Gabrielle (The Return of Voldemort)

Three

"Arthur! Come quickly!" Molly Weasley cried. Lifting The Daily Prophet off the wooden table where the tawny owl had dropped it, and tightening the belt of her dressing gown, she waved it frantically as her husband rushed down the stairs into the kitchen, tripping over his robes as he ran.

"There's been a killing. Diana Fletcher. Why didn't you tell me?"

Arthur snatched the paper from her hands and began scanning the front-page article distractedly. "Because I didn't know... That's Mundungus' young niece, isn't it? The Death Eaters obviously haven't planned very well... if that's an attempt to get him on their side, then it's not a very good one. I should think he'll have lent Dumbledore his full support."

Ron suddenly appeared in the doorway. "What's that? Dumbledore?"

"Ron, go back to bed!" his mother shrieked, with a little more panic in her voice than she had meant to show. Two loud pops sounded in her ears. "Oh!" Behind her stood the twins, grinning broadly. "Apparating," said Fred, in a self-satisfied tone evidently meant to imitate Percy's, "is a far more economical way of travelling downstairs for one's breakfast than traversing down all those stairs. Is it not, my dear brother?"

"I must say, it is simply spiffing, Frederick," was George's smirking reply. Their mother, however, was outraged. "You're not supposed to Apparate. You haven't got your license yet..."

"How are we supposed to practise then?" asked George indignantly.

"Percy managed!" Molly roared. "If you just took after him a bit more, but no..."

The twins grimaced simultaneously at the mention of Percy's name, but for once, they rather wisely said nothing. Ron, however, interrupted once more. "Where is Percy anyway?"

"Gone to pay his respects, of course," Molly said briskly. "Diana Fletcher was a great friend of Penelope's; she was a Ravenclaw Prefect, or so Percy said."

"Trust Percy to have a record of everyone in the wizarding world who was made a Hogwarts Prefect," muttered Fred, but thankfully his mother didn't seem to hear his comment. "We'd better have breakfast quickly," she cried, and immediately went to the frying pan. No one said a word until Bill entered the room, closely followed by Ginny, who was still sleepy-eyed.

"Diana's been killed?" Bill asked, eyes dulled. "I get the Prophet owled to me every morning, remember?" he added, before his mother could ask where he had heard the news. "It's hard to get British wizarding news when you're in Egypt."

"Who was Diana Fletcher?" Ginny asked quickly, as if saying the name slowly would cause her pain of some kind.

"A friend of Penelope's," said Fred, in between bites of toast. (Mrs Weasley had just produced sausage, bacon and toast with a wand flick that Ginny despaired of ever being able to perform.)

"Not only that," said Mr Weasley, "but she's a niece of Mundungus Fletcher's. The Death Eaters are clearly on to him." He sipped his tea solemnly.

Ginny looked like forming a question again, so Ron asked it for her. "Who's Mundungus Fletcher, Dad?"

"That nutter who claimed insurance on a mansion at the Quidditch World Cup, d'you remember?" quipped George. "Percy was up the wall, said he knew Mundungus had been sleeping under a coat and sticks. More sausages, Mum?"

Mrs Weasley handed him the bowl of cocktail sausages without saying anything.

"But why do the Death Eaters want to get to him?" Ginny asked. "Was Mundungus Fletcher a Death Eater, before Harry stopped You-Know-Who?" At her words, a look passed between Molly and Arthur that none of their offspring could decipher.

"Sausages, Ginny?" Bill asked brightly, holding the bowl out to her.




"Viktor! We haff been vondering ven you would show up!" Svetlana Krum frowned at her son as he suddenly Apparated into the immaculate room, scaring Dr. & Dr. Granger out of their wits. They hadn't seen much of Apparating before they had come to Bulgaria.

"I am sorry... I am sorry..." Viktor panted, trying to recover his breath. Hermione, who had been sitting in the corner with a large volume entitled Bulgaria: A Wizarding History, suddenly looked up and gasped. "Viktor? There's... there's blood on your robes."

"Viktor, vot happened to you? Ver you attacked?" The tall form of Dimitar Krum immediately stood before his son. He knew nothing of compromise. It was enough to say of his character that he was a prominent official in the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic, despite being twenty years younger than many of his colleagues at the same level. He was a man of huge ability, though with very different talents to his heir.

Viktor shook his head, and for one fleeting second Hermione believed he was going to burst into tears. "It is only that... ve trained well, that vos not the problem. But I saw..." He suddenly paused, rooted to the spot, his mouth forming the word that his voice would not.

"Oh, Viktor, vot did you see?" cried Svetlana impatiently. Her guests looked on in suspense.

"I saw Yuliya!" he shouted suddenly. All of a sudden, behind him, the window pane smashed. His parents stared at each other, then at the window.

"It is not true," pronounced Dimitar with some difficulty. "She is dead, ve all know that, Viktor..."

"I saw her!" repeated Viktor. "She vos calling me, telling me to join her. I fell off my broom. I vos not very high in the air at that time," he added, seeing his mother's face turn whiter. "But I heard her voice!"

"You are not yourself!" barked his father. "You vill sit now, and entertain your guests!" But Svetlana stood motionless, as if paralysed, and suddenly screamed. "Yuliya! Yuliya, Yuliya!" Dimitar took her arm, and seemed to be trying to pacify her by rocking her like a child, and whispering to her in Bulgarian. After a few minutes, with the Grangers a captive audience, Svetlana came out of her trance, and looked around the room.

"I think I am tired now," she announced hoarsely. "I am sorry for you," turning to Hermione's mother, "but I think, Daphne, that Viktor vill be able to entertain you. In his own way." The eyes bore heavily into her son's at the last words. "I bid you good night."

"Good night," echoed the Grangers as one. Dimitar nodded curtly at them, and helped Svetlana out of the room. There was a stilted silence in the room. Hermione began to think that she should hold off telling Viktor the news he so badly needed to hear. The Doctors Daphne and Richard Granger, meanwhile, looked nothing short of bemused.

Dear Harry,

There's been horrible things going on, in case you haven't heard from Sirius or Hagrid already. Six Muggles were tortured last night in a village in the North, and some woman called Diana Fletcher has been killed. I don't know who she is, but she's a friend of Percy's girlfriend, you know, that Ravenclaw prefect, Penelope Clearwater. Anyway, Ginny and I were asking Mum and Dad about her at breakfast. Turns out her uncle is Mundungus Fletcher - some idiot who claimed compensation at the Quidditch World Cup, said the Death Eaters had 'damaged his accommodation', well of course they hadn't, least not his. But Ginny asked if Fletcher was a Death Eater before You-Know-Who , well, when he fell, and they wouldn't saya thing. Just kept giving each other meaningful looks. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? I wonder what they're hiding from us this time. It won't last long - Fred and George reckon they'll find out sooner or later.

That's, em, good about Fleur coming to see you. But you will be sure not to introduce me or anything? I mean, I don't mind, but she sort of knows me already. It might be awkward for her, and you wouldn't to make her uncomfortable.

So. Yes. I've heard Hermione's OK, she owled Ginny. Ginny's reading the message now. I wonder why she didn't owl me, did I say something? Typical girls. And now Ginny won't tell me anything she said.

Ron

Dear Hermione,

I'm glad to hear you're OK. I mean, I never doubted it for a second, but Ron - well, he's been really panicky about you. He does care, he's just not sure how to show it. I promise you that much is true.

Well, enough about my brother. How is Viktor? Is he treating you well? How do your parents like Bulgaria? Do you know what time you're coming home? Sorry for all the questions, but you haven't written in ages! So naturally I'm going to be curious. If you're reading up on the Goblin Rebellions like you say, then you don't seem to be giving Viktor much time. Relax, it's a holiday! These are the things I know Ron would never say in a letter, but you really do need to hear them.

I know you receive The Daily Prophet, so I won't bore you with the latest events here, only to say that they look to be getting worse. Dad and Percy are up to their eyes in work. I sometimes wonder how they manage to get enough time to come home at night.

Enjoy yourself, and remember - relax!

Love,

Ginny x




To: Agent Ammon

From: Agent Electra

Operation Yuliya, systems go.

E.