Fleur Delacour shifted uncomfortably in the worn wooden chair. Her wand twirled around her nervous fingers as she tried to compose herself in the cramped Diagon Alley restaurant. Her hood was thrown up, but she knew that would attract far less attention than her silvery hair and part-Veela heritage.

   Or the fact that I’m going to be meeting with Harry Potter’s legal counsel…

   Despite herself, she swallowed hard. She didn’t know why the meeting had been requested, the note scrawled in jagged, albeit feminine handwriting, as if the writer was quite competent with a quill, but couldn’t quite use it properly...

   It had been the crisp, professional words written on the paper that had convinced her of its truth. If anything, the writing had reminded her of Harry’s messages – and like those, she was worried about what she was being asked to do.

   It doesn’t make any sense that Harry’s lawyer wants to meet with me – if the Ministry had caught him, they would have plastered it all over the Prophet, and they haven’t – yet, she thought uneasily. And I covered my tracks scrupulously with the Zabini audit…

   But even after a few weeks of no questions, the doubt and worry that she had somehow made a mistake hadn’t faded – if anything, it had gotten worse. And now he’s snooping around, she thought uneasily, her free hand clenching into a small fist. Admittedly, he hasn’t been asking me questions, but he could be trying to circumspectly search…

   “Madam, would you like a coffee while you are waiting?”

   “No, thank you,” Fleur replied curtly, trying to conceal as much of her French accent as possible. The last thing I need is to draw attention now. “Has my companion arrived yet?”

   “She sent a message saying that she will be a few minutes late,” the waiter replied primly. The portly, mustachioed man had already stopped trying to catch glimpses of her face – something she was very thankful for. “Would you care for a beverage of any kind?”

   “Perhaps a glass of water would be best,” Fleur said carefully. Nothing alcoholic – after all, this is just lunch.

   “Certainly.” The waiter sped off into the crowd, surprisingly large given the relatively early lunch hour. Carefully adjusting her skirt, Fleur took a few seconds to peer around the room. By now, she suspected that her watchers – at least the Ministry ones – had been withdrawn, but she suspected that the goblins weren’t nearly done with her yet. The little fiends hold grudges, and the breach of their security – and even my suspected involvement – will have them keeping an eye on me for a long time…

   She didn’t think that she would be able to spot the goblin spy – she doubted the raucous, albeit well-dressed group in the far booth were involved, it was too obvious – but it didn’t hurt to look. She carefully scanned the room over the copy of the Prophet that she wasn’t reading. Most of the people in the restaurant were eating, laughing, playing cards, or arguing about something, and very few of them were sitting alone. Of course, Fleur knew that the best spies concealed themselves among their friends to throw off the obvious trail…

   Her gaze paused, and her eyes narrowed, focusing on one of the few people who were sitting alone – a young, buxom blonde with gleaming eyes and a haughty demeanor. Fleur frowned – she’d seen that woman before, but when…

   “Your water, madam.”

   “Thank you,” Fleur replied, carefully taking the thin glass and turning back to her paper…

   Only to see the blonde woman sitting across from her, a smirk on her rich full lips.

   “Hello there, Miss Delacour.”

   Fleur’s breath caught in her throat, and her wand stopped spinning in her hand to point directly at the mysterious woman. “I do not believe I know you, so if you would excuse me...”

   “Really?” the woman asked, raising her delicate eyebrows as her smile widened. “I would have thought our last, rather explosive encounter would have sealed the deal.”

   Now she recognized her. She didn’t relax, though – she had heard enough to know that Death Eaters would attempt such tricks. And it’s not like I have exactly a private profile…

   “But I’m not actually here for you,” the woman finished with a wink. “I’m here to speak as protection.”

   Fleur tried to conceal her surprise. “Pardon? Protection for who, exactly?”

   “Well, do you really think someone like Harry Potter’s legal counsel should go without protection?” the woman retorted. “Given the Ministry of Magic’s… recent stance? Given your position, you should know this better than anybody.”

   Fleur stiffened. This woman was striking far too close to home, and the last thing Fleur needed was to get flustered and draw attention. She gritted her teeth and gripped her wand tighter as she glared at the smugly smiling woman.

   “So I do not suppose, then, that you would know when Mr. Potter’s legal counsel is coming?”

   “My, so formal, you almost sound like a pureblood,” the woman replied with a snort. “She should be here momentarily – ah, I think that’s her now….”

   Fleur automatically rose to her feet as the new arrival approached the table, quickly surveying every aspect of her appearance with a long, casual look. Attractive woman… young for a lawyer, but the Ministry’s hiring younger staff all the time these days. She’s wearing business robes with more Muggle styling than is usually seen – she’s fashionable, though, which is indeed interesting. I can only hope that she’s actually intelligent…

   “You must be Fleur Delacour,” the lawyer began crisply, giving Fleur a curt nod before turning to the other woman at the table. “Nymphadora Vuneren, I must say that I’m a bit surprised to see you here.”

   “Just protecting the assets of the firm, if you know what I mean,” Miss Vuneren replied innocently. “Miss Delacour, may I introduce you to Clarissa Desdame, the legal counsel currently employed by one Harry Potter.”

   “Charmed,” Fleur replied, gritting her teeth. This Vuneren woman is a liar, or is at least concealing information. Desdame didn’t expect her to be here, but it doesn’t appear like she’s not welcome…

   “Right to business, I think,” Desdame began shortly, pulling a few folders from her briefcase and setting them on the table after they had ordered drinks. “As you know, I’m currently representing Mr. Potter in his legal affairs.”

   “Yes,” Fleur replied cautiously. Where is she going with this? And why am I involved? “I was under the impression, though, that he was cleared –”

   “The decision made by the school governors was only that Potter’s questioning was to be kept private and restricted within Hogwarts,” Desdame interrupted, her gaze towards Vuneren before returning to Fleur. “That did not remove the charges, however – collaboration with Sirius Black, the murder of Ollivander, and the destruction of his shop within Diagon Alley, not to mention evasion of arrest and obstruction of justice.”
   “Unfortunately, given the tumult within the Wizengamot and the Ministry at the moment, the charges have yet to be officially made public,” Vuneren added, her eyes glinting as she leaned closer. “The investigation was classified under the Hit Wizard Larshall, and when he was captured at Hogwarts, his subordinates were left floundering, so to speak.”

   “But that’s not going to last much longer, because the Minister’s campaign is two-pronged,” Desdame finished, her cold expression betraying more than a hint of disgust as she took the offered glass of water from the waiter. “He is planning a public press conference to appease the foreign journalists and the International Confederation of Wizards, and at that conference, he plans to attack both Dumbledore and Mr. Potter, and to do so, he plans to make Larshall’s investigation public. Follow me so far?”

   “Wait a moment… would not a public investigation imply that there’s going to be oversight from somewhere?” Fleur asked with a frown. “Would not that be good for Harry, consider half those charges are absurd?”

   “Typically, yes, but Fudge is playing a very tight game with the Wizengamot. While expanding the powers of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he is also pushing legislation that will allow him to mobilize the Hit Wizards and Aurors as an army, with auxiliary forces drawn from other departments,” Vuneren said with a snort. “That won’t pass through the Wizengamot easily, considering lack of precedent and the few supporters of Dumbledore still within the court, but Fudge is confident he has Dumbledore in a position of weakness, bereft of political power and allies.”

   Fleur could hardly restrain her noise of disgust. “That is insane. Surely Fudge doesn’t think he can restrain a wizard such as Dumbledore –”

   “Why do you think he’s been sending people daily to the Chief Warlock’s personal residence, trying to get Cassane to intervene on the Ministry’s behalf?” Vuneren asked with a scowl. “Nathan Cassane might not be in the same league as Dumbledore in terms of magical power, but he would be a formidable ally.”

   “And that’s not all the Minister is attempting to do,” Desdame continued, her eyes narrowed. “Given the magnitude of Dumbledore’s power and influence, the Minister knows that if he truly wishes to have any vestige of control over the Headmaster of Hogwarts, he needs to restrict Dumbledore’s flow of capital.”

   “And that means dealing with Gringotts,” Fleur finished, setting her empty glass of water down with a hollow clink. “And with the Department of Magical Finance.”

   “The goblins are proving most obstinate in dealing with the Ministry, and it’s not just because of the tightened security,” Desdame said, a hint of a smile on her face as she shifted in her chair. “Many goblins have supported Dumbledore’s push for reform, particularly in the goblin relations divisions.”

   “And it doesn’t help that the goblins have control of more of the Ministry’s money than the Minister is particularly comfortable with,” Vuneren added with a smirk. “A few of the more informed old families are already considering the withdrawal of their assets.”

   “The goblins will make them pay for it –”

   “Not enough, and it will be entirely too quick for our liking,” Desdame interrupted, leaning forward to give Fleur a penetrating glare. “It does not help that the Minister is entirely too quick-tempered when dealing with ‘inferior creatures’. The goblins have already been insulted once with the break-in at Gringotts, and they will not tolerate another slight.”

   “So what does this have to do with me?” Fleur asked, worry creeping into her gut – she suspected she knew where this was going. “I cannot mediate between the goblins and Dumbledore, if that is what you are asking –”

   “Far too dangerous, and Dumbledore already has Bill Weasley working on that problem,” Vuneren said curtly.

   “What we need from you is your cooperation in negotiations with the goblins on behalf of Harry Potter.”

   Fleur’s eyes flew open. “You have got to be –”

   “Delacour, this is no game,” Vuneren hissed. “Mr. Potter needs access to his money, and you know the goblins won’t give it to him without considerable… persuasion.”

   “They won’t negotiate with me – a part-Veela who supposedly collaborated with –”

   “Keep your voice down, and listen!” Desdame snapped. “We have a powerful bargaining chip, and that is the files taken from Gringotts in the first place. Those can be returned.”

   “That will not be enough to appease the goblins –”

   “We know, and that is why we will be providing them with this.” The lawyer pushed a paper, dense with text, across the table towards Fleur. “This is a binding magical contract, already sealed in blood by Harry Potter himself, for full disclosure on financial and business matters pertaining to the relationship between Mr. Potter and Gringotts.”

   Fleur cautiously spun the paper to face her and began carefully scanning the document. “And what is the point of this?”

   “A show of faith,” Desdame replied immediately. “Show them that a wizard is willing to be straightforward and honest with his dealings.”

   “Only for you to double-cross them in the fine print,” Fleur muttered with disgust. “It won’t be enough, you know. The goblins are masters of reading between the lines, and they’ll see right through your ploy –”

   “Who says this is a ploy?” Desdame countered. “Such disclosure is greatly desired by Mr. Potter, and there are no caveats in his offer. He wants the truth, and he’s willing to offer complete disclosure for it – particularly regarding one file he removed.”

   Fleur understood in a second. “He wants to know where the rest of the Potter files are.”

   “And the goblins should want to know as well, as an incomplete file is as much of an insult to their practice as an appropriation,” Vuneren added, tapping the paper twice. “Both sides get what they want – and complete disclosure allows coordination, so if the Ministry attempts any unregistered ‘financial seizures’ without due process of the law…”

   “I see,” Fleur said, understanding Harry’s game. He’s trying to set himself up to negotiate on his own terms with the goblins, but the only reason he’s able to do so is because he has things the goblins want…

  “But that’s not all we called you here for, either, Miss Delacour,” Desdame said primly, pulling another folder from her briefcase as she tucked the first one away. “We would like you to endorse this statement.”

   “What is this?” Fleur asked warily.

   “A press statement, intended for a few hours before the Minister makes his statement,” Desdame replied with a grin. “A statement made with the consent of both Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter and with the witness with him the day of the attack on Ollivanders, stating that you are willing to testify on his behalf.”

   Vuneren threw Desdame a sharp look – clearly, the ‘protector’ had not expected this document.

   “Would I have to deliver the statement myself?” Fleur asked, a bit of nervousness creeping into her voice as she read the paper.

   “Absolutely not,” Desdame replied. “If anything, you will be at work, as far away from this as we can possibly manage. However, you do realize this is no small thing Mr. Potter asks of you.”

   “It makes you a target,” Vuneren said bluntly. “Fudge won’t like to hear that a member of the Ministry is giving statements supporting this –”

   “The Department of Magical Finance operates with an unprecedented amount of autonomy, Nymphadora, and it will take time for Fudge to muster any sort of offense,” Desdame replied sharply, glaring at Vuneren.

   “You know the Prophet won’t print it –”

   “Of course they won’t, the Minister is leaning on the Prophet as it is,” Desdame snapped. “We’re targeting the international journalists who are going to be hungry for any dirt on the current Ministry administration – and they’d be more likely to listen to one of your own, a French national, over one of the Minister’s cronies. It also gets the message out publically, something that is very desirable at this point.”

   “But Harry’s always tried to keep things low-key,” Fleur said, the beginnings of a headache blossoming behind her forehead. “He fought very hard so that the public wouldn’t hear his interrogation –”

   “It’s a different situation,” Desdame cut her off abruptly. “The truth needs to be told, and Mr. Potter currently has a degree of protection –”

   “That Miss Delacour will not have,” Vuneren interrupted.

   Desdame did smile at that point – a crafty, self-satisfied smile. “As a matter of fact, she will have protection. You see, as a part of the goblin negotiations, there is a sub-clause that dictates that to avoid foul play the negotiators are to remain sacrosanct from all conflicts that could disrupt negotiations. The beauty of this little clause is that the press statement could be released and Miss Delacour would remain completely protected under Gringotts and goblin accord. The Ministry could attempt to arrest her, but then they would risk direct interference in goblins affairs – and a war with our world’s largest and most secure bank would be a political catastrophe.”

   “The Minister for Magic here does not seem to care all too much, though, considering he’s now planning war against Albus Dumbledore,” Fleur pointed out.

   “A decision that is already being questioned, and that the Minister will have to defend – the Prophet can only run its line of interference for so long,” Desdame finished crisply, folding her hands and looking intently at Fleur. “Well? Will you consent to the statement?”

   “Clarissa…”

   “Quiet, Nymphadora,” Desdame snapped. “Well?”

   Fleur hesitantly picked up the pen and took a deep breath before quickly signing her compact signature at the bottom of the page, which the lawyer whisked back into the folder.

   “Is there anything else?” Fleur asked.

   “Just one more thing, that Mr. Potter requests,” Desdame replied. “According to him, you have a form of ‘information-sharing’, is that correct?”

   Fleur’s heart began to beat faster, but she nodded. Why would Harry tell this lawyer about that? I thought we were going to keep things confidential!

   “I have been instructed by Mr. Potter to receive a report regarding what you might have seen or heard that he needs to be aware of.”

   She tried to keep her motions casual as she looked around the room, her eyes trying to find the watchers. Merde, why does Potter want to meet somewhere so public? If we are overheard…

   “Well?”

   Fleur leaned close, and beckoned for Desdame to do the same. “I think,” she muttered, “that someone is getting very interested in me in that Department.”

   “Casual interest or serious?”

   “Miss Desdame, when the head of the Auror Department comes knocking, you answer the door.”

   Vuneren inhaled sharply, and for a second, even Desdame seemed to react. But a second later, the emotionless mask had been replaced.

   “Is he snooping?”

   “He’s made it well-known that he’s looking for something, but he has not specified what,” Fleur whispered. “Tell Mr. Potter that his presence is starting to worry me a great deal.”

   “Do you think he knows something he should not?” Desdame asked, her expression very tense as she nervously drummed her fingers on the table.

   “If he does, he’s concealing it very well,” Fleur replied. “My concern is that he’s on assignment from the Minister…”

   “It’s not that,” Vuneren said abruptly.

   “Perhaps, perhaps not,” Desdame replied, her eyes moving across the room to the group of goblins in the booth – all of them were staring as one at the three blondes at the table. “Miss Delacour, I thank you for your time, but you might want to Disapparate immediately. Head to the bathroom and return to work.”

   “But how can Potter handle Scrimg–”

   “Just go!”

   Fleur stood up quickly and began to walk. The din was still loud in the dining room, but she could hear Desdame’s voice, edged and dangerous.

   “Vuneren, cover the bill. We’re leaving, and we need to talk – now.”

*          *          *

  “That was too close, you shouldn’t have come.”

   “Harry, I haven’t talked to you in a couple of days, and you need to be up to speed, now more than ever,” Tonks replied as she Metamorphosed in mid-step, her hair returning to bubble-gum pink. “And you didn’t exactly tell me you were meeting with Fleur –”

   “No time,” Harry replied quickly as they stepped into a small, junk-filled store with the words ‘Locke’s Best Antiquities’ creatively misspelled on the grimy glass door. “We need to get out of sight before people start thinking to track us.”

   “Then why exactly did we go into this place?”

   “Owner’s an old friend of Dumbledore’s, and he smokes far too much Knotgrass for his own good,” Harry replied, carefully maneuvering around a pile of discarded books. Shoving back a rug to reveal a small, rusted iron ring, he drew his wand and wrenched the trapdoor open. “If he even sees us, he won’t remember it.”

   “What the hell is down there?” Tonks asked, holding her nose. “Smells like something inhuman died in there.”

   “Knowing this fellow, probably,” Harry said with a grimace as he slowly descended the stairs. He had gotten much better at controlling the simulacrum, but the stairs were steep, and descending a narrow staircase made of rotting wood while in heels was hardly something that was easy for anyone.

   “Where’s your body?” Tonks asked, yanking the trapdoor shut behind her. “And won’t somebody see the rug shoved back?”

   “It’s been spelled to conceal the door, so I doubt it,” Harry replied bracingly, brushing cobwebs away from his face as he navigated between the piles of unsorted furniture and books towards a small table that actually looked a bit clean. “And to answer your first question, the reason I can’t contact you is because Fudge is intercepting everything we try and send out of Hogwarts. And my ‘real’ body is hidden in the secret passage behind the mirror. Once I switched over, I grabbed the Invisibility Cloak, went through the working passageway into Hogsmeade, and caught a Floo down over to Diagon Alley.”

   “Followed?”

   “Doubt it. We both know Fleur was, though.” Harry’s eyes narrowed as she shoved a heap of dirty ashtrays off an old armchair and began brushing off the soot. “The goblins in the back weren’t exactly subtle.”

   “And that only shows you how smart they actually are,” Tonks replied with a wink. “My bets are that they paid off the waiter – he certainly wasn’t accepting my bribes, which makes me think the goblins got to him first. And I know the Ministry wasn’t involved – not this time. They don’t have the manpower right now.”

   “You think the goblins will be interested?”

   “Damned if I know, it’s the first I’m hearing of this plan,” Tonks retorted. “Whose ideas were those?”

   “Dumbledore’s, mostly,” Harry replied with a shrug as he finally sat down, “albeit with a bit of my personal tinkering. He wanted me to help negotiate on behalf of the Order considering how everything went to hell with the Ministry, but I figured that with the files as a bargaining chip and with the whole disclosure agreement, I could stand to get some valuable information. Besides, Dumbledore is getting what he wants, in a way.”

   “So you’re finally starting to trust him?” Tonks asked, incredulity filling her voice as she sat down opposite Harry on a creaking stool. “You’re actually trusting Dumbledore now?”

   “I wouldn’t go that far,” Harry replied darkly, “but right now, there needs to be some cooperation if we want to stop it…”

   “Stop what?”

   Harry lowered his voice. “Remember those girls? Something drove them insane, and it would be just like Voldemort to do something like this – somehow. We haven’t exactly figured out how he could have done it, but Dumbledore’s got a few shrewd ideas.”

   “And most of his shrewd ideas turn out to be right,” Tonks finished with a shiver. “Drove them insane, Harry?”

   Harry closed his eyes and clenched both of his fists. “Three of them are completely unresponsive. The last one… well, she’s responsive, but something messed her up pretty badly. I did manage to get a clue, though, if you could check up on it.” Reaching into the briefcase, he pulled out a crumpled stack of paper and tossed it to Tonks.

   “ ‘Stoker’,” she whispered after a few seconds. “For some reason that sounds familiar… something from History of Magic.”

   “That’s what Dumbledore thought too,” Harry agreed. “He’s searching the library to see if the name comes up anywhere, but the Hogwarts library is not infallible.”

   “It could be Muggle,” Tonks suggested. “I mean, there is a chance the girl –”

   “Su Li.”

   “Pardon?”

   “That was the girl who told me. Her name was Su Li.”

   “Makes sense, considering she’s Chinese. Anyways, this clue could point towards something Muggle. The fact that ‘Stoker’ is an English word or name has some promise.”

   “What do you mean?”

   “Well, she could have said some word in Chinese that neither of us have the least bit of familiarity with, and that was a definite possibility, considering all four of those girls were Asian. Have you considered checking any books on Asiatic rituals?”

   “He had Moody do it. Nothing.” Harry sighed. “So, do you think you could turn something up for me, maybe check some Ministry records?”

  “I’m lucky I got the time off to talk to you right now,” Tonks replied, a note of disgust moving into her voice as she slumped against the table.

   “Bad times in the Ministry?”

   “Fudge is trying to find a politically expedient yet legitimate way to declare war on Dumbledore, and he wants to use the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as his army, both Hit Wizards and Aurors,” Tonks said grimly. “His initial press conferences have gone as well as could be expected, and a lot of the public doesn’t have a clue about the truth surrounding the brawl at Hogwarts. But the amount of bureaucracy Fudge is trying to wade through to make this legitimate is causing chaos in the Ministry – not to mention the fact that half of his staff don’t have a bloody clue how to run a government in a time like this…”

   “Since when is Fudge trying to get any vestige of legitimacy?” Harry asked furiously. “He let Umbridge do whatever she pleased until Dumbledore threw her out!”

   “Hey, you should be thankful for it,” Tonks replied with a shrug. “Word of mouth is that the whole thing was Scrimgeour’s idea, that ‘going through due processes makes it easier to convince the public. Technically true, and Fudge is running with anything that will boost his popularity and accomplish his aims, but I know a stalling tactic when I see one.”

   Harry frowned. “Hold on a second – why would Scrimgeour want to stall Fudge?”

   “Think about it, Harry – the sooner Dumbledore has his say, the less chance Fudge will be able to convince the public that Dumbledore’s a traitor to the wizarding world and a tyrant, and it’ll be less likely we’ll have a civil war. If Dumbledore can convince the public of his point-of-view, with enough rationality and evidence to back up his case, Fudge’s plans won’t even get off the ground – he’ll look like more of an idiot than usual. And none of this could happen if Fudge had tried to do things his usual way.” Tonks grinned. “And I’m sure you can see Scrimgeour’s political motivations from a mile away.”

   “He thinks that if Dumbledore’s message is believed…”

   “It’ll discredit Fudge, thus giving Scrimgeour a shot at the Minister for Magic position when Fudge gets sacked,” Tonks finished, leaning across the table. “Harry, this is the key thing here: Dumbledore only needs to convince the international journalists of his point of view, and there’s plenty who would listen to Dumbledore over Fudge in a heartbeat – don’t forget, Dumbledore’s an internationally regarded wizard, and there were more than a few major wizarding leaders that were angry Dumbledore was demoted. Problem is, those international journalists are being sequestered within the Ministry until Fudge can give his talk.”

  “Of course,” Harry growled, finally seeing the truth behind the little ‘assignment’ Dumbledore convinced him to do. I should have known it looked too easy. “Makes thing a bit more complicated, but I’m sure… wait a second, do you know where they’re keeping the international journalists?”

   “They have quarters in the Ministry itself,” Tonks replied cautiously. “Are you thinking of sneaking Fleur in and leaking the information early? That’s crazy.”

   “Not with simulamancy, your contacts in the Ministry, and the right wheels greased,” Harry said, an eager glint creeping into his eyes. “It shouldn’t be difficult –”

   “Harry, hang on, I don’t have the clearance to access the international journalists,” Tonks cut him off, her voice serious. “And they’ll have good security around them – Fudge is terrified of an international incident that might draw attention before he’s ready.”

   Harry thought for a few seconds before a grin crept onto his face. “What about Scrimgeour?”

   “What about him?”

   “Do you think he would support our little plan? I mean, he wants Fudge gone as much as anyone right now, because it gives him a shot at power. And it’s obvious he’s hoping that the Wizengamot shoots down anything Fudge tries to push through involving the Aurors.”

   “Harry, he’s in charge of the security –”

   “Then it should be easy for him to look the other way,” Harry said, waving his hand impatiently. “Hell, if you get on the security detail, it should be simplicity in itself to get in.”

   “Once again, not so simple, Harry. Look, if Fudge finds out – and believe me, he will find out – he’d fire Scrimgeour in a heartbeat, regardless of evidence,” Tonks said grimly. “Bones is already on tenterhooks about her position, given that she was a little more verbose in her opposition to Fudge’s plan, and the last thing we need is one of Fudge’s cronies running the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. And if we get caught… well, you know better than anyone what would happen then.”

   Harry clenched his jaw. “Fine, I won’t bring Fleur in, but we’ll still need to get in. Fleur can give her statement to the one person writing for the Prophet who we can rely on.”

   Tonks’ mouth fell open. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

   Harry shrugged. “It was Dumbledore’s idea. Apparently, she’s more on our side than anyone else over there right now – and she’s dying for a chance to make Fudge and Umbridge’s lives miserable.”

   “Making lives miserable is what Rita Skeeter does,” Tonks muttered darkly. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Harry.”

   Harry took a deep breath. “Then you won’t like what I’m asking you for now. I want you to get in contact with Scrimgeour, and tell him that Harry Potter wants to meet him – in person.”

   “You’re right, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Tonks said, her eyebrows shooting into her hair, which had gone a fiery red in protest. “In fact, I think it’s a terrible idea – it’s reckless, and if anyone else finds out –”

   “Scrimgeour’s got more to lose by bringing me in than by listening to me,” Harry said curtly, getting to his feet. “Why do you think he’s poking around the Department of Magical Finance so much? He’s trying to make sure his record is spotless, in case Dumbledore or I try and use any more blackmail to make his life miserable and destroy his political career.”

   “And you still kept the file with the old blackmail from last time,” Tonks finished, shaking her head incredulously. “Harry, you told Scrimgeour you destroyed that. If you use it again –”

   “Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”

   Tonks snorted.

   “So, you’ll help me?”

   “I’ll convey the message, and I’m going with you in case we need to make a quick getaway, but let me put it on the record that I think this is an extraordinarily bad idea.”

   “Duly noted.” Harry carefully checked his watch. “Damn, I’ve got to get out of here, I’ve got another meeting. Mind bringing me back to Hogsmeade?”

   “Why not?” Tonks replied with a sigh. “I’ve got to get back to work, anyways.” She stretched out her arm and smiled slightly. “Care to take hold, Miss Desdame?”

   “Of course, Nymphadora,” Harry replied, feigning a delicate sniff.

   “You know, I don’t have a problem hitting girls – or boys possessing them.”

   “But what about hitting on girls?”

   Tonks smirked as she took a hold of Harry’s arm. “Harry, Harry, you assume I have no boundaries… I’m disappointed.”

   “Well, do you?”

   “Nope, but that kind of assumption often ends up with one person sweaty, screaming, and very naked in provocative positions over the nearest table.”

   Harry shrugged. “You know, I could be interested.”

   “Maybe you are now, but then again, I haven’t specified who’s on the table.”

*         *         *

   Draco Malfoy gritted his teeth as he leaned over Nott’s desk, a dangerous look on his face.

   “I thought you were going to make Potter suffer.”

   “I did,” Nott replied distractedly. “The plan was flawless in concept and execution, just as the Dark Lord planned.”

   “Were you dropped on your head as a child?” Malfoy snarled. “This was a bloody disaster! Umbridge and H.A.I.T. are gone, Dumbledore has made his position clear and has given Potter unprecedented freedom, and bloody Mad-Eye Moody is back at Hogwarts! And you think the plan was flawless?”

   “Cool your temper, Malfoy,” Zabini hissed.

   “Well, Blaise, are you satisfied with these results?” Malfoy said furiously, rounding on the calm black wizard, drumming his fingers on the desk. “You told Nott to make Potter suffer – so, in your august opinion, did he do enough to fit your ‘requirements’?”

   “Draco, who said he was done?” Zabini asked with a disgusted huff. “I’m sure Nott’s plan is far from concluded –”

   “Presuming we’ll be able to do anything at all, with Moody breathing down our necks!” Malfoy snapped. “And you didn’t even target people Potter knows or even gives a rat’s arse about! No, you targeted four Ravenclaw girls – the closest thing to allies we Slytherins even have!”

   “Perhaps, Draco, you don’t see the point of this kind of tactic,” Nott said suddenly, his eyes glittering as he rose to his feet. “It’s a different type of warfare, what the Dark Lord is looking for us to achieve here –”

   “I’m not stupid, Nott –”

   “No, you’re not stupid – but you’re something worse,” Nott said, a twisted smile rising on his sallow face. “You’re weak.”

   Malfoy stiffened. “What did you just call me?”

   “And I’m starting to think it isn’t just you, Draco – wasn’t your father brought down by Harry Potter?” Nott laughed harshly. “A bit of an embarrassment, don’t you think?”

   “Don’t you dare insult my father,” Malfoy growled, his fingers moving towards his wand even as blood rushed to his pale face. “I swear, Nott, I don’t give a damn that the Dark Lord gave you the mission –”

   “And it’s a damn good thing he did,” Nott said, a cruel look on his face, “because you would never have had the spine or balls to follow through with it.”

   Malfoy did draw his wand then, but Nott was unfazed.

   “You wouldn’t dare jeopardize the mission.”

   “The mission goes the way I command it, Nott,” Malfoy snarled. “I’m in charge here –”

   “Sorry to break you free of your delusion, Draco, but you’re in error again – I’m the only one who can work the magic. I’m the only one who can command the necessary powers that we need.” Nott’s eyes blazed as he raised a wand of his own. “And I believe that makes me the one in charge.”

   Zabini finally stood and glared at both of them as he drew his wand.

   “Have something to say now, Blaise?” Malfoy asked through gritted teeth.

   “Only that this fight is beneath all of us, and if you two don’t start behaving like adults rather than children, I’ll take it upon myself to end it for you,” Zabini replied evenly, his voice suggesting that even the very argument he was involved in was beneath his notice as well. “And if it wasn’t for the fact that everyone is at lunch right now, we’d be likely having a very unpleasant conversation with Pince or silencing some imbecile in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now both of you sit down and shut up. The plan goes forward as the Dark Lord wants it – no exceptions or complaints.”

   None of them even suspected that someone was listening – and that she had been listening since the very beginning.

*          *          *

   “He won’t fight for us,” Harry said flatly. “Not after everything he’s been through.”

   Dumbledore sighed as the two of them approached the old, ivy-covered gate. “I know that better than most, Harry. I’ve known Nathan Cassane for a very long time.”

   “Then why are we here?” Harry demanded. He was back inside his regular body, but he almost wished he was back inside his simulacrum. It might be acting, but at least I’d have anonymity there… “There’s no point even trying to convince a man like him of something like this! The only reason I had any success was because…”

   His voice trailed off. Like it or not, he really didn’t know why Cassane had supported his case before the school governors – he didn’t expect that his feeble arguments had meant a damn to the distant old man.

   “We are here,” Dumbledore began, “because I believe that he could very well provide us with crucial information regarding the magic inflicted upon those poor girls a few days ago. Nathan Cassane has travelled widely – more than any wizard likely still alive today, including Lord Voldemort and I - and his knowledge of magical history is impeccable. If this magic has been used before within or without Hogwarts, he likely has an account of it.”

   “But didn’t you manage to find some things in those old Headmaster diaries?” Harry asked with a frown. “I mean, I’m sure there was something there.”

   “There were many things, Harry, but even I cannot read hundreds of books in a few days,” Dumbledore replied, carefully drawing his wand and pointing it towards the gates. “And given that all Hogwarts Headmasters seal their diaries – often filled with dark and rather personal secrets – it is impossible to use searching spells to find exact details with a wave of a wand. So thus I must use older, more time-consuming means to search for the truth.”

   “And Professor Moody’s still combing the library whenever he can,” Harry finished, looking up at the gate again, trying not to fidget with nervousness. “So you think Cassane will know something?”

   “If he is unable to identify the ritual, he would at least be able to recognize the name ‘Stoker’,” Dumbledore said, his brow furrowing as he frowned. “The only man I can remember with that name was one Abraham Stoker, who died in 1912. He was a Muggle who managed the Lyceum Theater in London. I actually had the pleasure of meeting him on the opening of a production of The Merchant of Venice, and although he did not recognize me, I would say that those productions starring Henry Irving were very well done indeed.”

   “Did he have any sons or daughters that could have some connection to this?” Harry asked eagerly, albeit unfamiliar with the strange title of the play.

   “Harry, I genuinely don’t know,” Dumbledore replied thoughtfully. “I cannot recall any Stoker attending Hogwarts, though… I may have to check through the old rolls.”

   “And I guess I’ll ask Cassane about this,” Harry finished, hesitantly touching the gate only for it to dissolve, once again, in his hands.

   “Ah,” Dumbledore said with a hint of a smile returning to his face. “He’s expecting you.”

   “Of course I am,” a new voice came from behind one of the beautiful trees that bordered the path. Harry’s eyes could only widen in astonishment as Nathan Cassane stepped onto the path, wearing a surprisingly stylish (if a bit outdated) brown Muggle suit.

   “Nathan, it’s been too long,” Dumbledore began.

   Cassane’s eyes fixed on Dumbledore for a long few seconds before turning to Harry. “Indeed it has, Dumbledore, indeed it has.”

   Harry felt a jolt rise in his stomach – although he couldn’t see the recognition in Cassane’s face, he knew that the old man somehow knew him. But how…

   “I received your letter.”

   “And your thoughts?” Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling, but Cassane was already sadly smiling.

   “You should know better by now, Dumbledore. That’s why they call such things lost causes – because they’re lost. I’m sorry, but you know better than anyone the reason why I can’t. But we didn’t come here to talk about that.” Cassane shrugged as he leaned against the tree. “Or talk much at all, really. Harry, if you’d come up to the house, I’m sure we could make some progress.”

   “Thank you, sir,” Harry replied, taking a deep breath.

   “I’ll take care of bringing Harry back to the school when we’re done talking,” Cassane said with a nod to Dumbledore. “Oh, and Dumbledore?”

   “Yes, Nathan?”

   “Check the books on vampires – you’ll have won half the battle, if I’m correct. Early-to-mid nineteenth century, if my dates are correct. I’ll have Harry here fill me in on the rest of the details.”

   Harry’s mouth fell open. What?

   A flash of recognition crossed Dumbledore’s face, and with a quick turn, he Disapparated with a loud pop.

   Cassane smiled for a moment. “Well, that ought to keep him occupied for a while.”

   “How did… I mean, how did you know?” Harry blurted. “Were we really that loud?”

   “Harry,” Cassane said, taking Harry by the shoulder, “I’m sure Dumbledore told you that I’ve spent a good portion of my life searching for beauty. And not all beauty can be seen.”

   “You found beauty in our… in our conversation?” Harry asked, not able to keep the note of surprise and incredulity out of his voice.

   Cassane squeezed Harry’s shoulder comfortingly. “Very few can recognize the beauty of a well-solved puzzle, or of the sudden idea, but it’s one of those things, Harry, that you’d do well to cherish. For a few brief seconds, something makes perfect sense, and in our senseless world… well, such moments are a thing of beauty.”

   Harry thought for a few seconds before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t think I really see it –”

   “Call me Nathan, Harry, and let’s get back to the house. A good cup of tea in my study and a long, thoughtful talk… they’ll will let you see.”