Phoenix Intuition

Chapter Eight

"Gather 'round, youngsters," said Arthur humorously as he closed the office door. "Lunch is on me today. I've called in to the express delivery service."

"Wow," said Colin as he, Dudley, and Luna took their seats. "What's the occasion? Did something good happen?"

"No, something bad," responded Arthur. "But we should splurge once in a while anyway. Roger Trent is going to be the next Minister."

"That's not exactly a secret, Arthur," Colin pointed out. "Everyone in the building thinks so."

"No, I know that. I only meant that it was the occasion. It's probably just me, I just had to spend three hours with the man. It's pretty grim." He started talking about what had happened in the morning, and didn't finish until their food came.

"I have a question, Arthur," said Dudley as he took the lid off his food; Luna had conjured small tables for she, Colin, and Dudley to eat their food on. "Well, a few, but first one about me. I know I'm probably gone if he gets in, but isn't he afraid of pissing Harry off? Harry could still come back, Trent doesn't know that he won't."

"That's the only thing that could keep you here," agreed Arthur. "We just don't know. If I were him, I wouldn't bother. If he cuts our budget so you have to go, he's hoping that Harry won't be angry enough to actively undermine him; he knows Harry doesn't like to do that sort of thing. It would be a risk on his part, a stupid one to take."

Dudley nodded. "At least there's always my Dad's business to fall back on. My other question was, how does it get decided who's going to be Minister? That's never been explained to me."

"It's kind of complicated, but simple at the same time," began Arthur, but Dudley snuck in another question. "You don't have elections?"

"Not really, no. As an example, I'll explain what happened when Fudge was killed five years ago. The candidates are almost always undersecretaries, first of all. Bright was, of course, at that time.

"First, everyone who wants to run declares their intention to do so. It's considered good form to have someone else nominate you, but it's not required. So, in that case, Bright and three others announced their intentions. They started campaigning, giving speeches, interviews to the Prophet, meeting people, and so forth."

"The same thing that Muggle politicians do," said Dudley.

"Roughly, yes. But here's the difference: there is no election, but the object is to get enough support to be the winner if there were an election. The undersecretaries don't decide this; the people do, in a fashion. As the campaigning goes on, each candidate and his assistants talk to people throughout the wizarding world, getting a sense of how popular each candidate is. In the Muggle world, they have public opinion polls; this is similar, but unofficial. If a candidate's support is very small, he'll drop out so he doesn't embarrass himself by staying too long. If his support is good, but not good enough to win, he'll make a deal with one of the other candidates--the one he thinks is most likely to win. Last time around, this candidate was Undersecretary Finch. He made the judgment that Bright would win, and threw him his support.

"Now, that doesn't necessarily mean anything; it's not as though people who would have supported Finch would then automatically support Bright. But it's an indication of how things are going, from an experienced politician. In exchange for his endorsement, Bright no doubt promised Finch something. Then it was only Bright and Trent, last time, in the end. At this point, it becomes a matter of which will back down first. Sometimes at this point it's very close in terms of public support; in that case, the one who eventually concedes will demand a high price for dropping out. Not money, of course, though it's long been rumored that Galleons change accounts at times like this.

"In the particular case five years ago, Bright clearly had the momentum and the support, so Trent was able to demand almost nothing for dropping out. It was thought at the time that Trent had overestimated his support among the population--he'd been the most powerful undersecretary under Fudge--and waited too long to get out. Each selection is different. But the system works very well."

"Excuse me," said Dudley, confused. "This may sound obvious, but what is it that causes the last guy to drop out? What if there are two people, and no one drops out?"

Arthur smiled. "Then we have a Choosing. This is the equivalent of a Muggle election, and it's very rare. Why is it rare?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Luna interjected, "Because we don't do it very often."

Colin and Dudley failed to suppress their giggles. "I'll bet your teachers loved you," Arthur said to Luna with amusement.

"Oh, yes, they did," agreed Luna.

"Anyway, it's rare because the system discourages it. This goes back to wizarding history. Colin, I hope you and Luna know this."

"Professor Dentus didn't teach it," replied Colin. "Professor Binns may have, for all I know."

"Something about an arbiter," suggested Luna. "I think I just happened to start listening at the right time."

"Yes, that's right," said Arthur. "A wizard who was born over five hundred years ago; nobody knew his name, but he was known as the Arbiter. He came up with this system. The idea was that they didn't want the people to be bothered all the time with choosing leaders, but they wanted the will of the people to be reflected. This was when they were setting up the Ministry for the first time, in the form we know it as today.

"Choosings are rare because the loser pays a high price. You can challenge a Minister, but if you lose, there's a penalty. If you work in the Ministry you lose your job, and can never work in the Ministry again. Also, you and your immediate family lose all your possessions."

Dudley's eyebrows went high. "Wow! That's nasty."

"Yes, it is, and that's the point. The Arbiter wanted to discourage casual challenges. Now, that's only if you challenge a sitting Minister. If the spot is open... the Arbiter's portrait hangs in the room where the undersecretaries meet the Minister. He never says anything, but he listens, and he has a few portraits in important rooms in the Ministry, so he can go back and forth. He gets a sense of the relative political status of all parties. The Arbiter decides which candidate is likelier to win than the other, who is then designated as the challenger. If the challenger wins, the penalty to the favorite is less severe; he can never work for the Ministry again, but that's all. The idea is that there should be a penalty for the loser in whichever case, to punish the loser for having overestimated his popularity and agreed to the Choosing when he shouldn't have."

"I'm glad I'm not going to be tested on this," muttered Dudley.

"It's not that difficult," protested Arthur, to doubtful looks from Colin and Luna. "The Arbiter chooses the favorite, if both are undersecretaries. If the challenger loses, he loses all assets and can't work for the Ministry. If the favorite loses, he can't work for the Ministry. See? Not so hard. I was just trying to explain the facts and the reason at the same time."

"I'm almost afraid to keep asking questions," half-joked Dudley, "but how is the Choosing done? With a ballot box and pieces of paper?"

"No, that would be too easy," joked Arthur. "Seriously, too many opportunities for fraud. There are more magical ways to commit fraud than there are ways to prevent it. No, there are these two orbs, spheres almost a foot in diameter. The orbs collect magical energy. Each person who wants to participate in the Choosing stands in front of one orb and shoots a burst of magical energy into it, as strong as they can. The orbs are separated by a wall, but the portrait of the Arbiter is placed where he can see everything that's happening, including the chooser and both orbs. You can't cast the spell twice, you can't do anything else without the Arbiter noticing. The choosing area is totally enclosed, so no one else sees what's going on; your choice is private. At the end of the Choosing, whichever candidate's globe is brighter is the winner."

Dudley struggled to digest it all. "So... Squibs can't vote?"

"They can try," said Arthur. "But essentially, no, you're right. The value of your choice is connected to how strong a wizard you are. Some wizards' choices might count for two or three normal people; others, less than half of one."

Surprised, Dudley remarked, "That doesn't seem fair."

"I can see why you'd say that," agreed Arthur. "It's just the way it was decided, and the way it's always been done. I guess they thought that magical power was what really mattered, so they rewarded it in this way." Luna wondered how powerful her vote would be; she guessed maybe ten normal votes' worth, maybe a bit less. She knew the important aspect of what she, Harry, and the First could do didn't have so much to do with raw power as it did with the vast variety of spells they could do.

"So, a candidate could get fewer votes than the other guy, and still win," commented Colin.

"Ah, like in America," joked Dudley; he was greeted with blank looks. "Never mind, it would take too long to explain. America's system is almost as complicated as yours."

"Well, yes, that could happen," said Arthur. "We don't know if it ever has. The number choosing each candidate isn't counted, just the magical energy."

"Okay, now let me try to get this," said Dudley, as Arthur tried to catch up on eating his food; he had been doing most of the talking. "Let's say the other undersecretaries chose Trent, but Harry became human again and decided to challenge him. Even if Harry had more public support than Trent, he'd still be the challenger because he's not an undersecretary?" Arthur nodded as he chewed. "And if he lost he'd have to give up his house, everything in his vault, even the stuff Dumbledore left him." Dudley knew those were among Harry's most valued items.

"Yes, that's right," agreed Arthur. "Even the book Dumbledore wrote him. Everything." Arthur didn't add, because the others didn't know, that Harry could simply conjure back anything he wanted. "Of course, he'd never challenge Trent or anyone in the first place, but I understand it's just hypothetical."

Dudley nodded. "And if Harry won, Trent would have to leave the Ministry. Just curious, I know Harry would never do it, but suppose he did. Who do you think would win?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows, intrigued. "If Harry came back and caught the people responsible for this, I think he'd have a shot. But in usual circumstances, I think most people would recognize that Harry's not cut out to be a Minister. Maybe twenty or thirty years from now, people will be asking him to do it."

"I wonder if he'd do it now to stop someone like Trent from becoming Minister," mused Colin.

"I'd never ask that of him," said Arthur seriously. "He'd be miserable."

Dudley brightened. "Hey, do you think he could win as he is right now? As a phoenix?"

The others chuckled. "That would be very strange," said Arthur. "I wonder if he would even be eligible. I'm sure the laws of the Choosing say that only humans can be Chosen, but Harry was born a human. I'd think that would be enough. Mention it to him sometime, he'll probably roll his eyes."

"Oh, yes, I know that look," agreed Dudley. "So, back to this situation, now, Trent will become the next Minister because no one else is nearly as popular as he is?"

"That's right. Sad to say, his political grandstanding over this issue has now paid off. People will associate him with security, and he was the best-known of the undersecretaries anyway. I don't think any of our current group could take him on. Amelia might be able to, and I think she'd be a very good Minister, but she just lost... she raised Susan, so she more or less lost a daughter just yesterday. I was surprised she made it in here today. No one would have blamed her for staying home. She probably feels a greater sense of duty because of the crisis. Like her daughter." He paused for a minute; there was silence. "So, Amelia's in no condition to run right now."

After another pause, Colin said, "It's so horrible what happened to Bright..."

"It's really awful," agreed Arthur solemnly. It was hard to think of much more to say than that.

* * * * *

"How's he doing?" asked Hermione, watching Bright gaze into nothingness.

"About how it looks," responded Pansy. "Almost totally unresponsive. I felt a little bad for both of you. This can't be easy for Neville."

"Yes, the associations are pretty bad," agreed Hermione. "Kingsley told him personally. Anyway, I'll try, but I don't think I'll find much."

"Thanks for trying," said Pansy.

When Bright had been brought into St. Mungo's in the morning, along with a nearly hysterical Madeline Bright refusing to leave her husband's side, the senior Healers wanted him to be looked at by a Legilimens to try to confirm his condition and see if any memories were available. Healer Haspberg knew a man she normally called for such consultations, but he was missing. She knew he was probably gone for good, as she was sure Bright had known of him as well, and his memories could have been raided before he died. That had left them without a Legilimens to call. Pansy had volunteered that she knew one; it was publicly known that Harry was a Legilimens, but not that Hermione was one.

She cast the spell on Bright now, and dejectedly gave up after a minute. "It is what it looks like," she said heavily. "His mind's been fried by the Cruciatus Curse. I can't access any memories, only pain."

"Thanks for looking, Hermione. I know that wasn't fun."

Hermione nodded. "How are the burn patients doing?"

"A lot better, most of them. At least them we can do something for."

Hermione took Flora back to Hogwarts, as Apparation wasn't possible in most areas of St. Mungo's. Pansy gave Bright a last, sad look, and went back to her normal duties.

* * * * *

Dudley knocked on the door to Arthur's office; he went in, followed by Colin and Luna. Arthur put down the parchment he'd been looking at. "What is it, Dudley?"

Dudley tried to keep his expression deadpan. "Yeah, I was wondering if you could explain that election stuff again. I didn't quite get it."

Arthur grunted. "If you're not careful, I'll send you to Hogwarts and make you look it up in their library."

"I'm sure John would help me. Seriously, there are a few things we think you should know about. Luna actually found one of them, I found the other. Colin didn't find any of them."

"Sorry, Colin," said Arthur, "looks like when Trent cuts our budget, I'm going to have to fire you instead of Dudley."

"I knew this job was too good to last," said Colin, doing his best to sound sad.

"Okay," said Dudley, finally getting down to business. "The one Luna found had to do with Vicky, remember her?" Arthur nodded. "Well, you won't believe this, but she and her husband died in the sarin attack."

Arthur gaped. "You're right, I don't believe it. Harry saves her from one terrorist attack, and she dies in another?"

Dudley nodded. "It gets better. Well, worse, really. Apparently, she'd been keeping a private computer log of some stuff having to do with the whole nine-eleven and seeing Harry in her dreams thing, and she updated it with a long account of meeting Harry and the rest of us at Privet Drive. Lots of details--"

Arthur cringed in expectation of what was to come. "She posted it?"

"Not exactly. But after she got back, she worried about what wizards might do to her, with what she knew. Not Harry--she'd become a huge Harry fan, even bigger than Colin--" He shot Colin a grin, then continued, "but she worried that he might tell some people who'd find her and give her a Memory Charm or, worse yet, kill her. She knew from reading the wizarding websites that not all wizards are good. So she sent her private journal to two close friends for them to keep. The idea was that if she was given a Memory Charm and her computer sabotaged, it would help her remember. She told them that if she and her husband were to suddenly die, she wanted it put on the Web. They did die, and it's now there."

Arthur's eyes closed, and he sighed. "Incredible. I mean, not on the level of a dragon attack or what happened to Bright, but still..."

"I know," agreed Dudley. "It made me think of the Muggle phrase, 'like watching a train crash in slow motion.' You know what's going to happen, you just can't stop it."

"We don't think this is extraordinarily bad," offered Colin. "It'll be considered part of the fiction connected to those sites. But she uses real names, Dudley and his parents, and their address. This story comes up now when you do a search on 'Vernon Dursley,'"

"Fortunately, because of Dad's business, it doesn't come up until the third page of search results, and people don't usually look that far," added Dudley. "He's going to have an aneurysm if he finds out. The last thing he wants is for anyone to know that he has even the mildest connection to magic. Obviously that's not the biggest problem, though."

Arthur took a minute to think about what it might mean. "I agree, it's not terrible for now. But it's another straw on the camel's back. If they had only listened to me five years ago, it never would have reached this point. If this explodes, it's not going to be much consolation to be able to say, I told you so. All right, let me know if there's any public reaction to it on the wizarding websites. You said there were two things?"

"The second one was something I came across doing the usual searches for words like 'strange' or 'amazing,' this time connected to the Grand Central Station attack. It turns out that apparently--and it's a big 'apparently'--someone happened to have a camcorder running at the time of the attack. The video is a bit jerky, it moves around a lot; the guy started moving it around after he heard screaming. It shows a lot of the panic that was happening. But here's the interesting part: at one point, he had it focused on the brass clock, so you can see what time it is, and it's eight-twelve. There's all this panic, people running around, and in the middle of it the guy with blood on his shirt suddenly appears, like out of nowhere. He falls to the ground, he's unconscious--"

"What do you mean, he 'appears'?" asked Arthur.

"I mean, one minute he wasn't there, then he was. In the clip, you never see him standing. He can suddenly be seen at about eye or chest level, and he just drops to the ground. You can't see what happens perfectly, because of all the people running around. A lot gets in the way of the shot. But you can see enough to tell what's going on. If it's genuine, then it could be very important."

"If it's genuine?" repeated Arthur, concerned and confused.

"This kind of thing could be faked," explained Colin. "Muggle technology keeps getting better and better. Someone could have taken the film in which the guy didn't appear, and use digital effects to make him appear. It could be done, even--I think--by someone who wasn't a professional, though he'd have to be pretty skilled. The fact that it can be faked at all has to be taken seriously. But the idea that it was faked doesn't ring true. Why do that? What would be the point? Also, the guy who took this video was hurt by the gas. The first day he got back, he said on his site, he uploaded the clips to his website. When did he have the time to alter the video?"

"Unless he's a total liar and fraud, in which case he's lying about everything, wasn't really hurt, and faked the image to get attention and increase traffic to his website," pointed out Dudley.

"It's not impossible," agreed Colin. "Which is why we have to take this with a grain of salt. But I read what he wrote, and I saw the video. It just rings true to me. I believe it."

"Assuming for the moment that it's true, that the image wasn't faked," asked Arthur, his face turning grim, "what does it suggest to you?"

"The same thing it does to you, I think," answered Colin. "A guy on a broom or an invisible platform, Disillusioned or under an Invisibility Cloak, dropped the Iranian guy to make it look like Iran did it, when in fact a wizard did it."

Arthur shook his head in amazement. "I don't want to even think about that, but I guess we have to. Setting aside for a minute the question of the motive of whoever did this, if that did happen, it doesn't seem like a great coincidence that it happens while all this is going on in the wizarding world. I think we have to seriously consider that what you saw might be true. Right now, I want to see it."

"You can't," said Dudley. "The page isn't loading. I saved the page, but you can't save the video, it was streaming. I saw it four times, Colin and Luna only saw it twice. The page is overwhelmed. Colin thinks it's just heavy traffic, but I think it could be a DoS attack."

"And that means..." Arthur prompted Dudley.

"Denial of service. I don't know all the technical bits myself, but it's where you can basically attack a website and deliberately overload it, shut it down. The American government must have people they can call and say, 'shut this website down' if they don't like something it's saying."

"I think it's a little much," said Colin. "Like a conspiracy theory. I don't think they'd bother."

"I think they would," countered Dudley. "There's a big deal about who did this, they want as much information as they can get. They see this on a website, it looks strange, like it could get rumors started. They DoS it, and in the meantime send teams to the ISP to get the page taken down, and to the guy's home to get the actual video. I think it would be partly that they want to stop rumors, but more that they want to control whatever information there is. The question is, did anybody capture it before it was taken down. If so, then the government would probably just say it was a fraud, so they wouldn't have to explain something that looked strange. Governments don't like things they can't explain."

"I disagree with Dudley about this," said Colin. "But I can't say it's impossible, or even extremely unlikely. It just seems a little paranoid. Anyway, whatever happened, it's not there anymore. We'll keep checking, of course, and do searches related to it. But we may not see it again."

"So, what do we do?" asked Dudley rhetorically. "Sit around and wait for something else to pop up?"

"Not much else we can do," said Colin, surreptitiously giving Dudley a light kick on the ankle, which Arthur couldn't see. "Arthur, do you think our American counterparts are looking into this?"

"I very much doubt it," replied Arthur. "I've met the head of their Muggle Relations Division, and he didn't seem to like Muggles very much. I didn't get the impression that they dealt with Muggles any more than they had to."

"Okay, well, we'll keep looking into it," said Colin. "We'll let you know if we find anything more." Colin stood, as did Luna and a confused Dudley. Arthur nodded and turned his attention to paperwork as they left. As they reached their desks, Dudley whispered sharply to Colin, "What the hell was that for?"

"I thought you were going to ask him to do something, or suggest that we did. We should talk about this later. Over dinner, maybe a Muggle restaurant."

Dudley eyed Colin suspiciously. "All right. But watch it with the kicking thing. Keep in mind that I own a pair of steel-toed shoes."

* * * * *

Kingsley sat at his desk at the Ministry, doing the paperwork that had to be done on behalf of the Aurors. He hated it, but someone had to do it; Dawlish, who'd had seniority on Kingsley, had hated the idea of paperwork so badly that he shared leadership of the Aurors with Kingsley on the condition that Kingsley did the paperwork. Kingsley was starting to wonder if he could shove it off on someone; he decided to give it serious thought once this crisis was over.

A head suddenly appeared in Kingsley's fireplace; Kingsley didn't recall the name, but thought he worked for Trent. "Mr. Shacklebolt, I'm calling for Undersecretary Trent. He'd like to see you in his office."

"Please tell Undersecretary Trent," replied Kingsley casually, "that if and when he becomes Minister, I will report to his office. As of this moment he is an undersecretary, and I don't report to the offices of undersecretaries." He returned his attention to his desk, ignoring the young man's surprised expression. The man quickly withdrew from the fireplace. Bet that gets a reaction, Kingsley mused.

Ten minutes later, Trent walked through the half-open door to Kingsley's office. "Kingsley," he said, not hiding his annoyance. "Do you really want to be playing these petty games with me?"

"You're the politician, Roger," responded Kingsley. "Petty games are your department, not mine."

Giving no reaction, Trent eyed Kingsley. "Is there any doubt in your mind that I'm going to be the next Minister of Magic?"

Kingsley gave Trent a cold stare. "Absent a very surprising turn of events, no. But you've done nothing but trash the Aurors since this crisis began, while we've been working very hard to try to keep people safe. It doesn't make me inclined to be any more courteous to you than I absolutely have to be."

"I have not 'trashed' the Aurors," protested Trent. "I have criticized Minister Bright for his handling of them--"

"He didn't 'handle' us, and neither will you," Kingsley said. "He trusted us to do our jobs as best we could, and we've done that. If anyone's 'handling' the Aurors, it's me, and so you're criticizing me."

Trent looked at Kingsley appraisingly. "You're a grownup, Kingsley. You know perfectly well that I said what I said because it was politically advantageous to do so."

"Yes, I am a grownup, and I know that. But it's cowardly and ungrateful. People who are risking themselves don't appreciate being used as political pawns. You've never risked your life, so I don't expect you to understand that."

"I'm risking my life now, taking this job," countered Trent. "This isn't the safest job in the world right now, you may have noticed."

"Somehow I think they'll leave you alone," said Kingsley, knowing he was close to the edge of what he could get away with saying.

Trent bristled. "What exactly are you implying?"

"I'm implying that someone like you, who takes a hard line, is exactly what people who do this kind of thing like their enemies to have in power. They create fear, and you feed off that fear, turn it into power. They like to see us in a state of fear, it makes them feel powerful. You fan the flames of fear--for example, by implying that the Aurors aren't doing as good a job as we could--because you benefit from it."

"I think you're wrong," said Trent disdainfully. "Our enemies aren't happy to see me in power, because they know I'm a bigger threat to them, I'll be especially aggressive--"

"Oh, please," Kingsley interrupted mockingly. "Say that in public, where people will believe it, but not here. That's your self-identification, that's the image you want to convey, but it's not the truth. We, the Aurors, are the ones that take on fights like this, not you. There is nothing you can do that will make any difference, nothing you can do that Bright wouldn't have done."

"You're wrong about that, too. When I take office, I intend to implement a full review of Auror procedures and--"

"You'll do no such thing!" Kingsley again interrupted, this time loudly, outraged.

"--policies, with an eye toward improvement. Are you saying your shop can't stand some scrutiny?"

Kingsley had to make an effort to calm himself. "You're in no way qualified to say what's an improvement and what's not, and anyone you appointed to do so would have an agenda. But the main point is something you know full well: Ministers don't interfere with the Aurors' internal workings. That's the way it's always been. We don't get involved in politics, and you don't tell us how to do our job. You tell us what to do, and we'll do it. You do not tell us how to do it."

"Yes, it's true that Ministers have traditionally let the Aurors do things their own way," agreed Trent, with a superior expression. "But that is a tradition, not a rule. It is not something I need hold to."

I can't believe he's saying this to me, Kingsley thought. This is obviously a power play; despite what Susan did yesterday, the Aurors look weak to the public right now because we can't catch whoever's doing this. Trent thinks he can take advantage of that to intimidate me, to establish a superior position vis-à-vis the Aurors from the beginning. If I back down, it'll weaken the Aurors' standing for years to come.

Kingsley trained a calm, deadly glare at Trent. "You're a smart politician, Trent. At least, I think you are. So, I'm only going to tell you this once. Don't fuck with me."

Trent's eyebrows went high; such words were not used in anger even with undersecretaries, never mind one who would undoubtedly soon be Minister. "Or?"

Kingsley knew that Trent was hoping to bait him into saying something he could later repeat, something that would make the Aurors look bad. He stared at Trent silently. Let the bastard draw his own conclusions, thought Kingsley. After a half a minute, he said, "Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?"

Trent seemed to be mulling his options. "Yes. I'd like two Aurors to be assigned for my personal protection. As I'm the Minister-in-waiting, I'm a highly logical target for our enemies. I'm sure you recognize that."

Kingsley almost gaped at the breathtaking audacity the request represented. Was it a peace offering, a backing off; give me two Aurors, and I'll forget this conversation ever happened? Kingsley was not going to spend that kind of manpower protecting this man when they were stretched thin already. "'Minister-in-waiting' is not an official or recognized position," he responded evenly. "Right now, you're an undersecretary, no different than the other ten. I'm not going to protect you without protecting the other ten, and we don't have the manpower for that. As you're very well aware, the power of the Minister right now can be exercised only by the unanimous agreement of the undersecretaries. If all eleven agree, I'll do as you ask."

Trent held Kingsley's gaze, and Kingsley thought he saw the smallest smile. It suddenly hit Kingsley what Trent's purpose was. He could have come here and kissed my ass, thought Kingsley, made me promises, in hopes that I'd give him a couple of Aurors. Instead, he comes in and tries to slap me around. He wanted me to say no, so that at some point he could bring it up publicly as evidence that the Aurors weren't doing their jobs, or had a vendetta against him. He values political considerations above his own safety, I'll give him that much.

"Very well," replied Trent. Without a word, he stood and left. Kingsley sighed, wishing that somehow Trent could be denied the Ministership. He knew, unfortunately, that it wasn't going to happen.

* * * * *

Dudley, Colin, and Luna were sitting in a corner table at a fairly nice Muggle restaurant that Dudley had recommended. Colin had asked for a corner table even though it was next to impossible that they would be overheard by anyone magical; this restaurant wasn't near the Ministry, but required a trip of two Underground stops. "So, is it okay to talk now?" Dudley asked Colin sarcastically.

"For now, yes. If I need you to stop talking, I'll kick you again."

"I wouldn't, if I were you," Dudley warned. "One of those old boxing flashbacks might kick in. So, what's the deal? What don't you want Arthur to hear?"

Colin didn't mind talking in front of Luna, because he knew Luna could be trusted, both for the article and in general. Luna got as much access as she wanted, but in return, the people she spent the time with got veto power over what she wrote, within reasonable limits. It was the only way people could be comfortable with being observed all the time.

"I agree with you, I think we should do some investigating," explained Colin. "But I don't think we should ask Arthur. Not because we don't trust him, but for his own good."

"How do you mean?" asked Dudley.

"I mean, it's not going to look good to the other undersecretaries, especially Trent, if he has to explain that he gave permission for us to go snooping around in America; they'd laugh if we tried to explain this to them. And the Americans aren't going to help; you heard what Arthur said, they don't like to deal with Muggles. No one magical is going to look into this if we don't, but we can't do it officially. We really should, though. I agree with Arthur; I also don't like the way this smells."

"Well, I was thinking that we'd do something with the resources of the Ministry," said Dudley. "What can we do, just the two of us? And I'm not even magical."

"Yes, that would be a problem," agreed Colin reluctantly. "Luna, I don't suppose you'd be interested in going."

Luna tried not to think about how she could be of immense help to them; she could probably determine whether the video was genuine, and its disposition, in not too long a time. "No, I'd better not. I don't think the Prophet likes its reporters breaking the law."

Colin seemed dismayed by her phrasing. "I don't think it would be seriously breaking the law. We just need to find the guy who took that video."

"I already have his address," offered Dudley.

"So do I; I guess we found it the same way. I hope it's a current address, anyway."

"You can do Memory Charms, right?" asked Dudley.

Colin nodded. "You pretty much have to be able to if you're working in the Muggle Liaison office. And I can also Apparate you around, so that's helpful." It had been discovered that using the energy of love increased every wizard's power to the extent that he could escort others by Apparation without difficulty. It was still, however, illegal for all but authorized people.

"Just don't get us... what's that word..."

"Splinched?"

"Yeah, that. That sounds nasty."

"I wonder," said Luna to no one in particular, a faraway look on her face, "what would happen if someone got Splinched so that their head, chest, and arms were on one side while the rest of them got left behind." She paused; Colin was about to offer a comment when she continued, "You could just tickle their stomach, and they wouldn't be able to do anything about it."

Colin and Dudley looked at each other, neither knowing quite what to say. "It's safe to say I'd never thought about it quite like that," said Colin.

"There's a good reason not to get Splinched," added Dudley.

* * * * *

It took Colin and Dudley a few hours to do what they wanted to do. The man they were looking for lived in New Jersey; they found his home only after getting a map, which they had to steal from a convenience store because they belatedly realized they had no American currency. The man lived in a small apartment building in a nondescript suburban neighborhood.

As they walked up the steps to the second floor, Colin said, "I wonder if he's even at home. It is Friday night, after all."

"People who run websites aren't the most likely to be out on Friday nights," suggested Dudley. "Besides, he was hurt in the attack. He could be in bed, he probably is."

"If he is, I kind of feel bad for bothering him," said Colin. "But it is kind of important." They walked to apartment 204, and Colin rang the bell. There was no answer, so Colin decided to magically unlock the door. When he tried it, he discovered it was bolted; he exchanged a look of surprise with Dudley. "Someone's in there." Dudley nodded.

Colin waved his wand, and the bolt on the other side slid out. Colin opened the door; they stepped into a small living room and closed the door. Before they could react, a middle-aged woman was in front of them, three meters away, pointing a gun at them. "Don't move!" she shouted, very agitated. "Who are you?"

"We're... with a British newspaper," said Colin, remembering their cover story. "We just want to talk to--"

"Hands up over your head, where I can see them," she cut him off, holding the gun unsteadily in front of her. Colin had been keeping a hand on his wand, which was up his sleeve; if he did as she demanded, he wouldn't have access to it anymore. He'd hoped to avoid using magic, but it looked like there was no choice. He quickly cast a calming spell on the woman; she relaxed and lowered the gun. He then cast a Suggestion charm, also a spell of particular use when dealing with Muggles. "You can trust us," he said earnestly. "We mean you no harm. We just want to know if the clip that Emmett put on the website was genuine."

The woman sat in a chair, tears starting to come to her eyes. "I wish it wasn't," she said, holding back a sob. "It's given us nothing but trouble. He's in the bedroom, he's still so sick from the gas that he can barely get up, but when he got home, he insisted that I bring him the laptop so he could put that video on his website. Then those men... I'm not supposed to talk about this, I'm sorry. Please, just leave."

"Someone told you not to talk about this? Who?" asked Dudley.

"Will you please just go?" the woman asked, her tone pleading. "I just want us to be left alone, to help Em get better."

"Of course," said Colin gently. "We're sorry to have disturbed you, ma'am. We hope Emmett gets better soon." He and Dudley walked to the door, and quickly exited.

"Why didn't you have her tell us more, maybe talk to her son?" asked Dudley quietly.

"I think we found out what we needed to know," said Colin as they started down the stairs. "Someone's been there, probably government agents. They probably took the video and told her and her son not to talk to anyone. She was pretty bent out of shape."

"Yeah, I noticed. Well, I'm pretty convinced that the video is genuine. You?"

Colin nodded. "I don't think she's that good an actress, and I don't think she could have resisted what I did anyway. Also, it makes sense, like I said before, that if he was hurt he wouldn't have had time to do digital manipulation on the video."

"So, now the question is, who did this, and why? What's the point? Why bother to make everyone think the Iranians did it?"

"Those are definitely the questions," agreed Colin. "Next stop, Harry's place."

"Why?" asked Dudley.

"Think Ginny would let us borrow Harry's Cloak?"

Dudley shrugged. "It's not like he's using it, but it is pretty valuable. She'd make us promise to be really careful. What are we using it for?"

"I'll tell you when I tell her. Where can we... oh, see that Dumpster over there? Let's go behind that."

"Can't we just wait until we get to Harry's place?"

"Very funny." They walked behind the large, blue Dumpster servicing a nearby apartment building, looked around to make sure no one was watching, and Colin Disapparated them away.

The parabolic microphone recorded the Disapparation sound; there was total quiet afterwards. The men in the van stepped out and casually walked to the Dumpster as if they lived in the apartment building. Seeing nothing behind the Dumpster, they looked around; there was simply no place to go. They spent the next fifteen minutes trying to work out how the two escaped their surveillance. That wasn't supposed to happen, and they didn't relish the notion of explaining to their boss how two very young Brits had given them the slip.

* * * * *

Ginny was pleased to see them, even though it was late, and had them stay for a half hour to tell her what they were up to. She didn't object to lending them the Cloak ("I think Harry hasn't used it for five years"), and explained that Harry had put a sort of magical identifying marker on his most valued possessions so that if they were stolen or lost, he could find them again easily and simply cause them to appear, wherever they were. She urged them to be careful, partly because a Cloak would be hard to explain if they were caught, and partly because her father could get into trouble.

Colin then Apparated them to Grand Central Station, first equipping himself and Dudley with the Bubble-Head Charm in case there was any residue in the air. The station was closed, but they were able to walk around and look at the spots where the sarin had hit the floor. Two of the marks had no discernible pattern, but four looked as though the momentum had come from inside the hall. They had found out all they could; Colin Apparated them back to Dudley's apartment.

"Okay," said Colin as they sat. "What's the best theory right now?"

"A wizard, on a broom, with six containers of sarin," said Dudley thoughtfully. "He's in the middle of the room, near the clock. Using magic, he sends six containers of sarin to the six exits. He's holding the Iranian guy, or making him hover. I guess they're under a Cloak. When things start going to hell, he drops the guy. In all the panic, it isn't noticed, and anyone who sees it is going to die anyway. So he wasn't all that careful about how he did it, and what we saw on the video is the guy falling under where the Cloak reaches. Suddenly, we see him. It never occurs to the guy on the broom that someone might be using a camcorder, because he's a wizard."

"It all fits," agreed Colin. "Except for that one, annoying question..."

"You mean, 'why'", said Dudley. "Yeah, I have no idea. And we're the only ones who know this?"

Colin nodded. "Because most people in the wizarding world don't even know about this. Ginny didn't even know. Okay, she's been preoccupied, and lots of wizards have been too. Also, we're the only ones who saw that website while the video was still up. It's definitely gone now, the government won't release it."

"You're sure they won't?"

* * * * *

After watching it for a second time, he said, "This has to be fake, right?"

The Homeland Security Director shook his head. "Our experts tell me that they believe, with a 99% level of confidence, that this is a genuine recording, not tampered with."

"But 99% isn't 100%," said the President. "They're not totally sure?"

The Director gave the President a wry smile. "Mr. President, if I held up my hand and asked them how many fingers they saw--"

"They'd say, a 99% chance of five fingers," finished the President, understanding.

"Yes, sir. Wiggle room. They're as sure as they can be."

"But as you know, Glen, that makes absolutely no sense."

"I know that, sir, and so do they. They can't explain it, since what's shown in the images is clearly impossible. We can only speculate that someone was able to do this extremely well, but we can't imagine how."

"Could the best Hollywood effects fool our guys?"

"No, sir. Some of our guys worked in Hollywood. They know what to look for."

The President nodded. "So, if it had been left on the Web, most people would have thought it was a really good fake."

"Yes, sir. We took it down to be on the safe side, and it looked genuine even at first glance. The only other problem is the young man who says he took it. He had no chance whatsoever to alter it himself, and he swears he didn't. He can't account for the exact whereabouts of the camcorder for twenty-four hours after he was injured, but the notion that someone stole his camcorder, tampered with the video, and replaced it is so unlikely as to be almost not worth considering."

"But not as unlikely as a guy dropping out of thin air."

"Exactly, Mr. President. There are simply no satisfactory explanations."

The President thought for a moment. "Not a single other person is going to see this. I don't want to have to try to explain this." Finally cracking a small smile, he added, "Go put it where we put all those things we don't want people to ever see. You know, alien fetuses, government-created viruses, brains of super-geniuses, that sort of thing."

Glen smiled. "This is a new department, Mr. President. I haven't been briefed on that place yet."

"I think the FBI director knows. I'll call him and tell him you need to see it."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

The man left, and the President was alone, with a few minutes before his next appointment. He sighed heavily and thought about the videotape he'd just seen. He remembered that his most unusual briefing in the transition period after he'd been elected was one that involved a man who said he was a wizard, and did a few demonstrations that were very convincing; the former president had sat in as well to help explain it. Evidently there was a community of these people, small compared to the general population, who could do actual, real magic. Was that what this was? They had assured him that they didn't interfere in the world of normal people, and wanted nothing more than to be left alone. If it was one of them, thought the President, they'd know, and take care of it. They'd have no reason to do something like this.

In a thought that he would never admit to anyone else, and barely to himself, he knew that even if Iran was somehow not responsible, this was too good to let them off the hook. They look guilty as hell, and they're acting guilty with their non-cooperation. I can't just say, well, it was something bizarre, so never mind. As long as they don't cooperate, as far as I'm concerned, they did it. This gives us leverage over Iran, and I intend to use it for all it's worth. Those Iranian people, especially the young people, don't like their religious dictators. They want freedom. Those troops are over there, and it's a once-in-a-lifetime chance to help those people live the lives they want to live. I have to do everything I can for them.

Such thoughts flew out of his head as his secretary poked her head in the door to announce his next appointment. He stood and walked over to greet his guest.

* * * * *

Lucius Malfoy had been busy. He had not killed that day; after killing so many the day before, he still had some of that energy, but it would wear off by tomorrow. His master had promised him that after tomorrow's main task was accomplished, he could go on another killing spree. The targets had already been chosen. And Hogwarts... the timing couldn't be predicted--he was surprised it hadn't happened already--but that would indeed be a feast. There was much to look forward to.

He had spent a lot of the afternoon conjuring. It was a small room, about three meters by three meters, and a raised bed. Standing in one particular location, he had conjured dozens of metal bars, and arranged them in horizontal rows, from the top of the room to the bottom, nine inches apart. Then more bars were arranged vertically, again nine inches apart, from left to right, so that it covered one 'slice' of the room. Where the bars met, he caused them to meld together. He continued the process until, except for where he was standing and the bed, the room was completely taken up bars going up-down, right-left, and front-back. The bars stopped over the bed, leaving just enough space for one person, lying down.

Such unusual precautions had to be taken because when the guest arrived, a phoenix could not be allowed to come, bearing assistance. A phoenix might still be able to squeeze between the bars, but it could do nothing but sing. The song was annoying, but no worse than a distraction. The phoenix would also be able to know the location immediately, and take Aurors to outside the room, but he had already put powerful magical safeguards outside the room that would stop anyone from getting in for the time required.

He had wanted vengeance against Potter for a long time; it was one of the few desires his master had not conditioned him out of. Potter personally could not be killed, or even harmed physically. But he had been immobilized, and would soon be harmed more badly than he ever had before.

* * * * *

Ginny awoke the next morning and went to check on James. To her surprise, Harry wasn't with him; Harry had barely left his side for the past two days. I guess he had to sleep, she thought. She picked James up and took him into the kitchen for breakfast.

She picked up the day's copy of the Prophet and read it while Dobby fed James. The lead article was about what had happened to Bright; a secondary article focused on the near-inevitability of Roger Trent's ascension to Minister, a subject on which she'd heard plenty from her father at dinner the night before. It was very depressing to think that someone like that was going to be their leader for who knew how long. Well, we suffered through Fudge, she thought, we can suffer through this guy. The problem was, her father had said, that he was the kind of person that the more you got to know him, the less you liked him. He appeared fine to crowds, and in brief one-on-one meetings with citizens; it just wasn't so good to get to know him. She wondered how Harry felt about the prospect. Right now, he probably doesn't care, she thought. Why should he, he's a phoenix, it's hard for him to concentrate on any human matters as it is.

She'd had an unpleasant evening yesterday; after dinner, the manager of the Chudley Cannons had called her in the fireplace and asked her to reconsider her decision not to play in the weekend's important match. It pained her to say no, because she felt as though she was letting down the team, but she felt she just couldn't do it. She could see how disappointed he was, and could imagine that her other teammates felt the same way. The problem was, he couldn't know how things were for her, and she couldn't explain it to him. That had put her in a bad mood all through the evening. Not that she'd had many good moods lately.

At least the weather's nice, she thought as she stepped outside. It was sunny and clear; the temperature was in the mid-seventies. Great weather for Quidditch, she thought sourly. Look at me, even thinking about nice weather can remind me of something bad. Probably because there's not much in my life that's good right now. Before, it was my husband, son, and friends. Now my husband is stuck as a phoenix, my son may have a killer lurking inside him, and my friends are so busy they can barely find time to pay attention to their partners, much less me. What does that leave me with? Mum. She's been great, but she can't support me all by herself.

She went back inside, picked up James, and carried him with her over to the Burrow, making an effort to enjoy the weather and respond to James' limited attempts at speaking. When she got close, she saw someone Apparate about ten meters away from the front door of the Burrow, and waved with the arm that wasn't holding James. "Luna!"

"Hello, Ginny," said Luna with a smile. They approached each other, and Luna focused on James. "And hello there. I'm sorry, but I don't remember your name! What's your name?"

"I'm James," said James, his eyes eager.

"Yes, James, that's right! And my name's Luna. Can you say 'Luna'?"

"Oona!"

Ginny and Luna laughed. "He's not so good with l's and r's yet," said Ginny.

"Maybe he was Asian in a former life," joked Luna.

Some of the life drained out of Ginny's face; Luna noticed, but had no idea why. "That would be nice," managed Ginny.

"Blue!" shouted James. Luna glanced down and saw that her hands were a moderate shade of blue; she looked at James and Ginny in shock.

"James, no!" admonished Ginny. "Not for people! You can do it with blocks, toys, but not people!" James suddenly looked sad and guilty.

The color was already starting to fade, but Luna was still astonished. "He can do magic? Without a wand? At the age of two?"

"Harry's been working with him on it," said Ginny. "The idea was to get him to do it without a wand from the beginning, so he didn't learn that he needed one the way the rest of us did. Listen," she added, her voice taking on an urgent tone, "Please, please don't tell anyone about this. We don't want this, or him, to become a media thing. You know how Harry is about his privacy, and he dreads the idea of a Prophet headline like 'Two-Year-Old Potter Boy Can Do Wandless Magic,' like that. I'm sure you understand."

Better than you can know, thought Luna. "Of course, Ginny," she said earnestly. "I won't tell a single person, I promise." To James, she said, "You're a very impressive little boy. And very cute!" She smiled, and chuckled when James smiled back. "He really is a sweetie," said Luna to Ginny admiringly.

If only you knew what was in there, thought Ginny. I hope you're right. "Yes, he is," she agreed with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. "Luna, what you said before reminded me, at dinner a few weeks ago you said that your mother had already been reincarnated. I guess you've learned about this from the mystics in Tibet, but do you think your mother's personality is reflected in whoever she was reincarnated as? If you met her, do you think you would see any similarity?"

Luna was intrigued by the question, and thought for a few seconds. "I don't think so. Each life is in many ways a clean slate, and a lot of who we are has to do with environment and experience. We do have some inborn characteristics--my father says I've always been a little goofy, even for a child, and I'll bet you were spirited from a very young age. I think our soul kind of chooses those. But they have more to do with the whole collection of our past lives than the very most recent one. So if I recognized anything in her, it would have more to do with her soul than her personality in the life I knew her in. Why do you ask?"

Ginny shrugged. "It's just an interesting question. I should read about it more." Luna knew immediately that Ginny was lying. She didn't know if she knew because of her new abilities, or just intuition, but the topic clearly had a deep emotional resonance for Ginny. But Ginny didn't want to talk about it, so Luna wouldn't press her. "So, what brings you over here?"

"I just had a few questions for your father," she said. In fact, Luna knew the questions could have waited until Monday, but she'd come anyway; she'd had a sort of intuitive feeling that she should visit. She didn't know why, but she did it anyway. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see me, since he doesn't see me enough at the office."

Ginny smiled. "I think he likes having you there. He said he thinks Colin also likes having you there."

Luna chuckled. "Colin's also a sweetie," she said, running a hand gently through James' hair. "I don't know, I've always been very fussy about men. Maybe because I feel that I have to have just the right one, because I'm kind of unusual. I think that one of these days I'll look at a man, and I'll just know, I'll get a feeling that he's the right one. I have a feeling you know what I mean."

"Yes, I do," said Ginny. "I just hope mine comes back to me at some point."

"He'll find a way back, Ginny," said Luna. "I really think he will." Luna didn't know why she was so sure, but she felt it.

"Thank you, Luna. I do try to tell myself that." They walked into the house. Ginny didn't know whether she took comfort from Luna's feeling that Harry would come back, but she was comforted by what Luna said about past lives. Maybe I should go and talk to those mystics myself, she thought, maybe they'd make me feel better.

They walked in the front door to see Arthur in the living room, talking to Colin and Dudley. "Wow, just like at the office," Luna joked. "What's going on?"

Arthur's expression was serious. "The boys were just telling me about their little crime spree last night. If anyone outside this room finds out, they and I will be in trouble. But what they found out, or are pretty sure about, is disturbing."

Dudley briefly recapped what had happened for Luna and Ginny. "So, we can't say we're 100% sure. But it's the only thing that makes any sense, all the facts point to it. The problem is, what to do about it. We were asking Arthur if he thought it would be possible to get some Aurors on it. If that was done by wizards, it's hugely important. Oh, and Ginny, we brought the Cloak back."

"Thanks," she said. "So, can the Aurors do anything?"

"As I was telling the boys, no," said Arthur. "For one thing, it would be illegal, and the Aurors don't do illegal things without a profoundly good reason. But more than that, it's in another country, and if anyone got caught," he raised his voice slightly and glanced sternly at Colin and Dudley, "it would be quite an incident. The best we could do would be to tell our American counterparts, but I have to admit, they wouldn't do anything. This may just be one of those things we have to wait for more information about, something solid. I just wish they hadn't yanked that video off the Web so quickly. If I could even say I'd seen it, that would be different. Nobody's going to want to stick their necks out on the basis of what two junior Ministry employees say."

"Not to mention, Trent would make huge hay out of it," said Ginny.

"As I've already told these two, I don't care about that. I'm going to be a thorn in Trent's side. A small one, but one nonetheless. So, he's going to do his best to portray me as a weirdo, and my interest in Muggles will be a big target. I won't back off saying or doing anything I would otherwise say or do because of him. There's something liberating about not caring whether you have influence or not."

James wriggled out of Ginny's grasp, and ran outside. "Guess he thinks it's a nice day, too," said Ginny. "I'd better go and keep an eye on him." Luna sat as Ginny went back out the front door.

Ginny watched as her son ran around the yard. She had to make sure he didn't go into the garden, as the gnomes could be dangerous, even though they didn't tend to go looking for trouble.

The collie came bounding up the yard, heading for James. Cautiously, Ginny drew her wand; Molly had said the dog was friendly, but Ginny didn't want to be caught by surprise if that suddenly changed. She now saw that the dog had an old rag in its mouth. It approached James, shaking its head, clearly wanting him to play tug-of-war. James would never win, she thought, but at least he can play with the dog. Funny that we don't have a dog yet. We always intended to get one, but we just haven't got around to it. It would have to be really friendly--

Ginny's heart stopped as she saw James tug on the rag in the dog's mouth. Both James and the dog immediately disappeared.

Ginny was in shock for two seconds, then she screamed as loud as she could. Terrified, she knew exactly what had happened. Right under her nose, James had been kidnapped by Lucius Malfoy.

Everyone in the house came running out. "What happened?" asked a frightened Molly.

Hysterical, Ginny could barely get the information out. "That dog--rag in its mouth--Portkey--must be an Animagus--oh, my God, James..." Ginny started to cry, then realized something. "Harry can find him!" she shouted through tears. "That's why he bonded with him! Harry!" She shouted at the sky, but nothing happened.

Molly took out her wand, and whirled it. "Harry!" Nothing. "Fawkes!" Fawkes appeared seconds later. "Where's Harry?" asked Molly. "Never mind, bring Ron, we need Aurors! And Hermione, she can talk to the phoenixes!"

Hermione, alerted through Flora, Apparated in two seconds later; Ron, Pansy, and Neville were very close behind. Molly quickly explained what had happened, to Harry's friends' dread. "I'll alert the Aurors," said Neville, who Disapparated.

"Harry should be able to take them to where James is--" started Ginny, still extremely agitated, but was cut off by a high-pitched whine coming from the yard. Ron Summoned the source of the noise, which turned out to be a glass ball, a sphere about four inches in diameter; he didn't catch it, but let it hover in the air. They all knew what it was: a magical device called a Looking Glass, which could transmit audio and visual images. Ron cautiously activated it with his wand.

They could suddenly see a small room; another of the glass balls was apparently in an upper corner. It looked down on Lucius Malfoy, a bed on which a surprisingly calm James lay, and a grid of half-inch-thick metal bars crisscrossing all the open space the room would otherwise contain; its purpose was clearly to deny to anyone the ability to Apparate or otherwise transport into the room. The bars were close enough together that it looked as though even a phoenix wouldn't be able to get in.

"Where's Harry?" Ginny urgently whispered to Hermione. But before Hermione could answer, Malfoy spoke. "Wherever he is, he will not be able to help. This, today, is Harry Potter's punishment. There are Looking Glasses in Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and the Ministry's Atrium which are transmitting these images. Harry Potter taunted and mocked the Dark Lord publicly. My retribution will also be public."

It registered through Ginny's terror and fury that she was more or less being watched by most of wizarding society. She tried to rein in her desire to scream at Malfoy, as James was totally at his mercy. "What do you want?" she cried, the stress on her causing her words to sound more like a plea than she'd intended.

"Why, retribution, of course," responded a smiling Malfoy. "Were you not listening? But I understand that you mean, what do I want in exchange for your son's safe return. I want two things. One of them is your four friends: your brother, Granger, Longbottom, and Parkinson. They must Apparate to a spot of my choosing and break their wands, after which they will be killed."

The four exchanged glances. "Just tell us where," said Ron defiantly.

"No," exclaimed an alarmed Ginny.

"It is not that simple, Mr. Weasley," said a satisfied Malfoy. "I said, two things. The other is that she must personally request you to do it; the offer is not valid otherwise."

Harry stood on the ground outside the structure his son was in. The wall between them didn't matter; proximity was what mattered. He didn't think about what might happen, didn't allow himself to worry, or to be frustrated that he had been sleeping when James had been taken. He focused on what he knew he had to do. He focused on his connection to James, on transmitting one idea, one thought.

There was also a Looking Glass in Drake's hideaway; Drake and Hugo were watching. "Will she agree to his terms?" asked Drake.

"No," replied Hugo, miserable. He had spent an evening at Harry's home a year ago, and knew firsthand how deeply they loved their son. He could take only a tiny amount of comfort in knowing that it would be over soon. Malfoy had wanted to give her more time, and so stretch out her torment. Drake had vetoed the idea, on the grounds that Harry as a phoenix might be able to find his son, and take Aurors there. He was happy to make Ginny suffer--this was Drake's revenge on Potter as much as Malfoy's--but he would only take it so far.

Drake nodded. His expression was that of someone watching an interesting spectator sport.

Standing outside the Burrow with Colin and Dudley, five meters away from Ginny, Luna started her internal debate. With a mere thought, she could put James back in Ginny's arms, and Malfoy in custody. Odd, she thought, that she could do that without knowing their exact location; seeing them was enough. She had told herself she wouldn't do things like that, but her resolve was weakening.

"You bastard!" screamed Ginny. She started to sob, knowing in that second that James was as good as dead. She wouldn't, couldn't, do what Malfoy asked. She was sure he knew that, and made the demand just to torment her.

"Ginny--" Ron started.

"No!" she shouted and took a few steps away from him, not wanting to look at him or the others. She looked down and closed her eyes. Where was Harry? Was he transporting Aurors to the site? She couldn't ask, because they were being monitored. She prayed that he was.

"Very well," said Malfoy, looking disappointed that his enjoyment had to be curtailed. "This is the Dark Lord's revenge, and mine as well. Potter as much as killed my son; now I kill his." He pointed the wand at James.

"Avada--"

Ginny screamed again.

Luna saw what Ginny was suffering, and knew what she would suffer if James died. She decided to do it, to save James.

Before she could do anything, time stopped. Everyone was frozen in place but her. She wondered if she had done it, then turned and saw the First standing to her left. She made sure she and the first were the only two not frozen, then turned to the young, or at least youthful-appearing, Asian man. "What are you doing?"

"I am... providing you with a moment of reflection," he said calmly. "It is very easy, I know well, to be caught up in the emotion of the moment."

Luna took a deep breath; she realized that she had been on the verge of tears. "Are you saying I shouldn't do it?"

He shook his head. "You know that I would not use a word such as 'should.' If you follow through with your intention, I will not try to stop you. As I said, I simply want to allow you to reflect a moment. You made a decision when you discovered this. You are now on the verge of going against that decision. I am only saying that you may want to consider the ramifications, both for yourself and for others."

"I'm thinking about others!" she responded, nearly shouting. She paused, calming down. "I'm thinking about Ginny. This will destroy her, if it happens. She'll never be the same again."

"Perhaps," conceded the First. "But she may come through it better than you expect. There is no way to know. Would you deny her the opportunity?"

"She wouldn't want the opportunity!"

"On a conscious level, no, of course not," agreed the First. "But as you know, there are other levels, other reasons why things happen to us."

"Hasn't Ginny already been through enough?" argued Luna. "Having to watch the man she loves nearly killed a dozen times?"

"That is not something you can know. There can be deep, soul-based reasons that things happen. For example, there is one element of the current situation that may be considered such a reason."

"Can you tell me what it is?"

"It is, of course, very private to Ginny," said the First. "But you could find out for yourself, as I have; you simply have not done such things yet. Many things can be discovered in the true realm."

He took her hand and led her over to a more open space in front of the Burrow; she followed him and sat on the grass with him. It seemed very strange to look up and see the frozen images--Ginny in mid-scream, the horror on the other faces, especially Molly's. She gave the First her attention.

"A few weeks ago, Harry and Ginny discovered that the previous life lived by the soul that is now James, was Draco Malfoy." Luna gasped in horror and empathy; she now realized why Ginny had asked those questions a short time ago.

"Harry accepted the information with relative equanimity; his main concern was for his son's welfare. He accepted that his son's personality was different than that of Draco Malfoy. But Ginny has struggled to reach that kind of acceptance, and has not managed it yet. She cannot shut out the fear that some element of Draco will manifest itself in her son, or the feeling that James is... tainted, that he can never be the person he would have been. Worse, she lost her faith in her unconditional love for him. It is difficult for her to look at James, and not see Draco."

More tears came to Luna's eyes. "Poor Ginny. That must be awful."

"There are reasons that she would be unusually susceptible to such concern," said the First, with compassion. "This situation is a crucible for her. It is wrenching, but it is an opportunity to learn, to experience, to discover things about herself. For example, if she sees her son die, she may come to realizations about the nature of the soul. This may allow her to see beyond her fear about Draco. Times like this are when we are likeliest to have deeply felt understandings. Saving her son may take that away from her. It is arguably not your decision to make."

"What good will it do her to see beyond her fear about Draco if James is dead? Is Draco just going to come back as her next child until she accepts him?"

"We cannot know, of course. It is not impossible. But it will do her good anyway; it is an important step in the understanding of the soul in her conscious awareness. She has had doubts about herself, doubts which she has repressed. This may help her come to understandings about herself."

"It's too high a price," Luna argued. "This could destroy her."

"It need not," replied the First. "On some level, she has chosen this. If James is to die, the spirit whose last incarnation was Draco Malfoy understood that when he chose to be born as Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley's son. If he lived, it could be seen as a demonstration that the soul is not evil, cannot carry evil. If he does not, then his soul would have paid a karmic debt, so to speak, to Harry and Ginny by accepting an incarnation which was bound to be cut short so that she or they could learn important life lessons through his life and death."

"And then, you have Lucius Malfoy, about to kill the spirit that was once his own son," added Luna in wonder at the irony.

"Yes, though Lucius would not be aware of that until after he died," said the First. He paused; Luna could see his concern for her in his eyes. "There is another aspect of this which you may not have considered. I said a moment ago that on some level, Ginny chose this. Perhaps we can say her higher self chose this.

"A little over a year ago, when you and I talked in my cave, Harry saved one hundred and two people. What I am about to say may be difficult for you to believe, but I assure you it is true: of those hundred and two people, forty-two died in the chemical attack on New York last week."

Luna gaped. "That couldn't happen by chance..."

"The odds against it are astronomical," agreed the First. "But of course, it was not chance. Their souls had reasons for dying at that time; Harry interrupted those plans. Some will continue on, making new plans, but some unconsciously chose to die, for reasons we cannot know. They took the next similar opportunity to do so.

"This is why, if I may insert my own value judgment, your original decision not to interfere with anyone but your immediate family was a good one. If you do this, if you save James, you will make more and more exceptions as time goes by, and like Harry, find you have to stop somewhere. I stress, though, that this is simply how I feel; others in my position might feel differently. Harry does; I believe he would do again what he did a year ago. I simply have a different perspective, as I have long been detached from human society. I am not immune to the emotion that you feel now, in this situation. I suppose I have been connected to the true realm for so long that I simply accept it as part of the process of life, of creation.

"If James dies, Ginny may not learn from it. She may become bitter, cold, distance herself from Harry or anyone who cares for her. It has happened before, to many people. There must be that possibility for our experiences to be meaningful."

He stood. "It is not my intention to persuade you; as I said, I simply wished to allow you the opportunity for introspection, to reflect on your choice. I will leave you now; you may resume time when you have made your decision." He teleported away.

Still sitting on the grass, Luna put her head in her hands. Things looked so different in the heat of the moment than they did now, with as much time as she wanted to think. A short time ago, saving James had seemed the obvious thing to do. She had talked to him, seen the light in his eyes. Nothing like Draco Malfoy, she was sure. She felt an attachment to him. Then there was Ginny, so wounded by the knowledge of her son's previous life, now so desperate to see him live. If he died, Ginny's life would become a very dark place. She would blame herself for having distanced herself from him. But Luna's life had been dark for a while after her mother died. She and her father had struggled and suffered, but come through it by relying on each other, helping each other. She knew she had learned lessons from it, lessons that probably couldn't have been learned any other way. Maybe this would be the same for Ginny. Yes, Ron or Hermione would save James if they could. They'd give their lives to do it. But I can do it just like that. It's not the same.

She sat for another ten minutes, agonizing. With great sadness, she finally decided: she would do nothing. It was heartbreaking; she supposed this was the price she paid for even considering going against her original plan. She slowly walked back to her spot, standing as she had before so her movement outside of time would not be noticed. Holding back tears, she started time again.

Ginny's scream resumed.

"--Kedavra!" shouted Lucius Malfoy.

The green bolt only had a short distance to travel. But to Luna's utter shock, and that of everyone there, the green Killing Curse shield came on around James. He lay on the bed, calm and unharmed.

Ginny gasped loudly, then again. "Harry! The bond!" she blurted out as she realized what had happened. James was still in mortal danger. But at least he was alive.

Outside the structure containing James and Malfoy, Harry knew he had only bought James some time. He hadn't tried to teach James the all-purpose defensive magic spell, his intuition telling him that it would be too difficult. He had focused on the green shield, transmitting to James his own mental state when using it in the past. He now realized that he had encouraged James to use magic over the past two days because he would need to use it now. But he had no idea what Malfoy would do next, and he couldn't prepare James in time. Taking a guess, he focused on sending James protection against the Cruciatus Curse.

Lucius Malfoy looked as if he couldn't believe what he had just seen. He looked around the room to make sure someone hadn't snuck in somehow.

At the Burrow, Molly spoke. "What did Harry--"

She cut herself off at Dobby's sudden appearance. "Ginny Potter! Dobby heard screaming, and--" Dobby himself let out a shriek at looking up and seeing the Looking Glass images: Lucius Malfoy had recovered from his shock and was now holding his wand above James. "I suspect that a simple Severing spell, on the neck, should do nicely," Malfoy announced. He raised his wand, ready to lower it like a knife.

Dobby shrieked again, and vanished. To the further shock of those watching, Dobby appeared in the Looking Glass images: he had somehow teleported into the room with Malfoy and James. Molly gasped at what she saw. The point of the metal bars had been to disallow entrance by Apparation. Dobby didn't technically Apparate, but it was almost the same thing. Dobby had teleported into the metal bars, disregarding their presence. One vertical bar now went through the right side of his head, and another through his left shoulder. He gasped in pain.

Malfoy paused his motion, astonished. Fury overcoming his pain, Dobby pointed his hand at Malfoy, and a liquid fire came out of it; like an ignited jet of oil. Malfoy either didn't have the time or the presence of mind to put up any shield, and he was suddenly on fire. Dobby kept the stream going for another second, then it stopped. Malfoy was fully ablaze, had dropped his wand in shock, and was himself restricted by the metal bars; he could go nowhere.

Gasping with the effort and increasing pain, Dobby Summoned James through the metal bars, making sure James' head didn't hit any. Grasping James by the shirt, he teleported away again.

He appeared on the Burrow lawn where he had left; Luna saw to her horror that one could actually see through the hole in Dobby's head, though it was starting to fill with blood and brain matter. Molly grabbed James and tried to catch Dobby, who fell to the ground. His left arm dangled uselessly from its shoulder socket.

"Dobby!" Ginny shouted, and knelt. Pansy raced forward, wand out, to see if there was anything she could do. They were joined by a gold and orange phoenix, who bent over Dobby's head. Tears fell into the gaping hole.

Dobby smiled at seeing Harry. "Thank you, Harry Potter," he said weakly. "But Dobby is happy. Even phoenix tears cannot..." The last word was a mumble, and he had no more strength. Ginny looked at Pansy; she cast a spell, then shook her head.

Ginny sat on the ground, held Dobby's hand, and cried. More phoenix tears fell on Dobby, not for healing purposes.