Chapter 222 Repel Boarders The Dimma Mattur bore down on the Discooperire bringing forth a sense of impending

g doom. Ngabe rested her right hand on her rapier, visions of running it through Barettos chest dancing in her head. She felt the reassuring presence of the leather band on her left forearm which was the sheath for her wand. Someday, she mused, shed have to find a way to not have to hold both her wand and her sword, in order to fight. Increase speed for the pass and prepare boarders. Th e trireme was armed with cannon, but not near the amount that the Discooperire carried. The Dimma Matur had two primary weapons. First, she carried nearly half as many fighters as the Discooperire. This made getting close to their target essential. The second weapon was hidden beneath the waves at the bow of the ship. Like her Roman predecessors, the Dimma Matur was armed with a large, steel ram, designed to puncture their enemy below the waterline. The secret was to be able to get close and Ngabe was bound and determined to lock in with the Discooperire and win the battle. She moved her tiller slightly, taking an oblique approach to her target. She pushed harder as the Discooperire heeled to the side, opening up her port guns to a shot across her bows. She heard the thunder of cannon fire as the Discooperire opened up on them, delivering a broadside that shattered wood and sail, delivering an effective barrage, wounding the Dimma Matur. Ngabe grimaced slightly and continued her track towards the enemy. The Discooperire whirled around in a complete turn and opened up with her opposite side battery of guns. Another salvo reached out and took out the Dimma Maturs foremast and holed her hull in numerous spots along the waterline. Still, Ngabe kept coming. Shed acquired the Dimma Mattur for this battle. She was intimately familiar with the Discooperire, its strengths and its weaknesses alike. The one advantage an oar based trireme had, was its ability to turn tighter and move faster over shorter distances. The Discooperires sails fell slack as the ketch turned into the wind to present another firing pass. The ships were now running parallel and the time was upon them for Ngabe to make her move. Starboard oars, back! Port oars, forward! As if on a pivot, the Dimma Mattur turned to its right, quicker and tighter than the Discooperire could respond. Once the prow was pointed at the Discooperires midsection, Ngabe screamed out. All ahead, full! The trireme leapt forward in the water, her hidden ram aimed for the center of the Discooperires side. *** Barettos mouth was in a tight frown. She watched with almost detached interest as Ngabes ship turned and began its attack run. Shes going to ram us! She shouted to Muireall, who stood on the main gun deck. Aim for their bow, try to take out their ram! Muireall nodded grimly and began delivering orders to her crews. At the speed the enemy was approaching, they would get one shot at this before the hull was breached. She went up to the nearest cannon and stared down its open site. She grabbed a long stick with a smoldering ember at the end and placed it to the touch hole at the end of the cannon. It leapt in its mount as it flame and light gushed forth, reaching out for the enemy ship. Almost a second later, the rest of the port side guns followed suit. The bow of the approaching enemy ship was shrouded in smoke and fire. It seemed to stop in place from the impact of the deadly accurate gunfire. After a few seconds, she continued on. Muireall looked down at the leading edge of the enemy ship. The steel ram was above the water and tilted to the side. Theyd hit it, but not destroyed it and the enemy ship looked determined to grapple with them. There was nothing they could do. She looked up helplessly at her captain and drew her sword.

Prepare to repel boarders! Baretto shouted and drew her sword. She looked over to Bill, who was standing with his friends near the stern rail. Get to my cabin, try to stay out of the way. She pointed to a squad of sailors, detailing them to stay with Bill and the rest of the party. George, Lee and Ron stepped forward, their weapons drawn. If you dont mind, Captain, wed prefer to stay up here and fight. Ron said grimly, his gaz e looking over at the worried face of his wife. Staying below decks makes me queasy. Baretto snickered mildly and nodded her head. Ron walked up to Hermione and kissed her full on the lips. For a brief second, the immediate danger disappeared as they lost themselves in the moment. The respite ended as fast as it started as Ron drew back and smiled. Watch over the book, make sure they dont get it. He shifted his gaze to the rest of them. Stay below, protect the book. Dean nodded and ushered Isabella and Hoyte below. Soon, only Bill stood near the entryway. George looked over and motioned to the door. Go on, now, Bill. I can fight. I want to stay up here and fight. Bill seemed adamant and Ron and George understood his desire to stay. Your place is with the book, Bill. All of this is moot if whoever that is over there gets their hands on it. Rons voice was low, determined. We all have our jobs to do, Bill. Do yours. Bill hesitated for a moment and then nodded slowly. He turned and walked into the depths of the ship and disappeared. Barettos voice rang out above the din. All hands, brace for impact! Ron looked over. The enemy ship was close. It was as if he could reach out and touch it. He gripped the side rail and watched in fascinated horror as the enemy ship seemed to gain speed and propelled itself into the side of the Discooperire. His legs buckled and he fell over as the shouts of the enemy reached his ears. There was a loud bang, and a draw bridge affixed to the front of the enemy ship dropped down providing a pathway for the invaders to use. Already, Baretto as at the front of her sailors, standing at the end of the bridge, waiting for the first wave of attackers to arrive. *** Under normal circumstances, a ramming attack at sea would be done with the ramming ship perpendicular to its target. An unimpeded ram would strike the ship full on and rend a large hole below the waterline, causing massive flooding and damage. The Discooperires cannon fire had knock ed the Dimma Matturs ram off its mount, so even though the trireme had struck the ketch full on, the ram was not firmly attached. Consequently, the Discooperire suffered a great amount of damage, but was not fatally wounded. Nonetheless, she was hurt and now the battle for her soul would begin. Ngabe paced the deck. Of the original twenty Nubians that had been cast adrift by Baretto all those years ago, five had died of exposure on their long trek home. Another two had been killed in the intervening years as Ngabe sought power to gain her revenge. That left her thirteen of her original crew that she dubbed her Immortals. They were completely loyal to her and led the assault onto the Discooperire. Ngabe wanted to lead, but her orders from her mysterious benefactor were clear. She looked over at the seven figures standing on the rear deck and nodded to their leader. Captain Baretto has a safe in her cabin. More than likely, the book is there. Remember our orders, we are to capture the book. We have not been cleared to kill the main adversaries. Ngabe could not let the disappointment in her voice go undetected.

The leader of the strike team snarled deeply. Bah, I dont care about orders. He began to pace back and forth, looking for an opening to get across to the ship. Accidents happen, sometimes. Ngabes face broke into a deadly sneer. They do indeed. She hefted her sword and wand and began running towards to draw bridge. Accidents do happen. The leader of the strike team motioned to his followers. They began scampering up the remains of the shattered foremast. When he reached the top, he leapt out, stretching almost thirty feet and landed among a cluster of Discooperire crew. There was a cacophony of growls, grunts and screams as they plowed through the desperate fight and headed below. On the main deck, Baretto found herself forced back as the wave of attackers proved too much for her to handle. She fell back from the bridge and immediately, the tactical situation took a turn for the worse. The bridge was positioned directly amidships. The flow of enemy sailors essentially cut her team in half. Baretto was holding the stern portion of the ship, while Muireall led the sailors fighting from the bow. They were outnumbered as it was, but now they were separated into two distinct forces that could not support each other. There was the hum of a curse as Ron, Lee and George entered the fray. Accomplished and veteran wizards, they fit right in with the rest of her crew. T heyd fought alongside the Discooperire warriors during the war with the Confederation. That was an essential difference, Baretto thought, from the crew that Ngabe knew and the crew that Baretto had. Her crew were veterans, whod fought against impossible odds. They didnt panic. In fact, they were solidifying their wall of resistance. The enemy, for their part, didnt seem to be pressing their advantage. Something wasnt right, why were they holding back? Ngabe raced forward across the bridge. She spotted Barettos tall figure almost from the start. She leapt into the air and sent a curse towards a pair of sailors standing in front of their captain. Momentarily blinded, the sailors were swept under by a vicious cut from Ngabes blade. Baretto rea cted instantly and parried the thrust from Ngabe easily. Ngabe sneered at Baretto. The captain of the Discooperire didnt even have her wand. Shed be easy prey. Incendio! A wave of flame leapt from her wand, reaching out towards Baretto. Aguamenti! No sooner had Baretto uttered the words, then a solid column of water sprang from her sword and doused the fiery assault in an instant. Baretto lunged forward. As soon as the water disappeared, she snapped a swipe from her sword and cut Ngabe along her arm, causing the captain of the Dimma Mattur to scream in pain and anger. Baretto stepped back and struck a defensive pose. You hid your wand some where, very nice. Ngabe smiled sweetly. Long time, no see, Captain. Not long enough, Ngabe. Baretto struck, her sword dancing in the light of the battle, moving at a speed heretofore unseen. Ngabe barely got her blade up and parried the blow and countered with a sweeping attack of her own. The battle was joined, neither captain relenting. Their twin blades sparked as they clashed, sending out hues of blue, red and yellow and colliding with all the force of the pent up hate that each woman felt for the other. Both struck blows, both drew blood and both ignored their own wounds to continue the fight. All around, the battle was being waged mightily. The decks were awash with blood and the wounded. Muireall pressed home a counter attack, shoring up her position on the bow and rallying the sailors around her to hold off the assault. Ron led the stern sailors, as the captain continued her deadly dance with Ngabe. They fought off another wave of attackers. Ron found himself confronted by one of Ngabes Immortals. The man had dark black skin and was clothed in a blue, cotton shirt and tan blousy pants tucked into a pair battered leather boots. He wore a shiny, golden breastplate and wielded a scimitar over his head. The man parried several blows from attacking sailors and then began a whirling display,

swiping the air with his sword, his gaze right at Ron. Ron gripped his sword tightly and swayed back and forth on the balls of his feet. The Immortal sneered at Ron and pointed the tip of his deadly sword at the Auror, calling Ron out. Ron sighed heavily and raised the point of his sword towards his adversary, as if indicating he was accepting his challenge. Confringo! A blast of light came from the tip of Rons sword and impacted directly in the center of the mans breastplate, shattering his torso and sending the man careening over the side. George snickered in the middle of running one of the enemy through the heart. I guess he brought a knife to a spell fight. Ron laughed, I guess so. Ron dove back into the fight, wading into the most recent wave of attackers. He sighed heavily as he noticed, yet another wave of enemy sailors was preparing to charge. He gripped his sword and continued the fray. *** Bills team huddled around the chart table in the center of Barettos cabin. Their escort had remained outside the door. The sounds of battle echoed through the timbers of the ship, driving the anxiety level up. Bill paced around the room, stopping every so often to judge the progress of the fight. Finally, he threw up his arms. I cant stand this. Ive got to out there. Be patient, Bill. Our time will come. Let them do their jobs. Raimundos understated tone drew an angry glare from Bill. How can you be so calm? Youre wife is facing a mortal enemy. She may die out there! Bills voice rose an octave as he addressed the older man. Raimundo smiled gently. Adelina is doing what she does best. All I would do is be in her way. I know her ability. Whatever happens, shes doing what she can. I am supporting her the best way I can, by staying here. Bill, a little chastened, simply nodded. Suddenly, there was the sound of fighting outside the door. Snarls and screams burst forth followed by a moment of dreaded silence. Bill looked over at the door and motioned to Dean, who drew his wand. There was a loud thump on the door, and it splintered in several places. Get behind me! Bill shouted to the rest, although Dean joined him. Hermione drew her wand, as did Steven Hoyte and Raimundo. Isabella and Dudley each picked up axes that were mounted on the wall nearby. The door took another blow and then another, slowly giving way to the unrelenting assault from outside. Bill gripped his sword, his wand tucked neatly in its place on the hilt. After a few more blows, the door gave way, shattering into thousands of pieces. A tall, brooding figure walked through the smoke and the mist and smiled at Bill. You! Bill cried out in shock, fear and anger.

Ah, Mr. Weasley. It looks like I made you look a whole lot better. Fenrir Greyback smiled as the remaining five of his henchmen poured through the door. Bill sent a quick curse out, blasting the floor beneath Greybacks feet. The werewolfs henchmen had filed down teeth and yellow eyes, like their leader. Fortunately for Ministry faithful, it wasnt a full moon, else theyd be dealing with six full fledged werewolves and not the vile evil men they had in front of them. Give me the book, Weasley, and maybe you get to live through this. Bill and the others stood in front of the alcove that contained the safe. Im not going to give it to the likes of you, Greyback. Bill snapped. I so hoped you say that. He turned his head behind him. Take them! The room exploded into a chaotic, desperate struggle. The pseudo-werewolves had been charmed with sharpened fangs and claws. Only one or two were actually wizards, and chose, instead, to fight up close, without magic. Dean sent a curse that propelled one of the attackers through the window and into the water, but he was blindsided by a diving attacker that knocked him to the ground. The man dove on top of Deans chest and made to bite him on the neck. Before he could finish the bite, the meaty sound of metal on flesh caused the strike team member to jerk upward, shock in his eyes. He rolled to the side and fell to the ground, Isabellas axe in his back. Nobody bites my man! Isabella said, kicking at the dying man. Except for you, mi amor. Dean quipped, slowly rising from the ground. Isabella smacked Dean on the back. Dont be fresh, and pay attention to what youre doing! Dean smiled and rejoined the fight. Bill dove for Greyback, sending a spell towards the manic werewolf, which Greyback easily deflected, but the spell was a cover for Bill to get close with his blade. He made a high, arcing sweep with his cutlass which grazed Greyback on the chest, opening a terrible wound. Greyback howled in pain and drove his hand out, cutting Bill with his claws. Greyback sent a blasting spell which tossed Bill and Raimundo through the shattered window and into the water below. Bill! Hermione stepped forward and dispatched a nearby enemy and sent another charm towards Greyback. She flung a candelabra at Greybacks head. Duro! The crystal object hardened into stone and struck the werewolf in the head. Hermione turned to the window, looking for some sign of Bill or Raimundo. Dudley ran forward. Take care of that one, Ill get Bill and Raimundo. With a grace belying his size, Dudley dove through the window and landed in the water below. Hermione turned and surveyed the situation. Hoyte was holding his own, standing near Dean and Isabella. There was only three assailants left, including Greyback. Unfortunately, the wildness of the fight had positioned the werewolf between them and the safe. His two henchmen continued their frenzied assault, screaming at the top of their lungs. It was all either Hermione or Dean could do to stave off the frenetic assault. All the while, Greyback staggered up to the safe. Diffindo! Greyback saw the safe door tear in half, revealing the scroll inside. He reached his bloodied hand inside and drew out the book. He looked over at the battle going on between his men and the remaining wizards and smiled. Then he turned and ran out the door. ***

On the main deck, the battle was going poorly for the Discooperire crew. Not only were they slowly being bled to death, but it also seemed that the ship had begun to settle into the water. Despite having warded off the ram, the damage was not being cared for, because of the fight. The Discooperire was sinking. Another wave crowded onto the deck, taxing the crew beyond their capabilities. The battle between Baretto and Ngabe was starting to favor the evil Captain. Baretto was on the defensive, barely reacting to the repeated blows from her former subordinate. Both women bled from several wounds, Baretto had managed to pierce Ngabes thigh with a strike, but Ngabe had struck a painful blow across Barettos abdomen. The loss of blood was tremendous. One of Ngabes men made a bold attack against Baretto, which she stopped with a long swipe of her blade, which severed the mans head, but Ngabe used the distraction to send a lightning thrust into the very same shoulder shed wounded so many years ago. Baretto fell back to the deck, groaning in pain. The action all around seemed to stop as the both crews watched the tableau unfold. Ngabe stepped forward, her blade at Barettos neck. You should have killed me when you had the chance. Look around. Ngabe swept her free hand across the deck. Your crew is dying, your ship is dying, I have the Book of Thoth, and theres no Albus Dumbledore here, hes dead. She smiled a triumphant smile. Theres no one to save you now. A loud, thunderous crack of smoke and light crashed on the middle of the main deck, directly behind Ngabe. She stumbled and turned around. Standing there were seven men and women arranged in a triangle, an Aurors spear. Each wore dark black robes that flowed around their bodies and each carried a razor sharp sword in their hands. The man standing at the center of the spear had broad shoulders and a thin waist with black pants tucked into high riding boots polished to a shiny gloss. What struck Ngabe was how confident he looked and how angry he was. She knew he was angry from his eyes. They pierced right through her. They were a radiant viridian, which burned from through his wire framed glasses and penetrated her being. She froze as she suddenly realized that the odds had ch anged significantly. Shed been told to simply retrieve the Book of Thoth. Shed seen Greyback trundle back to the ship with the book, probably headed for the floo in her cabin. She wasnt supposed to draw this out and now, it might be too late. Id appreciate it if youd kindly step back from my friend. I would hate to have to kill you before we were properly introduced. Ngabes blade unconsciously left Barettos neck as she turned to face the newcomer. He smiled, although there was little joy or mirth in the gesture. His smile portended of deadly intent and his team seemed to follow suit. He stared into Ngabes eyes, his emerald orbs on fire. My name is Harry Potter. Surrender now and well let you live. Harry looked around the carnage and wreckage of the ship until his eyes fell on the gravely wounded Baretto. Frankly, I hope you dont. I wouldnt mind killing you right about now. Ngabe weighed the odds in her mind. She seemed to struggle with the choice. Her crew was silent, waiting for word from her. She gripped her sword and made her choice. Kill them! Kill them all! She raised her sword and ran at Harry, screaming at the top of her lungs. Chapter 223 Damage Control Ngabe raised her sword above her head and made a lightning dash towards Harry, bringing her sword down towards his head. Harry made a quick sidestep move, raising the edge of his sword and effectively blocking the blow. He made a slight turn to the side and brought his free hand up, palm out and pointed the hand at her chest. Stupefy! An invisible wave of force emanated from Harrys palm, propelling Ngabe backward. She allowed the momentum to carry her back and rolled to her feet. Her wand was in her non-sword hand and she raised it.

Confringo! The deck beneath Harrys feet erupted in fire and flame, but he was already on the move, pushing forward to close the distance between himself and the wild-eyed captain of the Dimma Mattur. His team, leapt into motion, as Ngabes orders to her minions reignited the battle that had been roiling before their arrival. On the left, Williamson, Sean Manchester and Leonora Sigismund plowed into the flank of the ranks invaders who were fighting towards the bow where Muireall Innes had been holding her position. On the right, Mortimer Gafney, Silas Hornsby and Sarah Jordan jumped into action, pushing hard towards the stern where Ron, Lee and George were rallying the remainder of the Discooperires embattled crew. Their arrival did not necessarily tip the balance in terms of numbers, but what they lacked in total blades, they made up in sheer competence and ferocity. These were battle-hardened veterans, used to fighting in closed quarters against impossible odds. Theyd come in positioned behind the invaders, and the force and power of their assault had an immediate impact. Williamson pushed into the crowded deck, holding his sword forward and alternating blasting charms and petrificus curses on the hapless warriors in front of him. Manchester stood to his right, parrying sword and pike thrusts with his own cutlass, keeping Williamsons sword hand free from interference. Leonora was busily working a shield charm on his left, protecting her team leader from wayward spells cast by the wizards among the enemy. This method was what separated the Aurors from their adversaries. They werent three individual fighters, but one, inclusive unit fighting together. They cut a swath through the enemy, causing them to falter and start to run back towards their ship. Muireall saw the tide begin to change and leapt at the opportunity. She ran forward, leading her surviving crew into the middle of the enemy formation. Their energy renewed by the appearance of the Ministry team, the Discooperire crew attacked with a vengeance, killing more of the enemy than were able to flee. Muirealls sword swung back and forth, her long, red hair flashing and sailor-like curses on her lips. Within moments, she reached Williamson and he dropped his guard. She flashed a smile and he flushed. Honey, Im home. Now it was Muirealls turn to blush. Husband and wife had been apart for quite a while and Williamson chuckled. His wife was first mate, which meant she had her own stateroom. He had definitely earned some loving points today. On the other side of the ship, Mortimer, Silas and Sarah operated much in the same manner as their counterparts across the way. The numbers of enemy were far fewer on this side, thanks to the intervention of Ron, Lee and George. Mortimer took the lead, with Sarah and Silas supporting him. Silas, being the main proponent of brute force was the sword man, while Sarah was the shield bearer. Their assault was far more deadly, leaving very few of the enemy standing. Soon they were met in by Ron, Lee and George. More expressive than Muireall, Sarah jumped into Lees arms and peppered his face with kisses. Several hoots and whistles from George and Ron caused her to break the embrace. She gave a stern look to the pair of Weasley brothers. Why is it you two are always getting Lee into trouble? Sarah asked in a deadpan expression. Ron offered his best Who Me? shrug while George snorted indignantly. How do you know hes not the one causing the trouble? A knowing glance from Sarah caused George to clear his throat. Right, actually, it was his fault! George pointed a finger at Ron. As the two were about to get into it, the door behind them opened and Hermione came running out, her wand in her hand. Ron reached two arms out, intent on a passionate reunion of his own, but Hermione ran past him to the side rail. Ron seemed a bit put out for half a second and then realized how frantic his wife was. He ran up beside her and looked out across the water. What is it?

Bill and Raimundo got knocked over the side. Dudley went after them, but I cant see them anywhere. Her eyes scanned the water futilely. Eventually, they rested on the wrecked hulk of the enemy ship. There was a gaping hole in the front of the ship where the ram had been torn off. Water was pouring into the oar deck and Hermione caught sight of the pathetic wretches who were chained to their seats. Ron! Her husband looked over to the ship and saw the human, goblin and house -elf slaves who were beginning to panic from the torrent of onrushing water. I see it. He turned towards his brother and the rest. Come on boys, weve got some rescuing to do. He jumped up on the rail and grabbed a loose line of rigging. Gripping it tightly, he kicked off the rail and flung himself across the space between the Discooperire and the Dimma Mattur. Hermione followed suit and the rest of the team was not far behind. For the most part, the crew of the enemy ship ignored them, more concerned with getting away from their defeat. Some strong hearted souls tried to intervene, but were easily dispatched. Ron jumped down the main hold hatch and landed on the walkway mounted above the tiers of enslaved rowers. At the end of the walkway, the large, bloated man, Gafney, who kept the time with his drum shouted and raised his whip towards Ron. The end of the rawhide sliver cracked in the air and landed a blow on Rons shoulder, tearing his robe and cutting into his flesh. Ron snapped his sword up and muttered a spell. The whip curled into the shape of a snake, a boa constrictor. The snake fell down on the mans shoulders and wrapped itself around his face and torso. Ron ignored his bellows and began to cut the chains of the rowers. Hermione jumped down into the hold and cast a quick look at the man struggling with the large snake over his head. Rons head snapped up. Leave him, help me with these guys. The ship is sinking. Get them to the Discooperire. Thankfully, George, Lee, Mortimer, Silas and Sarah arrived. Between them, they managed to get remaining captives free. By the time the last one was heading up to the Discooperire, the water level had risen to fill half the hold. Silently, they filed out, steadfastly ignoring the man lolling around on the deck with the massive snake tightening its grip. As Hermione and Ron walked up, Ron tapped the tip of his sword on the snakes body, and it immediately transformed back into a whip. Th-thank you! I might have died. The pathetic mans face was twisted into a look of relief an d contempt. Ron nodded and then held out his sword. Incarcerous! The man was bound by several ropes that appeared from the air. He gasped in surprise. Ron pointed Hermione towards the hold entrance. You cant leave me here! The man cried out, panic crackling in his voice. Hermione gazed at her husband, an unspoken question on her face. Rons face was set, his expression hardened. Go on, Hermione. She looked at him for a moment and climbed the ladder, heading for the Discooperire. Ron stayed back and watched his wife go. He unsnapped his wand from its place in his sword and sheathed the weapon in his belt. He rolled the wand in his fingers and knelt down, looking into his face. What would you have done with these slaves of yours? Ron asked. The man shook, sweat poured down his face. I would have freed them, they were valuable to us. The mans voice was broken and he cracked every so often. Ron touched the tip of his wand to the ropes. Nothing happened, because he hadnt utter ed the incantation required to terminate the binding spell.

Ron stood and looked at the man. You know, if you had told me the truth, I just might have let you go. Rons eyes narrowed and his voice lowered in volume, becoming a deadly hiss. I hate l iars almost as much as I hate slavers, and I really hate slavers. Ron turned around and left the whimpering man to his fate. As Ron reached the top rung of the ladder, the first drops of water reached the mans feet. He cried out in desperation, but only Ron heard him and Ron was not in the mood to listen. *** Ngabe watched as her crew disintegrated before her eyes. Only moments earlier, shed been on the cusp of winning. How was she supposed to anticipate Potters arrival? Her benefactor had told her to limit this to a simple snatch and grab, but she hadnt listened. Had her unknown master known that Potter was coming? Over the side, she saw the bow of her ship settling into the depths of the lake. Before she could contemplate its loss, Harry was on her, his blade flashing down on her. She barely reached up to block his blade. The force of the blow was numbing. She felt her arm muscles rage at the impact. She tried a quick riposte, but he was ready, easily deflecting the blow and then twisting his arm out and slashing her abdomen with a quick strike. The wound wasnt deep, but it hurt. She felt her strength waning and had the disconcerting sensation of her mounting doom. She ran from Harry, quickly crossing the distance to the rail and leapt out into the air. Her wand fell from her grasp and with her free hand, she grabbed the dagger in her sash and plunged into the sail that hung loosely from the mast of her ship. The weight of her body forced the sail to tear under the pressure from the dagger, carrying down to the main deck below. Harry didnt hesitate and jumped onto the bridge that held the two ships together. He ran across to the Dimma Mattur in pursuit of Ngabe. With a flick of his wrist, he destroyed the bridge behind him, so that, the demise of the enemy ship wouldnt result in the Discooperire being pulled down with the doomed vessel. He caught sight of the fleeing captain and he sent a quick curse that barely missed. He snapped out another curse at her retreating form. Sectumsempra! Ngabe screamed as horrible rents in her back and arms began to show themselves. One wound in particular saw two of her fingers fall to the deck. She didnt stop, but continued to run at full speed into her cabin. The green flame of her onboard floo continued to burn and she grabbed some powder from the top of the stove and jumped into the flame, just as Harry crashed into the room. Harry contemplated the scene and began to utter the follow spell to chase after her. He wanted answers, but just then, there was a loud, snapping sound as the ships keel broke. The surge of water caused the battered trireme to start cascading downward. Harry jumped out a back window and found himself riding the ship down. He felt a slight tap on his shoulder and saw Bryan Gardner and Betsy Cain smiling at him, as if floating in mid-air. Need a lift? Bryan extended his hand and pulled Harry from his perch by the collar. Harry watched as the demon ship sunk into the depths of the lake. He felt his feet on solid ground and looked down. They were on the magic carpet theyd used to get here in the nick of time. Betsy pointed to the rear of the carpet. These fellows belong to you, Harry? Sitting there, soaking wet, was Dudley, Bill and Raimundo. We fished them out, while we were circling around. Harry smiled and nodded at his friends. Well done you two, now lets head back to the ship. *** Ngabe fell to the floor as soon as she exited the floo. She found herself in a large empty room with dark gray stone walls and a massive rock hearth behind her. Her breathing came in rapid gasps as her

adrenaline levels dropped and the pain from her injuries started overcoming her senses. She pushed herself upright and tested the more open wounds with her fingers. She looked back at the hearth and breathed a sigh of relief. She felt a presence in the room and a pair of eyes studying her with calm detachment. Good evening, Captain Ngabe. She turned and looked at the far end of the room. A man in a black mourning coat with tails walked into the light of the gothic chandelier. He had a balding head of hair and black and white thin mustache beneath his large, hooked nose. He was the epitome of a refined English butler. If you will follow me? Ngabe stood and limped over to man. Do you think I can see someone about this? She pointed, in general, to the numerous wounds that were running freely along her body. In good time, Captain, Ive been instructed to bring you to the conference room. Ngabe nodded after another bout of wincing. She followed along behind the silent manservant. She was in a very ornate Victorian-style mansion. The windows were covered over, so she couldnt see the terrain outside to get a feel exactly where she was. They walked down a long hallway with high arched stone ceilings. Suits of armor were positioned very twenty feet or so and there were large oaken double doors along the way. They came to one set of doors and her guide reached down and pushed them open, indicating for her to proceed ahead. Inside, was a large room dimly lit with rich red Persian rugs and a long, narrow table along the other end of the room. Fenrir Greyback stood in the center of the room. He had a disappointed expression on his face. He was swaying side to side on the balls of his feet, but he remained basically stationary in front of the long table. Seated behind the table were seven figures, their faces and features shrouded in the darkness of the room. Ngabe wasnt even sure wheth er they were men or women. She limped to a spot next to Greyback and stared at the person seated in the center of the table. Captain Ngabe, we are very pleased to see that you managed to survive your Egyptian adventure. She recognized the voice from the messages over her floo. Her mysterious benefactor was seated directly in front of her. He continued. Unfortunately, you did not heed our advice. You got involved in an engagement that cost us the use of a very valuable asset in the Dimma Mattur. Ngabe seethed at the rebuke. You knew that Potter was coming. It was a possibility, Captain. We tend to plan for contingencies; thats why we were very specific about keeping to the mission profile. The mans voice seemed more disappointed than angry. I had the Discooperire in my hands. You should have told me to expect Potter. Ngabes voice held a tinge of defiance, the pain from her injuries making her bold. You were told what you needed to know, Captain. There are bigger things at wor k than your vendetta. Mr. Greyback has foregone his personal crusade for the sake of the greater good, you will as well, unless, of course, you wish to terminate your association with this forum. Ngabe was no fool. The speaker had put special emphasis on the word terminate. She didnt think it involved a severance package and a letter of reference. No. She swallowed hard. No, that wont be necessary. You know that Im committed to the project. Excellent. There seemed to be genuine amusement in his voice. He reached down an rang a small bell on the table. Why dont you let Mr. Kobayashi take you to our healer? Those wounds look like they sting a bit.

Seeing that she was being dismissed, she turned and followed the butler out the door. Greyback bowed his head grudgingly, and followed her out the door. When the doors were closed, the lights grew brighter, allowing the occupants at the table to see each other. The man at the center laid his hand on the Book of Thoth, resting in front of him. The man seated next to him looked at the book and then at the door. I dont know why we need them. They are too unpredictable for what we have to do. The leader looked at his colleague and pursed his lips. Every endeavor has the need for a blunt instrument from time to time. Captain Ngabe and Mr. Greyback serve our purposes. He drew his gaze from the book and glanced to the man at the end of the table. Things are ready to be set in motion. Weve retrieved the Book and we have tested t he Ministry. Now we must start the process of undermining the power structure that would inhibit our goal. Are you ready? The man at the end of the table nodded politely. Good. I must remind you, ladies and gentlemen, this has nothing to do with blood purity or ego. This is about power. We are all, individually, powerful people, but true power awaits us if we do this right. So, we must begin to eliminate that which would stop us. The Ministry of Magic, you mean? The man next to him interjected. The leader smiled and shook his head. Actually, I was thinking of the Minister of Magic. He is the linchpin of the power at the Ministry. Remove the Minister and the whole deck of cards comes crashing down. A demure voice interjected cautiously. Killing the Minister of Magic would have severe repercussions. I dont know if thats the wisest course of action. The man nodded to his partner at the end of the table and then looked at the woman. My dear, who ever said anything about killing the Minister of Magic? There are ways to eliminate a threat that are far more effective than murder, and far more satisfying. The nods around the table told him that he, for the time being, had them on his side. *** Harry, how did you know we were in trouble? Ron looked over at Harry as the senior Auror surveyed the damage. I was following Greyback, Ron. He was causing some trouble for Teddy and some others at Hogwarts and for some reason, he gave it up and came out here. Harry looked around as t he mop up continued. What would cause Greyback to give up a grudge? I thought he was bound and determined to get back at Remus, through Teddy. Ron ran his hand through his hair. Thats what worries me, Ron. Greyback went along with Voldemort becaus e he saw it as an alliance of convenience, a way to get his own ends achieved. I saw some things that indicated that Greyback followed someones orders, even at the expense of his own revenge on Teddy. Theres something at work here, something dark and powerful and that scares me. Harry stared at his friend who shuddered. Is Teddy all right? Ron asked.

It was touch and go. Some people were hurt, some killed, but Teddy should pull out of it fine. He saw some things over the last few weeks that I wouldnt want a boy to see. Harry had a faraway look in his eyes. Worse than youve seen when you were a boy? In some ways. Harry noticed Muireall Innes approaching, her face a study in concern. The Captain will make it, thankfully. She let out a loud sigh of relief. Whats our status? Harry asked, looking around at the carnage. Were hurt bad, but shell stay afloat. Our speed will be down, at least until I can get her to a drydock. Muireall went through her mental checklist as Hermione walked up to join them. Harry nodded. Can you get to Alexandria? Muireall looked around and then indicated that they could. Good. Malfoy has a ship repair facility there. Im sure it will cost us, but you can get the ship repaired there. Ill take this lot with me and get back. Im afraid were needed back home. Excuse me, Harry. Sean Manchester walked up and looked over at Muireall. In all the excitement, I havent had time to say hello to my wife. Can you tell me where Lockley is, maam? Harry saw the pained expression on Rons face and suddenly knew the truth. Muireall looked as if she were hit by a physical blow and was unsure of what to say. Hermione stepped forward and grabbed Sean by the arm. Sean, we need to talk. Im afraid I have some very bad news for you. Harry watched his friend take Sean to the side. Whatever was out there was beginning to pile up a significant toll of pain and destruction and Harry wasnt sure hed seen the worst of it yet. He looked up at the ni ght sky and shook his head. No, Harry had the distinct feeling that the worst was yet to come.

Chapter 224 Human Nature There was a hiss and a crackle, followed by a loud boom as the large group side-along apparated into the receiving alley located alongside the Leaky Cauldron. Harry and his team were positioned along the outside of the formation, a spear, formed with Harry at the apex, with Sarah, Sean, Leonora and Ron on one side and Mortimer, Williamson, and Silas on the other. Dudley, Isabella, Dean, Hermione, Bill, George, and Lee were standing in the center of the spear. Raimundo and Stephen Hoyte had elected to stay with the Discooperire and its crew as it affected repairs at the Malfoy Yards in Alexandria. Confirming his suspicions, Draco Malfoys agent in Alexandria was charging a pretty penny to make the ketch seaworthy, but they were a large yard and could do the work. At the very least, the ship would be ready within a months time and then would return to its homeport of Portsmouth. The adventures over the past few weeks had drained everyone, but weighing on their minds was the possibility of some greater threat. The encounter with Ngabe and Greyback, combined with the name Keyser Soze as part of some master manipulation was giving all them pause. The initial reaction, by most, was to lash out against the perceived threat, but if you didnt know who your enemy was and what their intention, there was very little to act out against. Harry hated being in a position of having to react, but he had little choice. Greybacks pack had been destroyed on the outskirts of Hogwarts and there were no clues to the thread of existence for their new foe, if even existed. Exhausted and spent, Harry looked at his close circle of friends and smiled wearily.

Welcome home, everyone. I think Im going to take a bath for a week. Hermione nestled up to her husband and pulled on his arm. Harry nodded. We all need a break. Its late, why dont you all go home. He reserved a special gaze for his Aurors. Well reconvene at the Office tomorrow. Maybe Lachlan will have something for us to go on, by then. He didnt get any arguments from them. The weight of their experience showed plainly. One by one, they began to apparate away, heading for their homes. Harry put a soft hand on Seans shoulder. Are you going to be all right, Sean? Harry could plainly see the loss of his wife had hit his normally fast talking, devil-may-care subordinate hard. I dont know, Harry. She was indestructible. I dont know how this happened. Sean was morose, his shoulders drooped. He was a defeated man. If you need some time, Ill understand. I may just take you up on that. Sean took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. I always hear stories about people using work to forget when they lose someone. I think thats a crock. I dont feel like working, I dont feel like doing anything. I think, and I dont believe Im going to say this, I think Im going to go see my father. General Manchester would probably like hearing from you. Maybe he could help? Harrys memory lingered on the cross dressing warrior who led them against the Confederation. Sean nodded. Maybe, I think I just want to be around family. With that, Sean nodded and wink ed out of sight. Harry sighed and felt the pressure of gravity drive all of the worlds problems down on his shoulders. He took one last look around the alley and then concentrated on his destination, he concentrated on home. *** Ever since the fall of the Dark Lord, the Wizengamot sessions had become riotous affairs. After the ascension of Arthur Weasley to the Ministry, the interplay between the various factions had been rough and tumble as old rivalries split and new agendas arose. Arthurs legislative agenda had been focused on pushing equality and emancipation for so called less than human magical creatures and also on defusing the blood purity edicts. The range of opposition included those that were blood-purity fanatics, people who thought the changes were going to too fast and those that thought that no single faction should hold absolute power. Most of the members could be found in some measure of agreement with any of the three positions or with the Minister. The Weasleys, as a political force, held great sway over public opinion and also held key positions of power, starting with the Minister himself. Hermione Weasley ran legislative affairs, while Harry Potter was the head of the Office Aurors. Percy Weasley was the Deputy Minister and John Dawlish, as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, was as much in the Weasley camp as any of his blood relatives. The point was that despite their good intentions, there was always resentment, even jealousy around power. It was human nature, and Ian Gordon saw every session of the Wizengamot as a demonstration of that resentment. Ian was a merchantman turned politician, representing the district in and around Diagon Alley. Like most successful businessmen in the wizarding world, Ian had played both sides of the ethical boundaries in pushing his trading business forward. Hed accepted election to the Wizengamot, mostly at the behest of his fellow merchants, to protect their interests from the government. He was a

tall man, with ebon skin. He had a small, closely cropped head of hair peppered with streaks of white and gray. He sat silently as the Wizengamot debated a point of order in a new trade law around the importation of potion of ingredients. This is preposterous! Youll destroy domestic mandrake production! A particularly obese man with shaking jowls and a pale, sweaty head huffed down from his seat in the tier to the pink-cheeked, black haired witch standing balefully in the center of Courtroom Number Ten. Hestia Jones took allowed the criticism to wash over her and allowed her antagonist to rail against the Ministrys new trade proposal. I understand your position, sir, but removing tariffs on imports will result in the same action by the governments of Hungary, Romania and Lichtenstein. Our export numbers will improve, surely you can see that. Hestia was the Ministrys trade representative to foreign governments and the newly reformed Confederation of Wizards. Despite the desire by some in this body to articulate a protectionist policy, the Minister is fully convinced that we have the will and the votes to move this legislation forward. Gordon was sitting next to the corpulent man who sat down in a huff. The leader of the Wizengamot called the issue to a vote, and as Hestia pointed out, the voting went for the measure. Ian noted with satisfaction, that the man was beside himself with the outcome. Gordon leaned in and whispered in the mans ear. Sorry about that, old boy. Its not the same Wizengamot, is it? The man pulled out an embroidered handkerchief and wiped down his brow. It sure isnt. Damned Weasley talks about democracy and fairness, but hes running a dictatorship himself. The whole Ministry is made up of his family and friends. We cant get a word in edgewise. Gordon nodded sympathetically and smiled as the man finished his tirade. Id do anything to see that family out of power, if only to set things back to a more sane policy. The words were music to Gordons ears. They reflected a general undercurrent of dissatisfaction among the members of the government who seemed have lost their places in the new order. These were the hangers on from the previous administrations or those that were not among the elite who participated in the upheavals subsequent to the Dark Lords fall. Ian muttered a few more phrases of condolence to man and walked out of the chamber as the session was adjourned. *** So, Teddy is okay? Ginny Weasley Potter sat on the verandah of their home, sipping a co ld lemonade while rocking in a swing. Her husband was seated next to her, his arm resting casually on her leg. Both were taking in the sight of their children playing in the yard under the watchful eye of their adoptive caretaker, the house-elf, Kreacher. Harry offered a small smile. I think so. It was pretty traumatic. I think his friend will be fine, but Teddy killed some them in his transformed state, I think he was pretty shook up. Ginny stared at Harry with an introspective gaze. Her eyes narrowed and an unspoken thought came to her lips. For good reason, dont you think? Taking another mans life can be life altering. Ginny watched Harrys expression darken a bit and he shrugged his shoulders with a small bit of indifference. They were evil creatures, Ginny, they probably got what they deserved. Ginny startled him by getting up from the swing and pacing along the portico. You seem to be pretty cavalier about killing, Harry. Harry was surprised at her reaction. He sat silently for a moment. Its not that, Ginny, but they were werewolves, bent on murdering innocents. Teddy did what he had to do. Why should he feel sorry for killing the enemy?

Because thats what makes him a good person, Harry. Its what separates us from e vil, our remorse, our guilt about taking a life. Dont you feel that when you take a life? Ginny watched the conflict raging in Harrys mind. The multiple impacts of the war and his journey into an alternate reality seemed to have had a greater impact on him than shed imagined. Hed always been forthright and brave, but shed never considered that his sensibilities could be altered to fit a reality where he stopped considering the consequences of taking someones life. Harry rose from his seat and seemed to stop the conflicting emotions by grabbing hold of a reality that hed developed to assuage his own inner demons. Im an Auror, Ginny. I do what I must to get the job done. Ginny stared at him. Of all the people in the world, she knew him better than anyone else. She knew his fears, his terrors and his insecurities. She knew what drove him and what haunted him. Most of all, she knew how to burst the wall of accommodation hed made in his last statement. She turned and faced him, the afternoon sun playing about her auburn tresses like a melody in a symphony. Her face was resolute, both caring and severe at the same time. She calmly put her glass down and stared lovingly into his eyes. Alastor Moody was as hard-nosed and defiant an Auror as there ever was, Harry, but he never saw the occasion to kill his enemies in cold blood. He always found a way to bring them to justice, no matter what. She turned and walked from the porch, to join the children in their play. Harry stood dumbfounded, his hands resting on a nearby railing and a tsunami of guilt and recrimination washed over him as he thought about what hed seen and done over the past few months. He sat back in the chair and felt ashamed. *** Richard Manley sat in his small office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office had not changed in the time Arthur Weasley had given it up when he took higher office. It was still a hole in the wall with items in various states of repair scattered about. Its occupant was still slightly odd, with an affectation for all things muggle. Richard was a kindly man, with a notorious penchant for curiosity and a penchant for muggle board games. His most recent obsession was the game called Trouble. He constantly found himself befuddled by the plastic bubble containing dice in the center. Among all things, Richard was dedicated to his job. He was a strict adherent to protocol and saw his role as one that as much protects the greater muggle world from the wizards as it did protecting the wizards from the muggles. Richard was busily inventorying a Rubiks Cube hed confiscated from a wizard who was attempting it to a muggle scientist for study. The Cube was like its standard muggle brethren, with exception of the fact that when it was solved, it would burst into a bright flame which would continue to burn for four days with no apparent source of combustion. Needless to say, the obliviation of the muggle scientist was dicey, because the Ministry did not want to interfere with his short term memory, which might serve to inhibit the muggles from finding the cure to some terminal disease. Manley looked up to the doorway, when he heard someone clearing their throat. Ian! How are you? Ian Gordon stood in the doorway and waved nonchalantly. Gordon had been cultivating a passing friendship with Manley, who was known to be a loner. Im fine, Richard, I see you managed to get a hold of that Rubids Box, you were talking about. Rubiks Cube, Ian. Right, Rubiks Cube.

Oh yes. This one was tricky, but I think we got it done. What brings you down here to the dungeon? Ian smiled. I found this wonderful pub that has all the muggle charm you like and the best fermented butterbeer in the world. No kidding? I wouldnt lie to you, old friend. What say you finish up and Ill buy you a drink? I need someone to interpret something they play at pub. Its called billiards. Ian watched as Richard nodded enthusiastically. That sounds wonderful. Let me get my coat. Where is this place, anyway? Richard went to the antique coat rack and pulled off a rather shabby overcoat. Ottery St. Catchpole. Its on the way home. Ian led Richard from the office and the pair headed for the lift. *** Arthur Weasley was a creature of habit. Every day after work, hed apparate to a place a few blocks from his home in Ottery St. Catchpole. Even after becoming Minister of Magic, he found that the walk through a muggle neighborhood helped clear his mind, helped him put aside the burden he felt in his world. He didnt want to be Minister of Magic, but hed made a commitment to society to make it better. The infighting was grueling and changing a millennia old culture was almost impossible. He could see the light, he could see the progress he was making, yet all things being equal, he was happier in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. He strode down the narrow street slowly, taking in the everyday sights and sounds of the muggles going about their daily lives. Here and there, hed get and receive a friendly wave from people out and about, who recognized him on his sojourns. The walks calmed him, opened his mind to why he did what he did. The muggles were friendly, hardworking and loyal and they did all these wonderful things without the benefit of magic. It occurred to Arthur that the world, ever so slowly, was becoming a muggle world and wizards may need to see fit to step aside. He chuckled to himself. Maybe wizards were becoming obsolete? His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of crying. He looked down and spotted a small girl sitting in a heap on the sidewalk. She seemed to have taken a nasty spill on her bicycle and her pretty skirt was shredded and the bicycle mangled from her apparent accident. All you all right, dear? Arthur knelt down and wiped the tears out of the little girls eyes. She had bright red hair and her face was adorned with a myriad of freckles. Part of Arthurs heart melted, as the girl reminded him so much of Ginny when she was a little girl. Arthur so hated to see Ginny cry and this little girls travails seemed to stab at him. She looked up at and smiled bravely. I missed the curb and fell down. My mummy and daddy are going to kill me! My dress is torn and my brand new bicycle is ruined. Her contemplation of her fate and realization of her predicament brought about another torrent of tears. Arthur smiled gently and helped her to her feet. Now, now, everything is going to be fine, youll see. Arth ur took a quick look around and cautiously pulled his wand from his breast pocket. He passed the tip of the wand over the pleats of the girls ruined dress. Reparo. He whispered and then looked up at the girl. See? Your dress wasnt ruined.

But my bicycle, how do I get it home? The girl sniffed. Arthur brought the bike up on its mangled wheels. Let me see if I can fix it. He passed his wand over the bicycle and its parts repaired themselves to working order. He made one more pass and conjured an protection charm over the bike, to keep it from breaking again, at least until it wore off. By that time, the girl would be home. See, good as new. The girl beamed brightly and Arthur felt a familiar warmth in his chest, like the times hed been able to be the hero to his little girl. Now, run along home, dear. Everything should be right as rain. Thanks, Mister. Youre like a fairy godmother, or something. That was magical! Triumphant, the little girl mounted her bike and pedaled off unsurely for home. Arthur watched her leave and felt satisfied. Despite the stress of his job and the weight of the world on his shoulders, it felt good to do something good, to help someone and to see that look of joy when someone appreciated it. He returned his wand and stuffed his hands in his pants pockets. He resumed his walk home, whistling some obscure tune, all the way home. *** Oh my. Richard Manley was standing outside the entrance to the pub he and Ian had just visited. Both he and his presumed friend had just witnessed the sitting Minister of Magic go through his little encounter with the muggle girl. The problem was that Arthur Weasley had just violated several laws. Richard was beside himself. He liked Arthur Weasley. He fully supported all of the things Arthur was trying to do as Minister. Most of all, he admired the fact that Arthur Weasley had made it a point that no one, even the Minister of Magic, was above the law. Richard Manley shook his head and looked over at Ian, who had a similarly shaken expression on his face, calculated to reflect turmoil and concern. Ian Gordon had chosen Richard Manley because Manley was hard working, had indisputable ethics and would see the events that Ian had contrived precisely how Ian wanted him to see them. The girl had been a master stroke and her placement had taken months of preparation. Arthur Weasley acted just like Ian had thought he would, completely within his nature. Now, Ian was counting on human nature to dictate Richard Manleys actions. It was as close to a sure bet as Ian could hope for. I need to go back to the office, Ian. Richards face was torn from guilt and duty. Of course, Richard, you need to do what you think is best. Richard grimaced. I dont know if its whats best, Ian, but Im going to do whats right. Of course you do, thought Ian. Things were progressing nicely. Ian watched Richard disappear into a side alley, looking to apparate away. The wheels were in motion and the first obstacle to the gr oups bid for power was about to be taken care of. Ian Gordon turned and walked down the street, whistling the same tune that Arthur had been, while going in the opposite direction. Chapter 225 Whats in a Name? Percy Weasleys office was located in the entry foyer of the office for the Minister of Magic. As Deputy Minister, it was Percys job to care for the administrative schedule for this father. Arthur Weasley had a secretary, of course, whose main job was to field visitors and handle correspondence, but real access to the Minister was through Percy. From time to time, certain members of the administration or the Wizengamot would find their path blocked by Percys diligence, but on rare occasions, affairs of state dictated who got precedence to see the Minister of Magic. The policy had been set. Contact Percy if you

wanted to see the Minister. Today, however, a small entourage approached the main entry from the lifts at the end of the long corridor. Their footsteps echoed on the sleek marble while their reflections were mirrored in the polished granite walls. Percy heard them coming and from the steady staccato of boots hitting floor, he knew that the group was determined. He stood and walked around his desk as the men entered the room. John Dawlish led the way, followed closely by Dennis Creevey, Richard Manley and Roger McMichaels, the current speaker for the Wizengamot. What struck Percy as odd was that all of the visitors were dressed in their most formal and official attire. Dawlish wore dark black robes adorned with four golden stripes on epaulets affixed to each shoulder. The head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement normally wore these robes during trials and official occasions. Dennis was dressed in a crisp, black Hit Squad uniform with black pants tucked into highly polished leather boots and a waist coat with two rows of gold buttons and a high-necked collar. Richard Manley and Roger McMichaels were wearing the red robes of the Wizengamot with matching mitres of office. Percy approached the men and held his hand out to the speaker and then Dawlish. I say, gentlemen, you look very official today. Dawlish shook Percys hand and shook his head soberly. His expression was a mixture of pain and depression and he didnt seem to relish the role he had to play. Percy, we need to see your father. Its official, Im afraid. Percy studied Dawlishs face and then looked at the others. None of them seemed pleased to be here. They were obviously here to deliver bad news. Percy wracked his brain, trying to determine what had been on the Wizengamot agenda today that would precipitate such a visit. Unable to focus on any one issue, he nodded warily. Ill go let him know. When he stuck his head through the door leading into his fathers inner sanctum, Percy found Arthur hunched over his desk, his concentration on a piece of parchment detailing some obscure legislative proposal. Father? Arthur looked up from his reading and smiled warmly. Percy, what is it, my boy? John Dawlish and Roger McMichaels are here. They say its vital that they speak to you. Percy watched as his father removed his spectacles from his face and gestured for Percy to show the visitors in. Percy hesitated for a moment. Father, is everything all right? I dont know why they wouldnt be. Why dont you show them in and well find out? Arthur chuckled and waited patiently for Percy to show the visitors in. When they entered the room, he rose and walked around the desk to shake their hands. He indicated that they should sit, but they steadfastly refused, causing a ripple of apprehension to go up Arthurs spine. Minister. Dawlish seemed to hesitate and he almost never called Arthur by his title. Arthur stood taller and nodded for Dawlish to continue. Minister, weve been apprised of a very serious breach of Magical Law. Is that so? Arthur asked. Yes sir and Mr. Manley here is a corroborating witness. Dawlish waved an arm towards Manley who was looking down at some spot on the floor.

It must involve someone either very high up in my government or one of my family members to have you all here to make such a fuss. Arthur looked at each of his visitors and saw the clear uneasiness on their faces. Gentlemen, no one in this government is above the law. No one will be protected here. Dawlish waited for another uncomfortable moment and then exhaled heavily. It involves you, Arthur. Thats preposterous! Percy strode forward and stood next to his father. What mann er of political dirty tricks is this? Someone has to be extremely desperate to try to pull this type of stunt! Percy felt a gentle hand on his shoulder as his father pulled him away from the visitors. This is about the little girl, yesterday, isnt it? Arthur spoke softly, causing Percy to whirl around and stare incredulously at his father. Arthurs expression wasnt sad or angry. If anything, it held all the signs of being relieved. He looked over Manley. You say you witnessed this? Chagrined, Manley simply nodded. As if trying to assuage his own guilt at being the person who reported the Minister of Magic, Richard finally looked up at Arthur. I was visiting a pub with a friend when I happened to see you. Im sorry Minister, but I had to file the report. I couldnt just ignore it. Arthur chuckled and placed his hand on the grief struck mans shoulder. Ive been in your place, Richard. You did the right thing. Its quite all right. Arthur then turned to Dawlish and McMichaels. So , what happens now, do you lead me out in shackles? Is that why you brought poor Dennis? Merlins beard, no, Minister, of course not. Dawlish seemed mortified at the prospect and even more uncomfortable with the circumstances. McMichaels cleared his throat. He was a large, tall man with closely cropped silver hair and pale skin. His eyes were bloodshot and weary, after a full night of discussion and consultation. Minister, the fact of the matter is that we cannot pursue the reform agenda if you are convicted of some sort of crime. Your enemies would beat us over the head with this. However, as you have said, no one is above the law. The most reasonable course of action, in my estimation, would be for you to retire, gracefully. Father, you cant be seriously considering this. You have to fight! We have too much to accomplish here. Percy was beside himself. The Ministry couldnt possibly do without his father at the helm. Come now, Percy. No one is indispensable. I was wrong and I find the offer most gracious. Besides, this may be a brilliant opportunity for you to finally achieve your lifes greatest dream. Maybe now is the time for you step up. Arthurs eyes twinkled and he looked at McMichaels with a question in his eyes. Percy will be the person I would support to succeed you, Arthur. McMichaels nodded soberly. There you go. Gentlemen, you will have my notice to retire within the hour. Mr. Speaker? Arthur looked over at McMichaels. Might I reserve some time on this afternoons agenda to make my announcement? Certainly, Minister and, if I might say, thank you Minister. You could have fought this and it would have been nasty. You would most likely have won the fight, but you chose principle over power and it is refreshing. I will continue to battle to make the changes you have started; you have my word. McMichaels bowed his head in respect. Thank you Roger, youve been a great ally and a great friend. Now, gentlemen, if you would excuse me, I have a letter to write and Id better inform my lovely bride that shes going to be seeing a trifle more of me than shed expected. Good day, gentlemen.

There was nothing further to say and so they bowed and turned, leaving Arthur to conduct his last official action as Minister of Magic. *** He doesnt exist. Williamson crossed his arms in front of his chest and sat back in his seat. The Auror leadership team was assembled in the conference room of the office of Aurors. Harry enjoyed watching the interplay among his team. Lachlan McCrory tugged thoughtfully on his long, white beard and shook his head in an almost condescending manner. I didnt say that, Eric. I said that theres no real record of the man. Keyser Soze is a legend, but no records exist about him, at all. Its almost like hes a myth, actually. Cavendish spoke up. Everything we can find is that the idea of some sort of overarching master criminal controlling all enterprises has been promulgated for centuries. Some say hes Hungarian or Romanian, but hes evolved into some sort of evil boogeyman, the person criminals scare their children with. Eat your vegetables or Keyser Soze is going to get you. Hes in the ether. Is he a muggle or wizard? Ron asked. Were not sure, really. The concept seems to lend itself to the possibility its more than one person, assuming a role, kind a Dread Pirate Roberts character. Lachlan looked around the room and saw blank expressions. Do you people ever read books? What youre saying is that he doesnt exist! Williamson reasserted his original point. Lachlan rose from the table and paced at the end of the room. Someone saying that they are Keyser Soze compelled a man like Fenrir Greyback to completely disregard a blood oath to do his bidding. Whether he existed or not, there is a Keyser Soze to deal with and wed better start approaching it from that point of view. The greatest trick the devil ever did was to convince the world that he didnt exist. Its a perfect alias. Its the perfect cover. What are you trying to say, Lachlan? Is Keyser Soze real, or isnt he? Harry spoke up, intrigued by the possibilities. What I mean, Harry is that it doesnt matter whether he did or he didnt. What matters is that someone has adopted this persona and is now maneuvering behind the scenes. Lachlan averred. To what end? What is he after? He got Greyback to seize the Book of Thoth, but why? Cavendish crossed her fingers in front of her. I dont know. Lachlan admitted. However, this theoretical person assumed the Keyser Soze persona for a reason. I suggest that if we look into the legends and stories around this master criminal, well get an idea of what our new foe is after. That makes sense. Harry rose from his seat. I have a funny feeling about this one, people. Something isnt right about all of this. I cant help but shake the feeling that some machine is in motion and were right in its path. I want to get ahead of this one before something terrible happens. Excuse me, Harry? John Dawlish had stuck his head in the room, a concerned look on his face. Can I talk to you?

Harry nodded and looked over at Lachlan to continue the discussion. He walked over to the door and followed Dawlish out. After a few minutes, he returned, his face crestfallen and pale. Ron noticed Harrys demeanor immediately. What is it, Harry? Whats happened? Ron asked. Harry straightened his shoulders and looked around the room. Ive just been informed that at two oclock today, Arthur Weasley will be announcing his immediate retirement as the Minister of Magic. What? Whats going on? Ron stood, his voice elevating itself to a higher octave. Dawlish is keeping most of this quiet and this does not leave this room. He watched them all nod to his conditions. Apparently, the Minister used magic to assist and comfort a muggle child on the way home from work. Knowing Arthur, he offered to resign to show that hes not above the law and to avoid any derailment of the programs hes championed. This is ridiculous, Harry. My father wouldnt do something like that! Its got to be this Keyser Soze! We have to tell someone about this. Tell them what, Ron? That the retiring Minister of Magic admits to breaking a law b ased on some sort of conspiracy led by a mythological gangster? Who should bring this up? You, his son, or me, his son-inlaw? Harry snapped back. Its got to be some sort of trick, Harry. My father has always been on your side. You need to be on his. Ron shouted, indignantly. Lachlan stepped between the friends, before Harry said something regrettable. He is, Ron. We all are. What Harry is saying is that we need proof. We need facts. Im convinced that someone calling themselves Keyser Soze is behind all this, but we need to catch him. Thats the only way to set things right. Ron started to speak and then clamped his mouth shut. He mutedly collected his things and started to exit the room. Harry stepped to him, standing in his way. Ron stared at his friend and then nodded his head. Its all right, Harry, really. Im going to be with my father, thats all. Harry nodded and let his friend pass. Ill be along shortly, Ron. He turned and faced the Aurors. We need to find this man, Keyser Soze, before he gets what hes after. *** Well played! The man who called himself Keyser Soze smiled amiably over to Ian Gordon. It was nothing, really. He fell right into it. Theres nothing like a teary eyed little girl to play on the emotions of an empty nest father. Gordon smiled smugly, basking in the glow of the praise. Of course the Inhibitous Potion you sprayed on the girl didnt hurt, either. A thin, older man, maybe fifty or sixty years old, spoke up for the first time. Inhibitous Potion wasnt necessarily a curse like the Imperious Charm or a Love Potion, but was in the same family. It was a very subtle concoction which acted to lift the inhibitions of the person who inhaled it. There wasnt coercion, so to speak , but it removed the restrictions, ever so slightly, that governed a persons conscience. Arthur acted in a manner that he wanted to, and was not restricted by the normal mores that he subscribed to.

Seeking to stave off an argument, Soze changed the sub ject. I like the way they let him retire. That will make it seem like it was his idea. He turned and cautioned the group. Take no action against Arthur Weasley, he is no longer a factor in this process. Now, Ian, who will be the new Minister? Thats the beauty of it. Some will back Weasleys son, but he will be vociferously opposed by a good deal of the Wizengamot. They will seek a middle ground, someone to mend fences. Ian said. Someone like yourself, maybe? One of the women sitting nea rby spoke with a sultry, Eastern European accent. Precisely. Ian Gordon grinned and waited for Soze to speak. Well, ladies and gentlemen, the first phase of our plan has been accomplished. Now we must proceed to the next step. There are several potential areas of resistance to our plan. Arthur Weasley, to be sure, was a central obstacle, but Ian will have to deal with some of the others when he takes over the Ministry. He looked over at Gordon and narrowed his eyes. You must dismantle the Wea sley machine and replace them with our people. Even Potter? I thought you said to leave him alone. Ian asked thoughtfully. Everyone except Potter. I think youll find that if we isolate him from his help, hell be easy to handle. The one thing about Harry Potter is that he tends to rely greatly on his friends and family and is woefully inadequate when acting alone. His fame makes it difficult to remove him, but we can quarantine him and keep him away from us. Sozes eyes twinkled in delight and he chuckled at Gordon. I almost missed your little word game, Ian. Drat, you figured it out. Gordon said, good naturedly. What are you two talking about? The old man appeared sullen, disliking the inside joke. Soze smiled. Take the first two letters of Ians first and last name. The old man muttered out loud. I-A-G-O? The man sounded out the word in the air and then shook his head. Iago. Soze laughed out loud. Well done, Iago. Fortunately for us, no one in the Ministry has read Othello. Now, back to business, as I was saying, there are several points of power to consider. The Ministry is well on its way to being handled, now we must address two fundamental areas. First, we must take care of Hogwarts. It can be a fertile ground for both recruitment to our side and of resistance against us. We must look to putting our own man as Headmaster and I think I have just the way to do it. What is the other area we need to address? A soft spoken woman with an Irish lilt asked t he question. Enterprises such as ours do not operate in the presence of rivals. Well have to deal with our biggest rival and with the Ministry in our hands, it will be easier to accomplish. Mary, my dear, you will get this task. You will get to deal with the interminable Mr. Draco Malfoy. Once hes out of business, well own all the shipping into and out of our little empire. Its time to close the door on Malfoy Import and Export, once and for all. Chapter 226 Changing of the Guard

Percy fell back in his seat in the upper tier of Courtroom Number Ten. The vote had been close, but in the end, the Wizengamot voted both for change and conciliation. Still, the shock of the result surprised Percy. His father had been popular, and Percy had worked hard to be diplomatic and accommodating. In essence, hed been the perfect politician. It hadnt been enough. Ian Gordon, by a margin of four votes, was now the Minister of Magic and the Weasley Era came to an end. His fathers former office was a flurry of activity as Arthur Weasleys effects were removed and the newly installed Minister of Magic had his things moved in. Percy was carefully placing items from his own desk into a battered cardboard box when Ian Gordon walked in. Gordon offered a quick smile and a handshake and gestured for Percy to follow him into the inner sanctum of the office. Why are you packing up, Mr. Weasley? Ians voice was even -keeled and friendly. Percy shrugged his shoulders. Id thought youd be bringing in your own Deputy, Minister. That is usually the way of things. Percy took the proffered seat and settled in, uncomfortably. Ian studied Percys face and smiled gently. Youve worked in the Ministers office for quite some time, havent you? Percy nodded slightly. Youve served several Ministers of Magic, not just your father, am I correct? Yes, I started working for Minister Fudge, sir. Percy wondered where this was going. The Wizengamot had made it plain that they were weary of the all things Weasley. Gordon studied the young man with a practiced eye. Percys reddish curls had begun to recede and there lines along his pale, freckled face. Ian let out a deep breath. The fact of the matter is that I need someone like you to help me administer this office. If it wouldnt be too much of an imposition, would you consider staying on, as Deputy? Percy was floored by the request and his face definitely reflected his surprise. The truth of the matter was that hed had no earthly idea what hed do once he left government service. It was something hed always enjoyed, something hed always wanted. After a long, uncomfortable silence, Percy slowly nodded his head. It would be an honor, sir. Good man. I have to say, I agree with the vast majority of changes your father implemented. Percy knew a but was coming. There always was a but. He wasnt disappointed. But, there are some items Id like to change, mostly dealing with trade policy, Im sure you understand. Of course, sir. Frankly, trade was my fathers weakest area. Im sure, given your background, you have specifics that you want to implement. Percy watched as Ian nodded. Youre right about that. I think well get along famously. Something in his tone indicated a di smissal. Percy rose and started for the door. Gordon stopped him with one last comment. I will, of course, have to make some personnel changes in the various departments. Not many, to be sure, continuity must be maintained, but in keeping with the spirit of my election, Ill have to show that we have moved in a different direction. Ill send you a list within the hour. Percy felt a sense of anxiety rise in his chest. It was expected that a new Minister would mean new people, but he wondered what it meant for his family. He knew hed be sitting in dread for the news. ***

Bob Drake had been in the employ of Malfoy Import and Export since he was a twelve year old cabin boy on one of Abraxas Malfoys barges that plied along the Thames. Now approachi ng sixty, Drake was the master of one of Draco Malfoys fast cutters, designed for high speed runs between Portsmouth and the world. There was nothing quite like being the master of ones own vessel. The Malfoys paid well because their cargoes tended to be on the more gray side of the spectrum. His ship was sleek, with a black hull and a dark green diagonal stripe painted along either side. He flew an ensign of dark green with the Malfoy family crest boldly embroidered in the center. Drake took a quick glance at the suns position in the sky and nodded thoughtfully to himself. They were making good time with a cargo of hard to get potion ingredients from Rio. They should be in Portsmouth by midday tomorrow and he looked forward to some down time. The prize from the cargo should fetch a decent return and he figured it was as good a time as any to give the crew some time off. His gnarled, weathered hands rested on the finely polished teak rail. His eyes drifted to the ships commissioning plaque. The Black was one of several high speed cutters owned by Malfoy named after pure -blood families. Drake was hardly a political person and he really didnt know who the Blacks were nor did he care. All he knew was that he had a fast ship and an employer that paid well. Sail ho! One of his lookouts seated atop the single mast of the sloop rigged ship called out, pointing the eastern horizon. Drake peered out over the side and saw a speck of white in the distance. What do you make of her, Oliver? He asked his first mate. No telling, Captain. Shes low in the water and coming on fast. The first mate took some bearings and scribbled some quick calculations on a scratch pad. Drake waited patiently as distances at sea caused things to move at a much slower pace. Finally, the first mate turned to the captain and shook his head impatiently. CBDR, Captain. Drakes expression grew serious. In seamans terms, CBDR meant Constant Bearing, Decreasing Range. At sea, other ships were referred to in terms of relative motion. The ship ahead was maintaining a constant bearing, or direction of approach and the range between the two ships was diminishing. The combination of both factors meant that the ships were likely on a collision course. Come left, steer course Two-Two-Zero. Drake called out to his helmsman. The best way to avoid a collision at sea was to change one of the two factors. Drake had indicated a turn that would bring his ship away from the course and speed of the approaching ship. He watched his first mate take some further readings to see if his course correction had any effect. CBDR, Captain. Drake scratched his head and stared out at the approaching ship. Hed performed a pretty drastic course change, in order to pull away from any potential collision. She really must want to get to us. Can you see what she is? Maybe shes a revenue cutter? His first mate looked worriedly at the hold. There were some items in their cargo that may not pass a Ministry inspection. That aint the Discooperire or any of the other ones. This is darned peculiar. Drake took a quick look at the charts. The Spanish Coast was pretty reachable. Oliver, best see if we can put on more sail and arm the crew. Ive got a funny feeling about that ship. ***

Shes putting on more sail, Captain. I think she means to run. Ngabe took in the news and smiled. They always try to run. Thats what made the chase so much better. Her expression clouded as she caught sight of the raven haired woman leaning up against the rail, watching Ngabes every move. It was good to have a ship underneath her feet, but to have one of her employers along for the ride made her anxious. The woman didnt look like much, barely five feet tall and thin. The woman had pale skin and looked like a stiff breeze would knock her over. She spoke with a soft Irish lilt and despite her looks, seemed to know her way around a ship. Ngabe heard the sound of her passengers boots on the deck as she walked over to where the Captain stood. Will this be a problem, Captain? The womans tone was teasing and grated on Ngabes nerves. She did her level best to not show her irritation. Not at all, Miss Mary, we have a faster ship and the wind is with us. More than likely, shes trying to reach the Spanish coast, but well catch her before then. Ngabe couldnt resist a small jab. I have done this before. The woman was not phased by Ngabes apparent gibe. Considering that you lost our organization a custom built trireme, youll forgive my small bout of skepticism. After all, this is just another job interview, so to speak. Im trying to see if our faith in you is justified. Ngabe puffed at her words and this time, did not hold back her retort. Who are you, Miss Mary? No one tells me my business. Me? Mary responded coyly. My name is Reade, Captain Mary Reade, and if you know who I am, youll know that I dont suffer foolish sea captains lightly. Your task is to catch that ship and sink her, leaving no survivors. Get the job done, Captain Ngabe, and maybe, just maybe, youll get to live. Fail? Well, lets just say that our syndicate does not offer third chances. The name had frozen Ngabe in place. Mary Reade? That changed everything. For the umpteenth time, Ngabe wondered what shed gotten herself into. Despite her dark complexion, she flushed wildly and shouted to her first mate. Break out the spinnaker, Mr. Hoagland! I want that ship in gun range within the hour! As her crew jumped to comply, Ngabe watched as Mary Reade, notorious pirate and friend to Ann Bonney, sharpened the blade of her cutlass. *** Percy, would you come in here for a moment? Percy looked up from his paperwork and grabbed a fresh roll of parchment and walked into Gordons office. You wanted to see me, Minister? Percy shut the door and sat in one of the chairs in front of Gordon. Ive just about ready the administrative changes I want to make. In addition to some personnel changes, I want to restructure things across the board. Ever since the war, weve been retaining far too many people in certain departments and I think we should trim the fat a bit, get back to a peacetime footing. Ian handed over a set of scrolls to his new Deputy. Percy peered down and gasped audibly. Is there a problem? Ian asked idly. Well sir, these changes are rather, drastic, dont you think? I mean, youre cutting the Aurors in half and youve selected who will go and who will stay, shouldnt that be best left up to Harry? Percy didnt even bring up the other names on the list. If anything, it was a purge of some sort and there was a frightening

pattern to who was being let go. It seemed, other than for Percy, that if you had the last name Weasley, you were a prime candidate for expulsion. Im looking for a clean break. Under normal circumstances, Harry would be the ideal person to make the decision of who he retained on his team, but given how close he is with them, I figured Id make the decision for him, so that, he didnt have to go through the pain of choosing between his comrades. Ian didnt laugh. It wouldnt do to have Weasley see that he was enjoying this. Are you having second thoughts about staying on? Percy wrestled with his conscience. On the one hand, he was intensely loyal to his family. The changes in the system would completely reshape the Ministry his father had created. At the same time, what else could he do? Hed been a government servant for most of his adult life. He couldnt wor k with Bill at Gringotts or with Charlie on dragons and he definitely wasnt suited to work with George. He rationalized that he could effect the most change where he was and that hed have to fight to keep some semblance of sanity. No sir, but I do have one condition. Ian held out his hands, prompting Percy to continue. Im not a yes man. Frankly, Im deeply concerned about these changes. Id like to offer a counter proposal. I understand your desire for the department head changes, but it l ooks like youre conducting a purge, and I wont be party to this. Thats fair. Why dont you take the weekend and hand me a proposal on Monday? Im not saying Ill change my mind, but Im not a dictator, so Ill listen to any reasonable request. Ag ain, Percy was surprised at his new bosss seemingly open response. He smiled and rose, clutching the scroll in his hands. With a nod of his head, Percy left and returned to his office. It was worth a shot. Ian thought to himself. Hed not really ex pected to get everything on the list. He would have been suspicious if he had. Still, he knew he could get the ball rolling. He was Iago, after all, and he was, if anything, patient. It had taken him a great deal of preparation to get this far, a few more months would mean nothing. In the end, he would get what he wanted, and the delicious thing of it is, the Weasleys themselves would help engineer his power play. He chuckled to himself. Hed forgotten how much fun politics could be. *** The Heir of Slytherin was one of the larger vessels in the Malfoy fleet. Her captain, Regina Burney, was hard nosed and a pure-blood bigot to the core. Shed doubled the lookouts aloft and had her ship moving at a slower clip, searching for any signs of the Black. The Black had been logged as overdue in Portsmouth and the home office had requested that Burneys ship take a reciprocal course in to see if their sister ship had run afoul of any difficulty. Debris in the water, Captain, two points off the starboard quarter. Burney turned in the lookouts direction and stared out at the unforgiving ocean. Sure enough, there were barrels and pieces of timber with sails floating nearby. Burney looked at her first mate and grumbled. Where are we? Her first mate pointed to a spot on the chart and Burneys eyes narrowed. If Drake ran into trouble, hed make for the Canary Islands. Burney had decided to follow a course along those lines. She quickly ordered one of her longboats over the side and watched as the boats crew navigated amidst the floating flotsam and picked up items from the water. The boat made a rapid pace back to its mother ship and Burney watched as his grimfaced Chief Bosn approached. Report, Chief Lockley?

The chief had closely cropped blonde hair and deadly blue eyes. His faced was marked with scars, testimony to a hard life and brutal experience. Despite his obvious veteran nature, he seemed shaken. Its the Black, sir. The chief held up a name plate with the Blacks name on it. Burney scowled and took the name plate in her hand. I wonder what happened to her? Chief Lockley cleared his throat. Theres more, Captain. He led her to the davit where his longboat was being brought up to the deck. He pointed inside and Burney leaned over the gunwale and took a deep breath. Bob Drakes body was inside, his face frozen in an expression of pain and fear. Sticking out of his body was the blade and pommel of a cutlass. Hed been run through. Whatever had happened to the Black, it wasnt an accident. Burney, unconsciously, took a quick sweep of the horizon, as if expecting whatever vessel had attacked the Black was hovering out of sight. She turned to her first mate. Well take one quick sweep through the d ebris field and then make for Portsmouth. Ive got to floo the home office about this. She turned to Lockley. Issue weapons to the crew and set modified general quarters. Whoever did this may still be out there. Her crew turned to follow her instructions while she ran to her quarters to report in. *** Dracos brow was furrowed as he sat over his desk, reviewing the latest the cost estimates owled to him from the Alexandria shipyard. The Ministry was going to owe him a pretty sickle to pay for the repairs to the Discooperire. He was slightly annoyed when he heard a small, muffled knock at his door. His director of port operations, Theresa Kendrick was at the door, looking rather pale. What? What is it? Report from the Heir of Slytherin, sir. Kendricks voice broke as she entered his office. And? Draco had an uneasy sense of dread at her demeanor. They found the remains of the Black, sir. What do you mean, remains? The pit in Dracos stomach grew larger. Captain Burney reports that they found the wreckage of the Black. According to her, they found some bodies, including Captain Drakes. Theyd all been murdered, by sword, sir. Kendrick lowered her head and watched her boss process the information. Wheres the Heir now? Shes heading home, with the evidence. Draco nodded and rose from his seat. It looks like we have pirates in the Atlantic, Theresa. Strange, no one else has reported anything. No sir, they havent. Draco ran his hand through his hair and looked down at his desk. Im going over the Ministry and check things out. In the mean time, send a warning to all of our ships. I want them traveling together, if

possible. Kendrick nodded and Draco made for the door. Draco shook his head, n o matter how much he tried, he couldnt get away from having to deal with Harry Potter. Chapter 227 The Gathering Storm Draco had been to the Ministry on many occasions. As a savvy businessman, hed developed an observational instinct on how to read the mood of the people careening through the main atrium. When world events were dire, he felt the fear and the anxiety that exuded from the bureaucrats and functionaries that meandered through the area. When times were good, their ebullience shone through. More often than not, Arthur Weasleys tenure was marked by the latter sensation, but as he checked in at the desk with Eric Munch, Draco felt the underlying current of anticipation that seemed to transcend just the normal transitional uncertainty. Something was different, but he couldnt quite put his finger on it. Not knowing precisely what was causing the drawn looks and quiet whispers, he decided that his uneasiness was more a function of the loss of the Black and the errand it forced him to ha ve to undertake. The day was close to its end and the majority of traffic was outflow of the collective Ministry population, off to spend a weekend of uncertainty as their world changed. The going was slow as he was walking against the outflow and it took several minutes for him to reach the lift banks. He waited patiently as one arriving cab emptied of its occupants and then he entered, the only passenger. Dracos thoughts drifted back to Potter, his nemesis of old. Almost twenty years of pent up animosity was hard to shake and at times, Draco found himself cursing the circumstances of fate that required him to temper his blind hatred for his own best interests. Hed made the most of his life and what irritated him the most was that his life was better now, than it probably would have been, had the Dark Lord prevailed and Draco were one of his minions. Absently, he rubbed the spot on his forearm where the old Dark Mark used to be. He still had nightmares about that fateful day where he was faced with a decision. Kill Dumbledore or dont. Snape had saved him from making the choice, but the anxiety of the decision, the apparent weakness in his failure to act still haunted him. It was the basis of his underlying resentment for Potter. Potter had initiated the circumstances that found him here. The hero concept simply hadnt disappeared, and now, Potter was the height of his hubris, untouchable in the eyes of the masses. That disappointed Draco most of all. The lift chimed indicating hed reached his floor. He stepped out into the empty corridor and turned towards the Office of Aurors. The smoothed marble and granite corridor had grown decidedly longer, especially given that the memorial to those lost had grown over the years. Draco purposefully avoided the names etched on the wall, their accompanying pictures dancing as testament to their memories. One other regret Draco had was the tinge of guilt that came with seeing those that died opposing the Dark Lord. Draco had participated in that era, had contributed in some small way to their deaths, which in and of itself wasnt necessarily the problem. The issue Draco had was the remorse he felt, that taking the life of any soul had bothered him, at all. In the end, thats why he couldnt kill Dumbledore and thats why Draco considered himself weak. He walked into the main office area, its rows of cubicles empty and turned in for the day. For a moment, he even wondered if Potter was still here, but he quickly extinguished that thought. True to his own ego, Potter would still be there, saving the world from the perils of evil, by rummaging through some paperwork. Sure enough, there was a light emanating from the office at the end of the wall. Draco snorted and walked calmly to the door. Harry was quickly going through the days incident reports, clarifying procedures and commenting on the summaries. His golden owl sat perched on her roost, carefully preening herself as she waited for her master to call it a day. His desk was piled with mounds of parchment, with no clear line of delineation between his inbox and outboxes. He sighed heavily at the administrative burden managing the Aurors had become. Reports, credit vouchers and such seemed to take more and more of his time. He didnt

notice Dracos approach until the small rap at his door reached his ears. Harry looked up, surprised to see his old foe standing there. Draco relished the surprised look on Harrys face, thankful, at least, that the animosity was mutual. He sat down in one of Harrys empty chairs and crossed his arms in front him. Draco? What brings you here? Another one of your workers arrested for rigging a Dark Arts crossword puzzle? Harrys words were sharp, but his face seemed drawn, tired. Draco hadnt seen Harry for quite a while and was instantly struck by the weariness on Harrys face. There were dark circles underneath Harrys eyes and his skin was pale, almost gray. His eyes still retained the sharpness of their emerald fire, but were bordered by bloodshot whites. Funny, Potter. Did you ever stop and consider a career in comedy? That might better suit your talents. Despite who was sitting with him and despite his own exhaustion, Harry chuckled. There was something remarkably uncomplicated with his interaction with Malfoy. Their mutual dislike was refreshing, in that, it was black and white, with not a whole lot of gray. I did, but every time Im around former Death eaters, the humor seems to drain from the room. Harry saw a self-satisfied sneer cross Dracos face and noticed a hint of concern on the blond mans face. What brings you by, Draco? Draco sighed in relief, thankful to get down to business. One of my ships ran afoul of an attacker in the western Atlantic. When my rescue vessel arrived, they only found debris and dead bodies. Perhaps one of your special cargoes exploded, Draco? Harry was skeptical of Dracos intentions and let Malfoy know. The bodies were run through by swords, Potter. There were sixty crewmembers on the Black, and we found no survivors. The news brought a chill to Harrys spine. The most recent watery encounter had been with some well armed pirates under Captain Ngabe. The ruthless woman had escaped. Could this be related? Draco continued. Its been over two hundred years since weve had any sign of piracy in that region, Potter. I came here to see if there were any other reported incidents and Draco hesitated, not wanting to complete the sentence. And? Harry prompted. And to see if the Ministry would help us. It was out, despite his aversion to the Ministry and Harry himself, Draco had asked for help. Harry nodded, his mind racing. What steps have you taken to protect your ships? I can see if the revenue service can start running patrols, but I dont think we have the vessels to escort every one of your ships. Fair enough. Ive started having my ships travel in pairs and if the losses keep up, well run convoys. I expect, however, that the Ministry will have a resolution to the matter before it comes to that. Malfoy rose. The Heir of Slytherin should make Portsmouth by midnight. Shes carrying the evidence collected from the Black. Ill have someone check it out. Draco nodded and turned to leave. Harry had another thought come to mind. Draco, one question?

Is it related to the request I just made? Malfoy stopped in the doorway. I honestly dont know. Harrys frankness evoked a curious streak in Draco. Harry sighed. Have you ever heard of Keyser Soze? The name struck Malfoy like a bolt of lightning. Draco turned and sat back down in front of Harry. Judging from your reaction, I take it youve heard of him? Draco waited for a moment, composing himself. Im not sure he exists, Harry. The gravi ty of the question had knocked down his defenses. There has always been a Keyser Soze in charge of a significant piece of the criminal underworld throughout Europe and the United States. One theory is that its one man, immortal, who has run things forever. Another theory is that Keyser Soze is a title, passed down or assumed by various criminal masterminds through the centuries. Which one do you subscribe to? Harry asked, struck by the awe and terror in Malfoys voice. Malfoy shrugged his shoulders. I dont know, the second one, I guess. My family has usually shied away interfering with any organization led by Soze. It was simply good business. A look of realization came over Dracos face. Are you saying the destruction of my ship may have been done by Keyser Soze? Draco blanched from the implication. I dont know. His name came up in an investigation and part of that involved an attack on the Discooperire by a pirate trireme. We destroyed the ship, but if this Keyser Soze ordered t hat strike, he might have ordered the attack on your vessel. Harry watched as Draco assessed the calculus. Have you offended this man? You dont understand, Potter, Keyser Sozes name has never been made public. Hes a shadow, a wraith. Hes usually the power behind the throne, not the king. His name has become a fairy tale, a legend. If hes chosen to make himself public, it means he has no fear of the authorities. Draco fumbled with his hands, unsure of whether to place them on his lap or by his side. We got his name in a dying confession, Draco. He couldnt have possibly known weve learned about his involvement. Harry sat back and shuddered, remembering the carnage in the woods outside of Hogwarts. Keyser Soze is a man who dying men will obey because he can get to you, even after youve died. His name came simply because he wanted it to. If for some reason, hes decided that I am an obstacle, than I am a dead man, Potter. Malfoy stood and began to pace nervously. We can protect you and your family, Draco. Help us find this Keyser Soze. Well keep your involvement out of this. Harry said. You dont get it, Harry. He already knows what you know. Youve been betrayed, you simply dont know who did it, yet. Theres something bigger at work here, and Keyser Soze is at the helm. Youve lost already, you just dont know it yet. Malfoy collected himself and began to walk out the door. Ill fight him, Potter, only because theres nothing more I can do, but understand this. For centuries, Keyser Soze has been a myth, the devil in the shadows, pulling the martinet strings on events in the world. Hes decided to be more in front, more hands on, which means he doesnt think he can fail. He doesnt just kill you, he kills your family and your friends and their families. He wipes them out, utterly. Harry sat back and watched Draco turn to leave. Before he exited, Draco turned and stared at Harry with haunted eyes. You know, its been said that the greatest trick the devil ever did was to convince the world he didnt exist. What would happen if he didnt care if they knew?

Draco nodded casually and left, leaving Harry to ponder a new set of worries. *** Congratulations, Minister. Sozes tone was teasing, almost preen ing. Iago winced a bit and then accepted the praise. Soze looked around the room. Mary Reade had just returned from her trip with Ngabe. We are well on our way to defining an environment conducive to our long term success. I am, however, disappointed that you, Iago, saw fit to make such a rash proposal for radical change. It might draw attention to you. Machiavelli would have been disappointed. Iago chuckled. Machiavelli was an amateur hack. He wasnt Venetian, after all, just a Florentine pretender. The overt proposal was a feint. Well get what we want, and well get it in the right way. Soze held his hands up and smiled. No offense intended. He turned and nodded at Mary. Well done with your first attack. How did Captain Ngabe perform? Mary smiled. Shes definitely a blunt instrument, thats for sure. Still, she has her uses. That being said, I believe we should keep a close eye on her and be ready to act, once shes outlived her usefulness. Understood. He looked around the table at the collected members of the Syndicate. He mused to himself that each still had their own demons, their own agendas, yet collectively, they would fashion a world of tentative non-interference with their objectives. Well, it seems we are moving along as planned. The next phase of this operation seems pretty set. Our colleagues assumption of the Ministry is helpful, but does not take care of replacing each nexus of power we need. Its time to act on the Dawlish matter and the Slughorn matter. Control of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and of Hogwarts will go a long way to accomplishing our agenda. Are you ready to proceed, Minister? Iago bristled at Sozes tone, but ignored it as best as he could. Mr. Roskolnikov should be a ble to replace Dawlish within the week. What name do you wish to be introduced as? A slightly built, wild-eyed young man, dressed in a three piece suit smiled politely. Alexander Nevski would do fine. He spoke with a mild Russian accent. This role would be extraordinary, wont it? Of course. Ian turned and faced a tall Asian man in a tan suit. His face was narrow and he sported a long, drooping mustache that extended down to his chest. Dr. Fu, are you ready to assume the role of Headmaster of Hogwarts? The man spoke in a decidedly rich English accent. He bowed modestly. Of course and as I have not gained much notoriety in this area, I will continue with my own name. As you wish, of course. Iago turned and faced Soze. Dr. Fu Manch u will assume his role as soon as I present the Board of Governors some troubling information as to the conduct of the current Headmaster. Iago laughed derisively. Whats so funny? Soze asked. Its just that the details for our point of contention were provided by the diligent efforts of Mr. Potter, Mr. Dawlish and Professors Shacklebolt and Longbottom. Sometimes our foes make things so easy. Iago watched appreciatively as his audience laughed. What about us? When do we get our turn? The o lder, balding member of the contingent held up his hand and gestured to the beautiful woman sitting next to him.

Leland, you will get your desire all in good time. You have to let things percolate first. Once Dr. Fu is in place, the Countess will get her assignment. As for you, Im sure Iago is working to process the necessary paperwork to pave the way for your venture. Soze saw the man he called Leland wasnt entirely satisfied with his response. He better be. I hear all this flowery talk and see a lot of motion, but Im in it for me, not for some utopian criminal society. Leland sat back. Leland, none of us are in this for Utopia. We simply want to be able to accomplish our dreams. Isnt that what we all want? Soze dared Leland to speak, but he declined to take the bait. Things are progressing, ladies and gentlemen. Well have the Ministry and well have eliminated obstacles, cleanly and plainly. No one will know whos behind all this until its too late. Keyser Soze looked around the table and smiled. In the deep recesses of his own mind he contemplated where theyd come. The plan was working masterfully and once they achieved what he wanted; his colleagues would be disposable. Then, he thought, the final stage of his plan could be accomplished. His hand rested on the Book of Thoth, lying on the table in front of him. Then, hed have his revenge. Chapter 228 Repairing Souls The first rays of dawn permeated the sheer fabric of the tasteful window treatments adorning his bedroom. Theyd selected one of the eastern facing rooms as their own, as she had a affinity for the dawn rather than the setting sun. He was supposed to sleep in and he was trying, but years of constantly being on the cusp of death had never allowed him to drift into a deep slumber. Consequently, he heard them coming well before they reached the door. To be sure, they were trying to be stealthy, walking on the balls of their feet, not speaking. He heard their progress along the floorboards of the hall outside his door and felt the cool rush of air as the door slid open. He tensed, keeping his back to the door as he gripped the edge of the bed. He readied himself to meet the attack he knew to be coming. Aieeeeeeeee!!!!! The shrill battle cry filled the air and Harry turned and raised his arms as Albus body arced through the air, obviously propelled by the arms of his older brother James. Harry snapped his arms up and caught his second child in mid-air and tossed him gently into the mass of pillows at the head of the bed. With blinding speed, he snatched one of the pillows and tossed it unerringly towards James, catching his eldest son squarely in the face. Aw, Dad, how did you know we were coming? Albus shrieked as he tried to disentangle himse lf from the bed clothes. Well, you guys were as quiet as a herd of elephants and I could smell you all the way downstairs. Harry chided. See, squirt, I told you that you smelled. James quipped. I was talking about your breath, James, did you brush your teeth? Dr. Granger is going to be disappointed at your next checkup. Harry joked. He heard the small patter of little feet as the youngest of his three children bounded down the hall and into the room. Harry sat on the edge of the bed, awaiting Lilys arrival, lost in the explosion of joy his kids brought him. James, the oldest, was five years old and full of spirit. The Weasley genes had smacked him squarely on the head, his bright red hair a burst of chaos atop his pate. He bushed wayward strands from his freckled face and rolled his eyes as he stood to the side letting his little sister pass. Albus was the spitting image of Harry at three years old. His raven black hair was uncontrolled and wild, but he had a thoughtful and kind face and Harry melted when Albus smiled. Lily, however, was in complete control of her father. Just turned one, she had managed to figure out how to control her wayward legs to propel her across the house. She rushed through the door

and made straight for Harrys outstretched arms compelling her father to catch her and hold her high in the air. Following almost right behind, Ginny strode into the room and leaned against the door jamb, shaking her head. James glanced petulantly at his mother and crossed his arms. Does my breath smell, Mom? Dad says he could smell us coming. Did you brush your teeth after breakfast? The guilty silence from her oldest son told her that he had not. Well then, what did you expect? Now, off you go, you and your brother go brush your teeth and clean your room. Come on, Mom, do we have to? James pleaded, but the scowl from his mothers face told him that he was fighting a losing cause. James slumped his shoulders. Come on, Al. James then turned and looked over at his father. Can we go for a ride in the car, Dad? Its a beautiful day. After your chores are done, well talk about it. Harry said. Noticeably more motivated, the two boys ran from the room. Id better check after them. Knowing James, theyll just wet the toothbrushes and not do their teeth. She picked up Lily. You, young lady, need to put some clothes on. Lily giggled merrily, her eyes twinkling at her parents. Ginny looked over at Harry thoughtfully. James has a good idea, you shoul d take them for a ride. I need some time to get things ready. Ready? Ready for what? Harry knew immediately that hed asked the wrong question. Ginnys face became cross and then she rolled her eyes, an expression identical to the one James had just offered. Harry James Potter, Ive been telling you for a week that we are hosting the Sunday dinner tomorrow. Ive got to get things ready. Obviously, Harry had forgotten, much to the chagrin of his wife. Now, he made another costly mistake. Youre not cooking, are you? Molly Weasley was well known for the sumptuous culinary offerings she provided her family and while her daughter was laden with talent in many areas, cooking skills were not hereditary. Ginny was a game experimenter, but a decided failure in the kitchen. Theres nothing wrong with my cooking, Harry, but no, Kreacher and Mum are handling the menu, if you must know. Harry chortled and made an exaggerated sigh of relief, but a twinge of sadness crossed his face, a look immediately detected by Ginny. What is it? Ginny asked. I was thinking about what we talked about. Ive been feeling on edge, lately, like maybe Im losing control of myself. Do you really think Im callous or bloodthirsty? Harry asked, the memory of his initial response to his sons morning antics had frightened him a bit, hed been thinking, just for a split second that he was being attacked. No, Harry. Youve been through so much. I cant imagine what the war and your trip to the alternate timeline did to you. Maybe you got desensitized. Maybe you should talk to someone? She offered. Maybe you should see a muggle. As wizards, we very rarely have to deal with issues like you have to deal with, but the muggles seem to have deal with trauma muc h more. You want me to talk to Dudley? Harry asked, but Ginny shook her head.

No, mostly because Dudley experienced a lot of the things you have. Dudley had been on the battlefield with them, fighting alongside. Harry thought for a moment, enlightenment suddenly dawned on him. Are you sure? Its a different perspective, but shell have some insight, I think. Shes dealt with loss and maybe it will help? Harry nodded. Ill go this morning and then come back and pick up the kids, okay? G inny smiled warmly and set Lily down. The toddler immediately ran out of the room to find what trouble her brothers were getting into. Ginny walked over to her husband and touched a hand to his cheek. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the lost look in his face. She reached down and kissed him lightly on the lips and he engulfed her in his arms, pressing the kiss more intensely, the passion overcoming the pain in his heart. He loved this woman intensely and he lavished in how her mere presence made him feel whole. The promise of more made her suggestion overpowering. The separated and she turned to leave. By the way, I talked Mum and Dad into taking the kids tonight. The promise of something more had turned into a commitment and he forgot his sadness, if only for a little while. *** Diagon Alley on a Saturday morning was a bustle of energy and excitement. The sun shone in the morning sky, casting a glow among the patrons moving hither and yon as the two men walked casually through the throng. The man known as Keyser Soze to his colleagues looked more like a banker or business man than a master criminal. He wore a black worsted wool suit and carried a cane topped with a silver horses head. Walking to his right and slightly behind , his faithful manservant, Kobayshi alternated between watching for hidden dangers and listening to his boss. Keyser Soze was a code name, a title passed through the ages, either through bequeathal or by violent acquisition. The current title holder, for the record, was a wizard born in 1851 and supposedly killed in 1891 in a battle with his greatest enemy. At the time, hed been the leader of the most of the criminal activity in Europe, with an empire that stretched farther than most of the muggle governments of the time. His precipitous fall from grace had shaken him. He had a brilliant mind, know for his ability to manipulate complex mathematical concepts to fit unusual criteria. He was a contemporary and rival to the greatest minds the world has ever known, and yet had felt himself drawn to a life of crime. At first, he thought that hed had some intrinsic pathology that made him evil, but his exile after his disappearance had taught him that the criminal path was a means to an end. He was different, but not in the way wizards are different from muggles, but different in the path that destiny had for him. Of all his current partners, Roskolnikov seemed to understand the nature of things. There were extraordinary people and ordinary people. This wasnt about abilities, but about deeds. His greatness was far too much to be limited by what he could do. Where Roskolnikov was a pretender, hoping to be great, Soze was great, looking to expand his influence to the masses. Crime attracted him because it did not operate with restrictions. There were rules, to be sure, the universe was a testament to limits and rules, but in the criminal world, one was not debilitated by ethics or morals. The underlying precept of his greatness lay in obtaining power, and soon, he would once again, be powerful. I wonder what ever happened to him? Soze said to no one in particular. Kobayshi had heard the question many times and the answer never seemed to change. The loyal batman nodded soberly. As always, sir, he died during your climactic confrontation. Your survival is testament to that, sir. Soze nodded and allowed Kobayashi to direct him down the turn to Knockturn Alley.

So you say, Mr. Kobayashi, but in all my life, he had been my only true equ al. If I could survive, so could he. Soze wondered aloud and Kobayashi let the matter rest. For almost a century, the conversation had been the same. Soze chuckled to himself. Of course, my revenge on him isnt a physical retribution; it is a triumph against everything he held dear. If I defeat the world he helped create, I defeat him. They walked in silence, until they reached the small window front in the center of Diagon Alley. Borgin and Burkes had been through several owners over the years and now it was time for its new owner to set up shop. The balding old man from the Syndicate meetings met them at the door and ushered them into the dimly lit store. There were storage crates and boxes strewn throughout the place and the man seemed annoyed at their presence, which was interfering with his unpacking and stocking. Ah, Leland, it looks like everything is coming along nicely. Soze had lost his introspective persona and reassumed his command presence. Leland Gaunt was no relation to the famous Gaunt family of Tom Riddle fame. He was an independent merchant who specialized in needful things. He sold items of the greatest desire for a price and now he was bringing his wares to Borgin and Burkes. He was an irascible man, impatient and made no effort to hide his annoyance at Sozes appearance. Theyd come along a lot faster if youd leave me alone. It took you long enough to secure the space. Gaunt snarled and rubbed his hands together impatiently. Mind your manners, Leland and remember that you work at my benevolence. You serve a greater purpose. Soze held the end of his walking stick up to Lelands face. The grumpy man nodded indelicately and stepped back. Nonetheless, you will be able to use your particular gifts for the cause. Leland nodded and looked around the store, a proud father to its wares. Avarice is truly an underappreciated weakness, especially in wizards. Soze nodded. As long as it serves our purpose, I agree. Remember, dont take too much in the first pa ss, were in this for the long haul, Leland. The old man nodded warily and Soze smiled, tucking his cane underneath his arm. Things are proceeding exactly as I predicted. He nodded to Leland and allowed Kobayashi to open the door before walking out into the confines of Knockturn Alley. *** Sugar? Harry nodded and watched the frail hand place two cubes of sugar into the middle of his tea cup. He smiled gratefully and stirred his tea absently. The family is okay? Yes, everyone is fine. Im glad youre here, Harry, but I have to confess, Im a little surprised. Petunia Dursley sat down and studied her nephew cautiously. Is everything all right? I dont know, Aunt Petunia. Youre my only real family and honestly, I didnt know who to talk to. Petunia flushed, her emotions roiling with a mixture of pride and guilt, the years of mistreatment washing over her. Of course you can talk to me, Harry. Thats what family is for. Petunia sipped on her tea and smiled worriedly. What is it?

Harry laid out his burden, trying to tamp down the more grotesque details of his experiences, but concentrating on the blackness that seemed to burn inside him. The thing is, Aunt Petunia, the magical world isnt necessarily constructed to deal with this type of pain. We can cure physical ailments, but I dont know how to shake this sadness or anger. Most go to their families, but Ginnys family have all gone through the same things. I really dont know what to do. Petunia sat thoughtfully. Did you come to me because Im your aunt, or because Im a muddle? Muggle. Harry corrected her. She nodded. Right, a muggle? Harry smiled. Probably both. Ginny said youd have a different perspective since muggles deal with this type of trauma all the time. Ginny said that? That was kind of her. Again Petunia flushed, the woman her nephew had married reminded her so much of her sister, Lily. Coming back to reality, she placed a hand on Harrys. Its not that simple, Harry. There isnt a potion or a spell that you can wave that can make you feel better. What we, er, muggles do, is to consult with a professional or a clergyman. We seek solace in therapy to connect what was disconnected. You mean a healer? In a manner of speaking, yes, except the healers look at the mind and help you cope. Maybe you should think about seeing one. Petunia offered. Wouldnt they think Im a loony, talking about magic and wizards and such? Petunia laughed. Probably, but it doesnt have to be someone like that. You need to see someone disconnected with what youve gone through, yet understanding of the events. It should be someone older, I think. Harrys mind wandered over the possibilities. This would be a role that Dumbledore would h elp him with, if he were here. Suddenly, he had a clear vision of who he wanted to talk to. He smiled, warmly. Thanks, Aunt Petunia, youve been a big help. Petunia smiled warmly and then her face grew grim. Vernons home. The front door opened and the considerable girth of Vernon Dursley squeezed through the door, his walrus-like mustache twittering excitedly. His hair was turning exceedingly white and his skin was a bright red from a combination of the propelling his bulk up the driveway and his audible irritation. Who the devil parked their American pile of junk in my parking space? Vernon practically wheezed his complaint as he walked in the door. He stopped short, his face a mixture of anger and fear as he noticed Harry sitting at his kitchen table. Oh, its you, I should have known. Come to cause more trouble, have you? Hello, Uncle Vernon. Oh, its Uncle Vernon, now, is it? Youve poisoned my son and my wife with your unnatural filth and so now Im family. Despite his bluster, Vernon kept a meaningful distance from Harry. Harry sighed heavily. Actually, I was being nice in deference to my Aunt.

Petunia stood. I wont have you being uncivil, Vernon. Harry is MY nephew and he and Dudley are MY only family. I wont stand for it in my house. Hes ungrateful, Petunia. We take him in, in great peril to our own safety. He should be thanking us. Thank you. Harrys response was acidic and terse. Petunia placed a protective hand on Harrys shoulder, both to reassu re him and to hold him back. She faced her husband. I love you, Vernon Dursley. Sometimes, I really dont know why. You and me treated Harry horribly, and he still managed to save the world, his and ours. My sister trusted us and we let her down. Now go on and sit down and let me finish visiting with Harry. What about dinner? Vernon said petulantly. Youre not handicapped, Vernon. If youre hungry, fend for yourself. Harry and his family have invited us for dinner tomorrow as well. Petunia felt Harry tense as she extended the invitation to his uncle. Itll be a cold day in Hades before I mingle with his kind. Vernon, typical to his nature, huffed into his seat. Petunia smiled sweetly. Then youll have to fend for yourself tomorrow as well. Harry rose and kissed her sweetly on the cheek. I have to go, Aunt Petunia. I promised to give the kids a ride in the car. Petunia walked him to the door and Harry stopped. You are invited, Uncle Vernon. Maybe we can let bygones be bygones? Vernon ignored the entreaty and Harry chuckled and allowed Petunia to escort him outside. As they left, they heard Vernon rumble to himself. Damned freaks, theyve ruined this family. I should have never let that brat into my house. Outside, Petunia sighed heavily and hugged Harry. Im sorry, Harry. Vernon is set in his ways. Its all right, Aunt Petunia, really. Thats all part of the past. Im glad weve been able to connect. Harry said, returning the embrace. Me too, dear. Petunia studied her nephews face and touched him on the cheek. His eyes were sad, yet riveting. He was so much Lilys son. Will you be okay? Harry thought for a moment and nodded. I think so. I just needed to hear it from you. I needed to hear from my family. Touched beyond words, Petunia felt a small trickle of a tear fall from her eyes. She smiled and hugged him once more. Youre not alone, Harry. I dont mean from your wifes familys perspective. Just remember, your mothers family is here too, and with some exceptions, they love you too. It was all he needed to hear. He smiled once more and leapt into his car. With a wave, he called out. Well see you tomorrow! He pulled out of the drive and headed for home.

Chapter 229 Percys Dilemma The Strait of Gibraltar is the toll way of commerce between Europe and the Middle East and the rest of the world. Merely eight miles of ocean separate Europe from Africa at the Straits narrowest point, providing a funnel for shipping at a strategic area. In the early 1800s, Barbary pirates based out of Morocco and Libya preyed upon shipping in this area, often extorting tributes or military retribution to stop their efforts. For centuries, the Strait of Gibraltar provided an ambush point for pirates on unsuspecting shipping. So it was today. The Malfoy Import and Export cutters Gaunt and Platt sailed in tandem at a slow clip, their sails reefed and double watches on lookout. The captain of the Gaunt, Samuel Kinnard, was the senior officer and had dictated the slower pace, looking along the Moroccan shoreline for some sign of another ship. Mr. Simpson, anything? Kinnard glanced down the rail at his first mate, an anxious look on his face. His inscrutable assistant shook his head soberly. From the highest point of the main mast, a call came from one of his lookouts. Sail ho! Three points off the port bow! Kinnard pulled his telescope to his eye, his movements mirrored by most of the officers on his ship and no doubt by the off icers of his sister ship, the Platt. What do you make of her? Kinnard asked, cursing his age and his failing eyesight. Simpson grumbled, almost to himself. Black hull, green stripe, its the Heir of Slytherin sir. Kinnard let out an audible sigh of relief. The plan had been for the Gaunt and the Platt to meet up with Captain Burneys ship almost two days ago, before making the final transit of the Strait and heading for home. The recent spate of disappearances among the Malfoy fleet ha d left nerves on edge and hed welcomed the directive to pair up. The opportunity to sail with the Heir, the largest and most heavily armed ship of the Malfoy line came as a gift from above. Signalman! Kinnard called for one of the sailors that managed the vast array of multi-colored signal flags. Please convey to Captain Burney that we are at her orders. *** Regina Burney scowled through her looking glass, and cast an inquisitive eye at Chief Lockley. The tall, menacing man grunted and stared up at his captain. Captain Kinnard says he is at your orders, Captain. Burney watched the small roll of her chiefs eyes. What? Really, Captain, thirty five years at sea and you havent memorized the signal flags? Lockley looked disappointed, but Burney noticed the slight twinkle of humor in his face. I dont need to know the flags, Chief. Thats why I have you. By the way, its not polite to highlight your Captains failings too often. Her gibe didnt have any real bite and she laughed along with him. Now, if you can stand my ignorance, please signal the Gaunt and Platt to fall in, line abreast with us, and make sail for fifteen knots. Yes, maam. Lockley nodded briefly and moved to carry out his instructions. ***

Well, well, well, I guess no one can call Draco Malfoy stupid. Mary Reade stared out her telescope and whistled softly to herself. Captain Ngabe came up next to her and snorted. I dont care how many there are of the, I can take them. No, you cant. Reade said crisply. They just got joined by another ship, a bigger ship. She pointed out on the horizon and then snapped her telescope shut. You might have been able to take one of the smaller ones, but there are three ships out there. Malfoy has decided to use a convoy system. It doesnt matter. This ship doesnt belong to you, Captain Ngabe. I trust that I dont have to remind you of that fact. Reade studied Ngabes reaction, the tension in her shoulders. Either Im in charge here, or Im not, Captain Reade. A ship cant have two captains. Ngabes hand rested idly on her sword, waiting for Marys reaction. After a few seconds, Reade nodded. Of course, Captain, but as your patron, I do believe we need a few more ships to handle this new situation. That is my call, dont forget that. Ngabe weighed Reades response in her head and then nodded. Mary smiled sweetly and looked back out over the horizon. I wouldnt worry about this round, Captain. Well have our chance to get back a t Malfoy, soon enough. *** The Potters had settled on a large property that had once been a farm on the outskirts of Godrics Hollow. It was highlighted by gentle, rolling hills with several buildings in the center of the landscape. The building formed a small square with the main house and its broad porch overlooking a grassy common area. Harry had converted the large barn into a combination garage and workshop and another building into a guest house which was being used by the Kreacher to provide temporary shelter for displaced but freed house elves. Normally, the extended Weasley clan had held its Sunday dinners at the Weasley house in the Burrow, but as the Weasley children grew, the tradition had been extended to the homes of the family. Today was the first opportunity for the Potters to host the gathering and, coincidentally, the first dinner after Arthur had been deposed as the Minister of Magic. Slowly but surely, the guests began to arrive with the children making an immediate beeline for the intricate play area that had been erected off to the side. Kreacher, Ginny, Molly, Andromeda and Petunia were scurrying about in the ornate outdoor kitchen, preparing the meal for the gathering while the adults congregated around the picnic table area to share the items of the day. Percy Weasley stood off to the side, as his girlfriend, Audrey was immediately snapped up in conversation with Hermione and Beatrice. Without really thinking about it, he was avoiding the crowd of people around his father, including Dudley, George, Lee and Dean. The new Ministers reorganization plan weighed upon him and at several times during the weekend, hed actually managed to write his own letter of resignation. The names on the list were too close to him. One side of his brain, the academic and bureaucratic side recognized the logic of Ian Gordons selections, yet the Weasley side, the loyal side was repulsed by the sheer audacity of the plan. It seemed like every one in his family would be affected by the sea changes and he didnt know how to articulate his concerns to the people he loved the best. Audrey had been wonderful, but he still felt alone.

Hed met Audrey during a Confederation of Wizards conference in Vienna about three years ago. They were kindred spirits; bright, logical and conditioned to find order out of chaos. She was on the staff of the American Ambassadors economic council and theyd hit it off immediately. Shed moved to London and joined the Embassy staff there and he found their blossoming relationship growing. Her input, however had been coldly analytical, mostly because the background was lacking. He tried to convey what the Weasleys meant to Englands Wizarding society, but without first hand knowledge, it was hard to convey the pain he felt. Percy snapped out of his stupor as Ginny rang a large bell suspended from the rafters of the porch. Slowly, the Weasley family and friends converged on the dining area and the collective shouts of appreciation as to the food laid out across the tables made the first time hostess flush with excitement. Percy felt Audreys hand in his as she led him to the table where they sat across from Ron and Hermione with their children. Despite his best efforts, Percy found himself unable to face his brother and his wife directly, as they were directly impacted by the impending purge. He busied himself by passing food around and nodding indiscriminately at the idle chatter that was going back and forth. It seemed as if the family, by mutual consent, had decided to ignore the topic of Arthurs rather sudden retirement and focus more on the inanities of the family gathering. As he looked across the table, Percy was stunned by a set of dulcet eyes staring at him. Unable to look away, he fixed his gaze on tiny three year old Rose, who seemed to know what he was thinking. Like Hermione, Percy had never placed stock on the foresight and prophecy, mostly because such things were simply not logical and ordered. Yet, young Rose had shown a propensity of vision that completely tossed both Hermiones and Percys ideological positions on end. Now her gaze seemed to fix him in place and he felt a sense of dread over her scrutiny. He smiled uncomfortably at her and she smiled back sweetly and then refocused her attention on the plate of food in front of her. Visibly relieved, Percy turned his attention back to his own dinner and placed a forkful of food into his mouth. Uncle Percy has bad news! Roses tiny voice seemed to carry over the din of the festivities causing Percy to choke on his food. The table seemed to quiet and all eyes turned to an uncomfortable Percy who would have dropped below the table if he could. Instead, Percy looked over at Rose who smiled once more. Uncle Percy is afraid the family wont like him if he tells them, but he doesnt understand that we will love him anyway. Percy was beet red and tried to daub his face with his napkin. He turned to the head of the table and saw his father looking at him kindly. Arthur smiled gently. You have news, Percy? He watched his son shift uncomfortably in his seat and prodded him. Come on, boy, just tell us. We probably need to know. Percy smiled at Audrey and turned and faced his family and friends. The new Minister asked me to stay on. He began. That doesnt sound so bad. Ron quipped which drew a sharp look from Percy and Hermione. You dont understand, Ron. The first order of business for our new Minister is a complete restructuring of the departments and personnel. Pretty much everyone here will be affected. Percy said, with finality. What does this mean, Percy? Arthur asked. Aside from Harry, everyone here, who works for the Ministry, will be sacked. He drew a deep breath as the gravity of his statement sunk in.

Everyone? What do you mean? Harry spoke up and stared hard at Percy. The Aurors are my responsibility. Thats what I told him, Harry. He wants to cut the Aurors in half, and he had a list of who he wanted to dismiss. Ron, Williamson, Cavendish, and Lachlan were on the list. He turned and faced the rest of them. He wants to replace Dawlish and restructure the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He wants his own people in Exchequer, so hell sack Dean and Isabella as well as his own le gislative contact, so he wants to sack Hermione. Percy let his words sink in and then spoke up. I told him he was wrong and threatened to resign. I can still do that, but I think I can save the Aurors and possibly the Exchequer staff, but I dont know how I can save Hermiones job. Arthur sat back while the family drifted into a loud babble of argument and condemnation. Much of it did not fall towards Percy, which Arthur appreciated. It wasnt Percys fault. After a while, Arthur cleared his throat. Something doesnt feel right here, and frankly, Percy, no good will come from your resignation. We need to keep Harry and the Aurors in place and if you can find a way to do that, make it happen. The rest of us will have to fend for ourselves. Harry nodded at his father in law. I have to think that this has something to do with Keyser Soze. Everything started happening when he came on the scene. Are you suggesting that Ian Gordon is somehow affiliated with this Soze person? Percy asked incredulously. I dont know, but it bears watching. What about the rest of us? Harry looked around. Bill spoke up. Well, Dean and Isabella work with Gringotts already. Im sure we can find something for them and Hermione. Weve grown a lot, too. We can definitely use the help. George spoke up. Youll have to develop a sense of humor, though, Hermione. Hermione stared daggers at her brother in law and then nodded gratefully towards Bill. The bigger question is why. We dont even know what the underlying agenda is. Well have to keep digging on this Soze person, with or without the Ministrys approval. Arthur nodded and looked at Harry. Thats the key, Harry. Watch and see what type of pushback you get on your Soze investigation. I dont know if it will be overt. Gordon never struck me as someone who makes obvious moves, but if you start running into institutional roadblocks, well have another piece of the puzzle. It looks like the Ministry will need our help, whether they want it or not. With everyone in agreement, Percy let out a loud sigh. His family was right and he was a key player in setting things back on track. He smiled inwardly. Hed do his best, for his family, the Ministry be damned. *** The Syndicate met to discuss their next moves. Soze sat in his traditional place at the center of the table, listening to the reports. He nodded as he acknowledged Marys report on Malfoys counter move to their piracy campaign. Mary summed it up. We can make a dent, but well need more ships. The convoys are stronger than our one ship can handle. She saw the question on Sozes lips and responded before he could ask. Yes, that

will increase our exposure. More ships means more crew, which means more people like Ngabe. Shes already a liability and more would increase that likelihood. I suppose we can be more direct with Mr. Malfoy. Soze said. That might answer the short term problem, but it wont be easy and an attack on him will bring down the scrutiny of the Aurors and Harry Potter. Ian Gordon added sagely. True, but it may deflect the Aurors interest in finding me, wont it? Soze asked. Ill handle their investigation into finding the great Keyser Soze. Gordon said confidently. True. Very well, well secure a couple of ships. Mary, you can handle that part. What about Malfoy? He put the question out to the group, but he had a course of action all ready in mind. His background had led him to be ruthless and the Malfoy problem was vexing him. Take him out. Mary said unequivocally, mirroring Sozes own thoughts. Ignore him. Gordons suggestion was mimicked by Roskolnikov. Clearly they were a bloc unto themselves. Kill him. Gaunt spoke up evilly, anticipating the chaos that deat h and destruction would bring. Take no overt action until necessary. Fu Manchu was a person who operated in the shadows. The notion of overt action was distasteful to him. The Countess sat in the corner, seemingly oblivious to the discussion until all eyes were on her. She smiled sweetly, her beautiful features distorted by a mask of sadistic pleasure. Make him bleed. She said, enjoying the thought of blood being spilt. Soze nodded. It would appear that I am the deciding vote. Ive been far too compassionate in this endeavor and I do have a reputation to uphold. I think its about time we sent a message to all of the concerned parties that Keyser Soze is a ruthless man. He waved his hand, summoning Kobayshi. Yes, sir? The butler walked in and bowed at the waist. Mr. Kobayashi, we have an assignment to give out. Id like Mr. Malfoy dealt with in a decidedly public and bloody way. Sozes face was a mask of serenity mirrored by Kobayashi. Of course, sir, is there a preferred method? It was as if Kobayashi was taking his masters dinner order. Yes, please inform Mr. Greyback, that we have a job for him. Yes sir, at once. Kobayashi turned and left the room as the Syndicate moved to new business.

Chapter 230 The New Order The tension was palpable throughout the Ministry Magic as the new week began. Percy arrived early, feeling renewed with confidence as he stepped behind his desk. He saw light streaming from under the door to the Ministers office, surprising him. Hed come in far earlier than the most punctual functionary, yet it appeared his new boss had preceded him. Percy cinched the bindings on the front of his robe and gripped the Ministers plan tightly in his hand. He took a deep breath and walked to the door and

knocked gently. The muffled acknowledgement from within made Percy grip the large brass door knob with his clammy hand and push the door open. Minister, do you have a minute? Percy asked. Ah, Mr. Weasley, of course, come in. Ian Gordon had an amused look on his face and he waved a hand at the chair in front of his desk. I take it youd like to talk about my proposed changes? Yes sir. Each moment saw Percys confidence getting stronger. As he built himself up, Gordon held up his hand. I reconsidered my proposal based on our discussion. Youre right, of course, about the Aurors. Well leave them as they are, but the other changes will remain the same. You understand my need to have my own people in those positions? Stunned, Perch simply nodded. Gordon smiled. Good, lets get going, shall we? *** The memos flew fast and furiously. Harry sat in his office and watched as the seismic shift in power began to take shape. After a couple of hours of fidgeting, Harry rose and walked from his office and nodded to his Aurors in their cubicle farm. Wordlessly, he acknowledged the pained looks on Ron, who knew that Hermione was going to be sacked and Cavendish, whod finally gotten word about Dawlish. Her face was a mask of concern and anxiety and Harry, for a moment, thought of going to her, but decided against it. Cavendish was a strong woman, one of his team leaders, and he felt that she wouldnt appreciate an acknowledgement of any weakness. Sighing heavily, Harry walked out of the office and down the corridor, finally stopping at Dawlishs door. His old friend and mentor was busily packing his personal effects into several cardboard boxes. Harry leaned up against the door jamb. Need any help, boss? Harry tried to convey an a ir of lightness, but found his voice was heavy. Dawlish chuckled. Im not your boss anymore, Harry. I know, John. Im awfully sorry about that. Dawlish held up his hand and stopped his packing for a moment, looking around the office. Me too, I guess. Ive been working for the Ministry for over forty years. Its a tough transition. Whatre you going to do? Harry asked. Dont worry about me, Harry. Your friend Seamus called and they have a spot in Gringotts security firm. Im heading there. One things for sure, its more money. Harry saw that the compensation didnt do much for the sadness in his friends voice. What do you know about this new guy, Alexander Nevsky? Harry asked, changing the subject. Ive never heard of him. He hasnt even asked for a turnover. He sent a note that he didnt need one. Dawlish resumed the collection of his things. Thats a bit odd, dont you think? Harry asked.

Dawlish looked at Harry, the investigator in him raising an eyebrow. What is it, Harry? Whats bothering you, besides the obvious? Harry took a deep breath. John Dawlish was very intuitive, it was what made him an effective Auror. Something doesnt seem right about all this. Weve got this Soze matter and then all thi s change and you have to admit, the purge is a little more extensive than weve seen in the past. True, but you need to operate of facts, Harry, not assumptions. I dont think you want to be raising questions with your new Minister and Department head. Dawlish finished his packing and waved his wand. The boxes floated in the air and queued up, waiting to follow him out the door. Dawlish stopped and looked over at his former student. Still, things are different. Youll have to be wary, but not ob vious. You know Im around if you need me. Thanks, John. It means a lot. Thanks for everything, I dont think Id be here without you. Harry reached out his hand and grasped Dawlishs. Harry, youre the best at what you do. Youre the best of us all. Dawlish studied Harrys face, the lines of pain forming, not necessarily from the loss all around the Ministry. Have you talked to anyone? I talked to my aunt, but she said that I should see someone whos more familiar with our world. Shes right. Do you know who youll talk to? I do. Ive just been so busy. Its hard to find the time. Harry said, weakly. Dawlish placed his hands on Harrys shoulders. Make the time, Harry. England needs you. We all need you, especially now. Harry nodded and Dawlish smiled, then walked out of his former office, his boxes floating behind him. *** Oi, are you going to be all right? Ron stood in Hermiones office as she and her two house elf assistants packed dozens of books into boxes. Ever the perfectionist, Hermione was making sure each volume was in its proper place and categorized for easy shelving at their home. Im fine, Ron. She said tersely, her attention focused elsewhere. No youre not, mione. I know you. What is it? Youll do great out in the world. Youre the smartest person I know. Its not that. Its just that She hesitated. I hate leaving you and Harry. Somethings not right and you and Harry will all alone out here. Were pretty good at what we do, mione. The Aurors are intact. If theres anything going on, well ferret it out. Ron said, wrapping his arms around his wife. This is different, Ron. There isnt some Dark Lord you can sink your teeth into. This is subtle, nuanced. Theres a larger plan afoot and we havent made a dent in it. You and Harry need to be careful. Hermione urged. We will. Careful is my middle name. He smiled broadly and she giggled, despite herself. Then she looked around as they finished her packing.

Well, thats it. I suppose Ill take a couple of days off then see what I can do at Georges. She gave her husband a sharp look as he chortled. Ill be fine. Besides, Verity is there. Between the two of us, well whip the boys into shape. Ron rolled his eyes, wondering if this was the end for Weasleys Wheezes. *** It was a sad procession that meandered through the atrium. Harry and Ron stood and watched as the newly deposed staff made their way through the Ministry entrance, towards the floo network. Dawlish and Hermione, followed by Dean, Isabella, Padma and a score of other close friends filed out and waved to them. Harry stared mutely as Dennis Creevey brought up the rear, toting his bag. The head of the Ministry Hit Squad had been replaced by a nameless functionary. Dennis waved confidently, his muscled bicep hardening under his tight black shirt. Within moments, they were gone, and Harry and Ron turned to return to work. I want you and Lachlan to pick up the Soze investigation. Keep it tight. Whatever is going on, I dont think weve seen the worst of it. Harry stared at his friend and together they walked back to their office. *** The small clock on his wall tolled for the three oclock hour. Hed worked through lunch, again. Draco Malfoy felt the rumbling in his stomach and put his quill down. At that moment, there was a knock at his door and Theresa Kendrick walked in. The convoys have been working. Heir of Slytherin just pulled in with the Gaunt and the Platt, sir. She reported, a tinge of obvious relief in her voice. Draco nodded tersely. Well, thats good news, for a change. Yes, sir. She studied her employer carefully. Sir, you really should get something to eat. Youve been at it since last night. None of our ships are transiting the danger area any time soon. We have some time. What about you? Draco asked. I ate a couple of hours ago, sir. You really should get out, you look horrible. She said with a twinkle in her eye. Draco laughed and massaged a knot in his shoulder. Im sure I do. Im going up to the Veranda. Send someone to find me if anything happens. He stood and pulled on a coat and walked towards the door. Kendrick cleared her throat. Um, sir? Draco turned and saw she was pointing to two rather brusque-looking men who appeared out of the sides of the room. Your escort, sir? Draco nodded and waved to the men. He hated the intrusion into his privacy, but one thing Draco wasnt was foolhardy. Soze was out there and who knows when hed try to strike? Come on, then. He walked out of the door, his silent companions right behind. *** Urban renewal was a means for the local community to try to reinvigorate erstwhile industrial or rundown areas to generate revenue. Draco had latched onto the concept and had converted the roof of his wharfside warehouse into a massive public food court and shopping district, called the Veranda. The

predominantly muggle crowd bustled about, spending money, a good percentage of which went into Dracos pocket. The economic return was enormous, but the eighteenth century sea -faring theme served to hide the appearance of his sailing ships on the dock. His business became a part of the faade. He walked up to one of the sandwich bistros that lined the shopping area and ordered some food and drink. He turned to his bodyguards, who shook their heads. Apparently, theyd eaten earlier, as well. Draco shrugged his shoulders and found an empty table. Alone with his thoughts, he reflected on events and then drifted to Scorpio and Domina. Hed sent his son to Xanadu to be with his wife. Xanadu was as secure a place as any and Scorpio would be safe there. He tore through his food without really tasting it and then rose to leave. He began walking through the crowd and heard a low, guttural snarl. Draco whirled instinctively and saw a blur of movement as first one of his guards hit the floor and the other, both bleeding from mortal wounds in their necks. Hello, Draco. The voice was chilling, recognizable. Draco stood with his legs apart, ignoring the screams of the patrons scrambling to get away from the scene. Fenrir. I guess you got tired of that rock youve been hiding under. Draco found himself facing Fenrir Greyback, blood still dripping from his filed down teeth. His eyes were wide with anticipation and hate. You mock me? Youre nothing to me, Malfoy, youre whole family always looking down on me, always turning your noses. Now youll learn how powerful I am. They circ led each other warily, Draco had his wand out. Powerful? Draco laughed out loud. Youre doing Keyser Sozes bidding, Greyback. Youre still someones lackey. Greyback roared in anger and touched his hand to the small stone suspended by a leather strap to his neck. The stone glowed and the werewolf began to change his form, from human to beast, all in midday. Draco stood dumbfounded and barely leapt out of the way as the werewolf lunged towards him, catching a powerful shoulder on Dracos legs, spinning the hapless man in the air and casting him to the ground. Greyback stopped and turned, his muscles tensing as he prepared to strike. Leaping from all fours, he bounded in the air, heading for Dracos head. Draco shook the cobwebs from his head and sent a blast that deflected the deadly leap, casting Greyback to the side. With considerable effort, Draco focused his efforts on the change. Greyback had transformed, and there was no way he was going to allow the werewolf to get a bite into him. Draco took a deep breath and suddenly, his animagus form began to coalesce. Hed worked on this, spending hours to perfect the change. Finally, he got what he needed. In an instant, the compact, deadly form of an American Alligator appeared, just in time to absorb the impact of the feral Greybacks strike. The werewolf landed on the alligators back, plunging its deadly fangs into the hard, leathery skin on the back of Dracos neck. Draco let out a snarl and whipped his head back, clamping his jaws dow n on Greybacks leg. The pain caused Greyback to rear back and cling desperately to the tightening jaws that held his leg. The werewolf raised its front paws and began pummeling the top of Dracos serpentine head, slowly causing the transformed Slytherin to release his grip. The two beasts faced each other, neither willing to give up the fight. The came together, both charging this time, knocking over tables and sliding across the floor to the edge of the patron area. Greyback clasped his hands together and swung his fists like a club, catching Draco under the chin and sending the Alligator careening into a pillar, but not before a swipe of Dracos powerful tail caught Greyback in the chest, sending him in the other direction. Greyback screamed in anger and touched the stone at his neck, assuming his human form. Draco seemed to smile and prepared to strike, but Greyback pulled his wand and yelled.

Confringo! The blasting charm caught Draco squarely, propelling him back, over a nearby rail. The shock and pain of the blast caused Draco to lose his focus and he immediately transformed back to human form. Unsteady, Draco arced over the rail and fell ten stories down, impacting on the black surface of the water below. Greyback ran to the rail and stared down at the gurgling water below. Malfoy was too weak to survive that, he thought. There was a clarion call as sirens approached in the distance. Stop right there! Greyback whirled around and saw a brace of policemen arriving on the scene. For a moment, he contemplated wreaking havoc among the startled muggles and their constabulary, but remembered that his mission was complete. He snarled mightily and then apparated away, leaving the surprised muggles to contemplate what happened. Down below, the water rustled and bubbled and then grew still. There was no sign of Draco Malfoy to be seen. Chapter 231 The Drive to be Extraordinary Ah, Mister Potter, come in, come in. Roskolnikov, nee Alexander Nevsky, pointed to a seat in Dawlishs former office. The new head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was standing behind his desk as Harry walked into the office. Sitting off to the side of the room was a pale, dark haired woman of extraordinary beauty. Her face was a mask of serenity and boredom, but her eyes lit up as Harry entered. He tried to ignore her obvious interest in his presence and focused solely on his new boss. I know things are very awkward right now. May I call you, Harry? Harry nodded and Nevksy continued. Still, things must continue to roll forward. This is the new head of the Hit Squad, Erzebet Bathory. She was a Countess in her old country, but she has shown a great propensity for being able to handle worrisome tasks, Ive come to find. Harry nodded a t the woman and waited for Nevsky to continue. This is a wonderful opportunity, Harry. We are extraordinary people living in extraordinary times. Nevsky paced behind his desk, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. As such, we have to pick and choose the things we do, in order to ensure that this Ministry makes its mark for those who cant voice their own arguments. You mean for those ordinary people? Harry didnt know if the sarcasm in his voice was easily read by Nevsky. There was something about the man that made Harry uneasy. Apparently, Nevsky did not seem to register Harrys discomfort. Precisely, Harry. Youve got it spot on. Dont get me wrong, theres nothing wrong with being ordinary, as you say, but it remains for those of us with power to do great things. People like you and me are destined to accomplish great acts. Nevsky positively beamed, pleased that Harry seemed to be in his court. Harry, for his part, was shocked. Hed never wanted his destiny, and hed strug gled his entire life to be normal, to be ordinary. He had no designs to set himself apart. Nevsky sat down loudly in his chair. Now, lets dig in, shall we? Nevsky rummaged around several scrolls lying on his desk and pulled one out from the middle of the stack. Yes, here it is. What is the status of the Keyser Soze case? Harry hesitated for a moment as his instinctual alarms began to rail in the center of his head. Not far, Im afraid, sir. We dont have a lot of concrete information, mostly just hearsay and supposition. We have the incident at Hogwarts with Fenrir Greyback and the attacks on Draco Malfoys ships.

Nevsky nodded soberly and then cast a quick, wary glance at Bathory. That is rather flimsy, isnt it? Its a shame that you werent able to keep this Nigel fellow alive. Yes sir. Harrys face reddened a bit. What was his death like? Bathory spoke for the first time, a quite, sonorous melody that seemed to penetrate Harrys brain. What do you mean? Harry asked, taking in the faraway look in her eyes as they danced in the candlelight. I mean, what were the circumstances behind Nigels death? Was it bloody? The tone in her voice was both breathless and innocent, like a child asking about what to expect from their first dream. Harry hesitated. I suppose you could say that. I had to cut into him to keep him from killing the children. It wasnt the first time Ive had to kill someone in the line of duty. Harry said reluctantly. I know. Youre quite good at killing. There was no real malice in her voice and her eyes displayed a quiet curiosity that surprised Harry. Tell, me Harry, what do you feel when you see the blood of the people you kill? Before Harry could answer, Nevsky interjected with a nervous chuckle. Youll have to forgive our dear Countess. She has seen some horrors in her life. She knows that youd never take a life without due provocation. Harry found himself thankful that Nevsky was changing the subject. As to this Soze matter, I really dont see anything here for us to keep wasting resources on. What about Malfoy, sir? Someone is attacking his shipping. Harry interjected. Draco Malfoy and the Malfoy family have always been on the gray side of the law, havent they? Youve imprisoned both his parents for treason. Id hazard a guess that hes in some sort of turf fight with a rival. One of Keyser Sozes key tenets was that a lie wasnt necessary when the truth suited the purpose. I hardly want this office to be the arbiter of Malfoys illicit battles when we very well should be investigating the man, himself. Sir? Harry thoughts went back to his conversation with Arthur. Im saying Harry, that in the absence of any real evidence, you are to shut down the Keyser So ze investigation and focus on real problems, like finding out what Draco Malfoy is really involved in. Harry contemplated arguing but realized that hed been handed a very generous gift. As Arthur noted, they now had concrete proof that Keyser Soze was involved in the shakeup at the Ministry. Now wasnt the time to show his cards. Of course, sir. Nevsky beamed. Good! Now, I want to go through the other outstanding investigations going on. Why dont you tell me what this purchase order is for repairs to the revenue cutter, Discooperire? *** The air went out of his body when he hit the surface of the water. Hed not anticipated the fall and definitely wasnt prepared for the crushing blow when he fell into the murky harbor. For a moment, he wanted to panic, unable to fight and ready to succumb to the depths. The biting cold of the water tingled his extremities and before he inhaled a fatal dose of water into his lungs, he realized two very important

things. First, his entire body hurt. There was the pain from the battle with Greyback and the cuts from the blast and the bruises and broken bones from his fall. He couldnt remember the last time hed felt so much pain. The second realization he came to was that if he hurt, than he must be alive. Draco Malfoy felt his body sinking to the ocean floor and the pressure on his lungs to draw in a breath was becoming relentless, yet he smiled to himself. The mongrel known as Fenrir Greyback had failed. Clinging to his wand, Draco touched his face and cast his best bubble charm. It wasnt a spell hed mastered at Hogwarts. Students typically learn the spell during their sixth year, but Draco had spent most of his time plotting the death of Albus Dumbledore to pay too much attention to that particular lesson. It was only after immersing himself in the family business, had he gotten around to learning the spell, under the watchful eye of a certain Chief Lockley of the Heir of Slytherin. Once the bubble was firmly affixed to his mouth and nose, he drew a deep breath and immediately regretted the effort. A sharp pain hammered his side and he winced from the nauseous feeling. Hed definitely broken a rib or two, either from the fight with Greyback or from the fall. He limited his movements and allowed the strong current to carry his body away from the scene of the action. He hovered in the water, unwilling to move and unwilling to surface, unsure of how far Greyback would go to ensure the kill. One thing was for sure, hed survived an attempt by Keyser Soze to kill him off. Obviously, his convoy plan had worked. He allowed the water to pull him along for a while. He was unsure of which direction he was going and where he was in relation to his own wharf. He looked up and saw the spine of a ship approaching. The keel was rounded and the vessel seemed to be tied to a pier. With considerable effort, Draco pulled his arms towards his body and propelled himself towards the vessel. It was wooden, like his ships and was painted dark black. He reached an arm forward and grabbed the end of a piece of rope that seemed to be drifting with the tide. He groaned to himself as his grip forced him to fight the tide to remain alongside the boat. Spasms of pain jolted through his body, causing him to shudder and almost pass out. He fought the sensation and pulled himself up the of the ship. The ship was familiar, hed seen its specifications in work orders and such. He smiled to himself, the irony not lost on the coincidence. He gave every effort and yanked hard, pulling his hands end over end until he was able to grip the rail and pull himself over the side, where he collapsed in heap on the deck. Captain! Draco heard a voice cry out, it was a beautiful voice, a feminine voice. He rolled on his back and opened his eyes. Standing above him were two incredibly beautiful women. The one who had cried out had light, pale features with dark red lips and brilliant red hair. She wore a black blouse with a sword tucked into a red sash. The second woman had a dark, olive-skinned complexion with striking brown eyes. She wore a loose fitting white blouse and had a rapier tucked into her sash. Draco felt this strength waning but started laughing despite the pain and impending onset of unconsciousness. Get a healer, number one. Captain Adelina Baretto beckoned to her first mate, Muireall Innes as they looked at the broken, battered figure of Draco Malfoy. After repairing our ship in Alexandria, its the least we can do for Mr. Malfoy. *** Harry stepped from the Underground station and found himself on a busy thoroughfare. A mix of three and four story brownstone townhomes lined the street on either side. He slowly navigated across the street, keeping a careful eye on addresses of the buildings. Most of the street level doorways were dedicated to shops and cafes while the upper floors were obviously living quarters and flats. He rounded the corner and sidestepped a line of people loitering outside an internationally known coffee shop chain. One thing Harry absolutely appreciated about the wizarding world was that national chains did not have a place in the retail environment, where they could eliminate the sense of individuality that was lost when a large company tried to sell to the small town people.

Harry shrugged his shoulders and left the main street and walked around to an alley that supported two rows of the homes. He stuck his hands in his pockets and counted the homes until he reached a small, black gate that had an address plate over it. The gate, was actually two gates, owing to the fact that the building had two addressees. The larger, more ornate gate had a sign that read, 221B Baker Street, The Sherlock Holmes Preservation Society, Deliveries. Harry ignored that gate a nd rang the bell for the one with the sign that read, 221A Baker Street, Miles Jackson-Smythe, Esq. Harry waited for a moment, before the small gate opened, as if of its own volition and he walked around the side of the house to a small, obscure plain white door. As he neared the door, it opened, and he walked inside. It was as if hed been transported back in time to the late nineteenth century. The interior of the room was covered in rich mahogany and detailed Victorian charms. The front of the room was highlighted by an ornate marble fireplace with a fire raging within. There were two, high backed, velvet upholstered chairs in front of the fire and a stand with a violin resting near an easel with sheet music. Between the two chairs was a small, cherry table with a tea service for two, steam as pouring out of the spout and Harry chuckled to himself as he looked around. The two side walls were lined from floor to ceiling with shelf after shelf of books of all types. Most had the rich leather bindings of first print editions. One wall contained hundreds of classics of muggle literature while the near wall consisted of nothing but wizarding books, from the very ancient to them most recent. Harry heard a rustle coming from the next room and wasnt surprised when a short, old man with long, flowing white hair crowning his rather prominent bald spot walked in a tray of pastries. Ah, Harry, welcome, youve come just in time. Miles was wearing a burgundy smokers jacket with a cravat and a monocle over his left eye. The sash of his jacket was straining from its need to hold in his considerable girth while he balanced the tray of warm delicacies. He walked across the room and set the tray down and then turned and gave Harry a crushing embrace. Harr y, my boy. Welcome, welcome, come in. He motioned Harry to a seat and pointed to an empty tea cup. Grateful, Harry nodded and watched as his old friend went about serving. Miles Jackson-Smythe was a brilliant former Auror and special investigator for the Ministry of Magic. He was one of the keenest intellects in the wizarding world and as was the want for many gifted minds, was prone to an eccentricity or two. Miles passion was all things Sherlock Holmes. Sir Conan Doyles hero was tall and thin with a razor wit and mastery of deductive reasoning. Miles, from a mental standpoint, was very much the match of his literary hero. The same could not be said for his appearance. He was short and round, almost as wide as he was tall. His head was bald and smooth at the top with a rim of long, flowing white strands that reached down to the small of his back. He had twin mustachios that curled down to his stomach. When he went out in public, he wore the prototypical Holmes fore and aft deerstalker cap and matching overcoat. He was often disregarded for his eccentricity, but Harry knew that there was no better brain in the world. When Harry had talked to his Aunt Petunia, he wracked his brain for someone that could relate to the depth of loneliness he was experiencing. Hed become almost robotic in a fight, cold or even worse, indifferent to the consequences of his actions. Hed lost the sense of loss he used feel whenever he was forced to kill or hurt someone. Hed considered any number of people to talk to and for the most part, hed shared bits and pieces of his experience with everyone of them, but Miles came to mind because of one very important reason. Miles wasnt connected on a day to day basis to events in the Ministry. Miles would not see Harrys pain as some freakish act of nature. What made Miles odd was exactly what Harry needed. For all his strangeness, Miles ability to connect to the logical and rational parts of a problem helped him to be objective and fair. When Harry needed so meone to talk to when he realized hed found an aptitude for wandless magic, Miles had been there. Jackson-Smythe had the experience and the temperament to tell Harry what was real and what wasnt , and thats why Harry was here.

Miles carefully handed a saucer and cup to Harry and the pointed to the tray of pastries. Harry smiled and picked out a cinnamon roll and began to bite into it. Miles blew on his own cup, all the while keeping a careful eye on his friend. After a few moments, the older man sat back in his chair and rested his cup and saucer on a vertical space on his ample stomach. So, Harry, what brings you by? Whats troubling you? Miles watched Harry closely while the younger man fidgeted. Nothing, really, I just stopped by to say hello. Harry said not quite convincingly. Miles laughed. Good, youre just in time to hear my latest composition. The portly man reached for the violin causing Harry to almost drop his tea. Thats all right, Miles. Im sure your playing has improved , but I did have something I wanted to chat with you about. Harry cringed. Miles had taken up playing the violin in adoration of his hero, Holmes. Unfortunately, he was horrible. Harry knew that if Miles started playing, his ears would burn and cats for a twenty mile radius would go into hiding. Miles laughed and held out his hands. Whats troubling you, Harry? Harry took a deep breath and began speaking. He brought Miles up to date on his adventures. He spoke of the war and the travel to alternate timelines. He talked about Keyser Soze, Fenrir Greyback and the Book of Thoth. Most of all, Harry talked about how desensitized he felt and how hed lost his way. There were tears in Harrys eyes as he talked about his dreams, the ones with the bodies of those hed killed, or had been killed in helping him. Once he started, he couldnt stop and as he went through his pain, Miles simply sipped his tea and nodded. Finally Harry talked about Arthur and the events at the Ministry, especially about the odd woman who seemed only interested in the blood hed spilt. Once he was done, Harry sat back and held his face in his hands, spent from the effort. There was a long silence between them, the only noise was the crackling of the logs in the fire and the tick tock of the mechanism of the large grandfather clock in the corner of the room. Miles murmured to himself and then looked over at Harry. You think youve become some sort of bloodthirsty ogre, is that it? Harry nodded and Miles looked up at the ceiling. Harry, Harry, Harry, I honestly thought you were one of the smart ones, but even the brightest wizard in the world can get lost in the details. What do you mean, Miles? Harry asked. Its elementary, really. If you were truly the cold blooded killer you think you are, would you have nightmares? Harry shook his head. Would you be worried about what people thought and who was affected? Again Harry shook his head no. Let me put it this way, Harry. The Dark Lord was truly cold blooded. He committed horrific acts, not because he enjoyed them or because he felt anger or hate, but because he didnt feel anything at all. He didnt feel love or loyalty, pain or betrayal, because he was incapable of that level of emotion, so he tied everything he did to attaining power. Every action was done for that reason. He watched the uncertainty on Harrys face. Harry, if you were cold blooded, you would not feel what you are feeling. You wouldnt be conflicted. Miles said with finality. Harry thought about what his friend said and shook his head. If thats the case, Miles, why is it so easy for me to kill?

Harry, Ive got news for you. Being conditioned to kill doesnt make it easy to kill. Whats the difference? Harry asked. Miles sighed heavily and poured them more tea. Harry, the simple fact of the matter is that youve been in more life-threatening situations than anyone Ive ever known. Your instincts have had to guide you for the sheer sake of survival. It isnt easy to kill, or else you wouldnt be here. However, you constantly find yourself in mortal peril, so your conditioned to take whatever action is necessary. Youre no more cold blooded than your friend Ron, because you still feel each and every death. Youl l have a problem when you dont. What you mustnt do is lose the ability to act, to do whats necessary. If you hesitate when action is required, than you are truly lost. Are you saying its all right for me to take a life? Yes, if the situation warrants it. It wasnt the argument that Harry expected. There was no moral relativism or ethical argument. Miles continued. The fact of the matter Harry, is that its better to be alive and conflicted than dead with a clear conscience. You are who you are and trying to separate events from your character, which is to do what is needed, regardless of the cost, would be to lose yourself. Miles rose and placed a reassuring hand on Harrys shoulder. Im not saying to start offing every foe you face. Another part of your character is your love of life, anyones. What I am saying is that being able to take a life in the course of ones duty is a difficult, but necessary quality. As the great philosopher, George Patton once said, I dont want men wholl die for their country, I want men wholl make the enemy die for theirs. Harry chuckled and Miles stood straight. Feel better? Harry nodded and Miles took another deep breath. Good. Now, lets chat about your dilemma, shall we? It would appear that your visit here was quite fortuitous. Whys that? Were not any closer to this Keyser Soze person and the Ministry appears to be aligned against us. Harry said. Miles walked to one of the bookcases and pulled a dusty tome off the shelf and began leafing through it. He turned and looked at Harry seriously. I wouldnt say that, Harry. Youre closer to the truth than you think, you just have to apply some deductive reasoning. He flipped to a page halfway through the book and read it carefully, then turned to face Harry. Besides, I know who Keyser Soze is. Chapter 232 Politics and Strange Bedfellows Eyes closed, he luxuriated in the softness of the bed. He felt sore, but not in pain, his muscles and joints creaked causing him to lay back and allow himself to be lazy. After a few minutes, he started making out sounds that were both familiar and unexpected. He could make out the soft hush of water against the side of a ship, intermixed with the periodic shouts of a crew at work. He had a sense of motion and movement. After a moment, he realized he was on a ship that was underway, a fact bolstered by the gentle sway of the ship on the waves. Most of all, he realized he was alive, the horror of his recent fight slowly making its way into his memory. He shook his head gently and groaned from the effort. Then, he had the unmistakable feeling that he wasnt alone. Slowly, steadily, he opened his eyes and glanced out, and saw the beautiful woman seated nearby. Welcome to the world of the living, Signor Malfoy. Captain Baretto sat with her legs crossed, idly twirling her wicked looking dagger in the air. We thought wed lost you back there.

Draco sat up and stared around. He was obviously in a cabin on the Discooperire, but outside the windows, the scene wasnt of a dockside, but crystal blue, they were out to sea. He gave Baretto a questioning glance. We were scheduled to get underway to perform a patrol. I thought, originally, it was to see if we couldnt find who was attacking your ships, but word came down from the new management at the Ministry that we were to drop that topic. So, I hid you on board and sent word to Signor Harry. As soon as we hear back from him, well figure out what we do about you. She smiled, and despite his weakened state, Draco managed to return the gesture. Thanks for that, I suppose I owe you one. Draco said quietly. Actually, Signor Malfoy, you could call us even. You didnt have to help us in Alexandria and a captain without a ship is nothing more than a doorman. She said. Why dont you tell me what happened to you? Whats this all about? Draco hesitated and the related the events of the past few weeks, including the suspicion that Keyser Soze was involved. Baretto listened quietly, allowing him to piece together what had happened. When he was done, she whistled audibly. You are a very lucky man, Signor. In my opinion, it was good that we did not tell anyone that you were aboard. What about my wife, my company, they must be worried sick. Ive got send word. Draco made to rise from his bed. Baretto rose and pushed his shoulder down gently, but firmly. Youre in no condition to get up, just yet. Besides, youve been granted a very valuable commodity. There will be ti me enough to tell everyone later. What have I been granted? What do you mean? Draco asked, a tension in his voice. Baretto laughed out loud. That bump on your head must have knocked you silly. Well check with Signor Harry when he calls us, but Signor Draco, think about it. She paused as understanding dawned on her patient. This Keyser Soze thinks your dead. Youre free to act without worrying about him striking at you. Dracos face merged into a more decidedly evil expression. Captain Baretto was right. No one, especially Soze, knew he was alive. Now it was time to earn some payback, Slytherin style. *** Excuse me? Harry took a gulp of air, unprepared for Miles declaration. I said, I know who Keyser Soze is, or rather, who he was. Miles walked back to his chair, tucking the large book under his arm. Who? Harry asked, in an anxious voice. Miles retrieved a meerschaum pipe resting in a cradle near a large crystalline ash tray nearby. He studiously filled the pipe from a multicolored leather bag and made a great show of lighting it, puffing circles out around his head. Its rather complex, but follow me on this for a moment. What do you know about Sherlock Holmes?

The question startled Harry, but Miles had a penchant for asking seemingly unrelated questions and bringing them back to exquisite responses. Miles would answer the main question in his own good time. Harry took a deep breath. You like to emulate him, I know that. There was a flippancy in his remark that drew a cross stare from his old friend. Sorry, hes a great detective in books. The books were written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. What if I were to tell you that Doyle was a biographer, not an author? Miles said, wistfully. You mean Holmes was a real person? Harry responded. Miles beamed. Precisely, with the operative term being was. To be sure, Doyle took great dramatic license with the narrative. There never was a Dr. Watson. That was actually Doyle. Miles hung the pipe out of the corner of his mouth and began leafing through the large book. There were several stories where the Watson character wasnt present. Remarkably, those stories dealt with Holmes interactions with his greatest foe. Professor James Moriarty? Well done, Harry. Miles reversed the book and showed its face to Harry. The pages were yellowed and worn with age, but the writing inside was legible. It was a journal of some sort, written with ink and quill and in the center of the facing page was an intricate portrait of a thin, older man wearing refined clothing, even for the Victorian age. When I was younger, I was infatuated with the Holmes mythology. I acquired every bit of memorabilia that I could find. I happened upon this book when I was rummaging around the basement of the Doyle estate. It was Holmes journal. He made this picture of Moriarty after their first encounter. Are you saying Keyser Soze is Moriarty? Harry asked. Yes. Miles said confidently. How can you be so sure? Miles smiled, a flair and a twinkle in his eye, while bands of smoke surrounded his head. Its elementary, my dear Harry. Ignoring Harrys rolling of the eyes, Miles pressed on. Moriarty fancied himself the Napoleon of Crime, a master criminal before such an entity was fashionable. He created an extensive syndicate of neer do wells, touching every facet of criminal enterprise he could get his hands on. He was the yin to Holmes yang and towards the end, it became a contest of wills, good versus evil. I thought Moriarty was dead. That was the general perception. It was supposed that Moriarty died with Holmes after their epic encounter at a water fall. Holmes body was found, Moriartys wasnt. Conan Doyle spent his remaining life trying to find Moriartys body, but he never could. Years passed and no sign of Moriarty surfaced, not even rumors, so it was assumed that he was dead, when all he really did was assume the guise of a legendary criminal figure and resume his old ways. Youre talking about Keyser Soze? Harry watched as Miles nodded. How can you be so sure, Miles? The gentle old man blew out another mass of smoke. Actually, I wasnt until you described the events at the Ministry, and then everything came into place. You see, Moriarty was a Professor of Mathematics. He first came to Holmes attention based on some treatise he wrote about some obscure mathematical

construct. He was especially good at astronomy, calculating the speed and mass of some far off comet. Hes quite the brilliant mind. Miles saw Harrys lost expression and shook his head. Dont you see, Harry? All of the bad things that have happened have been well timed and orchestrated with a precision that goes beyond simple good planning. The Book of Thoth, Greyback, Arthurs resignation, the new players, the changes at the Ministry: Theyve all been accomplished with impeccable timing and precision, mathematical precision, with a larger purpose. That tells me its Moriarty. Harry leaned back. The theory was as plausible as any hed heard. Whats his goal? Why does he want with the Book of Thoth? There has to be more than just being free to rule some criminal empire. Hes been doing that for a century. That, Harry, is what makes him so dangerous. When he faced Holmes, he had been content to be behind the scenes. Something has drawn him out, something that has forced him to go public. He needs something and he needs the Book to get it. Miles sighed heavily. Whatever it is, he needs to be stopped. It wont be easy. This man murdered the greatest detective that ever lived. How do we do this? Ive been ordered to stop the Keyser Soze investigation. Im sure Moriarty is behind the events at the Ministry, but I cant prove it. Im sure youre right. Moriarty loved cabals, massive criminal conspiracies. We know of at least three accomplices in the Ministry. We do? Harry asked. Of course, theres your new boss, Mr. Nevsky, although I dont think thats his name. Im pretty sure hes Roskolnikov, a petty criminal with a delusion about greatness. He hates ordinary people; he wants to be extraordinary. Unfortunately, he hasnt the capability, so he wields power to achieve the illusion of greatness. Miles paused and looked up at the ceiling, as if ordering his thoughts. Theres your Minister, this Ian Gordon. Moriarty loves word games. If you take the first two letters of his first and last name, what do you have? Iago? Yes, thats it. Othellos enemy who is known for his intricate schemes to undermine good people. Harry nodded, wracking his brain. Hed never read Othello. As if reading his mind, Miles snickered. You really should expand your repertoire, Harry. Iago was someone who spent most of his time working behind the scenes, being less obvious. He was friendly to your face, but worked behind the scenes. Harry nodded. You said there were three, Im assuming youre talking about this Countess Bathory? Shes probably the most dangerous of the bunch, Harry. The Blood Countess, shes known for having a sadistic streak, she really appreciates the sight of blood. Miles offered a slight shudder. I sort of gathered that from meeting her. Dont underestimate her, Harry. Back when she was in Hungary, she spoke four languages and ran the defense of her husbands estate from the Turks. She was accused and locked away, but somehow she escaped and now shes got control of the Hit Squad. You dont want to run afoul of her. So how do we do this? How do we take them down? The Ministry is basically against us and theyll be watching every move I make. Harry seemed despondent and he settled back in his chair. Miles took a measured look at Harry and shook his head slowly.

Harrys face was pale, his cheeks were sunken and dark bags had formed under his eyes. Harry had thinned out, his clothes hung loosely on his frame as he sat in the large chair. His shoulders drooped noticeably, like a heavy weight hung there. Miles walked over to Harry and held his pipe outward, using it as a pointer. I think I might have been wrong about you, Harry. In fact, I think you might have been wrong about yourself. Miles scratched his bald spot and sat down heavily. Youre quite arrogant, arent you? Miles tone was sharp, acidic and it caught Harry by surprise. Hed not expected such a harsh rebuke. Before he could speak, Miles held up his hand. You seem to think youre the only person that the world can rely on. Your issue isnt about whether youre cold blooded. Thats only a symptom. The real problem is that you think that only the great Harry Potter can save the world. Im an idiot for missing this. I dont know what youre talking about Miles. I never thought that I as the savior of the world. Come off it, Harry, sometimes arrogance is best masked by modesty. Thats just part of the way you convince yourself that youre some messiah. You want to know how to take on Moriarty? You get help. How do we handle the Ministry? We get help! Miles leaned forward and pointed his pipe in Harrys face. At the risk of inflating your ego, you are an extraordinary wizard, Harry Potter. Quite possibly, youre the most prolific wizard of our time. But? Harry knew there was a but in there. But, Harry, the dirty little secret is that nothing youve done, nothing youve accomplished, has been done alone. Youve always relied on your friends, even in the darkest hours. Thats what you seem to keep forgetting. The real source of your greatness is that people are willing to help you because you are willing to help them. Miles voice softened. Ask for help, Harry. Youll get it, no questions asked. Harry sat back. Hed some version of this argument with Ginny some time before, but hed assumed it was about him being foolhardy, when in circumspect, it was about his inability to register how much help hed had getting where he was. When the Dark Lord needed defeating, no matter how bad it had been, his friends had been there. When Lucius Malfoy had attacked him, his friends were there. Every step of his road had never been alone. Maybe Miles was right, he was arrogant. Youre right. You know, Hermione and Dean have been sacked, maybe we can use them? Thats the spirit. Youve got good resources, Harry, use them. Still, weve got one big obstacle to overcome. Miles said gently. Whats that? We still dont know what Moriarty is after. That should scare us even more. *** Dr. James Moriarty, also known as the Napoleon of Crime and now going by the nom de guerre, Keyser Soze, peered through the eyepiece and then made some notes in his ledger. His prodigious mathematical mind went through a myriad of calculations, looking for a specific pattern of logic in the math. He was on the roof of his vast estate, standing behind an oversized telescope that was aimed at the night sky. He rechecked his figures and returned his eye to the aperture and smiled contentedly to himself. It was there, just like hed thought it would be.

He heard the tell tale sound of foot falls on the gravel cover of the roof. He closed his ledger and turned to face the new arrival. His ever faithful manservant, Kobayashi, stood there patiently, awaiting his attention. Word from Mister Greyback, sir. Mr. Malfoy has been dealt with. Kobayashi watched as his master processed the information, with the same precision he did his calculus. Excellent. Things are progressing nicely. Soon, well have control of what is needed and then we can act on the final plan. I must say, sir, most of your, er, associates may not approve of what you are trying to do. Kobayashi was careful to not give off a hint of disapproval. Of course, because they are not involved in the final process, although, some wou ld appreciate what I am doing. Kobayashis face remained impassive. You mean the Countess or Captain Reade? Yes, they would appreciate this. I may consider bringing them in. The rest, well they are necessary losses I must sustain. He looked back up into the starry sky and smiled once more. There was a streak of light that shone brightly in the northern sky. He tapped his book , secure in his calculations. Then he turned to face Kobayashi. Get Captain Reade, with Malfoy gone, its time to give her a new mission. Chapter 233 Northern Lights Mary Reade drew the strings of her parka tight around her throat as the biting cold of the Arctic Sea cut across the bow of the ship. Theyd been underway for almost four weeks, heading north from Eng land and up into the North Sea, around the Scandinavian Peninsula and into the harshest cold of the Arctic. Theyd left Murmansk behind them over three weeks ago and found themselves in the harshest region on the planet. The random ice floes had become more frequent and packed together and navigation was difficult as she found herself traversing the waters, picking her way through and often times having to cut her way through the line of the ice pack that was slowly making its way southward for the winter. Their course hugged the permanent ice pack line and lines of glaciers hundreds of meters high hung over them. They traversed through the Laptev Sea and slowly made their way into the East Siberian Sea. Their journey had been rough and now, Reade could see the entrance to the Lena River, its delta indiscriminate from the surrounding snow and ice. She guided the ship more by feel than by charts, and slowly maneuvered them into the river mouth. She looked behind them and saw the bright multi-hued specter of the Aurora Borealis over the North Pole. She took a deep breath and smiled. Shed first seen the display two hundred years earlier while guiding her ship around Cape Horn when shed heard about the riches of the Yankee whalers in the Pacific. At that time, the phenomenon was the Aurora Australis, a similar event to what she was seeing now, but she was further north, closer to the event horizon, the attraction was brighter, more frenetic and she marveled at its intensity. Reade felt a certain amount of anxiety over where they were. The danger abounded, yet Soze was adamant about her going. At least Ngabe had been left behind. While Malfoy was dead, his shipping empire was still thriving, thanks to efforts of his wife, Domina. Reade allowed a chuckle to escape her lips, causing a burst of vapor to dance around her head in the minus one hundred degree temperatures. Domina Malfoy was every bit as cold and formidable as her reputation. The news of her husbands death had done little to change her demeanor. If anything, shed become even more ruthless. Shed resigned her position in Xanadu and rushed back to assume control of her husbands family business. Shed taken his convoy system a step further and established a lucrative bounty system on any ship that attacked the

Malfoy fleet. Ngabe was still charged with disrupting and, if possible, destroying, the Malfoy business. Reade had even purchased three fast and heavily armed galleons for the job, allowing Ngabe to call herself, Commodore of her little squadron. Still, maybe she was over thinking things, but Reade could not help but think that Domina Malfoy would be a formidable opponent. Reades ship crossed the last bit of water and entered the Lena River estuary. With a practiced hand , she guided the helm towards the bank of a small island that guarded the entrance. She was in a vast and remote land where ice, snow and evergreens fought for dominance. Drop anchor! She bellowed. There was a murmured acknowledgement and she watch ed as her chief bsun brought a sledge hammer down on the capstan release, allowing the crafts large anchor to break free into the black depths below. The large chain rattled in protest, but continued to play out until the anchor settled softly on the muddy river bottom. She nodded to her first mate and trundled to her stateroom. A large, pot-bellied stove burned in the corner and she felt warmth radiating from its flame as she tossed a pinch of floo powder into its center. Within seconds, the fire cascaded and formed the disembodied face of her patron, Keyser Soze. Weve reached the mouth of the Lena River. Were going to stop here and re -supply, then well start up river in the morning. We still have a good two weeks travel ahead of us. She said quietly to the face. Excellent. Everything is moving nicely, according to my calculations. You will need to be in place in exactly seventeen days. You have the book? Sozes voice had a hint of satisfaction mixed with anticipation. Yes, its locked away and Im the only one who knows its aboard. Good. Keep it that way. Contact me or Mr. Kobayashi just before you get underway. The flame flickered and flared away. She walked from her cabin and climbed to the quarterdeck. She looked behind the ship at the flashing lights in the sky, but she couldnt help shifting her gaze a little further to the left, out to the western sky. Near Orions belt, there was a flicker of light. It hadnt been there before, but it was now and it was getting stronger, as if whatever cast off the glow was getting nearer. She smiled and turned. Soon, she thought, soon. *** Over the weeks, the mood at the Ministry had become decidedly different, in no small part because of the presence of the Countess in all matters pertaining the Office of Aurors. She was omnipresent among them, even to the point of asking that her office be located among them. Harry was beginning to notice that his teams were beginning to act on edge, unable to focus on their work. Simple investigations were becoming more and more complicated, with the Hit Team now being inserted into any and all apprehensions. What was more, was that Countess Bagory personally sat in on a number of the interrogations and her teams took over the transport of convicted wizards to Azkeban. The newest directive that came down from Nevsky, however, troubled Harry. The Hit Squad and Countess Bagory would now take over management of the Azkeban prison itself. The first thought Harry had was that this gave the Countess unmonitored access to people at the prison. If Miles was right, there was a distinct possibility that the blood thirsty woman would be able to conduct whatever horrific experiments she wanted, and there was nothing Harry could do about it. What was more was that there were well over eighty hardened criminals and traitors incarcerated at the prison. If Moriarty was building some massive criminal empire, hed have a solid corps of wrongdoers to draw from. Topping everything off, Harry was no closer to finding Moriarty. Hed started assembling people he could trust, a new Potters Army that he hoped could provide the impetus to finding their foe. Incidents of violence were on the rise and the Ministrys ability to stop them met with obstacles at ev ery turn. There

was even a rise in seemingly unrelated crimes committed by people who would otherwise be stalwart citizens. Harry felt helpless and isolated. He couldnt shake the feeling that he was being watched and so he limited his interactions with his friends on the outside who were helping him, lest they get uncovered as part of his investigation. For now, Hermione and Ginny were coordinating things, and all Harry could do was wait. A knock at his door roused him from his thoughts. Given the way things were these days, Harry immediately was on his guard, tense. He looked at the door and was stunned. The man standing there had broad shoulders and stood tall against the door frame. He had closely cropped red hair and his eyes danced with merriment in contrast to the scars that marked his face and neck. He wore a dark black mock turtleneck and loose black cotton pants with large black work boots polished to a high gloss. Over top of all this, he wore a long, woolen overcoat cinched tight against the pre-winter cold. He leaned up casually against the door and smiled. Hows it going, Harry? Charlie! Harry rose and embraced the Weasleys second oldest son. When they broke free, Charlie noticed the worry lines around Harrys face and his friends guarded emerald eyes. There was an unspoken question that passed between them and Harry shook his head politely, indicating that the walls had ears. Feel like going to lunch? Charlie asked quickly, picking up on Harrys unwillingness to talk. Harry smiled gratefully and laughed. What, Billie not available? Shes working. Billie Tunstall was a person who dwelt on the shady side of the law. Her and Charlie had started a relationship that fit both their lifestyles. With Charlie in Romania with his dragons and Billie usually off doing what she did, they found stolen moments to meet in exotic locations around the world. Sure, I have time for lunch. Harry clapped Charlie on the back and grabbed his coat. Rons already headed out to meet Hermione at Weasleys Wheezes. Apparently shes making thing rough for George. Charlie laughed out loud and the two friends left Harrys office, catching up on the gossip of the day. *** Theresa Kendrick entered the office quietly and placed a piece of parchment on the desk. The stunningly beautiful woman seated at the desk barely nodded her head in recognition. Domina Malfoy had long, almost white platinum hair which stretched down to below her shoulders. Her skin was pale with an alabaster quality without a single flaw. Her face was angular, but not severe and she had bright, effervescent blue eyes which radiated angry heat and calm coolness all at once. She was busily making some changes to a different scroll when Theresa walked in. Kendrick stood nearby, the silence pervasive as Dracos widow finished her task. Once she was done, Domina rolled the parchment up and stood, walking to a nearby window, where she summoned an owl and placed the scroll in the carrier on its leg. She whispered a destination to the bird and sent it on its way. Then she turned and faced Theresa, a question in her eyes. We received a response from the Discooperire. They should rendezvous with the Heir of Slytherin and the Basilisk by nightfall. Domina nodded at the news and smiled wickedly. She had been surprised at her own reaction when a Ministry representative had contacted her with the news of Dracos demise. True, she loved him in her own way, but the depth of grief and sorrow she felt when she heard the news was uncharacteristic of her personality. She felt lost, adrift and for a time, she felt like losing herself to

the throes of pain. She loved Draco, to be sure, more than even she had realized. Her grief lasted until Harry Potter had shown up in Xanadu with the news. Draco had survived Greybacks attack, albeit, he was seriously injured, but hed been picked up by the crew of the Discooperire. Theyd managed to contact Potter and begin the planning of striking back at Keyser Soze, or James Moriarty, as she was more and more convinced of the mans identity. The Discooperire had been discharged from its contract with the Ministry and now was acting on its own, much to the delight of the small group that Potter had assembled to fight this new menace. Her own resignation from the Ministry had fit into the greater plan. She was the grieving widow laden with ambition and coldness, more than willing to take up the reins of her lost husbands enterprise. Shed returned to England with Scorpiu s in tow, and settled in as the CEO of Malfoy Import and Export. Now they were planning to strike back. Even with Dracos presumed death, the attacks on their shipping had not lessened. In fact, theyd increased and now things were moving into play that would allow them to strike back. Excellent. Make sure we get word to Potter through the usual channels. Domina reflected on how things had changed for her over the years. Instead of being the arbiter of the pure, she was working with Harry Potter to bring down a greater threat to the Ministry and England. It was ironic that her only real link to Draco was through his lifelong foe, Harry Potter and that true success in the long term would still rely on her and Draco being able to support Potter through all of this. She shook her head numbly and looked back at Theresa. Domina was still Domina; she would not betray her feelings of doubt and wonder to anyone. She fixed the Director of Port Operations with a hard gaze. Make sure you do it right, Theresa. Theres no room for error. *** They took the visitors entrance to exit the Ministry and walked idly down the street until they found a corner Chinese food restaurant to stop. Harry had found this place on his many walks to get away from the Ministry. Hed been horrified to learn that traditional sit in Chinese dining was rapidly disappearing, replaced by take out and delivery establishments that had your food ready always in ten minutes or by huge mega-buffets that had food sitting out in vast quantities.. Harry had found this place which seemed to be a return to the traditional. They were seated by a friendly maitre d and they were given traditional menus. As they looked around, food was being brought in small aluminum plates with covers and drinks were served in glassware. They ordered and shared some small talk until their food arrived. Then Charlie leaned in. I knew things were rough. Mums letters have skirted the surface, but Merlins beard, Harry, youve never been this cloak and dagger about things, not since the Order of Phoenix. I know, Charlie, but things are happening that would appear to want to bring the country down. The big problem is that we dont know what Moriartys real agenda is. Its got to be more tha n to create some sort of criminal utopia. With his hold on the Ministry, though, were kind of limited. Is that why you came? Harry saw a moment of indecision cross Charlies face, then his friend took a deep breath. No, not really, actually, we have a problem that doesnt seem connected to all thats going on. Charlie responded, but obvious worry was in his face. Well, that will be different. Whats going on? Harry let out a loose guffaw. The last time you had a problem, we got involved with some man-hating women and you hooked up with a career thief. Charlies face flushed full. I did not hook up. Whatever. Harrys face grew serious. What is it?

Weve been experiencing serious issues with the dragons, all of them, around the world. They are being overly aggressive, agitated. I had to put down a Romanian Longhorn the other day, before it attacked a village of muggles. Charlies face fell. Harry knew that killing one of the magnificent beasts constituted a tremendous loss to Charlie. All of the dragons are experiencing this? Whats causing it? Harry asked, visibly shaken, because the danger posed by frenetically mad dragons in the world posed a grave threat. I dont know. The issue was frustrating. It is consistent across the world. Its impacting all species. Ive only seen behavior like this on certain occasions. Those are? When a mother is protecting their young, the dragons get rabid, crazed. They fight until the death. Charlies response was sober, serious. Something is driving dragons insane and we dont know what it is. Harry nodded. Ill have to take this up. I cant see why even a corrupt Ministry would ignore this. Im pretty sure well be able to take this on without any real difficulty. Harry had no idea how wrong he was. Chapter 234 The Approach In all her one hundred and twenty five years of life, Mona Greenbaum had never been down Knockturn Alley. When shed left Hogwarts all those years ago, shed played Quidditch, married a rich man and raised a family. Shed led a life that was typical and plain, yet shrouded in vanity and opulence. Shed been beautiful when she was young; vibrant and sure of herself. The woman shed seen in the mirror was one that turned heads and enjoyed a status in society that befits a duchess or a countess. But the years had taken their toll. Her husband had passed, her children had grown, her grandchildren had grown and she wiled away her days in a drab, drafty manor home where day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, she saw the lines on her face grow longer and the white in her hair become more prominent. Her steps were unsteady. In her youth, despite being pure-blooded, it would have been unseemly to be seen here. She gripped the strap of her purse tight to her body and made her way to the broad faade that marked the entrance to Borgin and Burkes. For days, shed resisted the temptation to come here, yet the testimony was in her mirror. She was no longer the striking beauty of her youth. Her dress hung on a bony shoulders and it had been an effort to walk this far. The rumors were out in the world. Whatever you desire! The promise of the return of her youth, of her vitality titillated her senses. She had to see for herself. She had to confirm the rumors. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door. The store was very much as it had been for centuries. Odds and ends were crammed in every corner and crevice. Behind a large, mahogany counter was a tall, thin older man with a bald head and a pencil-thin mustache. Mona stepped cautiously to the front of the counter and the mans eyes twinkled with merriment at her seeming timidity. She took a deep breath and looked at the man. A friend of mine says that you carry things I might have need of. Those were the exact words shed been told to use. Leland Gaunt smiled inwardly. Of course, I have many needful things here. In fact, I believe I have just what youre looking for. He reached behind the counter and pulled out a hand mirror made of bright sterling silver with intricate flowers carved on the outside. He handed the mirror to Mona.

At first, she was disappointed. She didnt know what to expect, but a simple trinket was far from what she had in mind. Still, the mirror was pretty and she admired its craftsmanship, thinking that it had to have been goblin-made. She twirled the mirror in her hand and studied her reflection. It started with an image of the way she was. Old, twisted, worn, but slowly that image transformed into what she remembered. She was young, pretty and full of life. It was more than what she saw in the mirror. She actually felt young, unfettered by the years of life shed experienced. There was a mirror on the wall nearby and she studied it quickly and sure enough, the same youthful figure was displayed back to her. She gasped in amazement, but as soon as she could savor the moment, Leland reached over and took the mirror. Almost immediately, she was back to what shed been. I must have that mirror. How much? She reached into her purse and started searching for her coin bag. Leland shook his head. I am a barter business, madame. You must do something for me in exchange for the mirror. She looked at him carefully, wondering what he was looking for. You see, youth and vitality are a zero sum game. You must remove some youth to gain some youth. He reached into his pocket and drew out a small vial. He handed it to her and stared into her eyes. After a moment, he whisper ed. You know what you have to do. She nodded. She needed to have that mirror. She turned and walked out the door, the vial held tightly in her hand. She walked purposefully up the alley and turned onto Diagon Alley. A toy store had opened near the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron and there was a line of children around the window display, enjoying the winter scene in anticipation of Christmas. The miracle of youth was that they lived without fear, without dread. It was what made them children. The price for her own renewed youth would be to dispel some children of their notion of invincibility. If the children have fear, if they lose their hopes and dreams, they surrender that vitality. Slowly, she drew her wand and pointed it at the sign above the toy store. With a murmured curse, the sign suddenly exploded in a flash of fire and light. The kids below screamed in terror and ran, looking for their parents. Adults ran into the fray, frantically searching for their kids. Mona returned her wand to her bag and started walking back down towards Knockturn Alley. In her hand, the empty vial was suddenly full of a bright, blue fluorescent liquid, her price to pay for her dreams. *** Sail ho! The lookouts voice rippled through the Discooperire, adding tension to the already wary crew. The lookout offered a deeper report. Two ships, four points off the starboard bow. One clipper and one cutter, low in the water, black hulled with a green stripe. I would assume thats the Heir and the Basilisk. Draco Malfoy muttered. He stood next to Captain Baretto who was looking at the new arrivals with a practiced eye. Draco had become part of the Discooperires crew, wearing bloused black pants and high topped leather boots and a loose -fitting white shirt. Hed wrapped a red sash around his waist and tucked a borrowed cutlass and dagger inside. The Discooperire had been cut loose by the Ministry and Malfoy Import and Export had taken on their contract. Technically, Draco was their employer and the crew should have seen fit to wear the uniform of the Malfoy fleet, but Draco didnt raise too much of an issue. After all, theyd saved his life and now were helping eliminate the pirate menace, once and for all. I agree with you, Signor Malfoy. Baretto turned to Muireall Innes. Signal those ships. Mr. Malfoy requests that they attend a conference aboard the Discooperire a their earliest convenience. Muireall nodded in acknowledgement and then set about raising signal flags to communicate the message. Draco watched the crew go about their duties with practiced ease. In many ways, it felt good

to be here, out in the thick of things, than be cooped up in his office, waiting for an assassins strike. When everything was done, hed make it a point to return to sea. Message received and acknowledged, Captain. Muireall offered a terse report and stood off to the side. Adelina nodded her head. Well, so it begins. Barettos sentiments were echoed in Dracos head and leaned on the rail, await ing the meeting. *** Harry walked hesitantly onto the main administrative level of the Ministry. He hadnt been up here since Arthur Weasleys resignation almost six weeks earlier. On the surface, not much had changed. The nameplates of the new office holders were bright and shiny, bespeaking their newness. He stopped in front of the alcove for the office reserved for Alex Nevsky and waited patiently for the plain looking secretary to finish scribbling on a piece of parchment in front of her. After a few seconds, she pushed the cats eye glasses perched on the tip of her nose upward and studied Harry with an appraising eye. Harry Potter to see Mr. Nevsky. Harry said, without much enthusiasm. Do you have an appointment, Mr. Potter? The womans voice had a high pitch, which matched her unsavory personality. No, but I do have urgent Auror business with the Director. Ill see if hell see you, Mr. Potter. She rose, almost reluctantly and waddled through the large oak door behind her. She closed the door solidly. Harry waited for what seemed like an hour before she returned. She tilted her head back and looked down her nose at him. Mr. Nevsky will see you. Thank you. Harry walked past her and pushed open the door. Harry! Good to see you! Whats this all about? Nevsky was ensconced behind a large desk and he didnt bother to stand on Harrys entrance. I dont want to bother you sir, but I need permission to conduct an investigation. Part of the new rules for Harrys team was that all new investigations had to be cleared by his boss. Certainly, what do you have? Harry went into a brief recap of Charlies story. When he finished, he concluded with the obvious. I cant say I like this, sir, but Im sure we dont want hundreds of rabid dragons pelting along the countryside. Nevsky nodded soberly. I should say not, however, why should your office handle this? Isnt this better handled by the Department for the Control of Magical Creatures? Normally, yes sir, but shouldnt we find out if there is a dark forces tie to all this. Certainly theres someone behind this. You mean, Keyser Soze, Harry? Nevsky was half teasing and half warning. Let me remind you, that youve been instructed to cease that investigation.

Yes sir, but I was making no connection to that. These reports are describing behavior by dragons that is abnormal. There very well might be some external influences there. Harry hadnt made the connection with Soze, but Nevsky had. A heightened sense of dread came over him. Nevsky shook his head. Of course, but as I see it, this is not a job for Aurors, but for animal tamers. Im afraid Im going to have to turn you down. Send an owl to the head of the Department for the Control of Magical Creatures outlining your concerns and that should be the end of it. Now, how are we doing on the investigation into Malfoy Import and Export? Its coming along, sir. Ive got my best man on it. Good, now Im very busy, so if youll excuse me? Harry took his cue and left. *** The longboats hit the water almost immediately after the signal flags went up. The captain of the Basilisk was a tall man with an aristocratic air about him. He had raven black hair pulled into a tidy ponytail and pale skin, unusual for a man who spends most of his waking days on a working ship at sea. He boarded with a practiced grace and nodded towards Draco when he saw them. Welcome aboard, Captain. Adelina Baretto slightly at the waist. I am Captain Adelina Baretto. Andrew Pence, a pleasure to meet you captain. Despite his appearance, Pence was warm and friendly and his handshake was vigorous. After making his manners, Pence moved away from the gangway and walked towards the quarterdeck, allowing for the next crew to board. Regina Burney was the first to board and she immediately went over to Baretto and shook her hand vigorously. The two captains sized each other up, assessing each individual strengths and weaknesses. As Baretto offered a smile, there was an audible gasp from her first mate. Baretto looked over at Muireall and saw her staring at a tall, blonde haired man with crew cut. He had piercing blue eyes and was scarred from numerous battles in his past. There was no mistaking his lineage, however. In all respects, he was the male version of their lost mistress at arms. Burney saw the reaction to her Chief of the Boat and her hand wandered to the hilt of her sword, mistaking the response for hostility. Is there a problem? Do you know Chief Lockley? Burney asked warily. Baretto struggled to regain her composure and in the silence, Lockley walked up to his captain and looked at the officers of the Discooperire curiously. Baretto took a deep breath. Lockley? Are you any relation to Gwen Lockley? The gruff man shrugged his shoulders. Shes my sister, although I havent seen or spoken to her in twenty years. Why, if I may ask? Do you know my sister? Muireall blanched, her porcelain skin became gray while Baretto pursed her lips tightly. Im afraid I may have some bad news, Chief. You see, for the past couple of decades, Gwen Lockley has been my mistress at arms. Im sorry to say, she was killed in action about a month ago. The news seemed to leave the man speechless. Baretto couldnt tell if it was the fact that his sister had been on this ship or that shed been killed. Either way, it seemed like he was floored. He took a minute to process the information.

My sister and I really havent been close since we were kids. Id still wager that youre pulling my leg, though. No one could take Gwen down in a fair fight. His voice was strained and Burney had never seen her Chief so affected. No, no one could take her straight up. Unfortunately, she was on the wrong end of a poisoned Minotaur horn. She died saving one of our VIP passengers. She died with honor. You are most welcome aboard, Chief. Barettos voice caught and Lockley bowed his head slightly. Was this related to why we are here? He asked quietly. Baretto nodded. Yes, we were going after the Book of Thoth. That was what was taken when Ngabe attacked us in Egypt. Lockley straightened his shoulders and fixed the captain with his eyes. Then, Id say I have some paybac k to deal out on this mission. He was focused, determined. Draco watched the interplay from the side and as the collective captains made for Barettos cabin, he leaned into Muirealls ear. Id hate to be this Ngabe character when he gets a hold of her. Muireall nodded in agreement and followed Draco below. *** You need to stay away from the students. James Moriarty paced nervously in front of the Headmasters desk at Hogwarts. A contemplative Fu Manchu held his hands out. If you had delivered the ingredients I needed, I wouldnt have to harvest them from the student body. Fu Manchus voice was scolding, condescending. Moriarty stopped pacing and faced the tall Headmaster. I sent you here for one reason. You will bring the mother back. Youre dabbling with the students is bringing scrutiny down on us. Fu Manchu shrugged his shoulders. My price was the delivery of the chief ingredient for the Elixir Vitae. You dont seem to have any problems taking the potion, but you have a problem with how I collect it. You said youd give me all that I needed and you have failed in the delivery. Gaunt is collecting it was we speak. Hes taking a chance being so visible, but so far hes gotten more than enough. Dabbling with the students has distracted you from your mission. Captain Reade will be in position in ten days. You need to finish your task. I dont care what the weather conditions are. As he spoke, Moriartys voice grew lower, almost a whisper, an implicit threat. Fu Manchu was hardly impressed. You may have convinced everyone else about your invincibility as Keyser Soze, Professor, but I know who you are and what your aim is. I will fulfill my obligation, you handle yours. Moriarty took a deep breath, tempted to deal with Fu Manchu at that precise moment, but he was so close, so near what he wanted. Instead, he exhaled audibly and nodded his head. Youre correct, of course, my apologies. The first shipment of Gaunts ingredient will be delivered tonight. You must keep up the spell of return. All Im asking is that you hold off on using the children for what you need. I will do so, but after you get what you want? Fu Manchu asked, an eyebrow arched. After her arrival, you may do what you want with the students of Hogwarts. Moriarty concede d.

Fu Manchu smiled broadly. Good. I find their memories so very delicious. It has a very profound effect on the potion. I cant wait to harvest all that I can from them. *** She didnt have a name. For eons, shed traveled the void between plant s, seeding her progeny among the worlds that dotted the galaxy. She enjoyed the solitude of her existence. She was so old to even remember the name the Titans had given her, and now, it simply didnt matter. Her journey was prolific. She was encased in a ball of ice that sent trails of vapor and dust in a long tail behind her. Shed been called a comet by the inhabitants of the small, blue ball where shed visited just recently, only a hundred years earlier. She liked the designation. She sensed a flash of light and a call to her inner self. She turned her gaze towards the source. It was the blue ball, the original home of the Titans. Someone was calling her back. Something must be wrong. Only the Titans knew that call and theyd only used it whe n summoning her to help thwart danger. She altered her course. In ten revolutions of that planet, shed be back. Shed find out what needed her attention. *** The small observatory in the mountains of Colorado was privately run, no university to back it, no government funding to keep it running. It was a labor of love kept operational by five friends. One of them peered through the viewer, tracking the object, the comet known as M/1908 E2* was boring, yet it wasnt being handled by the better known observatories. The man checked his figures and then looked back at the comet. He rubbed his eyes and checked his calculations. This couldnt be right. He waited an hour and rechecked things. He couldnt believe it. Comet M/1908 E2 had changed its cour se. It was coming back, towards Earth. *Although this comet is fictional, the naming convention is real. Comets are given unique designations that include the year and half-month of discovery, with the half-month given with upper-case letters (A = Jan. 1-15, B = Jan. 16-31, C = Feb. 1-15, etc.; letters I and Z are not used). A numeral (1, 2, 3, etc.) follows the letter within the half-month. Thus, three comets discovered in the first half of March 2002 would be known as C/2002 E1, C/2002 E2, and C/2002 E3. A "P/" is used instead of "C/" when the comet has an orbital period under 30 years. Once a "periodic" or "short-period" comet has been observed to return to perihelion twice, it is given a permanent number that precedes the comet name (thus, 1P/Halley, 2P/Encke, 152P/Helin-Lawrence, etc.). This designation scheme replaced in 1995 Roman numerals. In the 19th century, astronomers sometimes referred also to returning short-period comets with names that reflected the discoverers (beginning in the 18th century with Halley's comet), and during the 20th century, comet names began to be very widely used in addition to the designations. The official use now is to give the comet's designation, followed by its name parenthetically; thus, comet C/1995 01 (Hale-Bopp). Permanently numbered periodic comets are usually written with the number and the name; thus, 1P/Halley, or 19P Borrelly. Source: http://www.nasm.si.edu/research/ceps/etp/comets/comet_names.html

Chapter 235 Brain Trust It was late evening in the small, rarely used neighborhood park. A loud popping sound followed by a whiff of smoke marked the appearance of an apparating figure in the center of the grounds, next to the small war memorial statue. Harry suddenly appeared and looked around, checking to make sure that some wayward muggle walking his dog hadnt wandered upon his magical display. Convinced that hed been undetected, Harry walked towards the park exit and crossed the street, heading for the row of brick brownstone apartments that lined the road.

12 Grimmauld Place still technically belonged to Harry, bequeathed to him on the death of Sirius Black. When Harry had moved his family out into the country, the home had been used by Kreacher to house wayward house elves recently freed during the emancipation process, but the house elves had all moved on, slowly getting acclimated to their new freedom and the home on Grimmauld Place stood unused. Harry felt a tinge of nostalgia for the former headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, and it was here that Harry had decided to house his new association, which his friends insisted on calling Potters Army. Hermione had reconstituted the Fidelius Charm around the place, enhancing its power and hiding the Potters portion of the home from the muggle and wizard world. Harry waited for a few moments as the charm recognized him as a secret keeper and revealed the front door. He was late, having been held back at work by another of Nevskys inane meetings. Ian Gordon and Alexander Nevsky seemed fixated on Malfoy Import and Export while completely ignoring the alarming incidents that had been going on all around them. There were the dragons, of course, but there had been a series of troubling attacks involving heretofore law abiding wizards and witches, the most recent one being conducted on a toy store in Diagon Alley by an octogenarian witch. Tension hovered over Wizarding Britain and the administration seemed to be playing the role of Nero fiddling while Rome burns. What was more, the Office of Aurors was being actively opposed in investigating these matters. The pattern of attack was becoming more frequent, as if Moriarty was moving towards some endgame that would not spell good things for Harry and his friends. Harry walked into the home and walked down the main hallway into the kitchen. Around the kitchen table sat most of the members of his private task force, whose primary task had been to gather information around the events theyd been investigating. At the head of the table sat Miles Jackson Smythe, alongside John Dawlish. Hermione and Ron were there, as was Ginny. Also seated were George, Dudley and Lee, their wives and Dean and Isabella. Harry felt pride in his friends as they joined him in his quest. Standing by the door were the Aurors who Harry had brought in to help. Williamson, Cavendish, Lachlan McCrory, Silas and Mortimer as well as Dennis Creevey who stood by the stove, an apron tied around his waist as he tended to a simmering pot. Finally, there was the woman seated at the near end of the table. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled back into a pony tail and her eyes had a trace of distaste at sitting with the people in the room. Nonetheless, Domina Malfoy was fully helping them, and by doing so, resurrecting her husband. Sorry, everyone, the Minister wanted to know about my progress on digging up dirt on Malfoy Enterprises. He glanced over towards Domina. I told him that we were close and that my best man was working the case. Thanks, Harry. Ron said, beaming. I meant Lachlan, Ron. Lachlans working that case. Harry said, drawing derisive snorts from George, Lee and Dudley. Harry brought everyone back to the main topic. An yway, Charlie is following up on the dragon matter. Hes in Wales, seeing if the pattern is consistent with the Welch Greens. Bill and Fleur are at the bank. The Ministrys new financial regulations are driving them crazy, but it also gives them a chance to check on the money flow. Harry looked over towards Dean and Isabella. They probably could use a hand with that. No problemo, Harry. Dean smiled and then grimaced as Isabella poked him in the side with her elbow. Harry laughed and then turned serious. I get the feeling were building up to something. Youve all read Teddys letters from Hogwarts and youve seen the reports from the field. The enemy is working towards some goal, so what is it? He looked over at Domina.

Malfoys wife looked up at Harry. Draco and Discooperire have met up with the Heir of Slytherin and the Basilisk. Theyve set up their trap, now all we need is for the enemy to take the bait. Hopefully, real live prisoners will give us real live answers. Harry nodded and looked out towards the end of the table. Miles, what have you got? Well, Harry, as far as the potion that Fu Manchu is concocting, I can only think its got something to do with extending life, kind of a way to cheat their way around havin g to create a Philosophers Stone. Miles paused and let that information sink in. What makes you say that? Ron blurted out. Miles looked over at Ron, kindly. Well, in our research on Fu Manchu, Miles waved a hand at Dawlish, we found that Fu Manchu has been around for over four hundred years and I dont think its a case of revolving identities, like this Keyser Soze nonsense. What does that have to do with hopes and dreams deprivation that Teddy described? Dudley spoke up, his mind instantly going to the horrific tale Teddy had told of his visit to the Headmasters office. I have a theory on that which would fit nicely with the other events weve seen. Miles smiled widely, as if daring the others to delve into his brilliance. Well spit it out man! Im paying a babysitter time and a half. Ron spoke up. Well, given what young Master Lupin has given us and given the events weve seen, we have to look at the nature of immortality. The blank looks on the others faces prodded Miles on. Life expectancy is a zero sum game. We have allotted life spans, even with the longer life spans wizards have, we have a finite existence. In order to live outside that span, you have to take something from others. Thats what Nicolas Flamel discovered. What do you mean by taking from others? Hermiones brain was working overdrive. A light of understanding suddenly hit her. Hopes and dreams! Precisely, Mrs. Weasley, you are correct. The hopes and dreams, the good thoughts create an ener gy that fuels the potion. Miles beamed at Hermione, her fast mind working overdrive. Pardoname, but what does that have to do with the attacks? Isabella understood the positive energy, but the terror attacks, principally on children would not elicit positive energy. Miles was thrilled with the brain power in the room. He took on the guise of a professor among gifted students. Excellent observation, Senora Thomas! You see, positive feelings and negative feelings are directly related. Terror and fear among children robs them of part of their childhood. In my estimation, its better for the bad guys to get the positive thoughts, but the fearful thoughts have a power all their own. I think both can be used. Whats that got to do with the dragons? Harry asked. For the first time since theyd known the brilliant wizard, they saw a look of puzzlement on Miles face. I dont know. The words seemed distasteful to Miles. I dont think it has anything to do with them. I believe that the dragon issue is separate. Harry nodded and a thoughtful silence descended on the room. Finally, Lachlan reedy voice permeated the space. Weve always operated under the premise that Moriarty had a different agenda from what

hes advertised. I have no doubt that the potion issue is part of their standard goal, because theyve included most of their minions in getting it done. Its too public. Ron seemed to be in pain, his brow furrowed as he tried to assemble the puzzle pieces. Finally, he looked up. Maybe the dragon thing is part of Moriartys other plan and theres something else to consider. He paused and absorbed the collective look of surprise around the room at his insight. What if what Teddy saw on the Astronomy Tower had nothing to do with the potion? Im talking about the star charts and spells in the sky. What if thats completely unrelated? Miles thought for a moment. Thats an excellent point, Ron! That fits the premise very well. Now all we need to do is uncover what those items mean. So, where do we start? Harry asked, his question directed at Miles. The older wizard took a deep breath. When I was an apprentice Auror, one of my first assignments was to pursue the fugitive wizard, Moriarty after the murder of Sherlock Holmes. We lost his trail somewhere in Europe, but there were persistent rumors that he fled to Russia. Russia is a big place, Miles. Where in Russia? Harry stared at his friend. I dont know. Miles admitted. Hermione had been busily flipping through the pages of a standard muggle almanac. When did the Aurors lose Moriarty? She asked in a curt tone. Miles looked up at the ceiling. Well, it will be a hundred years next Tuesday. So, Id say somewhere in 1908, I guess. The room was silent as Hermione read through the book, murmuring to herself. Her lips stopped and she plopped the book down on the table. I think Ive got something. All eyes went to her as she smiled. Tunguska. Understanding crossed Miles face. Of course, well done, Mrs. Weasley, well done. Tunguska? Ron asked. A large, unexplained explosion occurred near the Podkamennaya Tunguska River in Krasnoyarsk Krai, Siberia, Russian Empire. No one has ever fully explained it. It was more powerful than just a simple meteor impact. Hermione offered. Whats that got to do with dragons? George offered. Lees face brightened. An large explosion with a destructive fireball? Come on George, what doesnt it have to do with dragons? Harry nodded. Well have to look deeper into this, but we have to address the other things as well. The problem is that the Aurors and I are under tremendous scrutiny. We need validation that Russia is the target. Until we find that, we cant move. Also, weve been undermined on the terror bombings. Harry looked at George and his cohorts. George, Im going to ask that you, Lee, Dudley and Hermione take a look into the Diagon Alley angle. A lot of the events seem to originate there. Dean and Isabella, you guys go back to Gringotts. As they say, follow the money. The Aurors and I will attempt to follow the more obvious trail and run interference for everyone else. We need solid information people. I have a funny feeling that we havent heard the last of this yet.

*** Captain Ngabe, no, wait, now it was Commodore Ngabe let her glass sweep the horizon while a small part of her cherished the sight of the three ships of her squadron. The three galleons the Syndicate had provided her were fast and powerful. Shed named them for their task. The Punisher boasted thirty guns and was captained by one of the survivors of her guard, while the Devastator had twenty six guns and also was helmed by one of her trusted followers. The largest was her flagship, the Tormentor carried forty guns and was by far the largest of her little fleet. Their combined power had chased the Malfoy fleet into the relative safety of the nearest harbors, but Ngabe knew that in order to stay in business, theyd have to come out. She was prowling the most likely approaches to the Portsmouth port. Sails Ho! The lookout was pointing towards the far western horizon, towards the setting sun. Ngabe allowed her spyglass to track towards the distant vessels. She spotted two sets of sails, indicating two ships. She looked over to her first mate, who was busily flipping through a small book. It looks like theyre Malfoy ships. From their profiles, one is the Basilisk, with twenty four guns and the other looks like the Narcissa, no guns. His report was succinct. Ngabe smiled to herself. Change in aspect on one of the targets, maam. One of her senior crewmen had a telescope to his eye. It looks like the larger one is coming about. Ngabe offered a wicked glance to her first mate. How sweet, the Basilisk is offering up herself to save her unarmed sister. Her face became serious, deadly. I want both ships, Number One. Signal the Punisher and Devastator to close up and pile on sail for pursuit. We should be able to close on them within the hour. *** Andrew Pence stood by the starboard rail of the Basilisk, peering through his telescope towards the advancing enemy. His own executive officer approached him quietly. Weve completed the turn, sir. Were about as ready as we can be. The tall woman hesitated, waiting for acknowledgement. Whats on your mind, Monica? By all external appearances, Pence would seem cold and distant, but he was actually the antithesis of the pure-blood stereotype. He called his officers by their first name and they knew they could raise anything with him. Thats a lot of metal coming towards us, sir. Are you sure Mr. Malfoy knows what hes doing? Her question had been rattling around his head for the past week or so, as they executed their plan. Pence chuckled. Well Monica, I cant say I havent had my doubts, but Im fairly confident that well be able to hurt them. The question is, sir, whether we can come through without getting too hurt ourselves. The approaching ships looked huge, even at this distance. Well, it looks like were about to find out. Clear for action and sound general quarters, if you please Monica. Pence raised his glass back to his eye and wondered for the umpteenth time, whos idea was this crazy plan. Chapter 236 Comeuppance

Captain Ngabe felt the familiar feeling of anticipation as her small squadron closed the distance with the Basilisk. The smaller and lighter Devastator had pulled ahead, anxious for the honor of striking the first blow against the oncoming Malfoy vessel. Ngabes rapier was drawn and her knuckles were white on the pommel as visions of running through flesh brought goose bumps on her forearms. Their formation was sloppy, haphazard, more of a freewheeling race than a coordinated mass. While the galleons were powerful enough, their crews had been drawn from the dregs of criminal society and were, therefore, not very experienced in open sea combat. They were, though, utterly ruthless individuals and Ngabes plan was to pound the enemy ship and then board her to allow the strengths of her crews to carry the day. She felt a troubling tingle on the nape of her neck. Ngabe was an experienced sea fighter. Something about how the ship they were about to engage raised a tinge of doubt in the back of her mind. The Basilisks course was too steady, too predictable. If the captain on the approaching ship were simply an inexperienced merchantman, than a suicidal run would be uncertain and loose. If the captain were experienced, than theyd still show some sense of panic or would choose a specific target to die for. At the very least, theyd be trying to lead them away from their fleeing sister, but this captain was doing neither. He was coming steadily for them, his prow aimed for the very center of their formation. It was as if the other captain was sure of his or her actions. It was as if the other captain expected to survive and was acting in concert with a master plan. It was as if the Basilisk was not alone. Ngabe whirled around and faced the open ocean behind her ships. The water was uncommonly calm and for a moment, she doubted her intuition. Suddenly, two spots in the water began to froth madly, white caps bubbled in a frenetic display of power and frenzy. Her eyes widened as the tips of two masts began to rise out of the water followed closely by the two heavily armed ships that were hiding beneath the waves. The large vessels propelled themselves upward and broached the surface in a cascade of waves and splash and came up in perfect formation. Ngabe coolly assessed the professional manner that the gunports on the new arrivals sprung open and the menacing maws of dozens of cannon poked out. The two ships pivoted in a closely coordinated pirouette of death. Ngabe smiled grimly as she recognized the familiar outlines of the Discooperire. She knew she was too late to issue the warning, but she spun and screamed at the top of her lungs. Come about! Action aft! She fell to the deck as the first salvo from the new arrivals struck the stern of her ship. *** I guess we got the first shot in, Captain. Muireall Innes watched as the Heir of Slytherin and the Discooperire poured their first broadsides into the exposed rear sections of the Punisher and the Tormenter. The Devastator was far enough away to not be affected, but had issues of their own as the Basilisk opened up with a broadside of its own. Baretto smiled grimly. Ngabe is no fool, Number One. Shell recover soon enough. Baretto looked down on the cluttered main deck as her gun crews reloaded rapidly for another fusillade. She nodded her head to the cluster of men and women hovering around the main mast. In their center, Draco Malfoy nodded back and then raised his arm. Lets go! As one, twenty figures rose into the air astride brooms, led by Draco. On the Heir, a similar number of wizards and witches followed suit. The arced into the air and gathered at a point high in the sky. Draco pointed his arm and the two groups selected a ship to go after and dove towards the embattled pirates. Take out the masts and the men on the tops! Draco shouted and then drew his cutlass and leaned forward. ***

Damn. Ngabe mumbled. In her years, shed never contemplated using aerial wizards in an assault, yet up above, Baretto had sent dozens of flying wizards at her. Their strikes were tearing holes in her sails and she heard the unsettling thump of bodies as one by one, her sharp shooters mounted atop the masts were slowly taken out. Load the chasers with grape! Chase armament were smaller guns mounted at the bow and the stern of ships to offer some sort of firepower to the front and back sections of the ship. Grapeshot, in the muggle world, turned those guns into large shotguns as canisters of metal balls were loaded into the muzzles and shot out at short ranges. In the wizard world, the grapeshot pellets were similar to snitches. They werent as maneuverable, but they had the ability to correct their paths in flight. Unfortun ately, the chasers were small and the number of snitch ammunition was limited. Still, Ngabe hoped to whittle down the flying enemys numbers. Fire! She shouted as another barrage from the pursuing ships struck the Tormentor. *** Draco swooped up and turned for another pass, his section following in a tight formation. He pushed the handle of his broom over and then pushed it down in a steep angle, careening forward for another pass. He saw a puff of blue and gold smoke come from the end of the enemy ship and realized they were shooting at him. Shield charms! Draco barely brought his arm forward casting the spell while his wingmen attempted to follow suit. Most were able, but Draco heard the thud of metal hitting chests and three of his companions fell to a watery death below. The shots seemed to be intelligent and Draco watched as even erratic maneuvering failed to make the deadly shots miss. Concentrate on the chasers! Take them out before they kill us all! Draco pointed his course t owards the front of the enemy ship and barreled down, hoping he could get there before they reloaded. *** Baretto watched soberly as the enemy managed to shoot down several of the fliers. Ngabe had adapted to the aerial plan rapidly. Adelina turned to her first mate. Wed better start the final phase. Inform Chief Lockley to execute the plan. Baretto looked back at the blistering battle. She hoped they could finish this before she lost too many more people. *** Lockley stood in the well deck located at the very bottom of the Discooperire. He and his ten volunteers were standing around a square cut into the floor of the ship where the sea rippled gently in the middle. Muireall Innes walked into the moon pool chamber and pointed to the water. Its time, Chief. Good luck. Lockley nodded and then pointed to his men. Then he jumped into the center of the pool and into the water. He tapped his head with his wand and the bubble charm formed around his face, letting him breath. He looked around the small underwater room and found his bearings. A scaly body bumped past him and he reached out and grabbed it. He pulled himself atop the creature, the giant seahorse, and straddled the waterproof saddle and tack that was affixed to the sea animal. His team followed suit and Lockley pointed to the opening that led to the open ocean. He pulled on the reins and led his team out into the water.

Their gentle mounts made surprising speed. The underwater environment was surprisingly mild and calm, compared to the fiery tableau above the surface. He divided his team into two groups. He led one in one direction and sent the other away towards its assignment. His team glided ahead and soon the rounded hull of his target appeared. He traced the outline of the keel, a long timber that ran the length of the ship and acted as its spine, which all the wood and frames were built around. Working with rapid efficiency, Lockley and his team quickly pulled large Tupperware containers from their satchels. The square, plastic boxes had spikes glued to their bottoms, allowing the team members to affix them to the spine of the ship. The top of the containers had a large WWW stamped on it, as they were another item drawn from the Weasley Wizard Wheezes inventory. Each box had a long black fuse extending from them. Lockley drew his wand and mumbled a spell. The tip of the wand glowed a bright white and even in the water, the Chief could feel the heat emanating from the glow. Lockley and his team touched their wands to the fuses and then spurred their mounts away from their target. *** Ngabe was recovering from the surprise of the ambush. Shed managed to get the Tormenter and the Punisher coordinated enough to turn and face the new arrivals. Their shots were beginning to land while the Devastator continued its deadly dance with their original target. Her ships had been hurt badly, but still outgunned their adversaries and were big enough to absorb the initial punishment. Ngabe admired Barettos plan, but as always, Ngabe would get the best of her old captain. The evil pirate gripped her rapier tightly. Perhaps, finally, shed get the chance to run Baretto through, once and for all. A shockwave dumped Ngabe to the deck as two massive explosions tore through the air. She rose to her feet and stared over the rail. The Devastator and the Punisher both had snapped in half and as she managed to look at them, the two pirate galleons sank into the sea, as if pulled down by an invisible hand. In one quick, fatal instant, shed lost two thirds of her strength and the odds had changed. Ngabe was not a fool. In fact, her life had been marked by knowing when to fight and when to run. The Tormenter was the most heavily armed of her ships, but even it c ould not withstand an assault by three warships. Come about, put on all possible sail. Get us out of here. Ngabe knew it was time to run. *** Well, shes running. Shes got a big head start on us, Captain. Muireall peered through her telescope. Patience, Number One. Prepare our boarding teams. Remember, we need prisoners. Baretto had her helmsman make a quick course correction. Even Ngabe? Muireall saw the pain in her Captains face followed by an expression that shed never seen before. Her captain was worried and with good reason. Ngabe was the best anyone had ever seen with a blade. Baretto thought on her first mates question. Finally, Baretto sighed. Even Ngabe. *** Every wizarding ship had a moon pool. Lockley had reassembled his teams after their demolition mission and led them to the small opening beneath the Tormentor and rose up into the small antechamber inside the hull of the pirate ship. As was custom, there were two pirates watching for such an incursion, but neither had seen the sheer violence that was embodied in Gavin Lockley. He pushed his sea horse to full speed and used the momentum to vault from his saddle and land between the two startled men. Lockley spread his arms wide and grasped their heads in his hands and crashed them together, rewarded by the sickening crunch of bone on bone. The two hapless pirates sunk to the deck, no longer a threat.

Lockleys team entered the room and spread out, wands and swords drawn. Lockley maneuvered himself to the front and quietly opened the door that led to the rest of the ship. The sounds of footsteps and the occasional cannon blast hid their own stealthy approach. They made their way quickly to the very stern section of the ship until they came to a small, narrow room at the very rear. The room was marked by a pole that entered from the ceiling and continued on down through the deck. There was a large black chain wrapped around the pole which rotated from time to time. Lockley assessed the mechanism looking for a specific point of weakness. This was the steering gear, which connected the helmsmans wheel to the large tiller affixed to the back of the ship, allowing the ship to maneuver. Lockley held up a finger and pointed to five members of his team, who nodded and left the room working their way forward. The burly Chief waited for a few minutes, allowing the men hed sent away to make their approach to a second pole located in the center of the ship. This was the bottom of the main mast. Captain Baretto had asked that the Tormenter be crippled. Doing so meant taking out its steering and its propulsion. Lockley would handle the steering and the second team would topple the main mast, effectively rendering the ship immobile. Lockley pulled a small hourglass from his pocket and watched as the last grain of sand tumbled out of the top cylinder. He waved the remainder of his team back and unsnapped his wand from his cutlass. He pointed the wand at the pole, where the chain and the steering column met. Redacto! *** Ngabe watched as she opened the distance between herself and her pursuers. She smiled grimly. She was a survivor. Barettos trap had been good, but not good enough. Suddenly, there was a muffled explosion and her helmsman spun the giant wheel uselessly. Ive lost steering, Captain! He shouted. Before Ngabe to turn to verify his words, there was another muted explosion followed by a loud crack and then the main mast tumbled over the side, its sails and spars dragging in the water. The Tormenter was going nowhere anytime soon. Ngabe felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as she watched the three enemy ships approaching, like sharks in the water. Her hand gripped her sword and then she turned outward to her crew. Standby to repel boarders! The survivor in Ngabe began to formulate a plan. *** Baretto grinned as the damage to the Tormenter became apparent. She turned to Muireall. Signal the Heir to board on the port side. Well take the starboard. Ask the Basilisk to cover us. Muireall nodded and walked to the signal station. The Discooperire flew across the water and her boarding party stood ready, with grapnels in hand. The damage to the other ship had obscured her gun ports, so the enemys return fire was light and indiscriminate. Baretto watched with satisfaction as the Heir of Slytherin seemed to be mirroring her preparations, her crew armed and the black hulled ship altered course to come alongside the Tormenter port side. As Muireall returned to Adelinas side, the captain drew her rapier, the twin to the gift shed presented Ngabe so many years ago.

Well, Number One, lets go say hello to an old friend. Muireall nodded and drew her cutlass and waited. *** Ngabe stood still and watched the two ships draw up along side. Here and there, snaps of spells and charms shot from either side as the crews started a stand off fight. Inexorably, the two enemy ships neared and then dozens of ropes with hooked grapnels flew from the other ships and attached themselves to the sides of the Tormenter bringing the three ships into a final, deadly embrace. There was a shout and scores of sailors from both sides vaulted across the rails and leapt onto the deck. Ngabe heard a thud as a sailor landed nearby and brought his cutlass down towards her head, but she raised her rapier up and parried the cut easily and the whipped the tip of her blade across the mans chest, cutting him open. Repel boarders! As one, the remaining members of her crew ran from belo w decks and the battle was joined. *** Lockley brought his team to the main hold and listened to the progress of the battle. From the sounds, he could tell that the enemy was concentrated on the main deck, while the boarders had managed to seize the stern and forward portions of the ship. Lockley led his team to the center of the main hold and grasped a rope that run through a pulley, which was connected to a small platform. The chief smiled wickedly and motioned his team to mount the platform and then he began to pull on the rope, raising the platform up, towards the main deck. *** Despite her skills, Ngabe felt her crew being herded to the center of the ship. She slashed at her opponents, felling several of them. Her eyes scanned the enemy. She saw Muireall and another woman who could only be the captain of the other ship. Finally, she settled on the figure in a white shirt and red sash, who was busily and expertly cutting down the pirates that tried to take her on. Ngabe bristled at seeing Baretto and resolved herself to one thing. No matter what happened, Adelina Baretto was going to die. Ngabe propelled herself through the melee, cutting here, slashing there, working her way towards her former captain. Baretto saw her approaching and decided to meet her treacherous former first mate. The other combatants seemed to melt away, as if aware that a fight that had been destined was about to be waged. All around, the battle continued furiously, but a bubble seemed to form around the two women and the twin rapiers clashed as they came together. The first exchange was rapid and vicious and Ngabe quick thrust drew blood on Barettos arm. You cant win, Captain. Ive always been better than you. Ngabe sneered and circled Baretto. Adelina brought up the tip of her blade. I think youll find that as with everything, you assume too much, Ngabe. Baretto lunged forward, the end of her sword aimed at Ngabes heart. Ngabe seemed prepared for such a direct and telegraphed attack and brought her blade up to parry the strike, but in mid thrust, Baretto rotated her wrist to the side and changed the points target from Ngabes chest to her arm. The movement had been a feint and now Barettos blade drove through Ngabes arm, cutting through. Ngabe screamed in pain and shock. In all the time shed been a warrior, shed never been hurt like this. Baretto deftly drew back her sword and held it at the ready position. Then the two women came

together and continued their fight. The twin rapiers moved with lightning quick speed, barely distinguishable to the eye. Since their encounter in Egypt, Baretto had been working harder on her swordplay, determined to not allow Ngabe to best her again. Her efforts seemed to bear fruit. When Ngabe attacked, Adelina parried and then counter attacked with brutality. Soon, Ngabe was breathing heavily and she launched desperate assault which drove Baretto back, against a nearby capstan. One of Ngabes thrusts barely missed Barettos head, embedding the blade momentaril y in the wood behind her. Baretto snapped her wrist up and slashed outward, wounding Ngabe on the leg. Behind them, the battle continued, locked in a stalemate. The pirates position was strong, defendable. No one noticed the main hold doors opening or the small platform with ten heavily armed wizards atop of it. Nor did they notice the tall, blonde man who led them with a murderous gaze and a sword in each hand. No one noticed, that is, until Lockley struck, attacking the pirates from behind. His twin blades whirled and spun, mowing down the enemy who were awed and devastated by the attack from the unexpected direction. Lockley and his team bore through the pirates, opening holes for the rest of the boarding party to enter. The battle was rapidly coming to an end. Ngabe watched the tide turning and saw that she was not getting through Barettos defenses. Her hands moved quickly and grabbed the clear white stone affixed to her neck. She threw the stone down and was rewarded by a loud, blinding flash of light. Baretto shielded her eyes, but kept her sword up, to anticipate a strike in the confusion, but none came. When the blinding light diminished, Ngabe was gone. All around, the pirates were surrendering, en masse, but their captain was gone, as was Chief Lockley. *** Ngabe used the stun stone to make a quick escape below deck. The fighting had mostly been confined to the top decks, so the interior the ship was deserted, save for the random bodies of the dead. She ran through corridor, towards the aft section where her cabin was. Her mind was on the small Franklin stove in her cabin and its connection to the floo network. She was racing through where she should go. Her whole involvement with the Syndicate had brought her nothing but prob lems. Shed lost four ships and she always felt like she was on the edge of being killed. Shed had enough Keyser Soze and Mary Reade. She as getting out of here and hiding out until their little plan was done. She threw open her door and reached into her pocket for some floo powder, but pulled up short. There was a tall man with close cropped blonde hair wielding twin cutlasses standing in her cabin, blocking her access to the floo. He somehow looked familiar. She was certain shed never met him, b ut his carriage and the sheer ruthlessness on his face reminded her of someone. Instinctively, her hand drew her rapier. Going somewhere? Lockley grumbled even as his legs tensed and the grip on his swords tightened. Speed was of the essence, Ngabe thought. Shed better strike now. Despite his looks, the man was a lumbering sod. Shed attack quickly and be done with him before his slow wits caught up with her. She brought her blade down and slashed at Lockley. Ngabe had been wrong. Despite his size and strength, Lockley moved with speed and dexterity of a dancer. He spun around and caught her blade easily with one sword and brought the other down on the flat of her rapier, snapping it in half. Then he extended his arm and ran one of his blades through her shoulder and impaled her on the wooden bulkhead behind, lifting her off her feet and groaning in pain. Who are you? Have we met? Ngabes voice was incredulous. She was the greatest warrior that ever lived, except maybe for one other, but she was dead.

My name is Lockley and someone has to pay for my sisters death. Youre as good a candidate as anyone. The Chief took pleasure in her stunned look of surprise. He shifted his remaining blade to his open hand and raised it up to strike the final, killing blow. Chief Lockley! Regina Burneys voice halted him in midstrike. He turned and saw his captain and Captain Baretto in the doorway. Draco Malfoy shouldered his way into the cabin and interposed himself between Lockley and his prey. Burney moved up and placed a reassuring hand on Lockleys shoulder, her voice softening. We need her alive, Chief. Hah! Do gooders! You should have let them kill me, Adelina. Ngabe spit on the floor and the grimaced from the effort. Youre Ministry will let me out quicker than you think. We own them. Draco spun around and faced her. With a quick movement, his hand reached up to the hilt of the blade that held her to the wall. He turned it slightly, and Ngabe had a sharp intake of breath as the pain coursed through her body. These people dont work for the Ministry, they work for me and considering that you and your boss have declared war on me and my business, I wouldnt put too much stock on your life, just yet. Draco said evenly, death in his eyes. Who are you? Ngabe asked, feeling fear starting ebb into her body. Im Draco Malfoy, and youre going to tell us what we want to know. Thats impossible! Youre Ngabe couldnt process the reality. Dead? Draco chuckled. Maybe so, but think about this, they cant prosecute a dead man for torture and murder, can they. Ngabes eyes widened, realizing the stakes had changed, yet again. Um, sir? Mr. Malfoy, if I may? Draco turned and saw Captain Burney walking up to him, a small brown vial in her hand. We could always use the Veritaserum, sir. It may be a little more precise. Draco accepted the proffered bottle and snorted. You know, Captain Burney, sometimes you take all the fun out of things. You can be a real buzz kill, sometimes. Tell me about it. Lockley murmured softly, but his voice carried to the others and he smiled in embarrassment. Draco laughed out loud and turned to Ngabe. Well, it looks like well get what we need, after all. After that, who knows what well do with you. He uncorked the bottle and jammed its spout between her lips. He poured a good amount down her throat. Now then, Captain Ngabe, tell us about Keyser Soze and his organization. Remember, theres a very long line out here of people who want a personal interview with you, starting with Captain Baretto and the Chief here, so it would be in your best interest to come clean right away. Draco replaced the stopper into the vial. Believe it or not, Im the nice one. Chapter 237 Needful Things and Wheezes Youre standing on my toe. Well, move over then. I cant

Why not? Because youre standing on my bleeding toe! Would you two keep it down, PLEASE? Im trying to concentrate. Dudley Dursley rolled his eyes and then returned his gaze to the Extendable Eye he was holding. He was in a small alley located directly across from Borgin and Burkes, in what could be called a surveillance blind. A cloak of invisibility (the regular kind not THE Cloak of Invisibility that Harry owned) was stretched across the alley, two sides attached to the rough brick walls of the place off Knockturn Alley. Piles of rubbish and trash cans had been placed in front of the cloak, creating a spot for Dudley to watch the events ov er at Leland Gaunts store. Of course, Dudley wasnt alone. His partners at Weasleys Wheezes, George Weasley, the founder and namesake, and Lee Jordan, the moron, as George called him, were standing vigil with Dudley in their hiding spot. It hadnt been hard to follow the clues that led them to Borgin and Burkes. The real issue had been that the powers that be in the Ministry had refused to allow any real follow up. So it fell to George, Dudley and Lee to perform the investigation on their own, outside the purview of the Ministry. They came to the conclusion, based on rumors on the street and on eyewitness testimony, that this store on the seedier side of the law was the common thread among all the clues that theyd found. For the past twelve hours or so, theyd been waiting here, watching the comings and goings, trying to determine the secret of the store. Obviously, George and Lee werent exactly the most patient of people and as their mission entered its thirteenth hour, they were beginning to get a little restless. What is that smell? Lee whispered to no one in particular. George raised his nose to the air. Were in an alley, hiding behind a trash heap. Thats not it. Lee made a theatrical display of sniffing the air, all the while, D udley studiously ignored the interplay. Lees nose came to a stop, pointed in Georges direction. Its you! Is not! George spoke out in a louder whisper, all the while tucking his head down to check his armpits. Youre rank! Lee asserted, snickering. George drew his wand snapped out a quick bolt of lightning that struck Lee on the back side. Lee, naturally, had to retaliate. An annoyed Dudley reached out and snatched their wands from their hands and boxed them on the top of their heads. If you guys are so bored, go home! Ill keep an eye out myself. Initially surprised by their friends response, Lee and George snatched up their wands and retreated to opposite walls of the alley and crouched down on their haunches, their arms crossed and petulant expressions on their faces. Dudley shook his head and returned his gaze to the Extendable Eye. *** About thirty feet above them, there was a long, narrow wrought iron fire escape, a second blind was set up, in a similar fashion. Instead of opening up a cloak, however, the invisibility spell had been applied to a massive tarp, which provided coverage for the area of the fire escape. Four women sat in comfortable chairs, sipping tea from cups placed on a table amid the chairs. There was an overly large telescope with a wide lens and an even wider eyepiece that resembled a television screen that allowed the women to see the front of Borgin and Burkes without having to leave their chairs. One of the women had russet

hair that fell beneath her shoulders in an ordered tangle. She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes as she watched the men below them. Theyre infants, arent they? Hermione Weasley shook her head and took a cookie from a tray on the table. Thats my man. Verity Weasley and Sarah Jordan said simultaneously and giggled together when they realized theyd done it. A beautiful, blonde woman chuckled with them and then pointed. At least Dudley is paying attention, but dont worry, hell start getting irritated and tie them up after a while. They really mean well, Hermione. Sarah spoke up. Sarah was an Auror, but after the birth of her second child, shed taken an indefinite leave of absence. She still retained the skills shed acquired as an Auror and that accounted for the more comfortable setup the ladies enjoyed. Hermione eyed Sarah skeptically. Theyre bored, Sarah. I cant say that I blame them. I havent seen anyone go in there yet. Verity yawned and stretched her arms. That doesnt mean anything. Weve only been out here during the day. Everyone knows that the real juicy stuff doesnt happen in Knockturn Alley until nightfall. Beatrice added thoughtfully. Hermione nodded her head and took a sip of tea. Youre probably right, Bea, but the real qu estion is can George and Lee avoid giving themselves away long enough for us to see it? Thats why were up here, and theyre down there, Hermione. Sarah glanced up at the sky. The suns getting ready to set. Id say were due for some action. Th e four women, collectively, pulled their cloaks around their shoulders as the chill of winter began to make the temperature fall. *** Darkness brought a blanket of silence over their hiding place. Dudley stood dutifully, peering through the Extendable Eye and watching the shadowy passers by. As he took his umpteenth look through the device, a low rumble emanated through the air. At first, the sound was muted, quiet, but it grew steadily and Dudley turned to find its source. When he did, he snatched a smoothed hickory walking stick from its resting place and brought it down swiftly. It connected with the foreheads of George and Lee, who were seated with their heads together, fast asleep. George sat upright and rubbed his head where Dudley connected. Ouch! That hurt! Whatd you do that for? You guys were snoring! I swear to God, you want to be found out. Dudley whispered tersely and set his stick down. Well it beats waiting around here. What time is it, anyway? George rose and stretche d his arms up, working the kinks out of his muscles. Dudley glanced at his wristwatch quickly. Its about a quarter to midnight. Lee was stretching on the ground. George shook his head. That late? Anything going on?

Nothing, no one has come by and nothing is happening. Dudley reported. Im tired of all this waiting. George pulled his cloak over his body and cinched up the binding. He checked the security of his wand attached to the leather sheath on his wrist and then he stepped out into the alley. George! Get back here! Dudley said, urgently. Where are you going? Im going to take a look around that place. George said with conviction and started strutting across the street towards the store. Lee ran out of his cover to walk in with George while Dudley frantically moved the eye from the window to the door. Above them, the women began to stir, with Verity slapping a hand to her forehead. Sarah chuckled nervously. Thats your man. George and Lee entered the door to the store, slightly tensed, not knowing what to expect. The store was quiet, no seemed to be stirring. Hello? Is anyone around? George called out and was met with silence for his troubles. He shared a quick look with Lee and motioned to the right. Lee nodded and started down the aisle in the direction George indicated. George, for his part, started walking down the left hand aisle. The stock on the shelves was orderly, but not neat, lending an air of organized clutter. George held a passing interest in the inventory. There was a myriad of things, small and large, on the book cases. Some were mundane and boring, but others made George turn his head. His eyes fell on a long, shiny oblong object that rested atop a dusty case. It was oblong, with a rounded handled wrapped in soft leather on one end and flattened down towards the other end. It seemed to be made of silver and was polished to a high patina, so much so, George could see his reflection in the surface. George looked around. He could see Lee on the other end of the store, among a row of books and ledgers. George looked back at the object and smiled. It was a beater club, although the ones that George was familiar with were usually made of wood. He wondered who had made it. Perhaps it had been an award of some sort, or a memento that someone had wanted to preserve by dipping a normal beater bat in silver. He reached down and wrapped his hand around the club and pulled it from the shelf. It was surprisingly light. George whipped it around in the air and smiled to himself, his mind racing back to the years he and Fred had been beaters for Gryffindor. He drew it back in front of him and scanned the bat for some sign of the previous owner, an engraved name plate or a written scrawl. He found none. He ran his fingers along the smoothed surface. It felt almost warm, alive and he stared at his own reflection, getting lost the gaze. His mind went blank and the room flashed in an explosion of light and cloud. *** He was standing in the middle of his store, the location at 93 Diagon Alley. It was close to Christmas and the aisles were packed with throngs of children agog with the displays of their wares. In one corner, Dudley was busily demonstrating the latest in muggle gags, while in another corner there were pops of sparks and smoke as Lee was showing off their latest whiz bangs. Verity was behind the register, supervising the staff as the galleons rolled in. Kids and adults alike were emptying the stock as soon as they could replenish it. George allowed himself a smile and he grabbed the lapels of his jacket and sighed contentedly.

There was a burst of noise from the front of the store. A crowd of children was gathered around a display near the front and were breaking into spontaneous laughter at whatever was going on. George grew curious and walked to edge of the crowd. A voice, familiar yet distant, was describing the latest in skiving products to the kids and asking for volunteers to display the wares. George felt his heart catch in his throat and he pushed through the crowd as gently as he could. He buried his shoulder into the throng and made his way to the front. There, with open boxes all around him, was Fred, his brother, describing his wares and thrilling the crowd. He saw George and smiled, an easy, loving smile and he stood up and put his shoulder around his twin. Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! I would be terribly remiss in not introducing you to the man who was almost as responsible for the creation of these products as I was, my brother George. The crowd erupted into applause and George fought down his confusion as he felt the warmth of his brothers arm around his shoulders. It was remarkable, despite the shock of seeing Fred, how easy it was to be in tune with him. Try telling them that I was fully responsible for the boxes, Fred. Youre just the pitch man. George laughed, losing himself in the feeling of the moment. Fred leaned in. Come on, George. Everyone knows Im the eye candy of the operation. Besides, whats wrong with being a pitch man? Watch this. Fred raised up his palm and held it open. Inside was a miniature dragon which was animated. It snapped its jaws at the air and puffed out balls of smoke. If you buy three skiving boxes today, youll get one of our patented snapdragons! Theyre guaranteed to make short work of nasty mosquitoes and horseflies! Fred trumpeted. It was Georges turn to whisper. Not to mention any household pet under ten pounds. Shhh, Im working. Fred said, with a smile on his face. Whos ready to buy! The chorus of yells drowned out any chance of further pitching. The kids grabbed the boxes and crowded around the register. Verity rolled her eyes and then smiled at George playfully as she helped the staff check the new customers out. Fred and George stood with their arms around each other and Fred sighed heavily. You know what, George? Whats that, Fred? This must be heaven, because it doesnt get any better than this. George mumbled something. Whats that George? Fred said. George? George? George *** Georges eyes snapped open and he looked around. He was back in Borgin and Burkes his hand gripping the bat tightly. George! Lee stood next to him and reflexively, George jumped at his name. Lee saw alertness back in Georges eyes. Are you all right? You looked kind of out of it there. I did? Im sorry, I must still be sleepy. George wiped his eyes with his free hand.

Say, thats a nice beater, whered you get it? Lee asked, admiring the object in Georges hand. For some reason, George felt very protective of the item. He grasped it to his chest, like a four year old protecting his most prized toy. Nowhere. Are you sure youre all right? Lee was looking at his friend carefully. I said Im fine. George changed the subject. You find anything? Lee shook his head. The two started for the front of the store. Before they could clear the aisle, Leland Gaunt came around the corner and smiled. Hello, sorry, we didnt see anyone. We were just looking. Lee said quickly. Gaunt didnt look at Lee. Instead, his eyes seemed to focus on George and the thing in his hand. Did you find what you were looking for? His voice seemed disembodied to George, more in his head than through his ears. George nodded. Is this what you want? Is this what you need? Again, George nodded. He seemed to be in a trance and Lee stared at the exchange curiously. How much? George asked, fumbling for his coin purse. Gaunt smiled again. You know the price. George felt rather than heard the voice in his head. Suddenly it came to him, the price. Fred could and would be brought back. He would be whole again. They would be together. The price, the price, the price. Happiness was a zero sum thing. He had to deliver terror to enjoy happiness. That was the thing. Children, they were the greatest reward, but George was impatient. Terror in an adult would work too, he thought. He could do that for Fred. He would do that for himself. George? What in Merlins name is going on? Lee saw the blank look in his friends face and drew his wand, pointing it a Gaunt. Oi! What did you do to him? Gaunt simply shrugged his shoulders and looked back at George. Lees eyes followed Gaunts and he turned just in time to see the head of the bat heading for his own temple. Lee ducked down and felt the rush of air as the near miss swept the area where his head had been scant seconds before. George! Its me, Lee! Lees voice didnt seem to have any affect. He rose and waved his hands in front Georges eyes. George! This time, George connected with Lees side, causing an audible rush of air to exit Lees lungs and forcing Lee to the floor. Gaunt stood to the side, holding a small vial in his hand. There was a small drop of blue liquid in the bottom. He looked at George and held the vial up. Youll have to pay more, much more. George nodded and raised the bat over his head, aiming it at his friend. If it required a blow for every drop, he was ready to deliver it. Expelliarmus! Hermiones voice rang through the store, her spell sending the silver bat flying. Sarah rushed to her husbands side while Dudley grabbed Gaunt by the shoulders. Beatr ice walked up and pointed her wand at Gaunt while Verity ran to George. His physical connection to the bat lost, George stood for a moment, his eyes foggy and then Verity saw the light of awareness return. He looked at the floor where Lee was and then at Gaunt. He felt a rush of

guilt and loss as the memory of the dream that included Fred was still vividly fresh in his mind. George ran up to Gaunt and snatched the vial from his hand. He feeds on misery. Hes a fear merchant. George said. He knelt beside Lee. Im sorry, Lee. Lee nodded, but was still breathing hard. He lifted his head towards George. Its all right, George. What did you see? George was silent and he turned to face Verity, a pained look in his eyes. Verity nodded in recognition. Fred. She said. The anger built in her chest and she balled up her fist. She whipped around and punched Leland Gaunt in the solar plexus. How do you like being punched in the gut? Leland doubled over, gasping for air. When he stood uprigh t, he sneered at them. You cant do anything to me. I can crush you where you stand. What do we do with him? Dudley asked. They looked at each other and pondered. Finally, Hermione let out a deep breath. Lets get Harry and Ron. Corrupt Ministry or not, they need to maintain the image of propriety. We have more than enough evidence. Harry can arrest him and put him in front of the Wizengamot for trial. Gordon and Nevsky dont control them. She offered. I dont like it, but weve got to try something, I guess. Lee had regained control of his breathing. Still, somebody better call them in. Hermione nodded and walked to the alley, digging into her purse for the small slab of silver that she used as a link to her husband. Verity slid her arm around Georges waist. She saw the raw emotion there and her heart broke. George stood for another second and then pulled his wand. His friends crouched in fear, and scrambled to raise their own wands, but George turned and pointed it at the silver bat. Redacto! The bat shattered like a mirror and exploded into a thousand pieces. Like anything else without real substance, it had been hollow and brittle at the core and could not survive the power of righteous indignation. Chapter 238 High Treason Harry walked into the Leaky Cauldron and nodded over towards Hannah Abbott, who was locked in useless banter with several customers sitting at the bar. Harry walked through the crowd and made his way to the stairs and proceeded up to the second floor. He passed down the corridor, past the doors to the open bay dormitory and the private rooms to a door at the end of the corridor that was marked by a sign labeled Private. He walked into the room. It was sparsely decorated, only a dilapidated couch and a large, brick fireplace on one wall. Harry shut and locked the door and threw floo powder into the center of the fireplace. The flame flared a brilliant green and flickered intermittently until it formed the shape of a familiar face, built in total from the light and fire of the fireplace. Hello, Potter. Harry smiled and nodded to the disembodied head in the center of the flame. Draco. How are things?

All went according to plan. We captured Ngabe, but Mary Reade was not there. In f act, Captain Reade is on the other side of the planet, engaged in some sort of mission for Moriarty. Dracos voice held a trace of humor as he related what hed found from the leader of the pirates. Where is Captain Reade? Harry asked. What is Moriarty up to? Draco seemed to hesitate, then stared at Harry. Ngabe seemed to be small fish. What she knows was drawn from what she heard or inferred. It seems that this Syndicate of theirs has two groups. Theres an inner circle, composed of Moriarty, Fu Manchu at Hogwarts, and Mary Reade. The others are ancillary characters, excluded from Moriartys main plot. If Ngabe was an outsider, how does she know all this? Harry asked pointedly. Ngabe was involved in getting a ship for Mary Reade to use. Normally, shed been brought in front of the entire membership, but in all things dealing with Reades trip to Russia, only Moriarty and Fu Manchu were involved. Draco answered. Who else is involved in this Syndicate? Harry felt he knew, but confirmation wouldnt hurt. Theres the Minister, as you know, Ian Gordon. Your boss, Alexander Nevsky, is involved as is his little blood Countess at Azkaban. Oh, and theres someone who runs a shop in Knockturn Alley, named Leland Gaunt. Your old friend Fenrir Greyback is a flunky, just like Ngabe was, by the way. Draco waited as Harry bit his lip, thinking of the next course of action. The Syndicate held positions of great influence, but the fact that Moriarty had excluded the Ministry component from his master plan possibly presented an opening for him. So, what do I do with Ngabe and the crew we captured? You dont think your friend Gordon will lock them up, do you? Dracos voice told Harry that he knew the answer to that question. Id bring them to Xanadu. Piracy is a crime of the high seas, let the Confederation deal with her and her crew. Harrys recommendation made sense. Draco nodded. Were underway for Xanadu, and then well try to catch up with Reade in Russia, but we dont kn ow exactly where shes going. Youre going to have to find out, Potter. Once were in the Arctic, well be flying blind. No you wont. Check your charts for Tunguska, thats where we think shes heading. Anything else? Harrys mind was racing. The more he learned, the more questions remained. There is one thing. Towards the end of the session, Ngabe kept repeating the same thing over and over, when we asked her what Reade was doing in Russia. He waited as he made sure he had Harrys undivided attention. She kept saying ddraig enedigaeth. I wonder what that means? Harry mused. Well, as you know, the crew of the Discooperire is very cosmopolitan. Its Welch. It means, Dragon Birth. Leaving Harry with that thought, Draco signed off. The flame whispered out of existence. Harry sat back on the couch and folded his arms in front of him, thinking about what hed learned from Draco. Hed already deduced that Russia had something to do with all this. Hermione had figured out that Reade was going to the location of the Tunguska explosion. It was interesting that the Ministry partners of the Syndicate werent involved in the larger conspiracy. It was as if they were being used to

screen the bigger plan, but werent aware of it. Hed have to find a way to flush out the Minister, to see if he was aware of how Moriarty was using him. There was a soft knock at the door and Harry turned to find Hannah peering inside. Harry? Hannah, yes, thanks for letting me use your floo. Hannah waved her hand, pushing his concerns to the side. Youve got some visitors, Harry. I put them in room four, down the hall. Harry rose and took a quick look back at floo, then nodded at Hannah and walked out of the room. He crossed the space to the door labeled number four. He rapped on the door and pushed it open. His eyes grew wide and shook his head. Apparently, things were a good deal more complicated. *** The blue planet beckoned her. The flashes of light signaled the clarion call. Her progeny were in pain, in trouble. The large ice ball that encased her body started glistening with a bright orange glow. While not fully conscious, she was aware, her ancient mind remembered every visit, every moment shed been at that world. She remembered the small, soft creatures that inhabited the world. They called themselves humans. They hadnt posed much of a threat, but they were troublemakers. If there was something threatening her children, it had to be the fault of these humans. If that were the case, she would make them pay. The bright, white ball that was the comet seemed to pick up speed, the destination locked on the bright blue orb known as earth. *** Harry walked in the room. George, Lee, Dudley, their wives and Hermione stood rather sheepishly, like children caught with their hands in the cookie jar. A slight figure was seated in a chair in the corner, his arms and legs bound, a gag in his mouth. Leland Gaunts eyes blazed with hatred as he stared at Harry. Well, this certainly makes things difficult. Harry said, looking at Gaunt. What happened? Hermione stepped forward. Well, Harry, we tracked the incidents of violence to Gaunts store. She proceeded to describe their surveillance at Borgin and Burkes and the subsequent events. Hes a fear merchant, Harry. He convinces people that they will get their hearts desire if they terrorize people, especially children. He had me convinced Id get Fred back. George said, his face crestfallen. Harry nodded. Are you all right, George? Im good, Harry, really. The real question is what do we do now? George responded. Harry pushed his hand through his wild scramble of hair. That is the question, isnt it? Cant you take him in, Harry? Hermione offered. Youre the Head of the Office of Aurors. You can bring charges on dark wizards directly to the Wizengamot, even if the Minister himself objects. True, but I still work for the Minister, Hermione. Harry said. He thought for a moment. Still, we cant tuck him away indefinitely. Harry walked over and released Gaunts legs. I guess well just have to see what happens.

He walked Gaunt to the door. Before he left, he looked back at his friends. It wouldnt hurt for someone to go to Grimmauld Place. Bring Ginny and the kids and Rose and Hugo there. I have a sinking suspicion that things are about to get interesting. *** Most of the Auror Teams were in the Ministry. The restrictions that had placed on their investigations had reduced their time in the field. Lachlan McCrory and his team were not sitting there, considering that Harry had assigned them to investigate Malfoys business. In fact, McCrory and his team were assigned to protect Domina Malfoy from any attempts on her life . It was the price Harry paid to ensure Dracos assistance. Ron, Cavendish and Williamson were all present, with their teams. Needless to say, all were astonished when Harry walked in, pushing Leland Gaunt ahead of him. Harry shoved Gaunt over towards Silas Hornsby. Take him to Interrogation Room Number One. Silas nodded while Harrys team leaders came up. Whats going on, Harry? Ron asked. Harry gave a quick rundown of the events over the last day. He turned to Cavendish. Draw up the papers to charge him before the Wizengamot. Keep it quiet. Im sure the Minister will not approve our diligence. Cavendish nodded and headed out to set up the mechanism to charge Gaunt. Harry turned to the others. I figure we have a couple of hours before they figure out hes here. Then things will come to a head. Harry turned to Ron. I dont intend to let them lock me up. Im going to resist and run. Ill have a better chance out on the outside, then here. Youll be in charge, Ron. Keep the Aurors out of trouble. Hopefully, we can get things resolved. Harry, were in this with you, you cant tell us to not help you. Ron said, his face locked in determination. Yes, I can, Ron. The Aurors need to be protected. Thats my final decision. From Rons face, Harry could see his friend wasnt happy, but understood Harrys reasoning. Harry nodded. Now, lets go see what Mr. Gaunt knows. *** Ian Gordon struggled to keep his expression neutral. He strode down the corridor of the Minis trys second level, the rhythm of boots snapping behind him. A phalanx of the Ministrys new hit squad, thugs and thieves from the shadowy criminal world that Gordon and Nevsky had brought in to enforce their will. There had been no word from Soze. In fact, they hadnt heard from any of the other members of the Syndicate in quite a while. Gordons nerves were frayed. He suspected that Soze had an ulterior motive, but the lack of information made him nervous. Roskolnikov had rushed into his office when news of Gaunts arrest had set them into motion. Gordon decided to move on Potter, like hed wanted to do from the start. If Soze wasnt available, that was his problem. They marched into office Aurors. The hit squad fanned out to either side as the heads of the Aurors popped up over their cubicles at their entry. Leland Gaunt was locked in a small cage in the center of the room and Harry stood nearby, turning to face the new arrivals. Ah, Minister, good! Weve managed to arrest the man responsible for the rash of terror attacks. Hes a fear merchant, and weve got his full confession. The calm in Harrys voice caused Gordon to snap. What do you think youre doing, Potter? Gordons voice became elevated, reaching a higher pitch.

My job, Minister. The Aurors are tasked with tracking down dark wizards and stopping them. Harry spoke as if speaking to a child. Gordons face started flushing, the veins in his neck popping out. You idiot! You were instructed to review all investigations with your immediate superior. You mean Mr. Roskolinikov? Im sorry, Mr. Nevsky? Harry added, sardonically. Gordon paused while Roskolnikov blanched. Quickly, the Minister regained his composure. Release Mr. Gaunt, Potter. You are relieved of your duties and will submit to protective custody, pending an internal review of your actions. The tension in the room was palpable. The Aurors rose, as one, as the hit squad stepped forward. Harry held up his hand, trying to keep the Aurors in check. Gordon saw the potential for escalation. We only want Potter. Theres no need to ruin your careers. Gordon added. Harry turned and faced his teams. Stand down. This is between me and the Minister. Harry turned and smiled towards Gordon. And Keyser Soze, of course. The Minister choked. Pathetic, Potter, always chasing after some childs fairy tale. Oh, I dont know, Minister. Youre right, Soze is a figment, but not the way you think, or did you not know you were actually working for James Moriarty? Harry watched Gordon process the information, his widening. He took the momentary pause to act. Harrys hand snapped up. Stupefy! Tried and true, the spell struck a pair of advancing hit squad members. Harry ran towards them, looking to get through to the exit. Ian Gordon hadnt been a fool. Hed brought a double team with him. There were a dozen in the room with him and another score outside. Harry was trapped. Ron looked over at Williamson and Cavendish. Both nodded. Time to pick a side, boys and girls. Ron yelled out. He drew his wand and led his team into the fight. Light and smoke struck the walls. Here and there an Auror would fall, knocked unconscious, while several hit team members were struck. The Aurors were more experienced, and worked better together, while the career criminals who made up the hit team were nowhere near the crisp professionals that Dennis had built over the years. Harry and his Aurors carved a path through their opponents and made their way down the hall and to the quick escape tubes. Soon, they were in the Atrium. As they ran through the center of the Atrium, Gordons last surprise waited for them. Almost sixty wizards blocked their exit from the Ministry. As they ran into the center of the Atrium, they were met by a hail of light and curses. Quickly, the Aurors took cover. Harry winced. Watch behind us! Harry yelled. Cavendishs team took up position to cover the rear, while Ron and Williamson worked on the anvil that faced them ahead. They picked at the edges, the ineptitude of their opponents clearly working for them. But numbers were telling the tale. The weight of wizards and spells would overwhelm them. Harry sent off a spell and then ducked his head behind the foun tain. He looked over at Ron. I suppose I should be flattered that they went to all this trouble over me.

Ron rose quickly and snapped off a curse down range and then ducked back down. There you go, always about you, Harry. Ron quipped. Ron took a quick peek. This is going to hurt, Harry. Weve got to get you through. Well try to punch a hole through them. Ron, I dont want that. I dont want anyone sacrificing themselves for me. Harry yelled. Ron snapped his hand out, popping his friend on the forehead. Harry, get over yourself. We need to get you through to complete the mission. Now get ready. Harry nodded and braced himself. As Ron and Williamsons teams rose, a tremendous explosion shook the room, bringing a good portion of the ceiling down on the majority of thugs in front of them. A blinding light immobilized those that hadnt been buried in the rubble. The sounds of the fight behind them began to dwindle as the hit team members behind them were quickly overwhelmed. Harry looked through the smoke and dust. A single figure stood near the floo entrances, wand in hand. Slowly, the air cleared. Lets go! Harry held up his arm and led the Aurors out of the Atrium, towards the exit floos. Harry and Ron ran to where the man stood. Harry smiled broadly and clapped the man on the shoulder. Youre back! Sean Manchester nodded and looked back at the destruction hed wrought. Yes, I decided to go back to work. Sean saw the uniforms on the men hed just stunned. Harry, what the blazes is going on? Are we the bad guys now? In a manner of speaking, why? Manchester shrugged his shoulders. No reason, Im just trying to plan my day. Harry chuckled and led them to the floo. *** High above, standing on a balcony overlooking the atrium, Ian Gordon watched the Aurors make their escape. He turned to Roskolnikov and nodded. Send out the declaration. Arrest all Aurors on the suspicion of High Treason. Make sure that you put it out there that we are placing a bounty on Potter, Weasley, Williamson and Cavendish. Make the reward one hundred thousand galleons and make sure we state that we want them dead or alive. Gordon took one last look down at the ruined atrium and then turned to leave. Where are you going? Roskolnikov asked. Im going to see our friend Soze. Hes been playing us and I want to know why. Im tired of playing the second fiddle here. It may be time for a new Keyser Soze to take control. And that would be you? Gordon gave Roskolnikov a deadly stare. Do you have a problem with that? The head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement bowed his head slightly and Gordon nodded back. Then he turned and left, his cloak billowing obediently behind him.