At What Price?

Chapter 8- Tangled Threads

Padfoot rolled over in the lush green grass and stood up just in time to be tackled. He rolled over on to his back, the weight of his assailant pressing onto his chest as he did so. Kicking his legs he rolled over and stood up again. Back on his feet, the monstrous shaggy black dog stood over the small form beneath him and contemplated what to do next. With a mischievous gleam in his eye he dragged his slobbery tongue over her delicate face.

"Ewwww! Doggy kisses!" she squealed with childish delight. He licked her face several more times causing her to giggle profusely as she grabbed at his muzzle and ears with her small hands.

"Heather Louise!" The man's voice called for the third time before Padfoot realized that must be the little girl's name. He flopped over and sat down next to the little girl as a man who was surely her father came walking up. "What have I told you about playing with that filthy stray, young lady?" Padfoot suppressed the growl of indignation that was threatening to escape his throat; he had just bathed in the fountain this morning.

"Daddy, he's a fun doggy. Can I have him?" Heather's exuberant four year-old voice would have made him laugh had he been in human form, instead his tongue lolled out of his mouth and his tail thumped the ground involuntarily.

"No, Heather, we are not taking that beast home with us." Padfoot was still trying to decide if he should be insulted when the real reason he had been living in this park for three days showed up. The great dog launched himself from a sitting position and loped across the large cultivated lawns. He skidded to a stop behind a hedgerow and watched as the young blonde man crossed the garden.

Sniffing the air he caught the scent of another man and followed the scent to his left. A large thick-bodied man was plowing through the underbrush. Not wanting to be seen Padfoot moved back and looked for another spot where the oafish man had already checked. Settling down into a comfortable spot where his claws could get a good grip, Padfoot pitched his ears forward.

"You have it then?" The blonde man asked in a casual way.

"Yes, do you have what I want?" Her voice had a definite edge to it.

"I'm sure I do, Ms Miran." The man's drawling voice was suggestive, bordering on lewd. "However, this is hardly the place for such an intimate engagement."

"Not hardly, Draco." The young woman crossed her legs, giving the young man an ample view of her well-tanned muscular thighs. "Give me the file." Draco produced a leather folder, but held it just beyond her reach.

"The necklace, Ms Miran." Padfoot bit back the urge to bark out something obscene as she pulled out a silver necklace with a large sapphire suspended in a silver working that looked like an eye. Suddenly the sound of a little girl's voice broke across the clearing. Draco grabbed the woman and attached his lips to hers, pinning the necklace between them. Heather and her father walked past the two young lovers, paying them no mind. Padfoot held his breath until the father and daughter were clear from the area. Carefully he edged around the secluded grove to be sure that the innocents weren't caught by one of Draco's cronies.

Finally after several long minutes, Draco broke away from the kiss and stood up. "Not bad, Erin. Care to continue this somewhere else?"

She scooped the file up off the bench and tossed her head. The red and blonde streaks in her light brown hair becoming more evident as she did so. "Perhaps some other time. You know where find me." She walked off, taking long strides and leaving Draco watching the hem of her skirt.

"You want me to go after her, boss?"

"No, Crabbe. She's just a saucy tart, I'll save her for dessert." He held up the necklace and smiled. "Right now I have a meal to plan." Goyle joined them in the clearing and Padfoot knew his opportunity to grab the necklace had passed. With a disgusted snort he watched Draco lead his henchmen across the park to where a black limousine sat waiting for them.

He was about to take off after the girl when a sudden fluttering of wings behind him was punctuated by a set of claws digging ever so slightly into his shoulders. Craning his head around he was relieved to see it was only Hedwig. With a shudder he resumed his human form. "What have you got there, girl? Everything okay with Harry?" She gave a noncommittal hoot in response and extended her leg so that Sirius could remove the letter there.

Sirius scanned the letter quickly and looked at Hedwig. "Take me to Harry." Sirius jumped up and ran to the alley to where his bike was stashed. With a roar the beast came to life and Sirius rocketed off down the street, tracking the movements of a single snowy owl a hundred feet above him. On the outskirts of town he took to the air and headed northwest, still chasing the owl.

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"Ron, I want you to tell me exactly what you saw," Marix said in a curiously awed voice. Ron relayed the story with commentary from Harry, though he never spoke directly to Marix. She got up and began to pace the floor.

"Why is everybody so wigged out?" Ron asked, raking his fingers through his red hair causing it to stick out at all angles. A confused expression marred his face.

"Don't you get it, Ron?" Ginny asked like it was the most obvious answer in the world. "You never actually touched the cards." Ron glanced down at the perfectly aligned 'X' of marble tiles on the table before him.

Hermione interrupted, "Ron, the cards didn't all come off the top of the deck." Ron's head snapped around and looked at Hermione, then looked over to where Marix was giving him a steady, soul-probing look. Harry shuddered and turned to look out the window.

"Is that true?" Ron knew he was channeling a lot of power, he had felt it infuse every grain of his body. However, the idea that he could visualize acting in one place and have it be real in another place was just a little scary.

"Yes, Ron." Marix's voice was calm and reassuring. It was the voice she used when she talked him through his first floundering readings and gave him advice about the trouble that he was having with Harry. "The cards dealt themselves, and they came from the top of the deck, the bottom, the middle, out of order, you name it." There was a long pause. "Ron, you need to finish the reading."

Ron closed his eyes and again found himself standing in the plane of stars. An ethereal wind billowed his cloak around him. Before him stood the temple, the marble walls gleaming with their own inner light. He stretched forth his hand and opened the door.

They all watched as, with a tentative hand, Ron reached for the foundation card. He held his hand over it and it began to tremble slightly. Slowly, Ron turned his hand as though opening a door. The card turned at the same rate. There was a collective gasp. Finally the card landed back on the table. The card was beautifully wrought and powerfully illustrated. In the center of the card was a powerful lion lying on the ground with his head in the lap of a beautiful woman. Behind him spread the shadow of a great dragon and all around him cowered several warriors with spears.

Ron spoke in a hollow, resonating voice. "Strength, you must endure adversity, be patient and calm. You will be influenced by a woman of strength and conviction; she is quite possibly the heir." More deliberately, the second card turned over and lay atop the first. A warrior in a golden chariot was driving his horses hard, a look of grim determination on his face. Ron's face twisted in consternation as his voice returned to normal. "This is odd. The Chariot normally indicates a man." Ron shrugged, "This does tell us that the heir is determined and will not be swayed from the path he pursues."

"So is it a man or a woman?" Harry asked.

"I don't know." Ron, his eyes closed again, turned his head to the left and the inner card of the lower left branch flipped.

"Nine wands," Ron said; the distant, hollow voice had returned. "You must be patient. Prepare for a long and difficult time before the heir comes. However, he, or she," Ron sounded frustrated by mixed signals he was seeing. "The heir will become known to you when you are undergoing a great change. Life will be entering a time of calm and relaxation when all we be well." The outer card showed a woman lying on a beach beneath a starry sky.

Ron resisted the urge to join the woman on the beach; it was a calm and beautiful place. He stepped back and closed the door of bound rods. Back in the main chamber he turned around and faced a door that had a square and a diamond lashed together. Each was formed of four wands. Ron ran his hand over the door. "A poor time to make major changes, be patient. You want to chase down the heir, don't. Let her come to you." The door swung open and he saw a man staggering as he tried to lift a bundle of seven swords. "A great burden, a heavy price to pay." One of the swords slid from the bundle as the man lifted it. The man leaned forward to catch it, and screamed.

Ron's eyes suddenly opened and he took a deep breath. "What is it, Ron? What did you see?" Harry's voice was anxious.

"A sacrifice, Harry. You have to give up something of great value before the heir will be revealed."

"What is the sacrifice?" Ron's eyes were haunted, burning brightly as Harry stared intently at him. "You know, don't you. You know what the sacrifice is."

"No, Harry, I don't." Ron was staring very hard at the cards laid out on the table. "I do know that...that you have to pay the price. You will suffer a loss Harry, but everyone around you will suffer for it." Ron stood up and turned toward the stairs.

"Ron," it was Marix's voice calling to him softly, "you can't walk away. You have to finish."

"I'll bloody well walk away if I want to." His voice was breaking and when Hermione reached out to him she saw his bright blue eyes glistened with unshed tears. Ron walked out the back door and sat down on the back porch. "Why?" He raised his eyes to the uncaring sky, hoping to see the image of the three women so he could curse them. A cloudless, shimmering blue sky mocked him as he searched in vain.

"Ron," it was Marix's quiet voice. He didn't look at her and he didn't answer. She sat down on the step next to him and wove her hand in to his own. "What did you see?"

"I," Ron paused, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Ron, what you see are images that represent possibilities. They are open to interpretation."

"No they're not. I know what I saw, Marix." Ron turned to look at her. His features were set and hard, but the remnants of tears still stood in his red-rimmed eyes. He turned to look back out across the yard to the open field beyond. "There was no questions about what I saw. It wasn't like looking at the cards where you try and decipher the image. It was like watching the scene unfold in front of me." Ron shuddered and took a deep breath. "I would trade every bit of knowledge and power I have to forget what I saw. I know I can't turn it aside." Ron saw the question forming even before she mouthed it. "I won't tell you. Don't ask. Don't bother wasting the breath."

"Very well." Marix nodded sagely. "Do you want me to finish the reading?"

"Ye-, no," A look of determination crossed Ron's face, "I'll finish it. I started it, and it's not like some simple crossword that you can just pick up." Marix concealed a small smile by turning her head away as she opened the door.

"Come on Seventh Son, you have work to do." Ron stood and gave her an odd expression, half annoyance and half pleasure.

"You haven't called me that since we met."

"No, I haven't, but today you reminded me who you are. Your power is strong, Ron." He blushed slightly and held the door open. Marix stopped just as she was about to go back in. She looked deeply into Ron's eyes, as though looking for something. Apparently satisfied at what she saw, she patted his cheek lightly. "Don't let it run away from you though. Next time, the price might be more than your best friend." Ron grimaced and followed her into the house without comment.

Back at the coffee table he sat down. The four remaining unknown cards stared at him balefully, as though taunting him for walking away. Quickly he reached out and turned the four of them face up. On the lower right branch the Five of Cups lay upside down and next to it the Ten of Swords. Across from them lay the Eight of Swords; and in the final position was the Wheel of Fortune. Ron creased his brow as he considered the implications of each of their meanings.

Ginny's hand reached across the reading to point at a tile where several broken swords lay before a broken-down castle. "What does this mean?" she asked in a tremulous voice.

Harry spoke before Ron could. "That which is before the questioner, the immediate future." Harry stared at the card as though trying to make it burst into flames, "The Ten of Swords, ruin." Ginny pulled back and leaned against Harry. She reached down and wound her fingers into his to give him strength. Harry gripped her hand lightly but firmly, thankful for the support of good friends.

"This is not good." Ron indicated the lower branch Harry and Ginny had been considering. "There is a lot of outside trouble coming. Here," he pointed to the inner card, the Five of Cups, "we have indecision and conflicting emotions. Outside troubles that will pass in time, but not before leaving their mark on you. The outer card tells us that trouble will find you despite protections and they will come at you in many ways. All areas of life are open to trouble. This is the beginning of the end."

"Ron," Hermione sounded exasperated, "you sound like Trelawney. It's all this trouble and death and conflict. Don't you have anything helpful to say?" Her ever-practical voice broke the tension that had built up with Ron's resonant voice.

"Actually, the reading is pretty balanced. The right side, which tells us about the search and the short-term future, is full of trouble and pain. However, the left side is telling us that prices we pay will not be in vain. This lower branch tells us that we will find," Ron creased his brow then seemed to come to a decision, "her. The heir is a woman. We have to be patient and diligent, but she will come. Up here," he pointed at the upper cards on the left side, "is the results of the search. This is Harry's hopes and fears about the search and about what's going on. He is forced to fulfill a role that was placed on him by someone else."

Harry and Hermione both nodded sagely, thinking of the conversation they had earlier that day in the Gryffindor common room. Ron continued, "The wheel of fortune though, is telling us that the resolution of this search will cause a shift in power. A cyclical change will occur, karma will pay you back for what you've earned." Ron smiled for the first time since he had started the reading. "There is promise of a better future."

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An elderly man in long, formal black robes strafed his eyes over the room. He ran his hand through his thin white hair and rested it back on the carved dragonhead of his cane. "I am sure that Ms. McGonagall is a fine professor and has been quite adequate as an Assistant Headmistress. However, I don't think she has the magical power to protect this school."

"Mr. Llewellyn," the woman's voice was sharp and sounded like it was coming through her nose. "There are only two other wizards with the kind of power to protect the school the way you want it protected. One is the incarnation of evil itself and the other is still a student here. Are you suggesting that we should somehow elevate Harry Potter to the prestigious position of Headmaster, or are you suggesting we offer it to You-Know-Who?" Her sarcastic voice pierced all who were present.

The room erupted in an excited chatter of voices. Finally another woman stood up and waited for the room to fall silent. A quill stood ready and began to scratch across a piece of parchment as she spoke.

"Mrs. Capper, no one was suggesting anything of the type." She looked around the room at each of the assembled governors. They had been in the commandeered classroom for over an hour debating what to do about replacing the late headmaster. The only decision that had been reached easily was that it had to be done soon. A few members had come straggling in late, but not all the governors were there. They had enough for quorum, and the woman speaking had the quorum she wanted. If anyone else arrived it might shift the balance of power, and that she could not have. Pulling her authority about her like a cloak on a cold night, she began to speak in an eloquent and powerful voice.

"It is time we brought this school under the control of someone who has a strong respect for rules. While we all liked Dumbledore, his ideas were often very radical and his school was becoming a breeding ground for treasonous ideas. For God sakes, he has begun paying house elves. He allows dark creatures to teach here, he has had known Death Eaters on the staff, he knowingly allows students to pursue all manner of harebrained ideas, and he has deliberately thwarted the will and intention of the Ministry of Magic." Her hazel eyes swept the room in challenge.

"It is time that we, as a board and as responsible citizens, take back control of this school and teach our children the proper ways to behave in wizarding society." There were several nods of approval, especially from the older board members who made up the majority. Smiling to herself she continued on. "Minerva McGonagall has a proven track record of fairness. She is uncompromising in her expectations that students know and follow the rules. She has always dealt well with this board and is a friend to many of us." This time she smiled broadly, as though trying to remind them all how good a friend Minerva was.

A ruddy-faced man in a paisley print robe stood up and cleared his throat importantly. "As the father of a current student and a man who remembers Minerva McGonagall well, I second Mrs. Fudge's recommendation."

"Thank you, Mr. Abbot." The man inclined his head and took a seat. "Does anyone else have a nomination to make?" There was no response. "Then by a show of hands let us vote. All in favor naming Minerva McGonagall as Headmistress, raise your hands." Eight hands were raised including that of Mrs. Fudge. "Let the record show eight members in favor. All opposed? Let the record show there was one against and one abstention. By the power vested in me as Chairwoman of this board, I declare that Minerva McGonagall shall be named Head Mistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, effective this seventh day of August, nineteen ninety-seven." The quill scratched the last of her words and then fell to rest next to the parchment.

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Charlie stepped out of the kitchen running his fingers through his hair. His mother was calm again; assured as she could be that everything would be all right with the death of the most powerful wizard in recent, and maybe not so recent, history. His father was back at the office and was carefully passing the information to important members of the Ministry who had a need to know. They had all agreed that keeping the information from the Minister's office was crucial until the acting Headmistress made the information public.

He noted that the trio plus Ginny were all seated in the living room, gathered closely around the coffee table. "Hey kids, what's going on?" He looked over Ron's shoulder and saw the tarot spread. "Trying to find Harry a girlfriend?"

"No, you," Ron shot back without looking up. Ginny let out a squeal of delight and jumped up to hug her brother, whom she hadn't seen since the previous Christmas. Charlie swept her up and spun her around like he had when she was younger and smaller. His back protested slightly at the fact that she was no longer as small or as light as she had been a few years ago. As he sat Ginny back down, he noticed a dark haired woman standing in the corner behind the couch.

He extended his hand to her and noticed a slight smile about her mouth that made her cheeks raise to catch the sunlight coming through the open window. "You would be Mary, right?" Her smile vanished.

"No." Marix had learned to put up with a lot of things, but being called Mary was not one of them. After seeing that no one else was going to correct him, she extended her own hand and shook his. "Marix. I'm Ron's divinations mentor."

"Right, my mistake. Terribly sorry there, Marix." Charlie was smiling broadly now, giving him a slightly boyish appearance. "Mum said you were a Vistani gypsy. Spend much time in Romania?" Her face became a mask of conflicted emotions. Strike two, Charlie thought. Go with something you can't lose with. His eyes were drawn to the hand stitched rose motif around the collar and neckline of her white blouse, which was deeply cut. "Really like your blouse."

Marix arched an eyebrow. "I'm sure you do," she replied in a deadly tone. Charlie's eyes snapped up to her face.

Charlie suddenly gripped his heart with both hands and stumbled back dramatically. "Ah, fair maiden. Thy gaze doth wound me deeply and unfairly. I had merely wished to compliment thee upon the beauty of thy fine needlework. Alas though, mine intentions hath gone astray and now," Charlie collapsed to his knees at her feet, "I can but hope that my life's breath can beg thy forgiveness as I spill mine own blood in penance for mine egregious insult to thy feminine charms." Charlie pulled a short bladed knife from his boot and held it before his chest. "Good-bye fair maiden, I shall treasure thy beauty upon my journey to Heaven; for truly even the pearly gates shall pale in comparison."

Charlie closed his eyes and extended his arms. The blade was level and pointed at his heart. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, steeling himself for what was about to come. He opened one eye and looked up at Marix, "You're not really gonna make me do this, are you?"

Despite herself, Marix smiled at him. After appearing to consider his question for a moment she extended her hand to him. "Get up off the floor, Charlie. Are you always so theatrical?" Charlie shrugged and smiled sheepishly.

"Yes!" Ron and Ginny replied, and both began to roar with laughter. Harry and Hermione smiled also, then they too joined in the laughter.

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Sirius relaxed noticeably when the chaotic structure known as The Burrow came into view. Hedwig swooped down and began to rap on the living room window with her beak. Sirius followed, nosing the bike over and diving for the ground like a Seeker chasing a vagrant snitch. Leveling the bike out, Sirius brought the beast to a screeching halt in a cloud of dust just outside the front door. Jumping off the bike he knocked sharply on the door.

"Hello, Sirius," Harry said calmly as he opened the door. Sirius grabbed him and pulled him into a crushing embrace, meanwhile checking Harry's extremities for signs of injury.

"Bloody hell, Harry. Damn near gave me a heart attack. 'I don't know what the state of the world will be when you get this.' Jesus, boy you had me worried half to death." He was holding Harry at arm's length by the shoulders. "What the hell is going on that you had to scare me half out of my skin like that?" Ron and Hermione came into view behind Harry and Sirius let out another sigh of relief to see that both of them were okay.

"Dumbledore is dead." Sirius looked at Harry with blank incomprehension.

"Come again?"

"Dumbledore is dead. He was murdered by Walden MacNair at the order of Voldemort." Sirius stumbled back a couple of steps and sat down on the ground in front of his black knight. He looked like someone had hit him with a sledgehammer. He balled his hand into a fist and rested his head against it. Dammit, not now. Why now? Sirius wondered to himself.

Not that there would be a good time to lose a man like Albus Dumbledore, but now seemed as crucial as ever. With the Minister's office in disarray following the scandals that had rocked it recently, the wizarding community had been looking for a strong leader and the man most able to do it was now gone. He had no doubt that the timing was very deliberate. He also wondered who could possibly step up and fill the office left vacant. Mostly though, Sirius missed the man who had trusted him at the most crucial of times and given him a second chance at a life almost completely forgotten. Shaking his head he looked up at Harry.

"Whe-? Ho-?" Sirius didn't seem quite able to complete a whole word, let alone an entire thought. Harry fidgeted a little, rubbing his hands together, then sat down on the front step in front of Sirius. After several agonizingly long minutes Sirius spoke again. "When? And how do you know?"

"About four o'clock this morning," Harry said, tapping his scar.

"How's it doing, still hurt?" Sirius asked, starting to sound more like himself again. Harry let out a long breath and shrugged. "You said it was MacNair. How sure are you?" Harry explained the whole vision. He was about to tell Sirius about what had happened afterward when he was interrupted by a small owl that flew into Sirius at very high speed. Sirius removed a small white envelope from the owl's leg and opened it. "Harry, I have to go. MLES is recalling all the field agents. I'll be in touch. Where are you staying at?"

"Here, for a couple of days at least."

"Good, stay close. Don't go looking for trouble. I'll be back as soon as I can. I don't like the idea of you being Voldemort's next target." He gave Harry another quick hug, then ruffled his hair. With a pop, the space where Sirius had just been was now empty.

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The room known as The War Room was packed to overflowing with agents. Sirius took up a spot against a wall that seemed to clear as soon as he approached it. He was probably the only agent in the room who wasn't cramped. "Everybody budge up, I think we're all here now." Jack Boot's voice was amplified enough that it carried to all corners of the room despite the general din. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I've called you in from your various operations and duty stations. It was not a decision I made lightly." There was a general murmur of curiosity from the assembled two score plus agents.

"For an indefinite period of time beginning today, you will all be working the same case, I will be the lead investigator. Walker will be in charge of evidence." Jonathon Walker stood up and raised his hand so that everyone would know who he was. "Lovegood," a dark haired woman of middle years and stocky build raised her hand, "will be in charge of suspects and PR." Jack indicated a man of late middle years, "Finally, Amos Diggory will be in charge of tactical operations and manpower."

Several people's hands shot up, much like schoolchildren, or called out questions. Jack held up both of his hands, "Calm down everybody. Give me a minute and we'll get it all sorted out. Now first of all, word of what I am about to tell you does not leave this room until Lovegood talks to the Prophet and WWN." He waited until there was a general nod of assent from the gathered group. "Albus Dumbledore was murdered last night." The room broke into an excited chatter that calmed a few seconds later when Jack shot sparks from the end of his wand with a bang.

"It was not a standard Death Eater operation, but we believe it was Death Eater activity. No, we don't have any suspects yet." Sirius raised his hand and cleared his throat loudly. "What do you want, Black? I'm trying to run a meeting here."

"We do have a suspect, sir. Walden MacNair."

"How do you know that?" Everybody in the room watched Sirius intently.

"This is going to sound a little far fetched, but my godson told me."

"What, have a nightmare, did he?"

"Not exactly, sir. As you know, Harry has a scar from his first run in with Voldemort," several people flinched or muttered, 'You-Know-Who.' "Anyway, that scar warns him when Voldemort is near or is feeling particularly evil, kind of like an alarm. Anyway it gives him something like visions. About eight thirty this morning I got a letter from Harry telling me that something was going on. To make a long story short he told me that he had a vision and Voldemort was congratulating Walden MacNair for killing Dumbledore." The room was silent.

"Likely story, Black," Amos Diggory's voice stabbed Sirius like a knife. "You're probably just looking to shift blame so you have time to get-oof!" Sirius leapt over a desk, jumped off another and tackled Diggory. The two men rolled around on the floor. They were punching, head butting, and doing whatever they could to inflict physical damage to each other. Several officers pulled Black off of the senior officer and managed to land a couple of punches on him as well before Jack Boot called a stop to it.

"That's enough out of all of you! Black, my office, now! The rest of you stay here. Now people, this is going to be a very stressful couple of weeks until we get this taken care of. Walker is going to present what we know about the case from the crime scene investigation. Then Diggory's going to divide you up into investigative teams. We need to cover a lot of ground and get all the answers we can. Walker, its all yours." Jack turned and left the conference room and headed for his office, hoping that Sirius had indeed done what he was told.

He was pleasantly, though not entirely, surprised to find Sirius sitting in his office, his feet propped up on the desk. "Sirius, get your feet off my desk." He sat down in his own chair and leaned forward. "I'm sorry about what happened in there."

"Yeah, so am I. I figure you'd bust me for it but you put me any lower on the force, can you?"

"I could send you to evidence. Have you replace Gudgeon, I've got half a mind to replace him anyway."

"I thought you liked me, Jack."

Jack chuckled and leaned back in his chair so he could prop his feet up on his desk. "Don't worry Sirius, I wouldn't do that to you. I owe you my life, I wouldn't send you to that hell without a good reason." Sirius arched his eyebrows but said nothing. "You think Harry knows what he's talking about?"

"Yeah, I do. This isn't the first time this has happened." They were interrupted by a knock on the door. The door opened to reveal Janice Lovegood standing there. She came in, closed the door, and leaned against the wall so she could see both men at once.

"What do you need, Janice?" Jack asked.

"I just want to hear what he has to say for himself." She nodded her head in Sirius's direction.

"Janice, this is a closed door meeting. Why don't you wait outside? I'll be done here in a minute." The door slammed shut as Janice left the room. "Okay Sirius, million galleon question. Do you trust Harry's word enough that you would send a team of investigators after MacNair?"

"I trust it enough that I'd go myself."

"That isn't what I asked Sirius. You're reckless; you'll lay your own life on the line at the drop of a hat. Would you put somebody else's life on the line based on Harry's information?"

"Yes, but make sure they're smart agents. If he did do it, that means he's crafty as a snake and three times as smart."

"Very well, Sirius. I'll put a team on it. Now get out of my office, and send Janice in." Sirius headed back to the war room after exchanging a few unpleasantries with Janice Lovegood, who he didn't like any better now than he had eighteen years earlier. He opened the door and slipped in quietly, though it didn't much matter since there were only about four other people in the room.

"Too bad, Black. I was hoping you wouldn't come back."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Dickory."

"You're on a team with Gudgeon, Sager, and Whipple. Gudgeon is team lead. You report to Walker. All the assignments are already out, so you guys can just cool your heels here if you want." A nasty sneer split his face. "Unless you want to go see if MacNair has an alibi." Amos turned and left the room, chuckling to himself.

Sirius looked at his partners. He had gone to school with Davey Gudgeon, who was now low man on the totem pole with the recent scandal of missing evidence. Sager was a girl of medium height with pale skin and dark blonde hair who looked like she was on her first assignment out of training. Whipple was a portly, balding middle aged man who looked like he hadn't been out from under his desk in ten years. None of them looked to be doing anything but heading toward the door. He sighed deeply.

"Hey you lot, hold on." The three turned to look at him, fear of him etched on each of their faces. "For Merlin's sake, I'm not gonna A-K you." They all flinched as he said 'A.K', as though they were all sure he would do just that. "Davey, you and I went to school together."

"You went to school with James Potter too." Sirius flinched.

"Davey, you do read the papers don't you? Do you honestly think I'd be here if I'd done that?"

"Sirius, you were one of the most powerful wizards at Hogwarts when we went there. I have no idea what you're capable of. I know you bloody near got Severus killed playing a prank on him. I'd hate to think what you could do if you were serious."

"I am Sirius." He replied in a flat voice. Whipple let out a snort of laughter, as though he was trying to hide it. "See Davey, he thought it was funny."

"Yeah, well you thought it was funny when that tree broke my arm, so there's no accounting for taste is there?" Whipple shot him a dirty look.

Sirius turned to the young woman. "What about you Sager? Think we should sit tight or do we go do something to find the bastards responsible for killing the Headmaster." Sirius was pleased to see his words strike home. She was still young enough that memories of the Headmaster would be very strong in her mind. On the other hand he was disappointed to see that she was backing away from him, her hand straying to the wand at her side. "For Heaven's sake girl, I'm not the boogie man."

"A-a-actually, Mr. B-b-black," Sager's voice shook and her eyes were very wide, "y-y-you are. When I was a little girl m-my mum used to tell me that S-S-Sirius Black would get me i-i-if I didn't behave. When I heard you were coming back to MLES, I-I almost quit." Sirius knew he was hated and feared, but he never imagined in his worst nightmares that he was that bad. He opened his robe to reveal blue jeans and black T-shirt. Clearing his robes out behind him, he sat down on the floor.

"Ms. Sager, come over here and sit down please. You too Mr. Whipple." Whipple approached cautiously, but sat down in a chair a little more than arms reach from Sirius. "Come on, Davey. The four of us are going to be together a lot over the next week, and this won't work if we're all scared of each other." Sirius sat his wand on the floor in front of him, a full arm's length away.

"Sirius, I'm the one in charge of this team. You heard what Amos Diggory said."

"Davey, I never questioned your authority; but I learned a long time ago that if people are going to work together as a team they at least have to be comfortable with one another and trust that the team has their back." Sirius reached into his robe and pulled out a leather wallet. "I'll start this by introducing myself. My name is Sirius Black. I'm single but I have a godson named Harry that I keep close tabs on." He handed the open wallet to Whipple. "Harry's the kid with the black hair. The other two in the picture are his friends Ron and Hermione. I graduated from Hogwarts class of '77 and spent four years working as an Auror. I was falsely accused of a heinous crime and spent twelve years in Azkaban. I then spent four years living as a fugitive on the run and assisting Albus Dumbledore in the fight against Voldemort. Three months ago I was exonerated by the Ministry and returned to active duty as an Auror. I'm also a registered Animagus that can take the form of a large dog."

"You failed to mention Order of Merlin 2^nd class, twice over." Sager and Gudgeon both looked at Whipple sharply as he spoke. "Of course they were both revoked when you were sent to Azkaban." Sager looked at Sirius, trying to reconcile the monster she feared with the man she saw. The Order of Merlin was reserved for those who did a great service for the wizarding community, usually at great personal risk. It was reserved for heroes, and this man who had been the monster in her nightmares had gotten it twice.

Whipple handed the wallet to Sager then wiped his hand over his sweaty, balding head. "Christopher Whipple, thirty one years with the force. Spent my first three years as an Unspeakable, from there I moved to evidence and cleaned up that department following the death of Joseph Weasley. After four years there I moved to the liaison office working with British Intelligence. In 1983 I was shot seven times during an operation. That's when I acquired this," he indicated his substantial potbelly. "Beer is great for pain, bad for the body. I returned to active duty in 1985 where I took over Internal Affairs and Personnel. Now I push paperwork all day and send you young punks out to do the real work."

"Any family, Chris?" Sirius asked.

"A bulldog named Churchill."

"That's Hermione Granger." Sager suddenly said in a surprised voice. "I didn't know you knew her." She ran her hand reverently over the picture. "She's amazing. Did you know she got O.W.L.s. in classes she didn't even take? She took her Muggle studies O.W.L. while I was taking my N.E.W.T. She hadn't taken the class in two years and she still got a hundred and six percent. She's bloody freaking brilliant."

Sirius laughed, "God, you sound like Ron."

"Yeah." She laughed self-consciously.

"So tell us a little about yourself, Sager. Like your first name."

"Well, okay. My name is Elizabeth Sager; I graduated from Hogwarts class of '96. I was a prefect in Hufflepuff house. I passed all my exams and got my badge six weeks ago. I have two cats named Helen and Hermione. I like to study ancient societies; I speak fluent Greek, and read ancient Sumarian. I joined MLES because I want to become an Unspeakable."

Whipple laughed a little, "Hoping to uncover the Secrets of Solomon?" Sager shot him a dirty look. "Sorry, most unspeakables are fascinated by the idea of uncovering the Seven Keys of Solomon, or the last writings of Babba Yaga, or something exotic like that. Most Unspeakable work is a lot more mundane than that."

"Whipple, you're just bitter because you got moved from Mysteries to Evidence."

"Gudgeon, that's ironic coming from you. How long have you been stuck in evidence now? Six, seven years?" Davey stood up, his fists balled at his side, his shoulders hunched forward.

"Sit down, Davey."

"Piss off, Black. As leader of this team I'm telling you lot to go back to your desks and get some work done." Davey turned and strode from the room. Sirius looked at Sager and Whipple, neither one had so much as tensed a muscle toward the door.

"All right, so we are a team of three then. This is what we need. Whipple, I need everything you have in your files on MacNair. Sager, you and I are heading over to the Ministry Archives. I need to see what's in the old Prophets from when he went to trial." Sirius noted that Sager looked panicky. "Don't worry Liz, I only bite on Tuesdays and Fridays." Her face blanched. "What?"

"I-I-its Tuesday." Sirius let out a bark of laughter. Pushing himself to his feet he extended his hand to Sager.

"Come on Elizabeth, I'm not going to bite you." Nervously, she took his hand and he pulled her to her feet. He noticed that her grip was very firm, more like a man's than what he had expected. "Whipple, meet us at the Archive, we'll see you there." Sirius headed out the door and down the hall, Sager trailing in his wake.

As they passed the tactical operations room, Sirius could see that there was a great deal of activity. He heard Elizabeth sigh behind him. "Wishing you were actually out on your first action?"

"Yeah. I mean, well, I spent nine months preparing for this and I haven't stepped foot outside the office on an actual operation yet. Diggory wouldn't even let me go when the Avery's got hit a couple of weeks ago. Linda was a good friend of mine, and he still wouldn't let me go."

"Be careful what you wish for."

Amos Diggory stepped out of the operations room and in front of Sirius. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Down to the archives to do a little research."

"Good, stay out of the way. I wouldn't want you getting any bright ideas about doing real Auror work, leave that to the good guys."

"Sod off, Dickory."

Diggory leaned to his side a little and peered over Sirius's shoulder. "Be careful Ms. Sager. Make sure you keep a wand on him, you never know about what these dark wizard types will do." He turned and started walking back into the tactical ops room.

"Cedric sure as hell didn't get his charm from you, did he."

"What?!" Amos stopped and turned a violent eye on Sager.

"I said, Cedric sure as hell didn't get it from you. But then I already knew that. You were a dick when Cedric and I were dating, too."

"Nobody speaks ill of my son."

"I wasn't, I was speaking ill of you. Now if you'll excuse us Dickory, we have work to do." Liz jammed her hands into the pockets of her robe and stalked off down the hall. She was careful to keep Sirius between her and Diggory, though. She wouldn't put it past him to take a swing at her as she walked by. Smiling to himself, Sirius followed her down the hall without so much as a backward glance at Amos Diggory.

Ensconced in a back corner of the archives, Sirius was pouring through news papers from 1982 when he was interrupted by Elizabeth's voice from the next table over. "Sirius, I think I found something here. Listen to this.

Sirius stopped browsing the papers and picked up a folder that was lying on the table next to him. "I wouldn't consider sworn testimony from both Longbottoms to be suspect." He crinkled his brow as he read on. "Does it say anything in there about a bloke named Felix Leiter?" Liz read the rest of the article quickly and then scanned the next day's paper as well.

"Nothing, it did say that MacNair asked for a private meeting with Crouch and the Minister following a visit by an unknown person claiming to be MacNair's son. Where'd you come up with the name?"

"Arrest record. Note here says to contact Felix Leiter via owl post if there are any questions. The rest of the record has been blacked out."

"Think we should contact him?"

"Contact who?" Whipple came in carrying a skinny file folder, a bag of donuts, and a large thermos of coffee. Sirius looked up and started to laugh. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Keep laughing Sirius and I may have to investigate that bike of yours. It just wouldn't do for an Auror to have an illegally charmed Muggle vehicle, would it?" Sirius stopped laughing.

"Whipple, does the name Felix Leiter mean anything to you?"

There was a loud thunk as the thermos bounced off the table and fell to the floor. "Where'd you find that name?" Sirius held up the arrest record. Whipple reached across the table and took the folder like it was a snake he was afraid would bite him. He opened and ran his finger down the pages. "Bugger me."

"What is it, Chris," Sirius asked.

"Felix Leiter was head of Division Two at Intelligence."

"And?"

"In eighty seven he was shot and killed. Officially it was during a fire-fight with IRA terrorists. From what I understand, he had been selling secrets to the Soviets. Division Three takes it rather personally when an agent sells them out."

"And that means what to us?" Elizabeth asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It means he may well be un-bloody-touchable."

"Come again?" Sirius did not like this turn of conversation.

"Division Two is undercover operations. The Minister of Magic won't even know if MacNair is a deep cover operative. Hell, I didn't know and I was the bloody Liaison Officer to Intelligence when MacNair was let go. If he's a deep cover operative, he has something akin to diplomatic immunity. Even if we bust him with the all the evidence in his house, he could walk."

"Son of a bitch!" Sirius slammed his fist down on the table and then started to pace. "We cannot allow him to walk."

-------------------

"Hermione, what do you think we should do?" Harry was staring out across the back yard of the Burrow. Ginny was lying on the ground with her head on Harry's lap. Her red hair was flowing across Harry's leg like a river of lava, though Harry seemed not to notice, his thoughts obviously elsewhere. "Think we should go after MacNair?"

Ginny sat bolt upright and goggled at Harry, "Walden MacNair?"

"Yeah, old guy, lots of wrinkles, works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures." Ginny nodded in agreement. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, he was over here for dinner a couple of weeks ago. He's been hanging out with Fred and George a lot lately. Other than being a little creepy and like a million years old, he seemed to be a pretty nice guy." It was Harry's turn to goggle at Ginny. Hermione did the same.

"He was in your house?" Hermione asked in a slightly worried tone. Ginny nodded her head. The possibilities of what this man could have done raced through Harry's mind, causing an involuntary shudder. Hermione looked about to say something more when the back door opened and Marix came out. Harry quickly turned away and studiously watched a robin pluck a worm from the ground and fly back to its tree.

Marix glanced at Harry reflexively, several emotions flickering and battling behind her dark eyes. With a sigh she turned to the two girls. "Have either of you seen Ron?"

"He's up in his room," Hermione responded. "He said he needed to go up and study and think about the reading, to see if he could wrest any more clues from it."

"Thanks, Hermione." Marix turned and walked back into the house. A sense of dread began to settle over her. She headed up the stairs with a little more speed than was necessary. She knew she shouldn't have left The Deck of Solomon in Ron's hands. At least not until he learned a little more self-control. She stopped outside Ron's door and stretched out her mind.

The power rippled just beyond the door. It was like pipeline to another world. One end of it was plugged in to some far reaches of the heavens; the other was plugged into Ron. She could feel his aura spinning out of control, suffused with the otherworldly power. She knew what he was experiencing, it was like being high, stung out on some highly toxic drug or another. She remembered the feeling well. Shaking off the cold that always accompanied these memories, she quietly opened the door.

Ron was sitting cross legged on his bed, before him was spread out a twelve card wheel reading using the Deck of Solomon she had told him to put away. Marix looked at the lead card and knew immediately that Ron was reading himself again. She'd found him doing this a week before and found out he'd been doing it since he first learned how to read the cards. She'd warned him then not to do it; told him that looking for clues on how to live your life in a deck of cards was no substitute for actually living it. Anger flared in her and she reached out and scattered the reading. The marble tiles, more ancient and powerful than probably any other deck in Europe, spread across the floor in chaotic patterns.

Ron's eyes flew open. "What are you doing, witch?!" Ron's voice was husky and his eyes were disoriented.

"Saving you from yourself!" She grabbed Ron's wand and pointed it at the door. It slammed shut and locked. She tossed the wand into a corner where neither could get to it without a struggle. "Dammit, Ron. What have I told you about reading on yourself? Was Harry's friendship and trust not a high enough price to pay?" She knew she had hit with her remark when he flinched. She decided to drive it home and make it really hurt. "Hell, it almost cost you Hermione. Is that what you want. You want to lose her just so three old crones can whisper the secrets of tomorrow in your ear?"

Ron was shrinking back visibly from her assault. Her words were cutting him like so much ribbon. He knew she was right, and he hated himself for it. He had seen betrayal and sorrow coming in the cards when he was doing readings before Harry's birthday. He had followed them blindly and used them as justification when he turned on Harry. He knew that Harry would never have hurt Marix, or tried to steal Hermione from him. That was the price that he surrendered to the cards though. He could see the future, but never know if by acting different he caused it or prevented it. Then there was the feeling of power, the promise of greatness. It was all here. If he would just surrender himself to their power, the three women would show him the threads of the universe; they had said so themselves.

When Ron didn't answer her, Marix reached over and shook him. "Tell me, Ron, is that what you want?"

"No," he replied into his chest, his voice barely a whisper.

Marix sat down on the bed in front or him. "Then why do you keep doing it?"

"Power." Ron replied simply. "I like the feeling of power. Its amazing, Marix, when I'm reading I feel like I'm connected. I feel at one with the universe. I am all that I could become." A light shone in his eyes, the light of power, strength and ambition.

"I know, Ron. Trust me, I know." Marix sighed deeply. Ron gave her a questioning look. "When we had this conversation a week ago, all I did was tell you not to read yourself anymore. I had hoped that you would do what I told you to because I am your teacher and a little older and wiser than you." Ron started to respond, but she held up her hand. "Don't even tell me you won't do it anymore, you told me that last week. I'm going to show you the price that I paid to learn this little bit of wisdom."

Marix stood up next to the bed and began to remove her belt. Ron looked around uncomfortably. "The cards aren't the only way to get that feeling of power and connection." She began to lift the side of her shirt above her right hip. "Eventually, the cards won't provide the rush anymore. Then you'll start looking for the next big thing." With her other hand she began to pull the waistband of her skirt down over her hip much to Ron's shock and discomfort.

"Whoa, wait a minute what are, ugh disgusting." Ron was looking at a three inch round patch of skin on her right hip. There were pockmarks and needle scars and what looked like a very old bruise. "What is that?"

"That, Mr. Weasley, is the remnants of a three year addiction to black tar heroin." Ron looked at her in horror. Drug addiction was a rare thing in the wizarding world, but it wasn't unknown.

"How, when?"

Marix fixed her clothes and sat down on the bed next to Ron. "When I left the Vistani I was seventeen years old and the only things I owned were the clothes on my back and the ivory Tarot deck that Madam Cordova gave me. I ended up in Vienna and started doing readings at carnivals and fairs. I started every day with a reading hoping I would see my knight coming for me. I never saw what I wanted in the cards or in the outside world; so I stopped looking outside the cards. I was sure that the cards would show me first what I wanted to see. They became their own self-fulfilling prophecy; I wouldn't see anything, so I wouldn't look."

Marix began twisting the sheet in her hand and was looking at the floor. "Then I stopped hearing the voice." She looked at Ron, and was gratified to see that he knew what she was talking about. "Without the voice I lost that sense of connection, of oneness. So I started reading more, and the more I read the worse it got. Then one day I was talking to a girl I knew and she offered me a solution, or at least a quick fix. I started smoking marijuana pretty regularly after that, from there it was a quick descent. Within six months I had gotten myself hooked on heroin."

She shuddered at the memory and Ron felt a great wave of pity for her. He reached over and took her hand, which he began to rub gently. He had a million questions he wanted to ask, but none of them seemed entirely appropriate. Sensing his quandary, Marix continued. "By the time I was twenty-four I was living from fix to fix on the streets of Amsterdam. That was where it ended. I got hold of a bad batch and it damn near killed me. A man named Gustav found me in the throes of an overdose in the doorway of his shop; he saved my life. I spent the next six months in the hospital." She reached down to scratch self-consciously at the spot on her hip.

"What happened then, how did you come to be in Britain?"

"That is a story for a time when I am not trying to make a point." She took Ron's hand in both of hers. "Promise me you won't do readings on yourself unless it is absolutely necessary, Ron, promise me." Ron nodded his head; his eyes wide and star struck. "Say it, Ron, you have to say it." Her voice was insistent.

Ron swallowed hard; his eyes strayed to the now covered hip and then back again. "I...I promise that I will only do readings on myself when I have to."

"I accept your promise, Ron. Now remember, I have the power as a gypsy witch to enforce your promise. Don't make me do that." Ron nodded, unsure if she actually had that power but afraid that she might, and afraid of what she might do with it.

--------------------

Arabella Figg sipped at her tea and watched as Minerva sorted through papers on the Headmaster's desk. Her desk now, Arabella corrected herself. Minerva was the epitome of the stiff upper lip British matriarch. Her face betrayed no emotion as she picked up a pile of papers and stacked it on the floor. She dusted some black ash and feathers from the corner of the desk and looked at Fawkes. His skin was still pink in several spots and feathers could actually be seen growing. However, his head drooped and his wings hung limply at his sides.

Arabella walked across the room and stood in front of a massive bookshelf. She pulled out an aged tome bound in red leather and ran her fingers across the embossed cover. Lord of the Phoenix: History of the Order from Helga Hufflepuff to the Modern Age. "Minerva, would you mind if I took this?" The other woman looked up with an exasperated sigh.

"What? Oh, that's fine. It doesn't have anything to do with the school does it?" Minerva's eyes darted about the room at the piles of papers and books, the shelves crammed with oddments and artifacts, a long life full of mementos."What am I going to do with all of this?" She slumped down in the chair and pointed around the room.

"Memorial wing in the library. It will at least give us some place to store it while we sort through it." Arabella sat down as well. The sun was descending in the western sky and fell across the room through several high windows.

"Arabella," Minerva's tone was grave, "do you think I did the right thing?"

"You mean not mentioning that the Headmaster had been murdered?"

"Yes. The more I think about it, the more I think that this isn't how Albus would do it." Arabella looked thoughtful as she considered Minerva's words. "It just seems... dishonest."

"You know what Albus used to say, 'the truth is a terrible and beautiful thing.' But I think you may be right. You're going to have to reverse the official stance at some point." She took a sip of her own tea. "The Board of Governors is behind you, Minerva. They want you to do well. I am sure that they wouldn't advise this course of action without believing that it was in the best interest of everyone involved." A large owl fluttered down from the high windows and lighted on the desk. Minerva reached out and removed the large parchment from its leg. She unrolled it carefully.

The color drained from Minerva's face, and her hands began to shake. She looked up at Arabella, her eyes very wide. She dropped the parchment on the desk. "It's a moot point now." Arabella swore softly as she leaned over and saw the special edition headline in glaring, large block type: