Unofficial Portkey Archive

Muggle Summer, Wizard's Fall

Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

Chapter 58: Politics and Portkeys

Monday, July 9, 6:30pm
Gilmerton Close, Edinburgh

As Harry Potter watched Minerva McGonagall gracefully step out of the floo grate and dust the ashes from her cloak he once again thanked Merlin (literally) for his ability to badge-jump.

"Good Evening, Headmistress, and welcome to Edinburgh," Harry said, as he offered her his elbow.

Minerva nodded. "Thank you for inviting me, Harry." As she grabbed the Queen's Wizard's arm she noticed his Clan Potter robe and quietly asked, "The invitation said that I was to wear muggle evening wear, right?"

Harry nodded as he took in the Headmistress's black tea-length dress, and the tartan sash that was worn over her right shoulder and pinned with a gold brooch.

"You look fine, Headmistress…I'm wearing the robe for a lower profile within the Close."

Minerva chuckled as she glanced at the lightning bolt-shaped scar on Harry's forehead. "As if a low profile was possible for you, Mr. Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes as he led his Headmistress through the main room of the "Thistle and Toad," the pub that guarded the entrance to Edinburgh's small Wizard's Quarter. He nodded at the barman as he passed by.

"I think we're done for now, Kirk," Harry said. "Thanks again for your help."

"No trouble at all, Clan Chief, we thank you for the business," the squib replied.

As Harry and the Headmistress stepped through the muggle entrance of the pub and into the daylight, she asked, "You've made some new friends whilst in town, Mr. Potter?"

Harry smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Never hurts to be friendly with the gatekeepers to the wizarding world." He then added, "And the Queen does like to use local caterers during her visits to Holyrood."

It was only a few steps from the pub entrance out to Lawnmarket, one of the four streets that make up the Royal Mile between Edinburgh Castle and Holyrood Palace. A black sedan sat double-parked waiting for them, with a driver who immediately opened the back door once he spied Harry walking out of the narrow alleyway.

McGonagall looked nervously at the muggle automobile, and then up the street towards the Palace.

"Can't be more than a half-mile walk," she noted.

Harry laughed. "That it is, Headmistress, but we don't want to keep the Queen waiting, now, do we?"

"No, I imagine not," Minerva replied, as she reluctantly ducked into the vehicle.

Once Harry joined her in the back seat, the Headmistress looked warily at the driver. Realizing that she likely had some questions to ask, Harry raised the glass divider between the front and back benches.

"Muggle equivalent of a silencing charm," he explained. "We have a few minutes, if there's something…"

Minerva shook her head. "Some background to this rather impromptu gathering, if you please?"

Harry nodded. "I'm sorry for the short notice." As he continued to talk he began to unfasten the front of his robes, revealing a white dress shirt, black tie, and bright scarlet jacket.

"Right, so there's a few things going on tonight. First involves the muggle government," Harry began. "I don't know if you're aware of it, but the muggle Scots were granted some type of limited home-rule…they've got their own Parliament now, and a leader called the 'First Minister' that's like the muggle Prime Minister, only smaller."

Minerva nodded, prompting Harry to continue.

"So this First Minister, even though he's the head of Scotland's muggle government, he wasn't told about the wizarding world like the British Prime Minister was…at least until last night."

"Should he have been told?" asked the Headmistress.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "From a legal standpoint, we think so…Great Britain is a United Kingdom of countries, and Scotland is one of those countries. But from a practical standpoint, I definitely think so…after all, the Dementors struck a Scottish city Saturday night."

"So the muggle Scots weren't told by the muggle English why more than two hundred of our kith and kin were killed?" asked Minerva. "Ach, I don't imagine the Scottish minister was too happy about that."

Harry frowned. "No, he wasn't happy at all, even less so because he was told after the fact by me, rather than by the British Prime Minister."

"So how does this all relate to meeting the muggle Queen?" the Headmistress asked.

"The muggles call it 'damage control'," Harry replied. "The Queen thought that if this First Minister were to meet more people from the wizarding world, including the headmistress of Britain's finest school of witchcraft and wizardry…"

"Who just happens to be a Scot herself?" the Headmistress asked wryly.

Harry smiled. "You got to the heart of the matter much sooner than I did, I'm afraid."

"Yes, well, age and years of experience jockeying within staff meetings and with the Board of Governors will do that for you," Minerva replied.

Snorting, Harry noted, "There will also be a short award ceremony tonight. Ernie MacMillian and, erm…I…will be getting medals for bravery in Inverness, and all of the others that helped fight back the Dementors will be publicly thanked."

"Not that you don't deserve it, Harry, but why would the Queen want to do that?" asked McGonagall.

Harry replied, "Her Majesty thought it important to let the wizarding world know that she appreciates the efforts of her magical subjects, even if the Ministry chooses to ignore them."

Minerva's eyes narrowed. "That seems like a far more riskier bit of politics, Harry."

The Queen's Wizard agreed with a nod. "That it is, Headmistress…that it is."

"Which brings us to your choice of attire tonight," said McGonagall, as she took in what Harry had been wearing underneath his robes.

The commander of Her Majesty's only magical squadron glanced down at his "mess dress" uniform, worn by officers within The Parachute Regiment.

"Ah, you noticed," Harry replied with a weak smile. As the car passed through the gates of the Palace, he then said, "So, a funny thing happened after I was done with the Dementors Saturday night…"

There was scant time to explain the purpose of The Prince's Own Magical Squadron before the car stopped and a liveryman opened the car door.

A young wizard was waiting for them, dressed just like Harry; a bright scarlet jacket trimmed with cuffs, epaulets and lapels trimmed in Regimental maroon, worn over a navy blue waistcoat, white shirt and black tie. The high-waisted navy trousers had cuffs that were buckled under black-heeled boots (known as "mess wellies").

The wizard saluted smartly, and then asked, "Major Potter?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Longbottom?"

"Your aide-de-camp has a message for you."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Ah, so the Ministry's owl finally found me?"

Neville nodded. "Yes, sir, just as Captain Weasley predicted."

"Captain Weasley?" asked Minerva. "Which one?"

"Ron," Harry replied with a smile. "Fred and George are Lieutenants."

Neville held out his elbow for the Headmistress and said, "If you would allow me the honor to escort you inside, ma'am?"

Minerva shook her head in disbelief. Between the Queen's invitation, the idea of her students commissioned within the muggle army, and Neville's display of impeccable manners, she didn't know what to think.

"Thank You," Minerva finally replied, as she accepted Neville's arm. "You look rather dashing tonight Mr….or should I say Lieutenant Longbottom?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank You, ma'am."

Your grandmother would approve, I think."

"Erm, thank you for thinking that," Neville replied. "She does, by the way….and she's already inside, if you wanted to discuss it with her."

"Really?" asked McGonagall.

With a nod from Harry, Neville began to walk towards the front entrance. "Yes, there are actually quite a few parents here tonight…the Grangers, and Spinnets, and Bells…"

oo00OO00oo

Harry followed behind until he could slip into an unoccupied room off the front entrance of the Palace.

"Dobby?" he called out.

The only house-elf in unofficial service to Her Majesty the Queen popped into the room wearing an elf-sized version of Harry's outfit, with the addition of the small maroon beret.

"Yes, Major Harry Potter, sir, ADC Dobby is here," the house-elf replied, as he held out an embossed envelope.

"Thank you Dobby," Harry replied. "You've checked that the portkey is inside the envelope, rather than the envelope itself?"

"Yes, Major Harry Potter, sir. It is safe for you to handle."

Harry nodded as he opened the envelope and spilled the contents out onto a side table. Leaving untouched a large black button, Harry picked up a piece of parchment and quickly scanned the letter.

"Just as Ron said," he said mainly to himself. He then looked down at the button and asked, "Dobby, is that portkey touch activated?"

The house-elf looked closely at the object. "No, Major Potter, sir. It be needing your wandtip touched to it."

Harry nodded. "So we can grant that they're acting as they claim, at least for now."

Dobby nodded. "Will Major Harry Potter, sir, be needing to send a response?"

Harry nodded as he retrieved a prewritten response from an inside coat pocket. "Was the ministry's owl waiting at the remote drop?"

Dobby nodded.

Harry reached back into a pocket for some owl treats, then handed them and the letter to the house-elf.

"Will you please give these to the owl, then?"

"Dobby can do that, Major Harry Potter, sir."

Harry smiled. "And then would you come back? If you don't mind, there are a few more muggles that I'd like to introduce you too."

Dobby nodded. "Would Major Potter sir like the portkey returned as well?"

Harry looked down at the button, and after a moment shook his head. Stuffing the portkey into a trouser pocket, he said, "Thanks, Dobby, but you never know when one of these might come in handy."

7:00pm, Ministry of Magic

After meeting with his brother Percy, Ron Weasley had floo'ed from the Ministry to Hogsmeade; with his family temporarily staying at Hogwarts, he would have walked from The Three Broomsticks up to the Castle, had it not been for his badge. From an empty alleyway he badge-called Harry and Hermione, they used Hermione as an anchor point to badge-jump back to London for a debriefing with the muggle Prime Minister. Harry's prewritten response to the Minister of Magic's request was developed during that meeting.

Needless to say, Harry's response was not well received when the Ministry's owl delivered it to Minister Scrimgeour.

"He has a previous engagement?" Rufus snarled. "Can't meet until tomorrow afternoon, and then only at a neutral site?"

"Who does he think he is?" added Dolores Umbridge.

"The-Boy-Who-Betrayed Us," said Percy.

The three Ministry officials had been waiting for Harry's arrival within the Minister of Magic's Office.

Scrimgeour passed the letter off to Umbridge, then turned the now emptied envelope upside down.

"Didn't bother to return the unused portkey, I see," he noted. He then turned to Percy and added, "That did have a limited time use window, right?"

Percy struggled to maintain a calm facade, despite the fact that he was screaming "Bollocks!" inside.

"Of course, Minister Scrimgeour," he lied smoothly. "I built it myself." (That part was true, at least).

Umbridge threw the response down onto the table and used her wand to reduce it to ashes.

Percy immediately whined. "Hey, I didn't get a chance to read it…."

"Save it, Wetherby," she snarled back She then turned to the Minister. "He clearly is trying to force our hand on ICW notification."

Rufus nodded. "Whether it was intentional or not, the effect is the same." He then looked at his two assistants and asked for suggestions.

"I say we obliviate them," Umbridge stated. "Just give me the world, and I'll have one of my teams so deep inside their heads they won't remember their own names."

Percy rolled his eyebrows. "And just whom do you plan on obliviating?"

"Potter and his mudblood whore, for starters…and then their silly queen, and the muggle minister…"

Percy snorted. "Yeah, sure…send one of your teams out to attack Potter and Granger… Because that worked so well the last time, and that was before Potter could legally do magic, and before they took control of their own wards."

Scrimgeour shook his head. "They'll see it as an act of aggression if we're caught going after the muggle leaders."

"So?"

"So that wouldn't help move the conversation along, now would it?" jumped in Percy. "Whether that conversation takes place tomorrow at that neutral location, or at Carlisle Castle at the end of the week."

"I suppose, then, that you've a better idea?" Umbridge snapped back.

Scrimgeour turned towards his younger Special Assistant, as if he was waiting for a response as well.

Percy swallowed, and then asked, "What if we were to do nothing?"

"What?" demanded Umbridge.

"We do nothing," Percy replied, repeating the words with more certainty. "We don't notify the ICW, we don't respond to the Prime Minister's notification, and we don't meet with Potter tomorrow."

Scrimgeour squinted at Percy. "Where are you going with this, Weasley?"

"I think we should stall," the Director of Knowns replied. "Let's say we ignore this attempted robbery, and the prime minister's notification. They will probably ignore protocols and contact the ICW directly. But with the new Chief Mugwump in Japan how long would that take?"

"At least a couple of days, assuming they have access to an international delivery owl," the Minister replied.

"So, two days to get there. Then, even if the ICW decides to immediately investigate, which is a big assumption since the letter is from a muggle government, it would take them at least two days to look into the issue, right?"

Scrimgour agreed. "And another two days or so to draft a letter to us, demanding an explanation."

"And then we ignore that," Percy concluded. "Or we don't, depending on how things turn out at Carlisle. The beautiful thing is that if they then wanted to sanction us, it would take a decision by the full assembly, and they aren't scheduled to meet again until August."

Rufus smiled for the first time that day. "And what wizard would want to side with the muggle government if they are threatening to violate the international secrecy acts?"

Umbridge shook her head. "I don't like it…it leaves too many things in the hands of others."

Percy, reading the expression on his boss's face, chose to say nothing in response. After a moment of silence, the Minister reached a decision.

"We go with Weasley's plan," he stated. "We've already assumed the worst will happen at Carlisle, based on what the Unspeakables have told us. So even if the Internationals try to intervene on their behalf…"

"You know," interrupted Umbridge, trying to save face, "if we decided to lie about the ICW notification we'd likely gain even more time."

The Minister of Magic tilted his head in thought, and then shook it. "It wouldn't gain us that much, and would trip us up if we wanted to claim that the muggles were lying. No…we stay silent, and keep them guessing."

And with a nod filled with gravitas, Scrimgeour ordered his subordinates to devote their full attention to the upcoming meeting at Carlisle…and to the planned response tentatively labeled "Project Arcanum."

8:00pm Palace at Holyrood House, Edinburgh

Once the last of the invited guests passed through a reception line that included the Queen, the Scottish First Minister, the Queen's Wizard, and Ernie Macmillan, Harry finally got his chance to congratulate his classmate.

"Well done, Ernie," the Queen's Wizard said with a smile. "And thank you, I really appreciate the fact that you're here with your parents."

"Not a problem, Harry," Ernie replied, as he looked once more at the "Queen's Gallantry Medal" that had been pinned to the chest of his muggle tuxedo jacket. "Not all pureblood families are intolerant of the muggle world, and my folks were absolutely incensed at the lack of help from the Ministry during the attack."

Harry nodded. "Thanks for reminding me…they asked to meet with me as they passed through the line."

The Hufflepuff nodded. "And I promised to search out Hannah to find out more about this 'witch-in-waiting' job you just lined up for her." He then added, "Congratulations on your George Medal, Harry."

The Queen's Wizard looked down at the silver medal that hung from a red and blue striped ribbon and nodded. "Not that I'd argue against the Queen, but I still think that you should have gotten the higher honor."

Ernie snorted. "Oh, please, Potter…I called for help and saved my family from the Dementors. You answered the call and saved an entire city from the Dementors."

Harry shook his head. "Agree to disagree, then," he replied. He shook the Hufflepuff's hand once more, then turned towards the large gathering to prioritize his obligations. Between his MI-5 ¾ colleagues, his TPOMS squadron, and the families of nearly all of the friends and classmates that he had recruited that summer, there were a lot of people that he had promised to catch up with after the ceremony.

The Queen's Wizard thought about coming to his liege's rescue when he noticed that Luna's father was peppering her with questions, but the Queen seemed to be holding her own. The First Minister, in turn, was chatting up Headmistress McGonagall about Hogwarts and historical influence of magic within the different clans. This allowed Harry to not feel too guilty about seeking out the company of his favorite witch.

Hermione was in a corner of the room with a colleague from MI-5 ¾'s Q Branch, discussing something that had her very excited.

"Harry!" Hermione said brightly, as he caught her eye. She pulled him into a kiss, and then introduced him to their fellow secret agent.

"This is Dr. Wembley," she said. "He's the chemist that's been examining the oil samples that we collected from the firth."

"Nice to meet you," said Harry, as he shook the muggle's hand. "I assume that you discovered something of interest, since my girlfriend looks like she's about to pee her pants."

"Harry!" Hermione chided, as she slapped his shoulder.

"That might actually help confirm my hypothesis," the chemist said with a sardonic grin. "Being that urine is also fluorescent."

Hermione snapped her head back towards the chemist, but then grinned and nodded her head. "You are rather clever, aren't you?"

"Will someone explain this cleverness to an ignorant wizard?" asked Harry.

The Q Branch chemist turned towards Harry and smiled. "The two crude oil samples were chemically identical, but then I considered their physical properties."

"One was orange and one wasn't when we collected them," noted Harry.

"But when we submitted them to the lab they were both black, remember?" asked Hermione.

"So how does this relate to your pee?" asked Harry.

Hermione shook her head dismissively. "Both crude oil and urine, I presume, fluoresce, or glow in the dark, when exposed to ultraviolet radiation."

Harry squinted at Hermione, then turned to their colleague for confirmation.

"Except that urine fluoresces purple," the chemist said with a smirk. He then added, "But I digress…once I thought to check it was a simple matter to verify in the laboratory."

"You examined your pee in your laboratory?" asked Harry.

"No, Major Potter, the crude oil samples," the chemist replied. "Both of them glowed orange when exposed to short-wavelength ultraviolet radiation."

Harry paused, waiting for something more. When nothing came, he asked, "And so…"

"And so, Harry, your Patronus may have produced the same glow because it is comprised, at least in part, of short-wave ultraviolet light."

Harry nodded. "And so….."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said with a sigh. "Muggles can't cast Patronus charms, but they can create ultraviolet light."

"So you think that the ultraviolet radiation is the secret ingredient within a Patronus that scares off the Dementors?"

Hermione nodded and shrugged her shoulders. "We'd have to test the idea, of course, but just think if that's the case!"

It was Harry's turn to nod. "It'd be nice if it were true." He then turned towards the chemist. "Suppose you want me to catch a Dementor for you to do tests on?"

The chemist shook his head. "No, if it's all the same, I'd rather the test be performed in the field, if necessary."

"How so?"

"We're working on that," said Hermione. "Maybe we arm all of the Dementor patrols along the coastline with ultraviolet light torches, and have them try to scare them off with torchlight before casting a Patronus charm?"

Harry thought for a moment, and then shrugged his shoulders. "Can't hurt, I guess, although I'd rather see something with a greater range than a torch."

"Some sort of flare?" asked the chemist.

Hermione got that certain look again. "Thanks, Harry, you're brilliant," she said, then shoo'ed him off with another kiss, so that she could brainstorm with the chemist about different lighting sources.

Harry was on his way to the open bar, looking to refill his butterbeer, when he ran into two of the muggle TPOMS members. They, like all of squadron members in attendance, were dressed in Parachute Regiment "mess dress."

"Excuse me, Sir," said Sergeant Beemer, as he drew himself close to attention.

"At ease, New Six, Coley," Harry replied with a smile and dismissive wave.

"Blimey Major," said Coley, "You never told us that you been that much in the thick of it before you decided to join our little dance out on the moors."

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Just doing my job," he replied.

"Yes, well…any man that says it's not right for someone your age to hold that rank…"

"Man or woman, for that matter," added New Six as he nodded towards their magical partners. "Didn't realize that Comet and Cupid cleaned up that well before tonight."

The other muggle commando nodded. "We might just have to get to know our squad mates a little better."

The Queen's Wizard followed New Six's line of sight and chuckled. Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet were also turned out in mess dress, wearing ankle-length navy skirts in place of trousers, and low-heeled pumps instead of dress boots.

"You do realize that Lieutenant's Bell and Spinnet are dating the Weasley Twins, right?" asked Harry.

New Six shrugged. "Perhaps they just needed to get to know the right men."

Harry laughed. "I would advise against the attempt, gentlemen…the Twins are rather brilliant when it comes to pranks."

Coley scoffed. "No offense, Major, but New Six and I have always managed to overcome what's been thrown our way."

"Really?" asked Harry. "And has anyone ever thrown a gender-reversing potion into your beer?"

The two commandos looked at Harry with a mixture of circumspection and shock.

"You're not serious, are you Sir?"

Harry nodded. "Back in school their enemies had an alarming habit of growing tits and losing bits for a day or three."

New Six snorted. "Might actually improve Coley's looks."

"Why New Six," said Coley, as he grabbed his mate's arm. "I never knew that you noticed."

With newfound interest in getting to know Fred and George (and their pranking skills) better, the two muggle commandos took their leave.

"Just remember to hang around," said Harry. "The Prince wants formal squadron pictures."

"Right, sir," the two replied.

The Queen's Wizard started to make his way towards Katie Bell to give her some grief about no longer being a temporary witch-in-waiting, but was intercepted by Padma and Parvati's parents.

"There you are, Major Potter," said Mr. Patil, with a melodic South Asian accent. "I was wondering if you could spare us a few minutes of your time."

Harry nodded warily. "Of course, Mr. Patil," he replied. Harry then turned towards Mrs. Patil, who was dressed in an elegant sari, and added, "I can see were Padma and Parvati got their beauty."

Mrs. Patil smiled. "So you are not only brave, but charming."

"Your daughters are no less brave and charming," Harry replied. "I was thrilled when they accepted the Queen's offer to serve her as witches-in-waiting."

Mr. Patil waved off the compliment. "They were the ones that were thrilled, Major Potter…to have the opportunity to do something of consequence this summer."

Harry nodded. "I assure you both that they will get the best training that can be offered…training that will no doubt serve them well during NEWT DADA examinations."

The twin's father shook his head. "If indeed it is the case that Hogwarts opens this autumn," he replied. "I fear that the Ministry will be reluctant to give up their interns and lose so much of its present workforce." The diminutive man then added with a scowl, "Not that their needs were so great that they bothered to include my girls."

Harry nodded. "Yes, it seemed strange that Padma and Parvati weren't forced to intern…I understand that your family's pureblood ancestry goes back quite a ways."

"Nine generations," Mr. Patil said proudly. "But when inquiries were made we were told that the Ministry was interested only in British pureblood students."

Harry shook his head in sympathy. "I wish I could say that I was surprised, but given the Ministry's record of bigotry…."

"Yes, yes, but perhaps we could move on to a more pleasant topic of conversation," said Mr. Patil. "Is it the case that you will turn seventeen later this month?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."

"And that you will upon reaching your majority become Patriarch of the Potter family?"

"Erm…yes, sir," said Harry, thinking it best not to disclose full truth.

Padma and Parvati's father's eyes lit up, and he grew visibly more animated.

"I am certain that you will have many issues to address at that time," he stated. "But I would encourage you to consider an alliance between our two families."

"An alliance?" asked Harry.

Mrs. Patil shook her head and let out a small sigh. "What my husband is dancing about is an open betrothal contract that he has offered your family."

Harry fought back the urge to wince, thinking that the smartest (if not bravest) thing to do in this situation was to play dumb.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, "but I'm not sure that I understand."

"An open betrothal contract," Mrs. Patil explained, "is an offer for an arranged marriage between yourself and either of my precious daughters."

"Or both of them, for that matter," Mr. Patil chimed in. "I understand that it is unusual, but still legal for multiple marriages within the British wizarding world."

Harry coughed, and then stammered a bit. "Erm, well…I am honored that you have even considered this…I don't know what to say, though."

"But my daughters are truly beautiful, as you just noted?" asked Mr. Patil.

"Yes, they are," said Harry, chancing a glance towards the twins. Padma and Parvati were across the room, whispering furiously to each other.. They both blushed and turned away when he caught them taking interest in their parent's conversation with him.

"And you have already asked one of them to a formal ball at your school?"

"Erm, yes, sir."

"Then, my boy, you are already ahead of the game. I did not even see my beautiful wife Rashmi's face until our wedding day."

Mrs. Patil, sensing Harry's discomfort, tried to intervene.

"Perhaps we should give Mr. Potter some space to think, Tarak."

Mr. Patil gave his wife a pained look…he did not know when he would have the opportunity to make his sales pitch in person again.

"Very well, Major Potter…just let me assure you that dowry is not an issue. I am a successful businessman, and I am well-prepared to ensure my daughter's happiness."

"Then perhaps we should let the boy go, Tarak, before your not-so-happy daughters hex you," Mrs. Patil said with a smile.

Harry saw the opportunity and took it. Giving Mrs. Patil a small nod of thanks, he made his way back towards the bar for something stronger than butterbeer. Thinking single-malt scotch to be an acceptable compromise, he asked for Talisker over ice.

"Don't be letting your troops see you watering down your scotch," said a voice to his left. "They'll think you're soft."

Harry turned and snorted at the First Minister's comment.

"Have you had the opportunity to sample what wizards like to drink?" he asked.

"Can't say that I've had the pleasure."

A thin smile crept onto Harry's lips as he turned and asked the bartender for two shot glasses of fire-whiskey. He handed one to the First Minister and raised the other up.

"To your health," he said with a smile.

The muggle politician nodded as he matched Harry's one-shot downing.

"It'll need all the help it can get right about now," Harry then added with a grin.

The First Minister's face turned beet-red and eyes bulged as he tried desperately not to cough. Harry thought he even saw a bit of steam come out of the man's nostrils, but couldn't be certain.

"Care for another?" Harry asked, as he casually placed his glass back down onto the bar.

"No…I'm good," the First Minister stammered.

Harry had to give the man credit; there was no complaining about the challenge, and it only took a minute or two for a more normal color to return to his face. The First Minister quickly begged off further conversation, citing the need to return to his office.

A smartly-dressed Remus Lupin approached Harry with a glimmer in his eyes as the First Minister took his leave.

"Don't suppose you told that muggle that a wizard's magic dampens the effect of fire-whiskey?" he asked.

Harry smiled. "What, and spoil the surprise?"

Remus laughed. "Speaking of surprises, dare I ask what the Patils were talking with you about?"

Harry shook his head. "If I said no would you do it anyway?"

"Probably," Remus replied with a nod. Turning his back to the bar rail, the lycantrope scanned the crowd. "Let's see, we've got the Abbots', and Susan Bones' parents…I'm sure they'd love the chance to talk about open contracts as well."

"No thanks," Harry replied. He then asked, "So how is it going with the Chief Inspector?"

Remus smiled. "It's going just fine, other than the fact that she drives like a banshee on a broomstick."

Harry laughed. "Any progress?"

Nodding, Remus replied, "We id'ed the Alpha bitch, and tracked down where she worked. We've also got a lead on some potential friends…we'll track those down tomorrow."

"Great," Harry replied. He then grabbed the lapel of Remus's black dinner jacket. "So is this a different suit than what you wore at the track, or a transfiguration?"

"New suit," Remus replied. "Kate said you can't be a proper British secret agent without a proper tuxedo, so she and Tonks teamed up…"

"Your partner and Tonks double-teamed you?" asked Harry with a smile. "Letting your inner Alpha hang out?"

Remus scowled at his former student. "Would you like to see that inner Alpha now, Harry?"

The Queen's Wizard laughed. "Nah, save it for tonight, Remy…Tonks might want to play Little Red Riding Hood."

Ron, Luna and her father approached the two before Remus could fire back a witty response.

"Hello, Major Potter," Mr. Lovegood said, "and once again, congratulations."

"Thank you sir," Harry replied. "Have you gotten everything you need for the news article?"

The Quibbler's publisher nodded. "Between the press release that your Miss Granger provided, and my exclusive interview with the Queen, I'm seeing another sold-out edition."

"That's great," Harry replied.

"So you got the special delivery today, Harry?" asked Luna.

Harry thought for a moment, and then realized what she was talking about. "Yes, actually I did. Thanks for your help, Luna."

The young witch smiled as she snaked an arm around Ron's waist. "No problem, Harry…I just wanted to make sure that my ants hadn't gotten a free ride on the vial."

"Your ants?" asked Harry.

"Erm, Luna…" said Ron, trying to shut down the conversation.

"Yes, my ants," Luna replied, blithely ignoring her boyfriend. "Ronnie usually swallows them when he goes exploring down my pants, but a few of them might have hung on to the vial."

Harry would have been abashed at Luna's comment, if he wasn't so busy enjoying the look of embarrassed terror on Ron's face.

"Luna," he said quietly, "I don't think that your father, or Ron, or Professor Lupin need to know the details…"

"But it's important for Harry to know," Luna insisted. "You wouldn't want him to give my ants to Hermione would you?" She then gave a glance towards the corner where Hermione was still brainstorming and serenely added, "Suppose that's why she decided not to wear any pants tonight, eh Harry?"

It was Ron's turn to snicker at his friend's embarrassment.

Harry turned towards the others…Remus was thoroughly enjoying the conversation, while Mr. Lovegood was following it as if it were the most mundane subject of conversation in the world. The Queen's Wizard shook his head, and then replied, "I have absolutely no idea what Hermione is or isn't wearing aside from that evening gown."

Luna nodded. "Well, when you do stick your head down there tonight, you might want to check."

Harry looked at Luna, then over towards Hermione. Wishing to end Remus's entertainment for the evening, he nodded quite seriously.

"I'll be sure to do that, Luna," he replied.

9:45pm, Somewhere in Salisbury

Augustus Rookwood finally reported to his lord, almost two full days after he was assigned to kill Lucius Malfoy. As he strode into the ersatz basement throne room and bent on one knee before Voldemort, the other Death Eaters gave him wide berth (not wishing to become collateral damage).

"Ah, Rookwood," Voldemort said quietly. "So nice of you to finally join us."

"My humblest apologies, my lord," Rookwood said. "I dared not report any sooner, for fear that I might be tracked."

The Dark Lord frowned (as much as a lipless magically-restored construct could frown). "And why would you have reason to fear that you would be tracked, Augustus?"

Rookwood proceeded to explain the events, as best as he could recall, starting with the sudden realization that he and Amycus Carrow were flying on broomsticks in muggle London. He then described Amycus's fall, his subsequent mid-air apparition attempt and the resulting splinches.

"So Amycus apparated to his safe house?" Voldemort asked angrily.

"Yes, my Lord," Rookwood replied. "I followed, guessing correctly that it would be his destination, and was able to reattached the splinched hand that he had taken with him."

"But Carrow was splinched as well?"

Rookwood nodded. "Yes, my Lord, he left behind a buttock."

Voldemort snorted, finding some humor amongst the dangerous screw-up. "So then what happened?"

"Thinking it not safe to return to retrieve Carrow's butt, or even knowing for sure where he had left it, I applied a magical suppression charm on what was left of his arse and fled the house for fear that the apparitions would be tracked by the Ministry."

"Don't forget the spell that you used to reattach your hand."

"Yes, my Lord," Augustus replied, wishing that Voldemort had indeed forgotten that fact. "Fearing that the splinching would serve as a beacon for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squads, even with my suppression charm, I drove to Bath, and rented a room in a small muggle motel. We have been there ever since. I have reapplied the charm several times, apparently with some success, since we have yet to attract visitors from the Ministry."

"So now you are here alone?"

"Yes, my Lord…I left Amycus in Bath, and spent twice the normal time to drive here, so that I could ensure that I was not being followed."

"But the suppression charm is not a permanent solution, is it?"

"No, my Lord, which is why I thought it worth the small risk to report back and receive your orders."

Volemort shook his head in frustration. "Tell me, Rookwood, did you successfully follow my previous orders?"

"My Lord, I am…I am sorry to report that I do not know if I did."

"And why is that?"

"Because, my Lord, I was attacked by some sort of powerful memory charm. Over the past two days I've been trying to recover, and piece together what might have happened, but it is powerful magic."

"I see…so what do you remember?" asked Voldemort.

"I remember that Amycus and Alecto Carrow and I were tasked with bringing you Lucius Malfoy's head on a plate," Rookwood replied. "I remember knowing where Malfoy was located, and that we had a plan to attack him, but…no more from that to where I found myself flying on a broomstick."

Voldemort thought for a moment. "You don't remember that Malfoy was within a building known as the Rookery?"

"No, my Lord."

"You don't remember what happened to Alecto?"

"No, my Lord."

"Or that you and the Carrows traveled to Diagon Alley during the attack and appropriated three broomsticks from the Quidditch supply store?"

"No, my Lord, although that would explain why we were riding broomsticks later that night."

Voldemort let out a deep sigh. It seemed as if the memory charm had been applied either by someone within the building, or by the building wards. If it were the latter, Rookwood and the Carrows could have killed Malfoy but then had their memory swiped. The fact that the goblins hadn't sent another demand to kill Lucius would be consistent with that possibility.

The Dark Lord thought about casting a Legimens spell on Rookwood, before remembering where he was. With need to do that kind of spell work away from their hide-out, he reached inside his robes and pulled out his card deck of portkeys. Selecting one from the pack, he returned the others to his pocket, pulled out his wand, and said, "Come Rookwood, we will investigate this."

"Yes, my Lord," August replied, as he nervously grabbed hold of a corner of the playing card.

The portkey that Voldemort activated with his wand tip took them out into the cool night, and to a small, uninhabited valley within the Welsh countryside.

"My lord?" asked Rookwood.

The Dark Lord pulled out a new deck of cards from his robes, and handed a joker to his minion.

"Use this card to fashion a portkey that will take us to Amycus," he ordered.

Rookwood took the card, and asked, "And the Ministry's sensors, my Lord?"

"They will no doubt detect our spell use, but we'll be long gone from here before they send anyone out to investigate."

"Yes, my Lord," said Rookwood, giving himself a mental kick for challenging his master's orders.

As the former Unspeakable turned the joker into a portkey, Voldemort used the opportunity to fashion a replacement portkey for the one used to get them away from their hide-out.

Once the spells were finished, Voldemort pocketed his card and reached out for Rookwood's portkey. Hoping to make up for his prior stupidity, Rookwood said, "My Lord, if we think that the Ministry will send Aurors to this place because of the Portus spells, perhaps we could arrange for some sort of destructive welcome?"

Voldemort thought the idea over. "The suggestion has merit…for the next time. For now, though, let us visit your buttless sidekick."

"Yes, my Lord," Rookwood replied, as he activated the portkey with his wand.

The portkey deposited the former Unspeakable and his Lord into a dingy, dumpy motel room outside the city of Bath. A blanket-covered lump on one of the two beds suggested where the "buttless sidekick" was located.

Augustus scowled as he stepped up kicked the lump off the bed with the heel of his boot.

"Get up, fool, and bow before our Lord!" he barked.

Amycus's head popped up from under the blankets, and he quickly crawled over to where Voldemort was standing.

"Thank you, my Lord," he whimpered, as he kissed the Dark Lord's boots. "I knew that you would come."

"Of course, Amycus," Voldemort replied sweetly. "I am here for you." He then drew his wand out and said, "Look up, Amycus."

As soon as the Death Eater followed his master's orders, Voldemort hit him with a massively overpowered Legimens spell. Carrow cried out in pain, but had no defenses against the attack. Voldemort ripped through Alecto's mind with little care for delicacy; having cast another spell, they were on potentially borrowed time.

It took no time at all for Voldemort to discover the massive memory block. It was definitely ward-base, and extremely strong, as it was drawing power directly from Carrow's magical core. The blocks themselves were also integrated into the protected memories, and woven so tightly in and around that Voldemort could only get fleeting glimpses of what he sought.

The harder Voldemort pushed against the charm, the more power it drew from Alecto's core, until the breaking point was reached…the breaking point of the host's brain, that is, rather than of the defenses. Large portions of Carrow's brain began to shut down, forcing Voldemort to withdraw lest he become trapped inside his minion's ravaged mind.

The Dark Lord staggered backwards, causing Rookwood to jump out and catch Voldemort before he fell over. A sheen of cold, clammy sweat covered the Dark Lord's reptilian face, as he wheezed and coughed in a fight for air.

"My lord?" Rookwood asked.

"Alecto's dead," Voldemort declared. "I saw you leaning beside her body, with a large hole in her head. You were in a flat, and there was a wizard's dead body under a pile of rubble."

"Malfoy, my Lord?"

Voldemort shook his head. "I couldn't tell."

Rookwood turned his attention to the other Death Eater.

"The memory block shut down his brain…he's a vegetable…no use to us anymore."

"Yes, my Lord," Augustus replied.

"Unless…." said the Dark Lord. He drew his wand and cast a diagnostic charm on the body that now lay on the floor. "There's enough core there to hot-wire a connection."

"My Lord?" asked Rookwood.

"You spoke of booby-traps earlier tonight," replied Voldemort. He then took Carrow's wand from the side table and placed it in the vegetable's hand. After wrapping the fingers around the wand, Voldemort cast an obscure and extremely dark spell on the wand.

"What is that, my Lord?" Rookwood asked.

"I've linked the wand core directly to what's left of Carrow's core," Voldemort explained, as he placed the wand and hand against Amycus's chest. "Help me to carefully roll him over."

"Yes, my Lord," said Rookwood, as he helped trap the wand underneath the Death Eater's shell of a body.

The two wizards then stood, and Voldemort retrieved the portkey that would return them to their hide-out.

"Now," he said, "we just have to bait the hook to make sure that the Ministry comes to investigate."

"More Portus spells, my Lord?"

The Dark Lord shook his head, then quickly pointed his wand towards the former Unspeakable.

"Crucio!"

Rookwood dropped to his knees in agonizing pain as the Unforgivable set his nervous system on fire.

Voldemort held the spell long enough to express his displeasure, but not so long as to do much permanent damage.

As Rookwood whimpered in residual pain, Voldemort held out the playing card.

"The hook has now been properly baited. Come worm, I might need you on other fishing trips."

"Yes…my…Lord," Rookwood said softly. He grabbed hold of a corner of the playing card, and was swept away to Salisbury.

oo00OO00oo

Five minutes later, the Auror team that had been dispatched to Wales to investigate two Portus spells cast in the countryside was redeployed to the location of a detected Unforgivable curse. The sensors could only pinpoint spell use down to a twenty meter area, so the Aurors apparated to a spot behind the motel that sat outside of Bath. While the recon expert cast out detection charms to pin down locations of magical activity, the team lead did his own search. It only took a few moments for the leader to bark out orders to follow his lead.

"Thought your eye can't detect residual magical energy," whined the recon expert.

"It can't," replied Mad-Eye Moody. "It can, however, see well enough through walls and clothing to find people missing body parts."

"Sir?" asked one of the junior Aurors assigned to learn under the retired Auror's wing.

"Three doors down from the first automobile," Mad-Eye growled, as he led them around front of the motel. "There's a man lying on the floor of his room who is missing a buttock."

"A missing buttock?"

"Like the one that the muggles found in the West End Sunday morning, you idiot," Mad-Eye barked.

With wands drawn, they approached the door to the room in question. It was locked, but yielded to a simple Alohamora spell. On Mad-Eye's word they burst through the door and into the room.

A quick search revealed pretty much what Mad-Eye said that they'd find…a Death Eater lying face down near the bed, with his robes drooped down over where a rather large butt cheek should have been.

"Is he dead?" asked Mad-Eye, as he team performed different diagnostic spells.

"He's alive," reported one of the Aurors, "but his mind is gone."

"What, he's missing his brains as well as his arse?"

"No, sir," the Auror replied. "No signs of brain activity, and his magical core….mostly gone as well. What's left is acting rather chaotic."

"So," Mad-Eye said, slipping into lecture mode, "We know that there were at least two spells cast in this room…an overpowered Legimens and a Cruciatus.

"The mind probe could have destroyed the Death Eater's brain, and maybe caused the erratic core readings," one Auror offered.

"But the second spell?"

The Auror shook his head. "No residual signs of that curse on the body."

Mad-Eye then noted, "Two portkeys were made in Wales, and a few minutes later a Death Eater's mind was raped in Bath, and left for dead. Scenarios?"

"Somebody portkeyed to Wales…"

"Just one?" asked Mad-Eye.

"Two, at least…the portkeys were made at the same time," the Auror replied. "One of the portkeys was used to transport them here, while the second was used to whisk them away just before we arrived."

"And 'who' are we thinking was here tonight?" asked Mad-Eye.

"Well…the Carrows were with Rookwood, and if this is the male Carrow than one of the two would have been Rookwood."

Mad-Eye nodded. "Rookwood saw Amycus splinch himself, figured he had tried to apparate to that house in Bristol, then followed. They then drove from Bristol here, and waited to make sure they couldn't be tracked."

"So Rookwood then goes and gets help?" asked one of the Aurors.

Mad-Eye nodded. "Probably Voldemort himself…not too many wizards alive with that much skill and power, if the detectors are to be believed."

"Voldemort and Rookwood were just here a few minutes ago, then?" asked the most junior Auror. He didn't like the idea of that kind of proximity, even if it was temporal.

Mad-Eye nodded. "Looks like it. Rookwood brings him here, Voldemort casts the mind probe."

"And the Cruciatus as well?" asked the Junior Auror.

Moody rolled his eyes. "What's the alternative…that Rookwood cast the Unforgivable on his master?"

"Wonder what they were looking for in Carrow's head," wondered one of the Aurors.

Mad-Eye had a pretty good idea, but since that idea was formed in part by information passed along by Harry he stayed quiet.

"Maybe Prior Encantatum will tell us something," said the most junior Auror, as he kicked at the prone body to roll it over.

Mad-Eye would have barked at the Auror for altering a crime scene, were it not for the fact that he was thinking about why Voldemort had left the body behind…Death Eaters almost always tried to take their casualties with them as they left a battle.

As the body was rolled over Mad-Eye noticed the arm that was trapped underneath, with wand in hand. As Carrow's frame was set on his back the arm fell away from the body. It would have fallen all the way to the floor and released the wand, were it not for the fact that the bed was in the way.

Something then clicked in Moody's brain…a memory of a muggle training film that he had once viewed…a film that warned of unpinned hand grenades that the enemy would prop underneath the bodies of their fallen comrades. There wasn't a hand grenade under the death eater, but a wand where one might have been…

Moody quickly cast a diagnostic charm on the wand. The results prompted him to yell out a warning just as the Junior Auror pulled the wand from Carrows propped-up hand.

"Shields!" Mad-Eye shouted, as Voldemort's constructed connection between wand core and magical core was broken. This caused all of the magical potential energy remaining within these cores to be released.

Violently.

The two-second delay between the broken connection and explosion was just enough time for everyone but the junior Auror to throw up a shield. Even so, strength was necessarily sacrificed for speed, and the shields that were hastily conjured were able to absorb only part of the explosion. The rest of the released energy threw the Aurors about the room and against the walls like rag-dolls.

Moody's resulting internal injuries, broken pelvis, and shattered ribs earned him a week-long stay in St. Mungo's.

And he was the lucky one.

A/N: (1)The identification of Edinburgh's Wizard's Quarter as "Gilmerton's Cove" in Chapter 56 will be edited for consistency. (2) While I've seen the idea of ultraviolet radiation as a defense against Dementors, the first place I read it was in "The Granger Defense," by Aaron St. Vines. It was too elegant of a muggle-based solution to pass up borrowing. (3) In Britain, the word "pants" is synonymous with "knickers," rather than with "trousers." In other words, Hermione was going commando (again).