probably see it that way!) - or about trying to prove something. It's plainly and simply about wanting to be where I need to be. Damn, I'm probably not making much sense, am I? Is there any chance I could talk it over with you one day? No rush - applications don't need to be in until July. It would mean a lot to me.

No news from this end, really. Ron's back to his usual self, and Fred and George sealed that deal with Zonko's last week! Oh, and Collins has persuaded me to take that Armoury course after all. You remember John Collins? He's my training supervisor, and Head of the Training Section in the Auror Department. He dragged me along to a session a couple of days ago, and it's not as bad as I thought it was going to be! Met a couple of people; a few of them remember you - David Clayborne? He said he was posted in Edinburgh the same time as you a couple of years back. And Faith Jones? She's a Level Two, like me.

From: Ginny Weasley, Hogwarts,

To: Hermione Granger, Postlethwaite, Newcomb and Postlethwaite Wizard Solicitors, Cambridge,

May 19^th 1999

There is absolutely nothing to worry about, I promise. I know what you're thinking - that this is just some crazy whim and that he's going to regret it in six months when he can't get out of it, but I really don't think it is. He sounds so serious about it, and I know when he's being serious. Call it sisterly intuition after eighteen years of co-habitation! It's a relief to have found out why he's been acting so oddly ever since that attack on the Ministry. He's been so nice to me I knew something was up! I want to slap him for making everybody so worried.

I'm proud of him, though, for taking it on. Charlie says he'll be brilliant at it - all those years of playing wizard's chess! Apparently it involves some kind of specialist training for a year, and then he'll get taken on in the Strategy Office for a kind of on-the-job instruction. He might decide not to carry on with his Auror training. The Strategy Office is a career in itself! It's safer, in a way, than being an Auror. He'll get to give the orders rather than be out there in the front line. Lots of responsibility, and there is some front-line experience required, but it won't be forever. Don't worry, honestly. He can take care of himself. Besides, if he does keep on with the Auror training, it means he'll take longer to qualify than Harry, unless Harry does that Resistance thing he was talking about at Easter. Try and talk him out of it if you can. He's pushing himself too hard as it is.

From: Ron Weasley, Ingrisfeld, Romania,

To: Harry Potter, 93 Diagon Alley, London.

Jul. 2^nd 1999

Hey Harry! Congrats on getting onto the Resistance list! You're mad, and I'd rather you than me! I wouldn't have stood a chance anyway. I'd have failed all the tests! Now Hermione can stress about us both. Did she send you a long, rambling letter dissuading you from taking on More Than You Could Manage and Pushing Yourself Over The Edge, and warning you not to forget your Other Responsibilities in the face of developing your career? Yeah, thought so. I got all that when I told her about the Strategy Office. Wish she'd give us a break! It's not as if we've forgotten the....you know. I mean, we are still working on them, aren't we? It's just slow work, that's all! But I remember what you said just after graduation about getting on with your life even though all this is hanging over you, because the only way you can do anything about it is by getting into the right place. Perhaps I shouldn't say any more, just in case. Who knows who might read this between here and London?

Charlie sends his best, by the way. And I met Kia at last! She's terribly sweet, and hilariously funny. If Mum knew they were shacked up without being married, she'd cut his head off!

It's really incredible being at the camp! The place is swarming with Aurors, though. I don't think I'm supposed to know, but I recognise them from the Department. I can't help it if I burst in on something official on a casual visit to see my brother, can I? I wonder why they're here, though, because there's nothing fishy going on in the area as far as I can tell. There are a couple of guys on Charlie's strength who think it's got something to do with You Know Who's bases, which could help us out with the whole 'Significant Possible Hiding Places' project! I got into a really interesting conversation with one of them last night, but then Charlie butted in and told me to mind my own - the git! I think I was onto something there! I'll keep trying.

Listen, I don't think I'm going to be back in time for Ginny's graduation. Tell her I'm sorry, will you? And pass on, you know, the usual stuff. Glad she's not a total failure, that kind of thing. And should you see Hermione any time soon, tell her to stop going on at me. I'm sick of it.

From: Hermione Granger, Postlethwaite, Newcomb and Postlethwaite Wizard Solicitors, Cambridge,

To: Ginny Weasley, Cryptology Bureau, Ministry of Magic, London.

Jul. 25^th 1999

I know he's your brother, but Ron is the biggest idiot I've ever met in my life. Why is he so irritable with me? All I did was warn him to be careful and not to underestimate the workload he's taking on. He's acting just like a stubborn, narrow-minded...man!

Sam asked me out again last night. I said yes this time.

From: Harry Potter, 93 Diagon Alley, London,

To: Ron Weasley, Ingrisfeld, Romania.

Aug. 4^th 1999

Hey! Thanks for the birthday present! It's fantastic! Fred and George want to know why you never get them such good presents as you do me, and I promised I'd ask. Everyone says hello and hopes you're OK. Ginny wanted me to tell you that she hates you for not coming back for her graduation and she thinks you've got a girl out there. She also said something else but I'm not going to repeat it. Also, will you please, please, please write to Hermione and tell her you're sorry? I don't care what you did or what she said, just do it. She's really upset that you're so cross with her, and Ginny told me to pass that on. I'm not going to say anything else. Just sort it, please.

From: Ron Weasley, Ingrisfeld, Romania,

To: Harry Potter, 93 Diagon Alley, London.

Sept. 1^st 1999

Please tell me that Ginny is pulling my leg. There is no way in hell that anyone would take my little sister on as an apprentice in the Cryptology Bureau! It's dangerous! Don't they get killed? Bill has loads of friends at the Bureau, and he's always on about how dangerous it is! My God, I'm coming home right now. DON'T let her do it, Harry, if you value your life! Why hasn't anyone tried to stop her? And don't give me all that rubbish about preserving ancient magical artefacts and deciphering hieroglyphs. Hermione's already done that, and I'm not having any of it. She's just trying to make it sound better.

From: Hermione Granger, Postlethwaite, Newcomb and Postlethwaite Wizard Solicitors, Cambridge,

To: Harry Potter, 93 Diagon Alley, London.

Dec. 23^rd 1999

Merry Christmas, Harry! How is everything chez Wizard Wheezes? Listen, I've been dying to hear about how things are going since you started Resistance training. It sounds fascinating from what you've said so far, and really demanding: tough physically as well as all the mountains of paperwork you must have to do. How do you manage to juggle it with all your regular training? And just think how amazingly experienced and qualified you'll be at the end of it! Sam says that there are only six Resistance Aurors in the whole of Europe, and soon you'll be the seventh! Only you could do it, Harry. I'm so proud of you! I know I was worried at first, and I admit that I still am a little. But I really am proud. Oh, and it was really nice meeting Faith last time I was down. She seems a very intelligent, organised sort of person. Pretty, too.

Has Ron got over Ginny working for the Cryptology Bureau yet? After that shouting match they had on Bonfire Night, I'd be surprised if he's let it go yet. I had a letter from Ginny yesterday, all about her work. She sounds as though she's loving it! She says there are plenty of people in the Bureau who might be able to tell her something about Ravenclaw, and the sort of magical heirlooms she might have owned which You Know Who could have made into a You Know What. Oh, I hate talking about all this in letters! It's so awkward! But anyway, it's bound to be wonderfully useful having Ginny right at the centre of things in Cryptology!

Oh, and Harry - I've been offered a job at the Ministry Courts! Yes! I had a letter from Miranda Hinkleby-Moss yesterday. Do you remember me telling you about the day she came up to Cambridge? She said that she had wanted to offer it to me then and there, but I was only part-way through the course and she thought she'd better wait. I start in July! Isn't it wonderful? I'm not sure how accommodation is going to work out yet. I think Sam wants us to find somewhere together, and Ginny and Saturday have both made suggestions too. Still, there's plenty of time to think about it! I'm so excited! I'll be able to see you and Ron and Ginny every day!

Oh, and speaking of new jobs, I had a letter from Neville the other day! I couldn't believe it! Isn't it great that he's working at the Library....?

From: Harry Potter, 93 Diagon Alley, London,

To: Hermione Granger, Postlethwaite, Newcomb and Postlethwaite Wizard Solicitors, Cambridge.

Dec. 28^th 1999

Wow, congratulations on the job! That's fantastic news! Will be great to have you back again! There are a couple of little apartments up for sale a little way up from here, actually - three top-floor sets, four rooms each. They'll go pretty fast, though, so you'd have to sign something soon if you like one.

Ron's just about recovered from the shock of Ginny joining the Bureau now. He gave her hell for a month solid, but you know Ginny - she gives as good as she gets. But yes, it's going to be seriously useful having her there!

Oh, and by the way - that unsubtle little aside about Faith? There's nothing going on, so put that right out of your head. She's just a friend.

From: Harry Potter, 93 Diagon Alley, London,

To: Ginny Weasley, Chateau Lenoir, Paris.

Jan. 10^th 2000

Hey Gin - Happy New Year to you too! Glad everything went well at Bill and Fleur's party. We had another quiet one here. Ron got completely wrecked and confessed to having a girl out in Romania after all - you were right! Her name was Anna and she's one of the keepers at the Park. Lee broke Mrs Weasley's willow-pattern vase and Angelina put him in a Leg-Locker jinx for the rest of the night. Oh, and we were treated to another classic Granger/Weasley showdown. He was disgustingly rude to her and she slapped him. The next morning they decided to forget it ever happened - you know what they're like. So yeah, nice and quiet.

And listen, I'm sorry for being such a pain over Christmas. Normally it would be Ron getting the brunt of my bad moods, but he's too busy pretending to be OK with Hermione going out with Sam. Thanks, though - for being patient and everything.

It's great about Hermione's new job, isn't it? It'll be good to have her back again.....

From: Hermione Granger, Postlethwaite, Newcomb and Postlethwaite Wizard Solicitors, Cambridge,

To: Ginny Weasley, Cryptology Department, Ministry of Magic, London,

Feb. 1^st 2000

Ginny Weasley, what is all this I hear about you and Patrick Simmons? Neville told me all about what happened at Katie's party! Just when were you going to confess? I knew he really liked you - I could tell at Christmas when I saw him staring at you all the time! He's really lovely, Gin. I'm so happy for you.

I hear Ron's gone off to Romania again. It seems that the only way I get to know anything that Ron is up to is through other people these days. Why he can't pick up a quill I can't imagine! Is it really that hard? Have I done something to upset him - again?

The Daily Prophet

March 2^nd 2000

DEATH EATER ATTACK NEAR SECLUDED ROMANIAN DRAGON CAMP

Early this morning, at 2.a.m. Eastern European Time, over fifty masked Death Eaters invaded and attacked the Ingrisfeld Dragon Park. Fifteen people are believed to be dead, and thirty-six more injured. Officials from the British Ministry of Magic have been dispatched straight to the scene, along with a party from the Field Medicine Division. A Ministry spokesman, Arthur Weasley, initially of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects, recently seconded to the Emergency Action Bureau, was able to give us a brief statement within minutes of the news breaking.

"We would ask all persons with family and friends in the immediate area of Ingrisfeld to remain calm and to await further news. A definite list of names regarding casualties has not yet been submitted to the Bureau, but we hope to have this information available for you within the next hour or two. However, I am able to state with complete faith that everything is being done to ease the situation and to bring aid to the Aurors and Medics presently at work at the scene."

When asked what he believes prompted this sudden and unexpected attack on a peaceful, civilian administration apparently unconnected with the Auror Department, Mr Weasley made the following statement:

"I am not at liberty to give a theory without consultation with the Minister and Heads of Department. All I can say at present is that the area where the attack took place has, in the past, been connected with certain Dark Wizard activity, but there is nothing to prove as yet that there is any permanent danger to residents of Ingrisfeld and its environs."

From: Harry Potter, 93 Diagon Alley, London,

To: Hermione Granger, Postlethwaite, Newcomb and Postlethwaite Wizard Solicitors, Cambridge.

Mar. 3^rd 2000

Hermione, really, there's no need for you to rush all the way to London! There's nothing you can do by coming; there's nothing any of us can do. Mr Weasley has gone out to Romania with a special section from our department and he's going to send us all the latest news as fast as there are developments. DON'T WORRY! Ron said he was fine, and so is Charlie. And it's good that he's out there - he's trained to help in situations like this! I don't know how long he'll be there. He might come back with Mr Weasley, but they might ask him to hang around and help out with the recovery operation. I wish I was out there with him, in a way. Don't panic, I'm not going to go. Collins wouldn't let me even if I wanted to, and Faith would eat me alive.

From: Ginny Weasley, Cryptology Bureau, Ministry of Magic, London,

To: Hermione Granger, Postlethwaite, Newcomb and Postlethwaite Wizard Solicitors, Cambridge.

Apr. 20^th 2000

I've always said men were odd. I hope Sam apologised! Why shouldn't you come down here to see your oldest friend who has just had a near-fatal brush with death? Honestly! Right now, I feel as though every man I know is on another planet - or perhaps I'm on the other planet and this is normal for them. Ron's still all thoughtful and snappy, although I can forgive him; Harry seems to be permanently cross with everyone; Patrick doesn't seem to understand that two of my brothers recently nearly died. Even Dad is all argumentative and moody! Please, please let's get away for a little while - just you and me. I don't think I can stand any more of this testosterone!

-- CHAPTER ONE --

Wider Horizons

June 26^th 2001

Harry Potter was stretched out on a narrow ledge beside his bedroom window. He was rather glad that he was. Downstairs, his best friend Ron Weasley was venting his spleen, loudly, and using some perfectly outrageous language which would cost him dearly if his mother arrived in time to hear it.

Harry sighed in frustration, trying to block the noise out. His head felt sore anyway, and there was a dull ache in his shoulders and limbs that wasn't doing much for his comfort. He would have given a lot to be allowed an afternoon in relative peace after the previous night's events.

Tonks - along with Shaw and Savage - had taken him to a deserted old manor house a little way outside London on the river. It had started out as an assignment like any other - watch the subject, do your Auror thing, get out alive if you can manage it - but none of them had counted on uncovering something a lot more serious than a simple exchange of greetings between old criminal associates.

"I know him," Tonks had exclaimed, as they waited in the shadows in their pre-arranged positions, watching as something passed from hand to hand in the middle of the gathered group standing in the moonlit courtyard.

"Nice friends you have, Nymph," Martin Shaw remarked.

Tonks slapped his arm - the only part of him she had access to from her uncomfortable position crouched under a crossbeam. "He was chucked into Azkaban three years ago for leading You Know Who to an Auror outpost in Kazakhstan!"

"Oh, great!"

"Wait a minute," Harry had interrupted in surprise. "He's a Death Eater?"

Tonks nodded. "He was certainly pretty matey with them back then."

"And now he's receiving smuggled potions from the biggest crime syndicate in London?"

"Yup."

"Christ almighty!"

Tonks hadn't seemed too concerned. She shrugged, pulled on her gauntlets, and gave Harry the customary 'good-luck' shoulder squeeze.

"Let's get to it," she said. "Let's kick some Death Eater ass!"

They did.

In fact, Harry was able to appreciate in retrospect that the whole thing had been his closest shave yet. The four of them, plus four reserves waiting two miles further down the river in case they were needed, against twenty armed, experienced Death Eaters with more dirty tricks and black spells than one would have expected from common potion runners. But of course they were more than that.

"Nice work, Harry," Moody had said, when they returned to the offices afterwards. "Good stuff." And he shuffled away, carrying the paperwork.

He didn't seem to care that they'd just left Shaw in St. Mungos teetering on the brink of death.

"It's not that he doesn't care, Harry," said Tonks, observing his frown. She was unbuckling her arsenal belt and wiping away a streak of dry blood from her neck. "It's just that there are no words - especially after you've been doing this job for forty years like he has."

"But how can he stand it?" Harry had demanded, passionately. "How many friends of his must have bought it in his time? Has he shrugged away all of them, just like that?"

Tonks shook her head rather sadly. She had a resigned sort of look on her face that Harry often saw her wear whenever Remus disappeared for several days on some sort of 'hush hush' Order business.

"You can't do a lot else."

They had the same conversation after nearly every assignment they shared together, and Harry always ended up storming off down a corridor stripping off dirty and broken pieces of Auror armour as he went. For all of the following days he would try to lose himself in a book or in conversation with Ron or Hermione or whoever happened to be in the house at the time, and spend the next restless night pacing up and down his room using the distracting techniques Collins had taught him. Sometimes they worked.

But as he sat there on his window ledge that summer morning, the memories rolling past his eyes like pale ghosts of another lifetime, it seemed ridiculous to think about such things.

Down in the Alley the people were going by, peering in at shop windows, laughing and talking and greeting each other, all but ignoring the large Ministry posters pinned up every so many yards. They had been there so long that everyone knew the warnings and official advice off by heart now, and their presence in the middle of a happy shopping street had lost all its original portentous meaning.

The war was a constant fact, proving itself in the reports of distant attacks and mobilisations in the Daily Prophet, and in the occasional absences of Mr Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Remus, and all their other friends who held official positions - but it had not dampened the wizarding world's spirit.

Harry smiled to himself, cheered by the philosophical turn his thoughts were taking. He made himself a little more comfortable on the window ledge, and reflected upon the things he was lucky to have: a life's calling to play a role in the war, the strength to carry it out, a loving set of friends to come home to...

He chuckled. Living at Number 93, Diagon Alley, with three Weasleys and numerous extraneous family members, girlfriends and friends who trotted in and out at all hours was rather like living in a very compact seaside boarding house. Not that Harry would have exchanged it for anything in the world. This - cramped and unconventional though it might be - was baronial splendour compared to Number 4, Privet Drive.

Suddenly a door banged downstairs, jolting Harry out of his lazy reverie. Quite a lot of coffee from his mug sloshed onto his lap as he jumped.

"You didn't have to snap at Bill like that, Ron," said a calm, female voice from downstairs. "It's not his fault."

"It's someone's fault!" bellowed Ron.

"Why do you always have to blame everybody else?" Hermione insisted.

"Because it's usually everybody else's fault! Why do you always have to criticise me?"

"I don't always criticise you!"

"Yes, you do!"

"That's not true!"

"Yes, it is!"

Harry could almost see the tableau in his mind's eye. Ron, ears pink, eyes blazing; Hermione, her hair escaping from her ponytail and her fists clenched. One day she really would punch him, and Harry wasn't entirely certain that he would blame her.

Ron had been behaving in a perfectly ridiculous manner ever since Ginny had got back from a week's holiday in Corfu with Hermione.

At first everything was fine; Ron had enquired politely how the holiday had gone, to which the girls responded equally politely that they'd had a marvellous time - but the crunch came three days later when Ginny didn't come down for breakfast. She didn't turn up for dinner, either, nor was she there for breakfast the following day. Ron, being Ron, had instantly jumped to all the worst conclusions. Firstly, it had been that she had eloped with her boyfriend of four months, Patrick Simmons, one of her colleagues at the Cryptology Bureau. Secondly, Death Eaters had kidnapped her and were torturing her for information. Next it had been that everyone else knew exactly where she was, and it was all a mass conspiracy to keep him in the dark.

And Ron, being Ron, had refused to listen to reason ever since.

"DON'T GIVE ME ALL THAT CRAP!" he bellowed from downstairs, making Harry wince. His footsteps thudded on the sitting room floor, and somewhere a cat yowled in annoyance.

"Don't speak to me like that," retorted Hermione. "And stop stomping about - you'll disturb Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes. Never mind him - the whole of Diagon Alley could probably hear the argument.

"Hermione, will you STOP patronising me! I'm not a child!"

"Well, stop behaving like one!"

Another bang, and their voices became muffled as they moved further away from the stairs.

Harry sighed and took a generous swallow of coffee.

He hadn't seen either of them since the previous day, and as far as they were concerned he had spent the night in his bed and the majority of today poring over paperwork in solitude.

I wish I could tell them, he thought to himself, feeling a stab of regret. It felt like lying to their faces every day, pretending to be overworked and struggling with deadlines, when in fact he might easily slip out one night and never return the next morning. They deserve better.

He wasn't sure what made him keep his other life hidden from the people he loved most in the world. Perhaps because he knew they'd worry, when they were already so worried about Charlie and Bill and the others. Perhaps because he was afraid - afraid to admit that his job was impossibly hard and left him doubting himself and aching for some kind of comfort. Stupid, really. They'd give it to him in an instant if he showed them he needed it.

Oh, stop it, he told himself sternly. Think about something else.

He pushed the window open further and leaned over the sill to look down at the Alley. He had a near-perfect view of the front of Fred and George's shop on the ground floor at the front, and - if he clambered out onto the narrow ledge underneath the window - of the sidepath that led around to the little tumbledown garden at the back.

"Hey, Harry!"

The sudden hail nearly made Harry topple out onto the ledge. He grabbed hold of the crosspiece and hauled himself over the sill to see who had called.

Seamus Finnegan was on the street below, outside Madam Antonia's Every-Occasion Giftshop. He waved.

"Hey," Harry called, cheerfully. "No work today?"

Seamus ran a hand through his tousled hair and gave his impish grin. "Nah, me mam's visiting. Made me get the day off! Haven't seen you for a while, Harry! How are things?"

"Oh, you know. Busy, as always."

"Ah, you're only young once," said Seamus, wisely. "Listen, Harry - Dean and me were thinking of having the lads over one night this week - make a bit of a party of it, you know. D'ya fancy coming? You and Ron?"

Harry was just about to gladly agree when a door banged again downstairs, followed by an incoherent shout and the violent ringing of the shop bell. Seamus jumped as a fiery-haired figure stormed out of the front door and stood there on the cobblestones, glowering.

"Er, hullo, Ron," he said, eyeing him warily. "Everything all right?"

"Oh, fine!" snarled Ron, pacing up and down a few steps and running tense hands through his hair. "Bloody, fucking fine!"

Seamus glanced up at Harry, who merely shrugged resignedly.

"I was just saying to Harry - how about you two come over one night to mine and Dean's? We could get some drink in and - "

"OK," said Ron, before he could finish.

"Er, right," said Seamus. "Great. Well, I'll be in touch about it in a day or so. See you around, Harry!"

Harry jerked his head in response, but Ron merely grunted, pacing back and forth in front of the shop window. Harry waited until Seamus had disappeared off down the Alley towards Quality Quidditch Supplies before slipping underneath the crosspiece and climbing down the rickety timberframe. He dropped onto the ground right next to Ron.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked, fixing his best friend with a suspicious look.

"Nothing," mumbled Ron.

"Come on, I heard you going at Hermione downstairs like Moody after a week of night patrols. What's the matter?"

"It's nothing, really."

Harry crossed his arms and gave a dubious frown. "Ginny?"

"She didn't even leave a note!" Ron burst out, on cue. "Not even a note, Harry - don't you find that weird?"

Harry sighed.

"Look, come indoors. And don't snap at Hermione."

Ron mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "She started it..." which Harry chose to ignore. He led the way into the shop, squeezing past the groups of fascinated schoolchildren gazing in rapture at Fred and George's displays.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was a breath of fresh air. A mass of colour and full of towering, toppling shelves crammed with fascinating inventions and little novelties, ten minutes inside reading all the labels and taking in the charged atmosphere couldn't help but lift the spirits. And, especially during the summer holidays, the place was always packed to the gunnels with giggling, excitable children.

"Good morning, Harry!" called Fred, brightly. Resplendent in magenta robes, he was unmistakable among the throng. "Ron, if you're coming through here again, watch your mouth. This is a child-friendly establishment!"

Ron responded with a hand gesture that make Harry snort with laughter out loud, hastily covering it up with a cough as Fred turned scarlet.

On the other side of the door behind the counter they were greeted by a hooting Pigwidgeon, a mewing Crookshanks, and Hermione, who was sitting on the staircase with her nose in a book. She looked up as they came in.

"Hello, Harry! I thought you were upstairs working."

"No chance," said Harry, returning her smile. "Not with the noise you and Ron kick up."

Hermione stood up and gave Ron a disdainful look. "I thought you'd gone off in a strop."

"Yeah, well, now I've come back in a strop," said Ron, sloping across the room towards the fireplace, flapping his hands at Pigwidgeon who was happily zooming around his head.

The sitting room was one of Harry's favourite places. It was open-plan, with a little kitchen joined on at the back and separated from the lounge area by a low stone wall and a series of knobbly wooden pillars, with a wide archway in place of a door. When the sun came around the back, it would stream through the kitchen windows, through the arches, and bathe the sitting room in warm light.

The actual lounge part was one of those wonderful, ramshackle-like rooms with dozens of shadowy corners and little nooks, and steps that you tripped over unless you knew they were there. It was decorated in true wizard style, too. The crossbeams were festooned with Never-Dying Fir garlands, and balanced along the tops was an assortment of unusual odds and ends. Watering cans, discarded boxes from the shop, Pigwidgeon's cage, a pile of old Hogwarts books, and a grand collection of empty beer and whisky bottles gathered over the years. The spiral-staircase wound straight up from the lounge, and there was a little landing on the first floor which the girls liked to use as a spare bedroom when they came to stay.

Harry stretched and rubbed his shoulder muscles as he padded across to the kitchen.

"Anyone want a cup of tea while I'm making some?" he asked the others.

Ron gave a grunt which Harry took to be an affirmative. Hermione frowned at him, and followed Harry over to the counter.

"I'll help you," she said.

As they got out mugs and a huge plate of biscuits from the larder, Harry asked Hermione what had started the argument earlier.

"Oh, it's still Ginny," she said, wearily. "As if we haven't pointed out a million times that there's nothing to worry about."

"What did Bill say last night?"

"He thinks she's probably in Egypt, because the Bureau met with various other departments last week to discuss sending a party out to some site they're excavating out there in the desert."

"Did he say why she didn't tell us she was going?"

"He thinks she told Mr Weasley, but because he's been in New York ever since she went, nobody's been able to ask him. Bill left him a message, but he probably hasn't found it because his schedule was jam-packed. You know, nothing but meetings and dinners and more meetings."

Hermione shivered, with what Harry could only describe as relish. He smiled to himself. Only Hermione would think the prospect of a week of hard work and incarceration in a function room perfectly blissful.

"Anyway," she went on, stirring her wand around inside one of the mugs, making a stream of amber tea pour gently from the tip. "Bill said if there's no news from Ginny or Mr Weasley by this evening, he's going to get hold of Mr Weasley somehow and find out what's going on. Ron's being impatient, of course -"

"I can hear you!" called Ron, from the sitting room. "And I'm not being impatient. I just want to know where my sister is!"

Hermione gave her best Head Girl sigh as she carried the mugs over to where Ron was still pacing by the fireplace.

"If Bill's not worried, I don't see why we should be. She's perfectly capable of looking after herself, and there is no possible way she would have gone off on a job without telling somebody. If we just wait and see what Mr Weasley has to say, I'm sure everything will be all right. Now, sit down, shut up, and drink your tea," she finished, thrusting a mug into Ron's hands and giving him a gentle push towards the sofa. He obeyed - most probably because he wasn't really paying attention.

"But why wouldn't she tell us?" he complained, rather petulantly.

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances.

"Because she probably had orders not to," Harry said.

He knew from experience in the Auror Department that the rules were very strict regarding the involvement of families in official matters. If he had said it once, he had said it at least ten times since Ginny disappeared.

"She's only been working there a year," Ron mumbled. "Why have they sent her abroad again? What are they doing out there?"

They all avoided each others' eyes. It was a sore subject still in the Weasley household, for Ginny's recruitment to the Cryptology Bureau had been the most controversial family crisis since Percy had turned his back on the Order. Ron had never forgiven her for going into it, Mrs Weasley was still apt to burst into tears about it (although never when Ginny was present), and Mr Weasley would produce a hacking cough and change the subject whenever the topic was mentioned.

And of course it didn't help that Ginny was very uncommunicative about the work she did that took her off for weeks at a time. That, Harry thought, was what made Ron so cross - and, Harry had to confess, it made him cross too, although probably for different reasons.

It had been nearly four years since his brief relationship with Ginny back in their schooldays. In that time things had changed in the world so rapidly and so seriously that there hadn't been much time to contemplate the alteration in their behaviour to each other. Ginny had stayed at Hogwarts for another year after Harry and the others had left, and almost as soon as she had graduated she took up an apprenticeship at the Bureau. Since then she had been coming and going so erratically that they had barely sat down once for a proper conversation. She would be two weeks at The Burrow, then two weeks away, then a week at Bill's in Paris, then another three weeks away - and Harry had an unsettled, demanding schedule himself.

Perhaps it was that very fact - that they had barely spent more than five or six days together in each others' company since Hogwarts - that had caused the peculiar rift between them.

No, Harry corrected himself, rift was hardly the word. They still chatted and wrote to each other, exchanged ideas on Auror and Bureau policy and discussed their mutual friends, but there was an unmistakable kind of forced formality which underlaid their conversations and affected what they could say to each other. The past weighed heavy, but neither of them spoke about it. They both pretended it wasn't there.

But you didn't have to say a thing to think about it.

Still, Harry would tell himself, he had a job to do now - an important, dangerous, demanding one, that required every ounce of concentration he possessed. Women messed things up. Better to throw yourself into a thing and try not to think too much.

These days thinking hurt.

"Harry!"

Ron's voice jolted Harry out of his reflections.

"What?" said Harry, blinking.

"Where were you?"

"Nowhere."

Ron frowned a little suspiciously, but he didn't pursue it. He continued to rumble on about family responsibility and self-preservation, oblivious to the fact that neither Harry nor Hermione was really listening. Hermione had got out one of her notebooks and was scribbling away in it, making appropriate noises whenever Ron paused for breath.

Harry stretched his legs out until his ankles were balanced on the coffee table. Thinking about Ginny had brought back a stream of other thoughts too - ones which he would quite happily have left gathering dust at the back of his brain if he'd had the choice. He thought of a certain book hidden upstairs at the back of his wardrobe, enchanted to appear like an ordinary world atlas, but inside containing information so critical and serious that a good deal more rested upon it than anybody outside of the four of them - he, Hermione, Ron and Ginny - could imagine.

It all came back to the war. To Voldemort.

"You're thinking about them, aren't you?" said Hermione's voice, gently.

Harry looked up and found both her and Ron watching him carefully.

He sighed. "Is it that obvious?"

"We can always tell," said Hermione. She put her notebooks aside and leaned forward. "Something will turn up, I know it. We have to be patient."

"Yeah, it's just an exhausted lead, Harry," added Ron. "Not a dead end."

It had been years since Dumbledore first called Harry into his office and sparked off the series of meetings which had brought out the secret of Voldemort's immortality. Seven objects, three of them now found, scattered across the globe and resting heaven knew where, waiting to be discovered and destroyed.

Now Dumbledore was dead, and Harry had been the only other person to know the precise truth of the situation. It was a dreadful weight for a young man to have on his shoulders, but three valued friends had made the journey easier.

But the journey, such as it was, was so slow-moving as to be painful. Daily there were new stories in the Daily Prophet about attacks and ambushes, and the pace of the war seemed always to be outstripping the pace of their journey. It was agony to sit back, get on with one's job, eat three meals a day and wash one's socks when people were dying because you were taking so long over something.

"Don't be so bloody ridiculous!" Ron had told him sharply one day three years before. "You can't play chess if you haven't got any pieces."

Harry smiled wryly at the memory. But how long would it be before they found even one or two pieces? How much longer could the world's Auror forces hold Voldemort and his Death Eaters back?

He leaned forward and balanced his elbows on his knees. It wasn't often that he fell into this sort of morbid pessimism, but when he did it meant the world to him that Ron and Hermione were nearly always there to pull him out again.

"Listen," said Ron, "why don't we go for something to eat later? Just to get out of the house."

Harry nodded with a smile.

"In that case," said Hermione, beginning to stuff books and quills back into her handbag, "I'll go over to the library now for an hour, and if you come by my flat when you're ready to go I'll have had time to get everything organised for tomorrow."

"What work could you possibly have to do before you've even started the job?" asked Ron, incredulously, eyeing her scribbles.

"Just a few preliminary studies, that's all," said Hermione, defensively. "I want to get off to a good start, and it never hurts to be prepared."

"You take life way too seriously, Hermione."

"Maybe that's not such a bad thing," Hermione remonstrated, deftly knocking Ron's feet off the coffee table so she could pass.

"No Sam today then?" asked Harry, curiously.

Hermione was rarely to be seen without her boyfriend these days, as he was helping her move into her new flat along one of the side streets off Diagon Alley. But as George had once observed, Sam was remarkable only by his absence.

"He's had to go to a conference tonight over in Lambeth," Hermione replied, a trifle shortly. "I thought I'd take an evening on my own to start painting the kitchen, but it's - "

Suddenly her eyes widened and she halted in her progress towards the back door.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked.

Hermione pointed to the kitchen windowsill. A large owl with impressive plumage had just alighted there, bearing something emblazoned with the unmistakable insignia of the Auror Office.

"Oh no..." Hermione breathed, raising a trembling hand to her cheek.

Harry's heart gave a painful leap in his chest. Ministry owls had gained a horrible significance in recent years. All military casualty details from St. Mungos came through the Auror Office.

He thought of Remus.

He thought of Ginny, and his blood ran cold in sheer terror.

"Oh, Harry, don't..." began Hermione, earnestly, clutching at his arm with white fingers as he reached out to unfasten the letter. Lost in his own panicked thoughts Harry hardly heard her. He stared at the writing on the envelope.

Harry Potter, 93 Diagon Alley.

"Is it Dad? Is it Ginny?" Ron asked, in a choked voice. "God damn it, I should have made her stay! I should have locked her up somewhere!"

Harry forced himself to break the seal. He scanned the words written there below the ornate Auror Office header.

"What? What is it?" urged Ron.

Potter,

Come over to my office as quickly as you can. Need to talk to you urgently. Don't dawdle.

J. Collins.

Harry felt his blood resume its usual course with a sudden roar, and he let out a long and shaky sigh.

"It's nothing. It's from Collins."

Ron's pale face travelled through the whole spectrum before stopping at maroon.

"What the fucking hell does he think he's playing at?" he exploded, furiously. "Scaring people out of their sodding wits!"

Hermione drew a chair out from under the kitchen table and sank down into it in relief.

"Oh, God, that was horrible! I thought for a minute - "

"So did I," Harry admitted.

"I'm going to kill her...I'm going to kill her myself..." Ron muttered under his breath, as he began rummaging around in the cupboards for Fred's hidden bottle of Firewhisky to calm his nerves. "All her fault...scaring us all to death...should never have just buggered off like that..."

He picked the largest glass on the shelf above the sink and filled it half-full, knocking it all back in one go. It seemed to revive him.

"Well, what does Collins say, Harry?" asked Hermione, sitting up straight in her chair and trying to pull herself together. "I'll have one of those too, please, Ron."

Ron half-choked on his second mouthful, his eyes bulging in shock.

Hermione stared primly back at him. "What?" she said, defensively, "I can't have a pick-me-up like you two?"

Harry took the whisky bottle from stunned Ron and pushed him gently into a chair, pouring himself and Hermione a glass each. He handed one to her before drinking all his in one gulp, grateful for the kickstart it gave to his fuzzy-feeling brain.

"Well?" Hermione prompted.

"He wants me over at the Ministry," Harry replied, glancing once more at the curt sentences on the letter. "But he doesn't say why. He's never called me over after hours before."

"That sounds important, Harry! Hadn't you better go and see what he wants?"

"I don't like this," Harry murmured, frowning. "It's not like him. He hates letters - says they're too easily intercepted."

"I suppose it really is from Collins," said Ron, rather suspiciously. "And not some deranged Death Eater trying to lure you into an alley and brutally murder you?"

Hermione shot him an indignant look. "That's an unnecessarily morbid thought, Ron."

For a moment Harry prepared himself for another argument, but to his great surprise Ron answered calmly and steadily: "Practical, though, wouldn't you say, given Harry's history?"

She frowned at him. "I meant your choice of words. And there's always a Signature Spell, just in case, which I'm sure Harry was about to do anyway and which would break through any forgery without any difficulty whatsoever." She turned to Harry and smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure it's nothing, Harry, don't worry."

Harry smiled faintly back, wondering how many other women could sit quite placidly and straight-laced at a kitchen table, demurely drinking Firewhisky and discussing restricted magical secrecy techniques and the violent habits of Death Eaters.

Ron blinked in bewilderment for a few moments, before scowling and turning all his attention to the Firewhisky bottle.

"Will you wait for me?" Harry asked them, going to pick up his jacket.

"Of course we will," said Hermione. "If we're not here we'll be over at my flat, so come and tell us what happened."

He was halfway out of the back door when she called after him, rather anxiously: "Harry - you will be careful, won't you? I mean, just in case."

He smiled across at her.

"I'm always careful," he replied.

***

The halls of the Auror Department at the Ministry were never deserted, not even in the dead of night. Somebody was always about, plodding away at overdue work in an office, or holding secret meetings with officials from other departments. As Harry made his way along the corridor of cubicles towards Collins' rooms several people nodded to him or hailed a greeting. Kingsley Shacklebolt was there in deep conversation with two men Harry had never seen before. He excused himself from them when he saw Harry approaching.

"Hello, Harry," he said. "Odd time for a session, isn't it?"

"I'm not going to a session," said Harry. "Collins called me. Is anything the matter?"

"The matter? How do you mean?"

"Has anything happened? He's never called me out of hours before."

Kingsley shook his head. "Nothing to my knowledge. There was a nasty attack in the Ukraine about two hours ago, but it was nothing unusual. We sent off the regular despatch to help out, but the Ukrainian Ministry seem to have it under control."

Harry frowned. Kingsley seemed to notice his consternation.

"I shouldn't worry too much, Harry. It's probably just a dodgy mark in an exam or something. You know what a slave-driver Collins is."

"Yeah," said Harry.

"I have to go and meet the Minister and the Romanian Ambassador," sighed Kingsley, looking at the clock on the wall, which read half-past seven. "Good luck, Harry. See you tomorrow."

Harry nodded, and Kingsley disappeared back down the corridor with the men he had been talking with before.

A wave of unpleasant dread had risen up inside Harry. What if Collins was summoning him to tell him that his performance wasn't up to standard? What if he was going to dismiss him from the Resistance programme? Or from the Auror Office altogether? What the hell was he going to do then? He made his way on through the maze of tunnel-like corridors racking his brains for some recollection of any mistake he might have made in his work, and he almost missed the large, panelled wall and the tapestry of Sigrid the Hairy leading the Snowdonian rebel wizards into battle against the giants, behind which was the secret door to the training wing.

"Kalegras," said Harry. The tapestry rolled itself up and the panelling behind creaked open, revealing a small set of downwards steps and a dark atrium with two or three hallways leading off it.

Collins' office was a short way down the left corridor.

"Come in!" he bellowed, when Harry knocked. "Ah, there you are. Took your time, didn't you?"

John Collins was a tall, broadly-built man with a mane of dark hair and a thick beard streaked with grey. His eyes were a flashing blue, and he moved and spoke with all the mannerisms of a personality who was not to be trifled with. Years of experience had taught Harry how to handle his tempers, and despite his brusqueness and failure to observe any of the social niceties, he found him fairly likeable.

"Sorry, sir," he said, closing the door behind him.

"Sit down and pay attention. I want to talk to you about something very important." Collins perched himself on the edge of his desk, arms folded, and faced Harry with his characteristic thunderous frown which made new recruits tremble. Harry knew better than to be intimidated and looked politely back.

Collins got straight to the point, as usual. "You're a good student, Potter. You're away with the fairies much of the time, but when you do knuckle down you're a fine fighter. I expect exceptionally high standards from my trainees, and most probably many of my associates here will claim that they are too high. I disagree. Being an Auror isn't a casual stroll in the park. It's about discipline, quick-thinking and guts. Guts you have, and a fair amount of quick-thinking. Discipline...well, I'll not go into that now." Collins coughed and raised an eyebrow. "In short, you have the makings of an exemplary Auror. What you lack, give or take a couple of months learning the iniquitous little ways of the London underworld and one or two school-day exploits which the wizard publishing industry is so keen to proclaim, is front-line experience."

Harry took a deep, calming breath. It was grating to hear of his past encounters with danger referred to as 'school-day exploits', but it never did any good to argue with Collins.

Instead he turned the most impudent stare he dared upon his mentor. "When you say 'iniquitous little ways of the London underworld' I assume, then, that Tonks hasn't handed you her report for yesterday's assignment at Sternley Moor?"

To Harry's very great surprise Collins chuckled. "Yes, it made for very sensational reading, I agree. I confess that I rather underestimated our potion-running friends on that occasion."

"They were passing illegally-mixed Veritaserum to the Death Eaters," said Harry, frowning.

"So I'm told. Quite a nice little addition they will make to the Azkaban crowd."

His indifferent, jocular tone made Harry's skin crawl. "Shaw was Crucio'd until he collapsed unconscious," he snapped, passionately, "and when they got Taraxus to St Mungos they found out that he had breaks in twenty-one different bones!"

Collins gave him a long, levelling look. "So I understand. They are taking good care of both at St Mungos, though, and they're soon to be removed to Phoenix Manor."

He moved his chair so that he was sitting directly opposite Harry.

"You won't like hearing this, Potter, but what you've seen in London over the last few months is nothing compared to the sort of thing you'd come up against in the areas where Death Eaters gather together like bees in a hive. I'm not talking about assignments in London now, I'm talking about front-line war zones. You're on the Resistance programme, Potter, because you're cursed good at night-time sorties. I've been hearing some great things from Moody and Shaw about you since you've started fieldwork with them, but you're on Resistance because you have the skills required of a future front-line captain, and so front-line experience is essential if you want to pursue this career. I want, Potter, to assign you to a team of Aurors which the Ministry is sending out to Romania very shortly."

Harry blinked, confusedly. "You want...?"

"Precisely."

Collins stood up and went to the window, where vast amounts of parchments were scattered across a desk and the floor around it. He picked up a sheaf and began rifling through it. Apparently he was finished talking.

Harry felt a little dazed. "Sir, I'm not sure I understand."

"I beg your pardon?"

"What are you asking me to do, exactly? In Romania, I mean."

"Watch and learn. Help when you can, do as you're told, and come back alive, preferably."

Collins was well known for the quickness of his mind and how difficult his mental processes made keeping up with him for his students, but Harry thought this was bordering on insane. Nobody calmly announces that he's packing you off to a foreign front-line country after only four months field experience and then expects you to assimilate the information without a word.

"But what's the team going out to Romania for?" he insisted, unable to keep back a slightly hysterical bark of laughter.

Collins tilted his head on one side. "That's not your concern. It is a top-secret, high-level mission and only the high-level officials have been briefed. They will tell you what you need to know and no more."

"Why? Why can't I know?"

"This goes higher than me, Potter. I'm just being asked to provide fresh blood, and I've chosen you. That's all there is to it."

"But I can't just go out there not knowing what I'm supposed to do!"

Collins threw his papers onto the desk and thumped his fist. "Are you questioning my authority, Potter?" he bellowed.

"No, sir," replied Harry, tensely, willing himself to keep his temper. He fisted his hands in his pockets. "But I remember not so very long ago when Romania was at the centre of a massive operation which caused the deaths of twenty civilians and injured dozens more. It was a disaster, and the Ministry are still trying to skip over the nasty facts and make excuses to the people who were affected."

"Well?" snapped Collins.

"This has something to do with it, hasn't it? Nobody has explained why the Ingrisfeld business happened, and why the civilians weren't given protection. People deserve to know, and you're not even telling me!"

Collins took a deep breath and sat down. He looked at Harry for a long while before speaking. Harry felt furious. His best friend and his best friend's brother had nearly died in that attack, and nobody seemed to give a damn. And here was Collins coolly suggesting that he go out with another despatch and carry on the good work!

"Potter, I'm no politician, but I've been in this business long enough to know that there are some things which are so important that sacrifices have to be made. What the Aurors are doing in Romania is vital to our intelligence in this war, and they needed the cover of that camp."

"Which has now been blown sky-high, thanks to the Ministry not being honest about it!" exclaimed Harry. "And you're saying that they're going back and starting again?"

"Yes. You don't know how important it is that we have people stationed in that area. It's crucial if we want to avoid more trouble. This time we will be better prepared."

Harry snorted, despite himself.

"We're not talking about politics, Potter, we're talking about your career. This is a very important mission I am proposing to send you on. You ought to appreciate my confidence in you! You do not have to go - the decision is yours. I have said all I'm going to say."

Harry jumped up suddenly. "I don't want to be a part of something which uses innocent people as bait and then covers the blunder up. I knew people who were out there. They could have died! People did die, and their families are being left to wonder how and why it happened. It's callous and barbaric!"

"Oh, for God's sake, Potter!" shouted Collins, thumping his fists on the desk again. "You have to get this stupid idea out of your head that you need to save the whole world! You can't protect everybody in this job. People are going to die, Aurors and non-Aurors both, and the sooner you accept that the better. If you want to succeed in this job you have to develop detachment!"

"I don't WANT to develop detachment!" shouted Harry.

Collins was coolly undermining everything Harry had wanted to become an Auror for, and he didn't seem to realise. Neither, reflected Harry dryly, did he realise that saving the whole world was exactly what he did have to do.

"Then you won't get far. Go home, Potter. You've got three days to think it over, and I suggest you spend some time in serious contemplation about your future."