The Ransom of Albus Dumbledore

"Sirius, where are you?" Hermione murmured as she trotted down a corridor. There was a door in the distance, a plain black door.

She felt a sudden, sharp twinge in her chest as if a shard of metal were embedded there and her movements had jarred it out of its cocoon of scar tissue. Now her every breath squeezed at it, working it towards her heart.

She put out a hand against the wall to steady herself. A red haze dimmed her eyes, and phantoms of the past rose before her, roiling the mist: a grinning giant... centaurs clopping about... cold breath of invisible winged beasts... Death Eaters leering through pallid masks...

Hermione suddenly dreaded this challenge more than any she'd faced so far.

"Sirius," she cried, "that door... I can't... I just can't..."

A robed figure lurched out of an opening Hermione hadn't noticed before. Squat, toad-like, breathless, a rainbow of ribbons in her tightly curled hair, Dolores Umbridge goggled at her.

"You! What are you doing here? Trespasser!" she screeched. "Come to do more damage, have you? It wasn't enough you lot shattered thousands of Galleons' worth of equipment in the Time Lab. Not enough that we've had to re-interview myriads of witnesses to restore all those Prophecy Balls. Not enough that we haven't been able to recapture the Extra-terrestrial Memory-Squids that stupid Weasley boy let loose." "But... but..."

"I'm going straight to the Minister. He'll settle your hash once and for all, Missy!"

Hermione froze, transfixed with guilt. She heard a clattering on the flinty floor behind her, and something muscled on past her, something big and hooved. Not Sirius, unless he was playing "horsey" again.

Now it was her turn to stare. Between her and the former High Inquisitor of Hogwarts stood a centaur, at least twenty-four hands tall. "Button your lip, you vindictive old hag," he barked as he backed her into a wall, "or I'll give you something to complain about!"

Mouth agape, eyes bugging out, Umbridge slid past them both and scurried up the corridor, squawking and flapping her arms like an enormous chicken. "Minister! Ministerrr... rrrrr... "

~*~

...rrrrrrmione, Hermione, wake up!

"What? Sirius?" Hermione sat up and rubbed at her eyes. Pale light reflecting off the walls of her marble gaol told her it was about dawn. "Where are you?"

Over here.

Hermione looked about and found her partner waving at her from the mirror on the wall. The sight of him, opalescent, ghostly, and in a form she actually recognized first relieved then confused her. At least they were not in the Ministry basement. But... "Wait. Where did she go?"

He grinned. Who? Madam Pifflesmear? Sorry, I had to give her back.

"No, Dolores Umbridge."

Umbridge? What are you talking about? I'd never get inside her. Ook! How can you even suggest such a thing?

"It must have been a dream." She rubbed at her eyes.

It would have been a nightmare if she was involved.

"It was. We were in... the Department of Mysteries, I think."

Say, you must be psychic. That's where the list will be taking you next.

"What? Oh no, I dread that place, Sirius."

Why?

"Well, it's where a lot of my friends almost got themselves killed."

Yeah... and one of them actually did.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Sirius. Of course, it was a terribly sad day all around."

Aw... yeah... well...

She sought to change the subject with a practical observation. "Erm... will you still be able to travel with me? Like that?" She gestured at the mirror.

I won't be going with you this time.

"Why not? Couldn't you get another body?"

Not exactly. Hermione, I have some good news and some bad news.

"Meaning?"

The good news is my time is up. I get to cross over. Tonight.

"Really? I thought it wasn't until--"

Believe it or not, I got time off for good behavior. And Death found a new hobby for Bertha and Sergei--lawn bowling--so they're out of his hair for now.

"That's wonderful! But... erm... you said there's bad news too. You're not going to... the Other Place, are you? I mean I know your reputation wasn't exactly spotless on this side--"

Oh, that's all taken care of. His voice softened. Death says I had a lot of obstacles to overcome. You know, my family and all, and that made up for a lot of... you know... my... faults.

"Then you'll get to be with Lily and James. You must be so happy. Erm... what is the bad news?"

My time is up. I have to cross over.

"You already said that. Oh no, you don't mean I'll have to do without you from here on out?"

For the next few challenges, at least. See, before you can get into heaven, there are these orientation sessions where you learn the ropes--the rules and regs--you know. And an entrance exam. So you won't be seeing me for a while.

"An entrance exam?"

Yeah. My rep being what it is, they want to be sure I'll be taking it seriously.

"I don't know, Sirius. I'm not sure I can do this on my own."

Well, they're working on a contingency plan--

"They?"

Lily and James.

"Which is?"

James.

"James what?"

James gets to go with you on this one.

"Really? But he's already crossed over. I thought you couldn't--"

As long as he doesn't stay over here too long, he'll be all right.

"What do you mean?"

Lily explained it to me. Spirits don't eat, you know, but we still need energy to get around and pass through walls and stuff. Now, all this time, before I passed over, I was still partly of this world so I could feed off the energies of this world. But once I cross over, I say bye-bye to my leftover mortalness and become a completely different entity. What they call 'exo-SPAZZ-mic.'"

"Erm... I think you mean 'ectoplasmic.'"

"Really? Whatever. But it's impressive, isn't it? That's why no spirit can stay in this world very long. They have to get back and replenish their energy in the spiritual plane. I'll have to stay over there a while to get really gassed up--

"Oh."

You don't sound too happy about it.

"I don't know. I've been thinking it over, and I've rather enjoyed getting to know you."

We both learned a lot about each other, didn't we?

"Yes. Erm, we made a pretty good team now that I think about it."

But I'll be back, Hermione. I promise. Until then, hang in there, won't you?

She nodded.

He grinned impishly. And now... heeeeeerrrrre's Jamesie! Sirius pedaled backwards and receded in the mirror until he shrank to gnome-size, then pixie-size, then just a little black dot.

There was a puff of smoke, and the translucent figure of a tall man with glasses and an unruly mop of black hair floated before her. Hermione Granger, said the shade of Harry's father, bowing, I've been wanting to make your acquaintance for a long, long time.

Hermione was sure she was blushing. He was very good-looking, a mature version of Harry. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. The feeling is mutual."

Call me James, please. He skimmed about slowly, taking in the room. Nice digs. Reminds me of some picturesque ruins in Thessaly. Lily and I went there for our sixteenth honeymoon last year.

"How... how romantic."

Yes, there are perks to being dead, I must admit. In an odd way, Voldemort did us a favor though I'd rather have stayed around long enough to see my son give him the mickey.

"You know what Ron and Harry and I are about, then?"

Yes.

"And you approve?"

We both do, wholeheartedly. And for that reason, I'm sorry to say, we had to tamper with Ron and Harry's memories a bit...

"What memories?"

It wouldn't be good for Harry to remember that he saw you with Dudley the other day.

"Why not?"

You need to start your quest with no doubts about each other...

"But..."

It's done, Hermione. Neither Ron nor Harry remember anything of what happened in Little Whinging.

Hermione felt a cold lump in the pit of her stomach. Ron wouldn't remember... the fight, the kisses... it was like they never happened. She hoped his feelings hadn't been erased too...

... course, we're hoping Harry will be doing more than just giving 'Moldie Voldie' the mickey.

"What? Oh yes... I have a feeling it'll be a duel to the death... "

Right. And I understand there's a cozy little place reserved for the Dark Lord in the last level of Hell.

"You sound very confident we'll succeed."

No, I'm not at all confident. But--we know he'll get his eventually. Nobody lives forever, Hermione. And then it's into Satan's teeth for the wizard who's tormented my son all these years, right next to a pleasant fellow named Adolph Hitler."

Oh, that's gruesome. I read The Inferno. So it's really true?"

Pretty near.

"It sounds horrible, to be chewed and digested through all eternity."

Actually it's only a poor metaphor for what really awaits him: utter, loveless loneliness and despair. Serves him right though. He's ground down enough poor souls in his own rotten life.

Hermione shuddered at this.

The ghost stared at her. What's the matter?

"Somehow, I thought Harry's father would be more--"

More merciful? More forgiving, perhaps?

She nodded.

The living feel mercy. The dead deal only in justice. He thought a moment. But I guess we'd better get on with the task at hand.

Hermione took a deep breath. "What do I have to do, James?"

It's like this: Narcissa Malfoy made an appointment to see someone in the Department of Mysteries.

"How do you know that?"

She mentioned it to her husband in that letter you took from her desk.

"The writing sample. I remember. What's the visit about? Did she give any hints?"

She was pretty blatant about it actually. Careless of her. She's going to try to bribe a Ministry official to let Lucius out of prison--today, we think.

"How can that even be on Dumbledore's list? It's months old."

If we're reading Albus's shorthand right, the item reads 'Keep Malfoys safe from Voldemort for as long as possible.' So we're guessing that as long as Lucius is in Azkaban, he's relatively safe. and if we can get Narcissa and Draco arrested, then so much the better.

"But we still have to keep them from escaping. Huh! Like the Ministry's been able to do that."

For Dumbledore's sake, it's only important that we give it our best shot, Hermione. And, don't be so hard on the Aurors. They did manage to recapture some of the goons that got out last time. And they seem to have figured out a way to escape-proof the cells at least for now with wards and guards patrolling on dragons. An idea of one of the Weasleys, I understand. Your boyfriend, perhaps?

"Oh no. Ron's brother Charlie is the dragon-tamer in the family. But flying around on dragons? That sounds dangerous."

That's what fighting Voldemort is all about, Hermione: fear held at bay by courage... and ingenuity.

"I'll have to remember that when we go out looking for him. But even dragons are better than Dementors, I suppose. They're so foul. I'd bet they were itching for You-Know-Who to return just so they could join him. Erm--how are we getting there? To the Ministry, I mean. Not Thestrals--or dragons, I hope."

I am equipped with something like an Apparition spell. And as long as I don't stay out too long...

"I know. You have to refuel. Do you have any other--defensive spells?"

Not to worry. I understand Madam Malfoy is wandless at the moment.

"What do you mean?"

That Healer friend of hers--

"Augustus Pye?"

The same. He visited her yesterday--

"Oh no, Sirius was so sure he wouldn't!"

Well, he did, and a good thing too. He destroyed her cache of potion ingredients and took her wand and locked her house-elves in the kitchen with a month-long Locking Spell.

"So she has to eat out and do her own laundry?"

And dress herself among other things.

"Poor, poor Madam Malfoy. Oh, that reminds me. Should I wear a disguise to the Ministry?"

No, you can relax and be yourself. The staff have been rather busy--ah--helping with the clean-up.

"What? It's been two years since the break-in. Did we really do that much damage?"

Oh, that's been fixed long since. But it seems that yesterday a group of centaurs ram-rodded their way inside and demanded to see the Minister. They crapped all over the Atrium while they were waiting. Muddied up that nice big fountain, dented furniture, destroyed statuary, broke the elevator. It'll need a complete makeover. But I hear that was in the works anyway. I'll Apparate us to the corridor outside the Department of Mysteries. We think the most likely target is one Roderick Herald. He's in charge of commutations and pardons these days.

"You mean he gets to say who stays and who goes?"

I think the Wizengamot still makes the actual decisions, but he signs the release form and owls it up to the prison warden.

"But Ministry agents would never take a bribe--"

They're Unspeakables, Hermione, not Untouchables. When Lily and I knew him, Herald was a heavy gambler. And a thousand Galleons would cover a lot of markers.

"A thous--oh, come now. Not even the Malfoys have that kind of money just lying around."

I don't know, Hermione. Have you seen Narcissa's jewelry?

~*~

They reached the black door. Hermione's hand trembled as it brushed the knob. She couldn't bring herself to open it. The memories--that pain in her chest--

James spoke a word in a language Hermione did not recognize, but it sounded like a command. The door opened, revealing the circular, many-doored anteroom she and her friends had encountered two years before. There were no more scorch marks on the doors from the flaming X-es she'd made on them. but one on the left was wide open, and she could hear voices.

That's your cue, I think, said James. I sense all the other doors are magically barred--probably out of respect for the ingenuity of those pesky D.A. members... Go ahead, Hermione. I've got your back.

She entered the room, hoping James truly did 'have her back'. It was an office with two men and two women standing around a desk.

The older witch's head jerked up, and she stared at the newcomer as if Hermione were a Jarvey that had just barged in spewing rude expletives. "How did you get down here?" She was small and white-haired, but there was nothing delicate about her voice. "This is a restricted area."

Hermione recognized her plum-colored robes with the silver 'W' embroidered on the chest. A member of the Wizengamot, she thought. I'd better be careful. "I'm Hermione Granger. I'm a student at Hogwarts."

"Granger," grunted the wizard behind the desk. He was short and pale and looked somehow familiar. A sign on the desk identified him as Anson Croaker, Deputy Director. "Hah, you were one of those kids that almost put us out of business us a couple of years ago. It's a tad late for apologies, girl, if that's what you're here for."

"Actually, Croak," crowed a familiar voice, a another witch with her back to Hermione, young and Muggle-dressed, with shocking pink hair and a small star tattoo on her neck, "I think she's to be congratulated. If it wasn't for her and her friends, we'd still be thinking You-Know-Who was harmless." She turned and winked. "Wotcher, Hermione. How're the boobies?"

Hermione gasped. "Tonks! It's great to see you." They threw themselves at each other with hearty hugs and pats on the back. "And my boob--I mean, my chest has healed up nicely, thanks."

Another man squeezed into the small office. "What's this? Old home week?" He was wearing a knee length white robe with an emblem of a clock on its yoke over rumpled trousers. "How's it going, Roddie? Ants? Tonks?--oh, hallo, Madam Lasser."

"Hullo, Orrin," said Tonks. "This is my good bud, Hermione Granger. She's going into her final year at Hogwarts."

"Granger. Where have I heard that name before? Something about the school... Oh yes, our office loaned Minerva McGonagall a Time-Turner a couple years back so you could take extra classes. How'd that come out?"

"I pretty much aced them."

"That's my Hermione," said Tonks. "What say we commandeer her for an Auror right now, Madam Lasser? I bet she's better'n me at hexes at least."

"I don't think that would be a good idea right now, Nymphadora, with things as... unsettled as they are," said the older witch. "But my granddaughter Johanna, who also qattends Hogwarts, told me all about you, Miss Granger. Very promising. Come see us when you graduate, won't you?" She moved towards the door, calling over her shoulder, "If any of your people find that missing... erm... artifact, Orrin, let me know at once. It's a good thing 'Miss Kitty' ordered that inventory. Can't afford to let one fall into the wrong hands."

"Guess I'd better be moving along myself, Croak," said Tonks. "I have a meeting with Old Litter Lover myself." Tonks squeezed Hermione's arm as she left. "That's Umbridge to you, girlfriend. Lots of new and exciting rules coming. Don't be a stranger now."

"See you at the game tonight, Roddy?" said the time tech as he trailed Tonks out the door. "I'm betting Puddlemere'll sweep 'em."

"Sure thing. I've got a couple of Knuts on the Falcons myself." The other wizard walked out with him.

The time tech slapped him on the back. "More fool you."

Anson Croaker sat down and crossed his arms. "Can I do something for you, Miss... Granger, is it?"

"Sir, erm... Agent Croaker, I think we met once before. At the Quidditch World Cup three years ago."

"Mmm... yes, I was there... Bulgaria and Ireland. Interesting finish, that. But you didn't come here to talk sports."

"Erm... I heard that the mother of one of my classmates is going to be coming here today. Madam Malfoy."

"And you're planning to meet her here?"

"Yes, that's it. I was wondering if you knew who she was going to be meeting with?"

"Really? I don't think that would be any of your business. Do you?"

"Well... I know her son Draco quite well... "

"Draco Malfoy? The boy who was kidnapped by You-Know-Who?"

"He wasn't... I mean... erm... yes, that's him."

"So? What of it?"

"I've heard that Madam Malfoy is desperate to get her husband out of prison."

He frowned at her. "And?"

"And that she might even try something illegal to make it happen."

"What? Are you talking about a prison break? I can assure you, Miss, we've got Azkaban locked up tighter than Dumbledore's tomb, even without the Dementors." His scowl softened. "Oh, sorry. He was your head wasn't he?"

"That's all right. But Madam Malfoy... I heard she might be going to try to... bribe someone to let him out."

"Huh? Where'd you hear that?"

"Erm... a letter I saw on her desk. And I got this feeling... like maybe I could talk her out of it."

"Snooping, were you?"

"No... just visiting."

"Do you have this letter?"

"No."

"Any other proof? Except this feeling of yours?"

"No."

He opened a datebook. "I don't see any Malfoys on the admissions list today. So you'd best be bothering someone else with your questions. Or better yet, get back to your studies, Missy. Leave the detecting to our Aurors."

Hermione hung her head. "All right. Sorry." She left the room and leaned against the wall. She had no idea where to look for this fellow Roderick Herald. She'd have to hide somewhere and see if Narcissa showed up. But where was James? Not refueling already, she hoped. He seemed so different from Sirius, as different as Harry was from Ron.

A frisson ran through her though she didn't feel cold or even frightened. Then she realized the wall itself was trembling. She pulled herself off it just in time as it began to rotate round and round. This phenomenon she remembered from the last time she had been there. Ginny had thought it was to confuse trespassers. When it stopped, a door opened, and out walked the lab tech she had met earlier.

"Hallo," he said cheerily. "Miss Granger, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mr.--"

"Orr. Orrin Orr is my name."

"Mr. Orr. You work in--"

"The Laboratory of Time, yes."

"It must be fascinating."

"Indeed it is. Would you like to see it? I've nothing on my schedule for the next hour or so."

"Oh, I would." But that bell jar that the Death Eater crashed into is in there and the cabinet with all the Time Turners that Neville smashed. And the office where Dolohov almost killed me me... and the Hall of Prophecy...

She tried to quell her fears with calm reasoning. If Orr knew Herald--he seemed to like gambling too--it would be worth the discomfort. And she could keep an ear out for visitors. That rumbling wall would give anyone away.

She followed him through another door. The room was much the same as she recalled it: a sparkling light filled the air; everything they'd ruined was back to normal. Well, not normal. Nothing about this room could be called normal.

He gave her a tour and confirmed that the bell jar contained a slice of Time itself, captured years ago out of a collapsing universe by a witch of great genius, now deceased. At this moment, it held a butterfly, which went through its stages--egg, larva, pupa, adult, and back to egg--with languid grace. They talked a while of time and prophecy and karma and the vagaries of chance. He seemed more a philosopher than a scientist. She found herself enchanted by his ideas and felt she was gaining a wealth of understanding about the Magicosm at every turn of the conversation.

But there was no time for this. She decided to come to the point. "What about gambling?"

"What do you mean?"

"Could a gambler gain a financial advantage by manipulating time?"

"A person like me, you mean? That would be strictly against the law of course. And a wizard that came up right a bit too often, picking a horse or a team, especially an expert in time manipulation like yours truly, would be suspected immediately. So we have to play the odds just like the Muggles do. Besides it's the thrill of not knowing until the last second that makes it all worth the price you pay."

"You enjoy it."

"As do many of us in the department. There's a certain rush to it, not unlike discovering a new worm-hole. But betting can be a bad for a chap. You have to know how to use all the tools at your command, or your purse will be the worse for it."

"Do you have any friends who don't know how to... use all the tools?"

"Oh yes. Roddy Herald. He has no head for maths. Thinks it's all luck and... hunches."

Hermione's ears pricked up. "Was that... erm... the other man in the office just now?"

Orr nodded.

"I've heard the name. He's lost heavily, betting on Quidditch, hasn't he?"

"Who told you that?"

"Some mutual friends. They're worried that he might be in financial trouble."

"That's possible. He's tried to borrow off me a number of times."

"My friends were right then. Oh dear--"

"What's the matter? Is that why you came here?"

"You're his friend too, aren't you?"

"Of course. I've worked with him for years."

"I... his friends think he might be going to do something bad."

"Like what?"

"Take a bribe."

He stared at her. "How... what do you mean?

"Do you know the Malfoys?" she ventured.

His face became a studied blank. "I know of them. Lucius Malfoy and his family have supported the Ministry for generations.

"You know he's in Azkaban now."

"Yes, I heard. Some people think the charges against him were trumped-up."

"How could they? I mean... it's so obvious--"

"From what I heard, it could have been a mere case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Cornelius Fudge explained it to me. Mr. Malfoy could have been visiting the department on an innocent errand when he heard shouts, followed them to the Amphitheatre, and got caught in the cross-fire."

"But I was there... I mean here... in the Hall of Prophecy that day. I saw... I recognized Lucius Malfoy's voice. He was the ring leader. And he was caught red-handed by Aurors."

"Really? An eyewitness. How exciting. But it could have happened the way Fudge said, couldn't it? I mean unless you know Mr. Malfoy extremely well, lots of voices sound alike."

"No, no. I know the Malfoys. They're in with the Death Eaters. They tortured Harry Potter--"

"Potter! The kid who wrecked my laboratory--"

"He... we didn't mean to. They were chasing us."

His eyes bored into her and his voice grew cold. "Oh, I see. You were a part of that little wrecking crew."

"We did it out of self-defense," she murmured weakly.

He sighed and walked towards the back of the room. "Well, we did get things back in order. And I must admit it was a neat experiment getting that one fellow's head back to normal--the one who got caught in the Slice of Time." He gestured grandly at the bell jar. "I learned quite a bit about what rapid growth and decay does to brain cells."

Hermione, feeling his thaw, joined him. "What does it do?"

"Fries 'em."

"Oh dear."

"Doesn't matter. The fellow--name's Goyle--is quite happy in his little room at Saint Mungo's."

"It's better than a term in Azkaban, I suppose."

"Oh, right. He thinks he's the reincarnation of King Arthur, does Master Goyle. Made his own crown and a Round Table in shop. Now he just needs a couple of other crazies to say they're Launcelot and Guinevere... and some of the other knights, " He continued his lecture, ambling through a short corridor in the direction of the Hall of Prophecy. Hermione followed. "... and believe it or not, it was all foretold by his great aunt Harriet. I can show you the glass it's captured in. Can't touch it of course... "

She heard a rumbling noise, the circular room doing its mixing-up trick.

She turned. "Oh, I'd better go--"

"Must you? I don't think that's for me... not yet."

The rumbling stopped and the door sprang open.

She could just make out, past the bell jar, a figure wrapped in a dark cloak and hood bent nearly double with what looked like heavy sacks in each hand. Dropping the sacks to the floor, the figure unwound itself from its disguise. It was Narcissa Malfoy.

Orrin Orr passed Hermione at a gallop, his face a fiery red.

"Help me with these, Orr," she complained. "I'm early I know, but one has no idea how long a trip without Apparition will be, and I couldn't wait out in the hall with these--"

"Um, Madam Malfoy, what an unexpected pleasure."

"Pleasure for you, perhaps, but hardly unexpected." She shrugged elegant shoulders though Hermione could see the silk of her blouse was quite rumpled. "You can count it if you like, but I can assure you it's all there. Now if you'll just hand over the Time Turner..."

Hermione started to edge backwards towards the Hall of Prophecy. She knew there were other ways out of the Hall, which included a series of offices she might hide in. But she was halted in her tracks by an Accio, which slid her forward to join Orr and his well-dressed crony, and then laid low by some form of Body Bind.

"What's this?" cried Madam Malfoy, stooping over Hermione. "I know you," she spat. "Potter's Mudblood bint." She drew herself up and confronted Orrin Orr. "What's she doing here?"

Orr shrugged. "Asking questions. She thought it was Roddy Herald you were going to bribe."

"For what? A release form? Ridiculous. But... how did she know?"

"That's what I was trying to get out of her, before you interrupted our conversation. But why couldn't you Apparate down? And your servants could have brought this stuff for you."

Narcissa's eyes glinted as well. "That's a longer story than I care to dwell on. Suffice it to say, I misplaced my wand, and the elves are... eh... otherwise occupied."

"Well, look here. I've got to go get the Time Turner. Keep this just in case." He handed her a wand from a desk drawer. "I always have a couple of extras around. It'll be good for a Stunner at least if that Body Bind weakens."

Narcissa accepted the wand with alacrity and turned it on their captive. "Good," she called after him. "Just show me how the Turner works, and I'll take myself back to the past to the Hall of Prophecy when all this happened and get my poor husband out of there. The dear, innocent fool, how he could get himself mixed up in this... "

"No!" cried Hermione. "You can't do this, Mr. Orr." He turned and stared at her. She was surprised herself that she could speak. It must have been a Lesser Bind that he had placed on her.

"Whyever not, Miss Granger?" said the time tech. "Are you going to say that I'm being disloyal perhaps? But I have been loyal, always. This--" He gestured to the two bags of Galleons spilling out over his desk. "--is a gift for my years of dedicated service to the Ministry."

"But what you're doing is wrong."

"No, the Ministry is wrong. I'm helping out a loyal Ministry supporter, Lucius Malfoy. Surely he will be proven innocent eventually. Madam Umbridge told me so. No need for him to languish in prison while the Wizengamot tries to sort out the whys and wherefores of this sordid affair."

"You're taking a bribe--"

"Shut up, girl! You Muggle-borns with your James Bond movies think it's all wine, witches, and song for us Ministry agents. Mysteries technicians are no better than medieval serfs. We work hard for low pay, and we don't get out much. With my... er... reward, I'm going to enjoy life for a change. A thousand Galleons can buy a lot of... ah... catching-up on life." He whirled about and stalked back past the bell jar.

Hermione thought hard. The scenario didn't ring true. Why was Narcissa Malfoy bringing the gold to his office when all she had to do was send a letter of transfer to Gringotts? What if the Malfoy coffers were depleted? Did she steal the money perhaps?

She played the whole scene over in her mind, from the moment Madam Malfoy had entered the room. The bags were indeed heavy. She was still puffing and blowing from her effort. But a Galleon weighed much more than any other coin its size, because gold is the densest of substances except for a few rare metals not worth mentioning. In fact, each of the huge wizarding coins weighed almost three ounces. So each of those bags, holding five hundred Galleons each, had to weigh almost a hundred pounds! Even given mages' legendary endurance, she didn't think Narcissa could have lugged that weight all the way from Malfoy Manor.

Orr returned with the Time Turner dangling from his hand on a silver chain.

"I'll bet those aren't real Galleons," Hermione blurted.

"Silence, girl! Of course they are real. Just look at them." Narcissa rummaged through a bag and threw a handful of the coins on the desk. They glinted bright yellow in the torchlight.

The time tech's eyes reflected their glitter, but he suddenly caught up the Time Turner in his hand and held it to his chest.

Narcissa clucked in derision, but she tried to make her voice warm and inviting. "Come on now, Orrin, the offer's getting cold. Do you want the money, or do I take it next door to Roddy Herald? I hear he has a cash-flow problem even bigger than yours."

"Don't give it to her!" Hermione cried. "The bags aren't heavy enough. Don't you see? I did a paper on metalwork in Muggle Studies last year. Those bags should weigh more than Madam Malfoy could carry without a Lightening Charm. But if the coins were made of bronze, or better yet, aluminum or even steel, and painted gold, they'd be quite manageable."

Now Orrin Orr looked uncertain. He rummaged in his pocket, picked out three Galleons, hefted them and, with his other hand, picked up an equal number from the desk. With a fingernail he scratched at one from the bag, and gold flakes floated off it. His face went cold as he turned on Narcissa. "You avaricious witch! You've got more money than you can ever spend, but you can't even spare a few coins for the likes of me." He jammed the Time Turner into his pocket. "I'll see your husband never gets out of Azkaban. He can rot there. And you'll join him if I have anything to say about it!"

Rage distorting her face, Narcissa fired a Stunner at him. It caught him square in the chest, and he dropped behind his desk. Then she whipped around and pointed the wand at Hermione. "This is all your fault, you horrible girl. Im going to make sure you can never interfere with my family again!" This is it, Hermione thought. I'll soon be joining Sirius... and James and Lily. Not such bad company when you think about it. Still it's sad... just when I was starting to understand Ron... Narcissa's wand barked and a purple flame issued from its tip. It was the same spell the Silencio-ed Death Eater had been unable to fully discharge at her when she was last in this place. Déjà-vu...

The spell glanced off something, a Block of some kind. James must have been lurking invisible and backed her up somehow.

Narcissa, infuriated, Disapparated with the borrowed wand.

To Hermione's surprise, Orrin Orr raced across the room and helped her to a nearby sofa. "She was so fast," he said. "I barely had time to get that Shield up."

"How did you--?"

"Something I've been doing experiments on." He unbuttoned his robe collar and she saw a flash of silver. "Goblin armor. Blocks most curses."

"It was you who saved me then. Th-thanks!"

Just then a figure burst through the door. It was Tonks, wand waving. "Hermione! Orrin! We detected a Slasher Curse down here. What happened?" She just managed to stop herself from tripping over something lying on the rug. "Ooh, ick! What's this? A finger? And a hairpiece."

"Oh my," said Orrin Orr, surveying the tiny appendage, perfectly manicured and girdled by a diamond and sapphire ring and the hank of silver hair with some scalp still attached. "Looks like Madam Malfoy Splinched herself. Tch, tch, couldn't happen to a nicer person."