Phoenix Intuition

Chapter Seven

Drake awoke at five o'clock, even earlier than the day before. Five o'clock on the East coast was ten o'clock in England, and he wanted to get an early start so there would be plenty of time for Prophet articles to be written about the day's events. Today's plan was his most audacious yet. Such a thing had never been attempted, and it was highly unpredictable; it could well fail. Some would probably die if it did, but those lives were of no use to him; he would use the Imperius Curse to gain the cooperation of his assistants. More, of course, would die if it were successful. Malfoy was already 'warming up', which meant that he was in an underdeveloped country, finding some Muggles to kill. Killing Muggles gave him energy and power through his ring, but not nearly as much as killing wizards. Still, they would get him to a point where he would be much stronger than usual; he would then kill more wizards to become even stronger. What he would do today would require great strength. He would kill wizards not in Hogsmeade, which still had Aurors patrolling, but in wizard residences scattered around the country. Here, too, Drake had already done his research, and had dozens of addresses. Some were for ordinary citizens, and some were for more prominent people. Hugo knew English wizarding society well; he knew where the pressure points were.

* * * * *

Harry awoke from his few hours of sleep with a sudden realization of what needed to be done. He sent out a message to Fawkes. How do you go about bonding with a human? Is there something special you need to do?

Fawkes was not in the gathering place, but distance was no hindrance to phoenix communication. You must simply wish to, came back the answer. Focus on the person. Want to help, protect, be a part of the person. Find the connection the person has to the Source, and will yourself to be a part of it. Know that you feel what they feel.

Thank you, Harry sent.

As a phoenix or a human, I care about you, sent Fawkes. You should be aware that what you plan may be dangerous. We never bond with those who are not ready, or who seem unsuitable, as you are planning. I know it is because you care deeply, but the one with whom you would bond is emotionally unstable. You could be mentally harmed, especially while you cannot retreat to human form.

I understand, and I appreciate your concern. But the Source tells me that I must do this.

For another's sake, not your own.

For my own, as well. I would risk much more to help as I can.

We understand. You are only the second human to join us, and the first who still had those he deeply cared about in the human community. Your experience will be unique, and outside normal phoenix experience. We all may learn from it as well. We will help in any way we can.

I know, and I thank you. I will contact you if I think you can help.

Harry took flight, and teleported to his human home.

* * * * *

Arthur walked into the Muggle Liaison office at eleven o'clock, motioning Colin and Dudley to join him as he walked. They stood and followed him into his office, along with Luna.

"I was just in a meeting with all the other undersecretaries, and Bright," said Arthur. "I'm not supposed to tell you about it, but I don't care. I know all the other undersecretaries do. They're pretty well in a panic; a few of them didn't even want to come until they were reassured that there were five Aurors protecting the room, and they checked everyone for Polyjuice use.

"Umbridge was really agitated, more than I've ever seen. She complained about that article in the Prophet--did you see it?--that gave Hermione's side of the story about when Umbridge was Headmistress." Hermione herself had declined comment, but Luna, Ron, and Ginny had given their accounts of what had happened, including Umbridge's admission that she'd sent the dementors after Harry. "Apparently Dentus spoke to the Prophet publisher on Hermione's behalf, and he agreed to print the article without giving Umbridge a chance to comment, provided Hermione didn't comment herself. She was outraged about that, and she complained about the Hogwarts governors. She thought she had an understanding with them that she'd be made headmistress again, but Harry put his foot down--or his talon, whatever it is--and they backed off. Bright's usually polite to her, but he was very cold today. He told her that she'd better be quiet, or else he'd appoint an inquiry to investigate the charges that you," he gestured to Luna, "and the others made. Trent defended her, and started in on Bright about the security situation. Trent acted like Bright wasn't making sure the Aurors were being used properly; Bright said they were doing the best they could. They bickered about that for a while, and finally each of us got to say our bit. I said I was sure Bright and the Aurors were doing all they could, and asked them if they'd heard about what happened in America."

"I'm sure they were very concerned," cracked Dudley.

"Pretty much. No one knew--which isn't too surprising, since the Prophet didn't even mention it--and they all more or less acted like it didn't matter. Trent actually said, 'Perhaps you would consider restricting your comments to things that have relevance to the wizarding world.' I was pretty annoyed--he isn't usually quite so directly hostile--so I said, 'Perhaps you would consider avoiding political grandstanding and pretending you understand security better than the Aurors do.' He started in with, 'Just because your son is an Auror...' and Bright broke it up there. He and Umbridge sometimes make these snide cracks about Muggles, and I just ignore it because I don't care, but I was in no mood for it today."

"Lucky for you that you don't have political ambitions," remarked Colin, "or you'd have to be polite to him."

Arthur shrugged lightly. "True, but if I had political ambitions, they wouldn't make so many cracks, either. Since I don't make political deals, but just push whatever way I think is right, they don't feel they have to be polite to me. Most of the others are, of course, if only because they know if I don't like them, Harry won't be inclined to either. It's just Umbridge and Trent because they both know that Harry's never going to like them anyway.

"Well, that was my exciting morning. Tell me what's the latest with the American Muggle situation."

"The Americans aren't getting nearly the public support they got after nine-eleven, to put it mildly," reported Dudley. "Colin and I talked to Muggles on the street last night, pretending to be reporters. Notice how hard we're working, getting information on our off hours," he added facetiously.

"Roger Trent appreciates your efforts, at least," said Arthur.

"I can tell. Anyway, a few were sympathetic, but the general feeling was that the Americans brought it on themselves. 'You go poking your nose in a hornet's nest, you're bound to get stung' was what one guy said. A few people said that this was exactly why Britain shouldn't have got involved in the war against Iraq, and they thought Barclay would be dead meat if he went along with America again. He's already in trouble as it is. It looks like America's used up its goodwill. I think the only people who approve of America right now are people like my father. Not because he likes America so much, but he's the 'they should hunt 'em down and kill 'em' type."

"European opinion is pretty much the same, judging from the morning papers," added Colin. "It's mostly speculation about what America might do next. Yesterday America demanded that Iran identify the guy, provide his friends and family for interviews, and generally get to the bottom of his story. Iran didn't respond at first; now this morning they're saying that he was obviously kidnapped and planted at the scene, the whole thing was a frame-up as an excuse for aggression against Iran, and that the Americans could basically go screw themselves. Excuse my language," he added to Luna.

She smiled innocently. "I'm twenty-one, Colin. You can use the other word if you want."

"Not in this office, if you wouldn't mind," suggested Arthur dryly. "Has there been any more word on how it was done?"

"Nothing official," said Colin. "But there's been tons of speculation, stuff on TV and internet with people trying to re-create it, with maps and arrows and stuff. They've decided there's no way it could have only been the one guy, because the glass was broken in six locations, and for that to happen he would have had to throw six sealed glass containers, one right after the other. After nine-eleven, Americans are pretty security-conscious. A guy wearing 'Death To America' in blood on his shirt, throwing glass containers... I think he'd have been seen and stopped. So, they're assuming there were at least a few others. But there's just no way to know, it's still too early. Apparently no one at the scene who survived saw anyone running the other way."

Arthur nodded. "Okay, thanks." Colin, Dudley, and Luna went back to the main office. "Coming to lunch with us today?" Colin asked Luna.

"No, thanks. I'm meeting my father, we're having lunch at the Diagon Deli. Maybe I can interest him in a story about wizards being responsible for what happened in America."

Colin gave her a wan smile. "Why not. At least then wizards would know what happened." Then again, maybe not, he thought as he turned back to his computer. If they read it in that magazine, they'd think it was just made-up.

* * * * *

The six men Apparated into the lounge to relax after two hours of hard work. "So, where they takin' this one?" asked one to no one in particular.

"Be slaughtered, I think," said another. "She's gettin' a little long in the tooth, they think this is her last batch of eggs. Too bad only one out of every four or five makes it."

"S'what happens when kids fight," joked a third. "Guess they want to get their money out of her before she gets too old. How much they get for one, all the bits?"

"Something ridiculous, I think it's near a million Galleons. They use every little bit for something or other."

"Every bit, you said?"

The first man chuckled. "Yeah, the Chinese like the weird bits. Use 'em for potions. Apparently people'll take anything if some of it came from--"

All six suddenly went unconscious under Lucius Malfoy's area-effect Stunning spell. Usually the area-effect spell wasn't used, because even powerful wizards couldn't do more than knock a group off balance with it. But Malfoy had already killed ten Muggles and eight wizards in the past four hours, and so was extremely strong at the moment.

Malfoy Enervated each one in turn, and Drake put each under the Imperius Curse. "Follow us out to the field," instructed Drake. "We have a job for you."

Drake led the way; the men followed, one by one, and Malfoy took up the rear. After a few yards, one of the men suddenly reached for his wand and tried to Disapparate; Malfoy stopped him cold with a Full-Body Bind.

Drake stepped up to the immobilized man. "Some people are resistant to the Imperius Curse," he conceded. "He did put down an anti-Disapparation field, as a precaution. You will assist us, or die."

Drake could tell from the man's eyes what his answer would be, but he freed him anyway to allow him to answer. "I will assist you."

"A wise choice," said Drake, with muted sarcasm. "If you make any further attempts to escape, you will get the Cruciatus Curse. Clear?"

"Very clear," the man agreed, fear in his eyes. The men proceeded out to where they had been a minute ago.

* * * * *

Molly walked out of the Apparation area of Harry's home and into the adjacent living room. "Ginny--oh, Harry's here. That's nice, Harry." She bent over to pet him gently.

"Yes, it's a nice change," said Ginny, with mild sarcasm.

Glaring at her daughter, Molly steered her into the kitchen, leaving James with Harry. "What's the matter with you?" demanded Molly. "You know how sensitive phoenixes are to negative feelings and attitudes. Do you want to drive him away?"

"He's only been here an hour or two every day," Ginny retorted. "I am his wife. I feel like he's forgetting that."

"We don't know what it's like to be a phoenix," responded her mother. "Maybe he gets bored. He can't talk, he can't read. He probably feels a natural impulse to do whatever it is phoenixes do."

"You mean, live in paradise while I'm here without my husband, and with a son who I'm afraid is going to grow a horn and claws--"

"Don't say that!" said Molly urgently, gripping Ginny's shoulders, then sighing. "I know this is very hard, Ginny. But he's your son. If you love him, he'll turn into the boy and the man you always thought he was going to be. Who he used to be doesn't have to matter. You have to have faith in that."

Ginny looked grim. "Albus said once that love was like faith. If you had it, you didn't need to explain it. Harry and I were newly in love with each other, and it made perfect sense to me. But with James... I'm afraid I've lost that faith. I want to love him, and I know a part of me does... but I can't find that faith that I love him with my heart and soul, like I used to. I feel like I lost it in that Healer's office, when he said, 'I'm hurting Mummy.' I remember so vividly what that was like, lying there in the Chamber, looking up at him, then him doing the Curse... I just couldn't believe that much pain, and that much evil... and to think that my son has that memory, somewhere inside him..." Ginny trailed off and started sobbing. Molly stepped forward and hugged her tightly.

"We can have memories of things we didn't do," said Molly quietly, running a hand over Ginny's head. "Or, memories of things we did, but weren't really responsible for."

Startled, Ginny broke the hug to look at Molly's eyes, which confirmed what Ginny thought. "He told you?"

Molly nodded. "I was a little surprised. I think he needed to talk about it, and he couldn't with Pansy. I think he needed to be told that he shouldn't feel guilty. And I told him that. Yes, I can't know exactly how responsible he was. He can't even really know that. But I think he deserves not to walk around feeling guilty for the rest of his life about something like that. If he asks you, I hope you'll tell him the same thing.

"But I think my point was a good one. It wasn't really him who did that. And James is much farther from Draco Malfoy than Ron is from the person that woman took to the hotel room." Molly looked deeply into Ginny's eyes, willing Ginny to believe her. "You'll find your faith. It's just a bad time right now, what with all that's happening. It'll come back to you, just in an instant. It'll be like it always was."

Ginny sniffled. "I hope you're right."

"I am right. You'll see. Now, let's go back in there, be with your son and your phoenix husband. I'll ask Dobby to put together some lunch."

Ginny sat next to James on the floor, and smiled; Harry was moving blocks around with his beak, first showing James a blue block, then a white block, clearly encouraging James to turn the block blue. "Blue!" said James, and the block not only turned blue, but a darker blue than it had when he'd done it the first time.

"Wow, that's really great!" Ginny said encouragingly. Harry flapped his wings, causing James to giggle.

Harry then moved a red block in front of James, then another white block. "Red!" shouted James; the block turned a respectable shade of red. Ginny complimented James again, then looked at Harry. "I thought you didn't care if he did this again," she said wryly. Of course, Harry didn't answer. Duh, she thought, I have to ask him yes or no questions.

Before she could, Molly walked in. "Dobby's working on lunch. You know, I've just had an idea. Ginny, you could go for a fly. You could be on your broom, and Harry could fly along with you. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Yes, it would," agreed Ginny. "How about that, Harry? We could be together, and you would have a chance to fly. What do you think?"

Expecting an affirmative answer, she was stunned when Harry slowly turned his head from side to side. Hurt and amazed, she managed, "No? Why not?" She looked at her mother, who looked equally surprised. "Harry, dear, is something wrong?" asked Molly.

He shook his head again. A few seconds later, Pansy Apparated in. Stepping into the living room, she said quickly, "I'm supposed to be at St. Mungo's, I can only take a few minutes. Molly, Ginny, can we Apparate over to the Burrow for just a minute? Harry can watch over James."

Ginny and Molly exchanged another very surprised look, and nodded their agreement. In a second, all three were in the living room of the Burrow. "What's going on?" asked Ginny urgently.

"He said that you wanted to fly with him, and leave James with Molly," said Pansy, seemingly trying to hide a sad expression and failing. "He can't. He's... bonding with James. He has to be around James as much as he can."

Ginny was flabbergasted. "He's bonding with a two-year-old?" she asked incredulously. "Why?"

"I know you're not going to like this answer, but--"

"Phoenix intuition," said Ginny abruptly, becoming upset. "He doesn't know."

"That's right. Red tells me that he didn't have to ask Harry, the phoenixes all know this. Red says that Harry wanted to bond with you, but... he just woke up this morning, and knew he had to do this. When phoenixes get intuition like that, they don't argue with it. It's as clear to them as that sofa is to you; ignoring their intuition would be like you deciding there's no sofa there, and walking through where it is. I'm sorry, Ginny... but there's a good reason. We, and he, will find out what it is at some point. I'm afraid I have to get back now." With a last, sad look at both of them. Pansy Disapparated.

Ginny hadn't consciously realized how important this had become to her. She stared off into space for a minute. Molly stepped forward to hug her again. Ginny burst into tears, sobbing into her mother's shoulder.

The thick, magically enhanced rope had been swung three times around the dragon's neck, and the metal bar--about the size of a cricket bat--attached, again, with magically enhanced adhesive. Other ropes were holding her down, which was a matter of course. She wasn't inclined to fly away anyway, though, as she had eggs to protect.

"The ropes that hold her down won't interfere with this, is that correct?" asked Drake of the one man who'd been unaffected by the Imperius Curse.

"That's right," said the man nervously. "If it doesn't work, it's not because of the ropes."

"Very well," acknowledged Drake. "You two, hold the ropes that move her head, and you two, the tail. Lucius?"

When the dragon was properly restrained, Malfoy advanced to within fifteen feet of it. Pointing his wand at the metal bar, he said, "Portus." The man watching looked doubtful; Drake understood it was because Portkeys were less effective when worn around the neck than when grasped, and a Portkey had to have a lot of energy in it to move something that big. Drake wasn't certain that a super-charged Malfoy could do it, but he thought it was likely.

There was now nothing left to do but try. Drake pointed his wand at the unaffected man. "You will grasp the bar," ordered Drake. "I suggest you run up to it to do so."

"You must be kidding," the man shot back.

"The others are restraining her head and tail," pointed out Drake reasonably. "She could break free and move them, but you have an excellent chance of succeeding. I would also point out that when we are finished here, all including you will be killed. If you go, you at least have a chance to get away once you have arrived at your destination. If you refuse, he will kill you, and one of the others will try."

The man closed his eyes and muttered a silent prayer. Coming from the angle he thought least likely to be seen by the dragon, he ran up to her neck. Even though her head was being held down by the others, he would still have to jump to reach the metal bar. He jumped just as she started to turn her head, pulling the two men holding her head back, but the man managed to get a firm grip on the Portkey. The man and the dragon vanished.

Drake didn't exult, but felt satisfied. Malfoy quickly dispatched the rest of the men with Killing Curses, then Disapparated. Drake did as well, back to America.

* * * * *

The dragon suddenly appeared in front of Flourish and Blotts, in Diagon Alley. Twenty feet tall at full extension, twenty-five feet long, the black dragon did nothing for a moment, perhaps surprised by her new environment. The man who'd grabbed the Portkey started to run into Flourish and Blotts to escape, then skidded to a halt and reconsidered, realizing that a bookstore was not the best place to be around an animal capable of breathing long jets of fire. He started to run down the street, but only got a few steps before the dragon whipped her tail around, low to the ground. His legs were crushed by the dragon's heavy and sharp tail, and he screamed in pain and terror. The dragon roared and let out a jet of flame in the direction of Flourish and Blotts, which promptly ignited, burning furiously after only a few seconds. The dragon then turned her attention to the man on the ground. She reached down and picked him up with razor-sharp teeth, wounding but still not killing him. Just before she shoved him further back into her mouth to be crushed by her jaws, his last terrified thought was that he should have stayed behind and let them kill him.

Lucius Malfoy Apparated into Diagon Alley about fifty feet from where he knew the dragon would appear, and started blanketing the area with anti-Disapparation fields. Even spread over such a wide area, his current power was such that he was sure no one would be able to Apparate in or out. The only exception was the spot on which he was standing; he then Disapparated away.

The dragon shot another tongue of flame down the street; it hit no one, as people were already screaming and running. The dragon broke into a slow trot, following the largest crowd and roaring again as they raced for the wall which led to Muggle London. A few dozen panicked people were huddled against the wall while a man tried to move the bricks in the proper way, but was frequently jostled as he tried, disrupting his concentration. The dragon quickly closed on them, and spat out another burst of fire. Even at a distance of twenty feet, almost all of the people were torched; most died instantly. A few ran away, on fire and screaming; the dragon picked up another victim and consumed him.

* * * * *

At the Ministry, Luna threw Floo powder into the fireplace and said "Diagon Alley," but when she stepped in, nothing happened. She tried a few more times, with the same result. She was surprised; it occasionally happened that more than one person tried to access the same fireplace at the same time, but normally the Floo system queued them, and the person never noticed that anything was wrong. This only happened when there was heavy use on the other end.

She didn't like to use the Knockturn Alley fireplace, but she didn't want to be too late, so she did. "Knockturn Alley!" she said, and stepped through. The first thing she saw, to her shock, was a crowd of people, maybe fifteen, rushing toward her and knocking her head against the back of the fireplace. She was jostled aside until she was out of the crowd, but there was so much shoving and hectic activity near the fireplace that no one could use it. More people entered the shop and ran to the fireplace.

"What's going on?" she shouted.

"Dragon!" a few people shouted. Luna's first thought was that it was extremely unlikely--'Dragon Roams Diagon Alley' sounded like a headline for an article in her father's magazine--but she could see that these people were genuinely panicked, in fear for their lives. Oh, no, she thought with dread. Daddy... She raced out of the shop and into the street.

* * * * *

"A what?" demanded Kingsley.

"A dragon, a black one," Terry Boot repeated. "A dozen stores are on fire, people are panicking, some dead. I have no idea how it got here, but it's on a rampage. No one can Disapparate; I assume a powerful field must be up."

"Malfoy," muttered Kingsley. "What about the fireplaces?"

"Crowds around the main one, but no one can use them because it's a mob. I assume it's the same for the Knockturn Alley one."

"Establish control over the fireplaces, Stun people if you have to," ordered Kingsley. "If we get them clear, help people leave one by one. I'll get help to you as soon as I can."

"Got it," said Terry. Susan Bones ran up to him. "We have to clear the fireplaces. Tonks and I'll do Knockturn Alley."

"Steve and I'll work on the main one," she agreed. They took off running in different directions, dodging people running for their lives.

The dragon took flight, though she didn't go high into the air; seldom did she have so much to feast on in such a small space. She flew halfway across the mini-city and landed on top of a restaurant, crushing it and the twenty-odd people in it. She headed for Knockturn Alley, letting loose several bursts of flame before taking flight again, looking for a more open area. She saw a few dozen people running in one direction, and flew to catch up.

Luna turned a corner and saw that the Diagon Deli was a blazing inferno. "No," she cried. He got out, she thought, there had to be warning. She heard a roar in the distance, and ran towards it. Her mind flashed back to the dream. She had to do whatever it took to save him.

He could be anywhere, but the first place to look was the Diagon Alley fireplace, since he might be trying to escape, or looking for her there. The roaring was coming from the same general area, she knew. As she ran, she also realized that the area was a deathtrap in this particular situation: the fireplace was a dead end to a smaller alley perhaps ten feet wide, but forty feet long. People would never go into a narrow cul-de-sac while trying to run away, unless it offered the only chance of escape. But she knew the situation at that fireplace was bound to be even worse than the one at Knockturn Alley.

She saw the dragon land at the entrance to the cul-de-sac, causing the people running to the fireplace to reverse direction as quickly as they could. Another burst of flame killed a dozen; the dragon grabbed in her jaws a woman who was on fire and still writhing, and quickly wolfed her down. Luna felt sickened and terrified, but no less determined.

The dragon turned and advanced toward the fireplace, and the crowd of more than fifty people at the end. Trying to be careful not to get in the way of the dragon's tail, Luna ran up behind it to look down the alley to the fireplace. The dragon whisked her tail around in front of her, instantly killing the dozen people closest to her. Luna got enough of a look to see that one of them was Susan Bones, obviously trying to establish order near the fireplace. Then she saw her father, pushed against one of the sides of the alley, trapped but not near the fireplace. He had no chance of escaping.

The dragon reared her head back, and another jet of flame started to leave her mouth--the one that would incinerate everyone near the fireplace, including Luna's father.

Her mother was already gone; she couldn't let her father die. In that instant, in the pressure of the moment, she felt her connection to the spiritual realm more strongly than ever; it was a resource for which she unconsciously reached. It told her what her dream had meant; only now was she willing to listen. Part of her had known before, but she had denied it because of the pain she had seen Harry go through. This was the last thing she wanted; because of it, Harry had had to endure the agony of letting people die that he could have saved, and the First avoided living among humans entirely so he wouldn't have to make such choices. Luna didn't want the burden, but she would bear it; she would bear anything rather than watch her father die.

The dragon and its jet of flame were suddenly gone.

There was silence, except for the sound of the fires, and a few people in the distance screaming from their burns. Luna was suddenly aware of two things: the disappearance of the dragon had to be explained, and she absolutely did not want anyone to know what she could do. Harry had nearly had to shut himself off from society because of his abilities: his home was hidden, and he usually activated a magical disguise before going out in public. She didn't want that either.

Knowing she could do anything Harry could do, she did the one thing that would give her time to think: she stopped time for everywhere but where she stood. She took a few minutes to come up with something that would explain what had happened, then altered the memory of all the witnesses except her father so they would remember what she wanted them to remember. She then caused the dragon to reappear in its natural habitat--she knew roughly where that was, by the type of dragon--and reluctantly sent the body of Susan Bones there as well. Finally, she started time again.

The crowd gaped at what they thought they had seen, and slowly started to make their way back to Diagon Alley; a few, including an Auror, bent over the bodies of those hit by the dragon's tail to make sure they were dead.

Luna walked to her father and hugged him tightly, as a few tears came to her eyes. You're going to live to a ripe old age, she thought. I promise you that.

* * * * *

After checking the bodies, Steve Janus tapped his pendant. "Kingsley, Steve. The dragon's gone."

"Gone?" repeated Kingsley, again stunned. "How?"

"Susan did it," said Janus, emotion starting to catch up with him. "She and I were trying to clear the fireplace when it cornered us. It was wearing a metal bar around its neck; Susan must have realized it was a Portkey. She ran up to it and jumped, and grabbed the Portkey. She and the dragon disappeared. I hope she's still alive, but..."

"We'll get her location, and send a team out to make sure," said Kingsley, though he knew it was probably futile. "Clear all fireplaces for St. Mungo's personnel to use. Is the anti-Disapparation field still going?"

"Yes, but a few Healers are here already. Pansy and a few others came, Red took them. More are arriving."

"Okay, good. They still might want to use the fireplaces to get out, though. Also, go and make sure the gateway to Muggle London is open. The anti-Disapparation field probably doesn't extend past that. The Healers can levitate people that far, and then Disapparate. I'll send Obliviators to the other side just in case any Muggles see them."

"Understood," said Janus. Kingsley sent Aurors to the location of Susan's pendant, then called Arthur to ask him to supervise the Obliviators and steer Muggles away from the area. It had been a busy morning--eight people had been killed, including four important ones--and it would be a busy afternoon. Kingsley wondered how the people at the Magical Research Institute were doing on finding a way to get Harry back to human form.

* * * * *

An hour after the dragon first appeared in Diagon Alley, Hermione told the other teachers what had happened, but decided not to tell the students yet; no doubt some of them had parents or relatives who were killed, and she didn't want the students to spend their afternoons wondering whether or not their loved ones were still alive. The students would be told when a list of names was ready; the ones who had lost someone would be told individually before the whole school was told, and would be excused from Hogwarts for the weekend, or however long their guardians saw fit.

Pansy was getting more practice dealing with burns than she ever wanted to have; fortunately, the energy of love worked well in combination with spells and magical lotions, and all the patients she was helping treat were responding well. She was extremely busy, as was everyone at St. Mungo's. Ten people were touch-and-go, and she wished Harry were around as a human to use the Imperius Charm. Then again, she thought, he could have stopped this in the first place.

Ron and Neville were patrolling Hogsmeade, passing by an impromptu speech being given to a small crowd by Roger Trent on what he thought should be done about the crisis. "Bastard," muttered Ron to Neville as they passed, pretending not to listen. "He can't even wait for the bodies to go cold before he's trying to make hay out of it." Neville grunted in agreement.

Kingsley was getting the casualty tally from Healer Haspberg at St. Mungo's. One hundred twelve had died; a few more still might.

Harry knew what had happened, but refused to move from James' side.

Arthur Apparated home briefly after overseeing the Obliviation of the few Muggles who saw Diagon Alley open, and told Molly and Ginny what had happened.

Molly was extremely sad, and thanked whatever powers there were that Fred and George were in America, negotiating to open a branch of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes in the Sixth Borough, or the wizarding section of San Francisco.

Ginny, still upset, nevertheless reflected that there were worse things than not being bonded to one's phoenix/husband.

Hugo, upon being told what had happened and left alone, focused on love; it was the only way he could avoid thinking about his responsibility and his conscience. He did his best to discipline his mind, focus only on that.

Drake, satisfied with the result, went to check Rogers, then prepared for the next day's events. There was still much to do.

Brenda, the collie, had no idea what had happened in Diagon Alley. She continued to loiter around the outskirts of the Burrow and Harry's home.

* * * * *

Luna sat at the kitchen table of their small house, finishing the story for her father. "So, that's what happened," she finished. With a self-deprecating smile, she added, "You're now sitting with the most powerful witch in the world."

He smiled and gripped her hand. "All I care about is that you're the nicest, sweetest witch in the world. And you are."

She smiled broadly, touched by his words. "Thanks, Daddy. I know that's more important anyway. And I'm sorry about not telling anyone. I'm sure you'd love to write about this for the Quibbler."

He chuckled and shook his head. "One thing I never wanted to do was write about my family. So, you're going to tell absolutely no one else?"

"I will tell Harry," she amended. "I'm sure it'll be helpful to talk to him about it, once he gets back to human form. And of course I'll tell my future husband, whoever that might be. But for now, only you and Harry will know."

"Does this mean you can be a phoenix?" he asked, impressed.

"Probably," she agreed. "I don't want to do it just yet, though. I want to get used to this first. It feels strange to suddenly know that I can do almost anything I want."

"Maybe you shouldn't be a phoenix yet," he suggested, suddenly a little worried. "Look what happened to Harry, he can't get back. I don't want that to happen to you, too."

She shook her head. "That wouldn't happen. Look at what happened: Harry got trapped as a phoenix, and the very next day, all this violence starts. It had to be planned. Whoever it was knew Harry could stop them, so they got him out of the way first. That isn't going to happen to me, because they won't know about me."

"You said Harry could stop them," her father pointed out. "That means you could stop them too."

She answered immediately. "No, I'm not going to do that. They will get this guy, these people, on their own. Yes, they could catch them faster with my help. I could save lives. But, Daddy, I could save lives all over the world right now. I know all about this. I've talked to Harry about it, and I've talked to the First about it. I even thought at that time, if I were Harry, I'd only use it to save my immediate family, and that's all. I wouldn't have saved those people in America like he did. I'm not going to go through what he went through. It's not that I don't care; I care a lot. But I can't go around saving everyone, and I don't want to keep having to make the decision, like Harry does. So, this is my decision. I know it sounds... cold, maybe, but..."

He patted her hand. "You're far from cold, sweetie, I know that. You've had more of a chance to think about this than I have. I wouldn't judge your decision. I understand the spiritual aspects of it, you've explained that to me." He paused. "So, are you going to use if for little conveniences, like Harry does?"

"Probably," she said. "Of course, I have to be careful what I do where anyone can see me. I can't teleport like Harry does if there are people around. But I can think of a few things, and at some point I'll ask Harry what he does. I'm sure that by now he's come up with a lot of things."

"Are you going to keep doing what you've been doing? Working on that article for the Prophet, spending time at the Ministry?"

She nodded. "For now at least, I want to just do the same things I was doing before. I actually think the article is a good thing, not just an exercise to test me like the Prophet has in mind. It would be nice if more people understood what was going on in the Muggle world. A lot of wizards just pretend it doesn't exist, and it seems to me that's a bad idea. So I'm happy to do it."

"That's good, sweetie. I'm glad you're happy with what you're doing. And if you finish, and they don't want to publish what you write..."

She smiled again. "I think I know someone who would."

* * * * *

Ginny lay on a bed in one of the Burrow bedrooms, the one Ron and Pansy weren't living in. She'd told her mother she needed to lie down, but what she really needed was time alone to work out her feelings. She didn't want to go back home until she felt better, or at least, wasn't such an obvious mental wreck.

She was fighting against her feelings, and she was sick of it. It seemed like she'd been doing it for weeks, since they'd found out about James; she wanted to be as sanguine as Harry about it, but she couldn't. When Harry had become a phoenix, she'd wanted to be happy for him, but soon resented the time it took him away from her. When he'd become trapped as a phoenix, she at first fought the feeling that he really could come back but was just choosing not to, then later, the idea that he preferred being a phoenix and wasn't unhappy with the change. Now, she fought the feeling that Harry had chosen to bond with James rather than her out of some sort of preference. She knew it wasn't true; Pansy had said as much. She told Ginny that Harry wanted to bond with her. It was as if she just couldn't accept it.

What's worse, she thought, is that here I am worrying about not being sure that I can love James the way I did, and Harry's so confident in how he feels about James that he's bonding with him. It just emphasizes how bad I feel about how I feel. Harry wouldn't be bonding with him if he was going to turn out to be Draco Malfoy. Wait, could it be to prevent that? That's an interesting thought. Maybe the phoenix-intuition reason that Harry doesn't know is that Malfoy's personality might have gotten stronger, or there might have been some influence, but once Harry's bonded with him it'll be easier to get rid of that. If that's the case, then I would be all right with that. I just wish I knew.

She wanted to talk to Neville; he had a way of making her feel better. She hadn't since the recent crisis began, because he'd been so busy. She didn't want to take his time with Hermione from them, but she decided she would ask. Talking with her mother wasn't quite the same.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Molly came in without waiting for an answer. "Ginny, dear," she said sadly, "Kingsley just gave me a call, because he knows you're friends... they finally have a list of... from today, from Diagon Alley. Sheila Redmond was one of the ones killed. I'm really sorry."

Ginny winced. She hadn't seen Sheila for a few weeks, since the problem with James had started. She hadn't wanted to tell anyone else, and didn't want to be downbeat around friends without being able to explain why. Sheila had been the only new friend she'd made for a long time, and now she was gone. Just another thing to think about, thought Ginny bitterly.

* * * * *

Helen gave Hedrick a hug, and watched him head off to his dormitory. She looked at her map; the eight other Slytherin seventh years were in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Her and Hedrick's estrangement from them, the reasons for which still escaped her, had continued for three days. She wondered how long it would continue, when they would come to their senses. In a way she didn't want to see them, but she decided she would go anyway; they would want to know. Surely they wouldn't be so far gone that they didn't care.

She entered the classroom without knocking; she heard conversation abruptly cease, and a few hands quickly went into pockets, as if they were hiding something. She thought to ask about it, but realized they would only harass her for asking.

"What do you want?" asked Edward. His tone wasn't hostile, but closer to hostile than friendly.

She suppressed her annoyance. "I wanted to tell you that Hedrick's aunt and uncle died in today's attack," she said sadly. "Robert and Alison, you know, he's talked about them. He was really close to them. He's getting ready to leave now. I just thought you should know."

No one said anything for a moment, and Helen was chilled to see their faces. Their silence, she saw, wasn't because they didn't know what to say; it was because they didn't care. "I can't believe it's come to this," she said quietly, with great sadness. "I think I could come in here and tell you Hedrick died, and you wouldn't care. Look, just one last time... oh, never mind," she said in frustration. "Maybe one day one of you will tell Hedrick and I what we did to deserve this treatment. Then again, by then, we probably won't care." Holding back tears, she quickly left the room.

"I can't believe she comes in here trying to pull a guilt trip on us," said Derek. "I mean, first the two of them pull away from us, like we're not good enough for them, and now she wants us to be all sorry for Hedrick? I mean, I didn't say anything because I didn't want to be mean, but she should've known better. If they wanted to be on their own, they shouldn't come crying to us when something bad happens."

A few others nodded, and took out their artifacts; all were now glowing. "We should've got the map from her before, she almost took us by surprise," said Augustina. "If she sees these, she'll go running to Granger before we can find the ninth one."

"I just hope whoever got it hasn't graduated," added Sylvia. "We really need it."

"Like I said, just keep looking for one of the sixth or seventh year students who looks like they aren't getting along with their friends," said Derek. "One effect of these seems to be that the people you thought were your friends suddenly start treating you differently. Probably whoever it is, the same thing's happening to them. Keep your eyes open."

"What if they turned theirs in when it started glowing?" asked Matthew.

"They wouldn't," said Derek confidently. "Whoever it is knows these have a greater purpose. We all know it, we can feel it. When all nine of these get together, they're going to do something. We may not know what it is, but it's going to be great."

* * * * *

One of Harry's contributions to the Burrow soon after he acquired his unusual magical abilities had been to magically expand the apparent space of Ron and Pansy's bedroom greatly, increasing it by a factor of four. Now they had not only a bed, but also a nice living room set, including a coffee table; it was like having their own studio apartment at the Burrow. It enabled them to sit around in comfort and still have privacy.

They had finished dinner a half-hour ago. Ron was reading a magazine, but only half-reading it; Pansy could tell his mind was somewhere else. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

She knows I don't like to be asked that question, but she asks it anyway, thought Ron. "Nothing. Just stuff that happened. About Susan." In fact he had been thinking about the woman at the bar, continuing his private struggle to determine his level of responsibility for what had happened, but he couldn't very well tell her that.

"That was so brave of her," said Pansy solemnly. "It must be really hard to run toward a dragon like that."

"She must have been hoping she could Disapparate once she got it away, but dragons are pretty quick," said Ron. "But yeah, she was really brave. I've heard more than a few Aurors say something like, that isn't a bad way to go."

"I can understand that," she said. "Just don't you go anywhere."

"I'll do my best," he said. He knew that he would've done the same thing--he'd risked his life enough times to be almost sure of it--but he always assured her that no harm would come to him. It was hard to be married to--or in their case, engaged to--an Auror, he knew, especially at a time like this. Pansy was bound to worry. Ron guessed that she knew that he knew perfectly well that his reassurances meant little in reality, that something could happen to him anytime, but she still valued them anyway. "They haven't tried to attack anyone with a Killing Curse shield, which is a good sign. Dawlish could never quite learn the energy of love, and Moody never tried. Neither of them was very well suited to it."

"You thought you weren't at one point, too," she teased him.

"Maybe I was just young enough to change. Anyway, I'm always with Neville, so I think we'll be okay. I did mention we have another shift tonight, right? We're working until midnight." The Aurors who could use the Killing Curse shield were working more hours than those who didn't, doing more patrolling, but they hadn't had the opportunity to rescue anyone yet. "I know you are too, right now you're stretched even thinner than we are."

"We're at one and a half capacity," she agreed. "Yes, I'm going back, about when you are, but I may be past midnight, half the night for all I know. We just don't have enough people, even with everyone working."

"I just..." Ron stopped, just in case what he was about to say touched on what he wasn't supposed to say, then continued as he determined that it was all right. "I hope they didn't get anything that useful from me." He felt guilty about more than one thing, and this was one he could discuss with her.

She moved over next to him and put an arm around his shoulder. "You can't blame yourself for that," she said gently. "It could happen to me, it could happen to anyone."

He shook his head. "They even tell you in Auror training, don't drink alone," he said ruefully, vocalizing what he'd said in his head a dozen times in the past day. "I was just careless, I thought it was safe because it was a Muggle bar. I never imagined that anyone would follow me."

"There was no reason to think it," agreed Pansy. "I mean, these people are clever. It has to be more than Malfoy, somehow I don't think he's quite that clever. They were able to get to Harry somehow, past all the defenses he has."

"Wonder where they could have got information like that," said Ron glumly.

"Please don't blame yourself," she repeated. "It could have happened to anyone. You know I'm right."

He nodded, not wanting to debate it with her. He wondered whether the other part could have happened to anyone as well. Somehow, he didn't think so.

* * * * *

A few hours later, as she was putting her son to bed, Ginny felt utterly useless. Her closest friends were very busy. Hermione, her duties nearly overwhelming her and under political pressure, had to tell some students that they had lost family members. Ron and Neville were out late protecting people, in danger every minute. Pansy was working hard at St. Mungo's. Even Harry had a purpose, though no one knew the reason. But there was simply nothing important for her to do. She could be practicing Quidditch--there was still an important match in two days--but she couldn't bring herself to do it, and now with Sheila dead, the match was as good as lost. While the match was important by Quidditch standards, it was no longer important to her.

She'd already cried herself out over his choosing not to bond with her--she knew she shouldn't use the word 'choose', since to him, he had no choice, but it was how she felt anyway. The loss was great because bonding was permanent; this had been a chance that would never come again. She'd been angry with Harry, but now realized that it was selfish of her to be angry. Harry was doing what he thought was right. She'd wanted him to bond with her, but now she would settle for his being a human again. Pansy said he wanted to be human again; at least that was something. She had feared at times that he would decide he liked being a phoenix better, and stay as one whether a way back could be found or not.

She walked over next to Harry, who was perched on the edge of James's crib. She leaned over and gently put her arms around Harry, as gently as she could, and spoke. "I don't know if you can even hear me. I don't know how much concentration is necessary. I'm having a bad time, you probably know. I probably will again tomorrow. But right now, I want you to know I love you." She kissed the side of his head.

His eyes still on the crib, he leaned his head over and rubbed it against her head gently. She smiled, petted him for a few seconds, and went to bed.

* * * * *

It was well known to wizarding governments worldwide that the wizarding government of North Korea was run by Dark wizards. They put a polite face on it at international wizarding conventions, and pretended that they were just ordinary wizards. Most wizards in other countries didn't even know, because they didn't pay attention to such things, and the North Korean wizards didn't do anything to draw attention to themselves.

It was unusual enough that the wizards divided themselves along the lines set by their Muggle counterparts in 1953. Normally, wizard governments were set up along ethnic lines, which sometimes overlapped with the boundaries of the Muggle countries, and sometimes didn't. The Vietnam War never affected the Vietnamese wizarding government, which encompassed the whole country even while it was split politically by Muggles. The wizarding borders of Africa and the Middle East looked rather different than the borders for their Muggle counterparts, whose maps were drawn by Europeans, often based on political considerations. But in Korea in the early fifties, some Korean Dark wizards attempted to take over the government in Seoul--by political maneuvering, with only surgical violence involved--and failed. They retreated to the northern part of the country, and decided to set up their own government, taking for convenience's sake the borders used by the Muggles. The North Korean wizards became almost as reclusive as their Muggle counterparts, allowing no one into the country. The wizarding government in Pyongyang kept very close track of all magic performed in the country, especially Apparation. High-ranking government officials and other politically important wizards excluded, one could not Apparate in North Korea without official permission for every Apparation.

What was suspected by other governments, but not known and not provable, was that the North Korean wizards controlled the Pyongyang Muggle government. They publicly denied any involvement, of course. Drake, however, knew that it was true, having found out through Malfoy. Apparently Voldemort had tried to recruit the North Korean wizards to his cause, both in the early eighties and the mid-nineties; both times, they rebuffed him. Drake could easily understand why; they already had power, even if over a limited area. Voldemort offered them more, but only under his supervision. Part of the appeal of power, Drake understood, was not having to answer to anyone.

It was evening in America, but morning in the suburbs, such as they were, of Pyongyang. Malfoy Apparated in front of an old house, but then again, almost everything looked old and worn-out in North Korea. Malfoy could have made sure his entry went unnoticed by using Drake's artifact, but the point was for him to attract attention. By chance, he Apparated in front of a middle-aged woman, about three meters away; he raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra!" he said, and the woman crumpled to the ground. Drake had felt that Malfoy might as well make a strong impression.

Within five seconds, ten wizards Apparated in, most about five meters away. Malfoy quickly cast the translation spell. "Identify yourself!" shouted the leader, a middle-aged wizard with a graying beard.

"I am Lucius Malfoy," he said calmly. "And you are Kim Tae Sok, I believe?"

"Yes, I am," the man said. "I remember you, but you are in violation of the law; you do not have permission to be here. I will take you into custody."

"I think not," replied Malfoy levelly, casting an area-effect Stunning spell. The wizards had cast their Protection shields, but all still received a jolt. Malfoy knew he wouldn't hurt them that way, but the point was to let them know how powerful he was. From the impressed look on Kim's face, Malfoy understood that the message had been received.

"Why are you here?" demanded Kim.

"I am here to deliver a message from my master. I should say, my new master, not the one you knew."

"How nice that you found a new master," said Kim with muted sarcasm. "And what is your new master's name?"

"His name is irrelevant," replied Malfoy. "You do not know him. He is responsible for the recent strife in America, Muggle America, and England, including the immobilization of Potter. He has considerable resources and abilities."

"I am duly impressed," responded Kim dryly. "Please continue."

"It is irrelevant to my master whether or not you are impressed. His message is that due to his manipulations of the American Muggle government, there will soon be an opportunity for your puppet Muggle government to invade South Korea without fear of American retaliation."

Kim's eyebrows rose high. "I do not believe that he can promise such a thing, unless you have a means of eliminating American nuclear capability all over the world."

"He can paralyze their political leadership without leaving indications that it was accomplished by magic."

"Why should I believe this man who will not show his face?"

"You can believe him or not. He says to tell you that you will recognize the opportunity when it presents itself."

"And why should your master benevolently offer us this opportunity?

"It serves his interests for you to conquer South Korea. More than that I will not say. It is no great loss to him if you fail to take the opportunity. He simply wishes for you to know that it will be there. He will do what he will do in any case; he neither offers nor asks anything."

Kim slowly nodded. "Understood. Is there anything else?"

"No. I will come here if he wishes to contact you again." Kim opened his mouth to reply, but Malfoy had already Disapparated away.

Back at Drake's hideaway, Malfoy reported in; Drake viewed the conversation, then dismissed Malfoy. Malfoy would be idle tomorrow, but with luck, would have one very important assignment on Saturday. It all depended on Brenda. The time to punish those most responsible for his loss was drawing near.

Drake considered Malfoy's encounter with Kim. The senior internal security officer had responded as Drake had expected; he was only one of those who participated in decision-making. He'd had Malfoy speak a few small lies. It was the case that there might be a chance for North Korea to attack without nuclear retaliation. It was unimportant, because North Korea's massive standing army, even with lesser equipment, would defeat South Korea's, especially with the element of surprise. Even if America could respond with nuclear weapons, the North Korean wizards would not be harmed--they could easily track the missiles, and Apparate to safe locations if necessary. They could also put up magical shields around wizarding areas to protect from radiation, and of course they would not care how many of the Muggle population died. They were already killing their Muggle population by hunger, slowly and cruelly.

The thought caused Drake to reflect on the Muggle concept of sovereignty. It was one of the fundamental 'rules' of international relations: we won't interfere in your country if you don't interfere in ours. It was in each country's interest to play by these rules... unless you were the most powerful country, in which case you had nothing to fear. In general, though, sovereignty was considered so fundamental that it even trumped genocide or mass murder. North Korea was killing thousands, sometimes tens of thousands, of its own people each year, but despite much hand-wringing at the United Nations, nothing was done. Sovereignty meant that you could kill your own country's people; you simply could not kill another country's people. Recently, Europe had tried to avert its eyes while Serbia killed and raped thousands of Kosovars for being Kosovars, until America finally intervened. Kosovo had been an exception to the rule, but Americans now seemed used to the idea that they could violate others' sovereignty if they had what they considered a good enough reason. If you had the power, you made your own rules.

Bright had the power in wizarding England, and four and a half years ago, he had made the rules. He had helped change the law to allow executions, and Drake's father and brother were executed because Bright didn't take sufficient care, nor did their society. Bright's society had been under great pressure, but that didn't excuse carelessness. Drake intended to find out exactly how careful British wizarding society and American Muggle society would be. He intended to make it a fair game: if a society restrained its extreme impulses and displayed care and moderation, it would not be further punished. There would be no point to the game if there were only one possible outcome. But if a society followed its impulses, acted as Bright's England had almost five years ago, it would both suffer and cause innocents to suffer. Maybe they would learn; maybe they wouldn't. But, thought Drake, people and societies would be exposed for what they were--good or bad. That was perfectly fair and just.

* * * * *

One more item of business remained before Drake would go to bed. It would take some time, but he didn't have to get up particularly early the next morning.

This was another of the things he had been planning for a long time. Right now, it would be very difficult to get to the Minister of Magic; his home and offices would be well guarded. However, in times when they had been less well guarded, it hadn't been overly difficult to enter Bright's house and set up a Portkey. So, it was not overly difficult now for Malfoy to take the Portkey there, wake Bright, cast the Full-Body Bind on his wife, and take him back.

Hugo was very unhappy to have to witness this; Drake had told him he would be allowed to leave soon after it began, but Drake wanted to be able to view it through Hugo's senses after it was done.

Drake Enervated Bright, who slowly looked up from his chair; Hugo imagined that it was the same position he'd been in when he'd arrived. "Minister," said Drake evenly; Hugo sensed a satisfaction from Drake that wasn't usually there.

"Who..." Bright slowly gathered his wits. "Brantell? What's going on?"

"He is here no more willingly than you," said Drake. "I have taken him into my service because of his highly useful abilities. My name is Leonard Drake. Perhaps the name will ring a bell. The surname, anyway."

Bright looked puzzled, then realization dawned. "Francis and Robert."

Drake raised his eyebrows. "How good of you to at least remember their names."

"I don't put men to death lightly."

"No, but you do not take care to make sure the correct ones are put to death," countered Drake. "First, I will see whether you genuinely thought they were guilty or not."

Drake cast Legilimens, but put down his wand after a few seconds. "I see that you are a fairly accomplished Occlumens. Of course, the problem with Occlumency..." Drake whispered the word "Crucio," and Bright convulsed and screamed loudly, falling to the floor; Hugo winced as he all too vividly remembered it being done to himself.

Drake stopped after five seconds, clearly feeling it was enough to make his point. "The problem with Occlumency is that it does nothing to prevent that. I trust I will encounter no further resistance." He cast Legilimens as Bright whimpered and gasped. Bright looked up at Hugo; Hugo looked down, unable to meet Bright's eyes.

After a minute, Drake lowered his wand. "I see that you accepted the word of Mr. Stapleton that all those killed were sufficiently culpable to deserve death. I will be seeing him soon; I suspect that he lied to you, for your own political benefit. At the time, it would have been difficult for you to explain to the population that a few of the attackers did not deserve to die, so he decided to spare you the decision. Quite noble of him, if misguided.

"This decreases your culpability, but does not eliminate it. Those in authority are responsible for the mistakes of their subordinates, and as you well know, you committed an act of cowardice by not checking everyone personally. It was your responsibility to do so; what follows is your punishment for not having done so." Drake paused, enjoying Bright's fearful expression. "Minister, are you acquainted with Frank and Alice Longbottom?"

Bright's eyes went wide as he understood Drake's meaning. "No," he gasped. "Please, no..." He looked at Hugo in desperation, as if Hugo could do something.

Hugo was finally able to meet Bright's pleading eyes. "Minister... believe me when I say that I would trade places with you if I could."

Drake nodded. "Indeed, he would. You are not useful enough, Minister, for me to do with you what I am doing with him. I suspect that most people, given the choice of having their spirit broken or being tortured into insanity, would choose the former. Brantell knows better.

"As I have told him, generally speaking, I am not a sadist. Torture is an instrument, not a form of enjoyment. I usually have Mr. Malfoy do it, as he does enjoy it. But for one with whom my grudge is personal..."

Knowing that it was useless, Bright nevertheless lunged for Drake. "Crucio," said Drake, and Bright again collapsed, screaming. This time, Drake did not stop the spell.

Following Drake's instructions, Hugo remained for a minute, using his senses to record Bright's mental agony. Then he turned and left, returning to his quarters. He closed his eyes and tried very hard to focus on love, on compassion for Bright, what he was going through. It was the only thing he could think of to do.

* * * * *

Even though it wasn't in the morning's Prophet, news of what had happened to Bright spread with lightning speed throughout the wizarding world, especially at the Ministry. Madeline Bright had identified Lucius Malfoy as the man who had somehow gotten into their home and taken her husband, only to return him two hours later. Or, rather, to return the shell he had become.

The undersecretaries met early in the morning to discuss the question of the now-open position of Minister. In such a situation, as had been the case when Cornelius Fudge was assassinated five years ago, a new Minister was to be chosen from among the undersecretaries. The process had been known to take weeks; Dolores Umbridge gave a speech in which she urged that, given the need to stabilize wizarding society at such a precarious time, the undersecretaries unanimously approve Roger Trent as the new Minister. A vote was taken; the vote was eight to three in favor, but unanimity was required to circumvent normal procedure.

The floor was then opened for nominations for the position. Umbridge immediately nominated Trent. Arthur then nominated Amelia Bones, to her surprise. There were no other nominations, and a preliminary, non-binding vote was taken. The result was the same: Roger Trent received eight votes, Amelia Bones received three. They took a break, and Bones pulled Arthur aside into a small meeting room.

"Arthur! What are you doing?"

"I don't want there to be only one candidate," he replied.

"Well, neither do I. But I have no chance, you know that. Is this because of what happened to Susan?"

"Of course not!" he responded, dismayed. "I wouldn't exploit her death like that. I did it because if I could choose one of the undersecretaries to be Minister, it would be you."

"Thank you, Arthur," she said with a sad smile. "But we both know that Roger Trent is going to be the next Minister. All that remains is making the best deal we can, arranging the price for our support."

"You know I don't make those kinds of deals," said Arthur quietly. "I'm not going to start now. I'll vote my conscience."

"He'll take it out on your department," she pointed out. "He'll cut your budget and make you fire Dudley, maybe even try to get Colin reassigned. You know he has contempt for what they do."

"That would happen anyway," he responded. "The whole point of my being here, Amelia, is that I'll do what I think is right. If it means I spend the next ten years until I retire speaking out against what he does, then that's what I'll do. He can't reassign me, he can't remove me as an Undersecretary. If I start making deals to support someone I don't support, then I might as well not even be here. All I can do is point out to him that he should leave me alone if he doesn't want Harry for an enemy. I don't know if he'll care."

"Without intending any offense, I'd suggest you pay Archibald a visit and discuss your options."

He smiled a little. "No offense taken. I didn't earn this position on merit, so I'm not ashamed to get a little help."

She nodded, and they headed for the door. She stopped and looked at him. "Arthur... you may not have earned the position, but you deserve it. If anything, you're too good for it."

He smiled. "Thank you."

* * * * *

Harry felt himself drifting off as he watched James play with Dobby. In a flash, Fawkes was standing next to him. You must sleep, sent Fawkes. Even phoenixes have to sleep sometimes, and bonding is mentally stressful.

Yes, it is, Harry sent back. You know, I never really thanked you for bonding with me when you did. It saved my life.

You did thank me; you did it with your feelings. Come with me to the gathering place, you can rest there.

Harry reluctantly agreed. He focused on sending to James the impression that he would be back later; he didn't know whether or how well James would understand. He then reluctantly took flight and teleported away.