(A/N: There was just no good place to break this chapter.)
(Disclaimer: Just as Lord Voldemort chose a new name, so shall I! Henceforth, let me be known as… Prince Natural Gossi-Owls! Which, for those of you who aren't born anagramists like Tom Riddle, unscrambles to mean "Paracelsus is not Rowling.")
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"Coming Back Late"
by Paracelsus
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XXV: In Zugzwang
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Ron Weasley was growing less happy by the minute. Almost the very moment he'd arrived at the Ministry, he'd been herded into a large room filled with people in an uproar. He was told, by the Auror who'd marched him in, that he could either stay there or be Stunned, his choice. He was told his stay would be indefinite. He was told, in no uncertain terms, that he couldn't send a message back to the shop, to tell George his "morning break" had been extended.
What he wasn't being told was why.
The room, at least, had a coffee and tea service laid out. Presumably, for the people who were already here… foreigners, most of them, to hear them talk. Ron did recognize two of them from photos in the Daily Prophet, years ago: members of the International Confederation of Wizards, back when they'd had to replace Dumbledore. Shaking his head, Ron took his coffee and a hastily-snagged pastry and retreated to a chair in the farthest corner of the room.
What am I even doing here? he wondered. Stuffing the pastry into his mouth, he reached into his pocket and brought out the note he'd received early that morning. He read it over again. Someone wants to meet with me this morning, regarding Ginny's 'welfare and safety'. Huh. I guess I wasn't the only one to be worried - not that I really much care what Little Miss Blabbermouth is up to now. Why they couldn't talk to Dad? He works right here in the Ministry, after all.
He spotted Blaise Zabini across the room, talking to Kingsley Shacklebolt. Could this have something to do with Ginny and Zabini? I tried to tell her he was no good for her. Or… could Zabini have sent the note? Naw, he'd have signed it…
Ron had a good mind to walk right up to Zabini and tell him to stay away from his sister. But he had wit enough to know that, first, it would make him look like a school boy, and second, it might even prove counter-productive. Oh, and that it was none of his business, that too.
Still, Ron kept his eyes glued on Zabini as he separated from Shacklebolt and circulated about the room, not trusting the berk an inch. It gave Ron something to do, as he waited to be let out of this room so he could keep his appointment with the mystery note-sender.
*
The corridors of the Department of Mysteries were deserted, with the Unspeakables confined to their offices (or, some of them, in the Atrium conference hall). Eldritch's strange monitoring device was still in front of the open-but-impassible door to the Death Chamber, and Harry gave it wide berth. There were no tapestries or portraits on this section of the corridor wall, unfortunately, but there was a floor-to-ceiling bookcase, which would hide Harry's activities very nicely.
A Silencio on the bookcase first, to keep any sound from echoing down the corridor… then Mobilibancus lifted the bookcase slightly and shifted one end away from the wall. Harry waited until there was room for him behind the case, then lowered it gently to the floor. With the Elder Wand in hand, he squeezed behind the shelves and placed the Wand's tip against the stone wall that separated him from the Chamber.
"Foro," he murmured. A beam of blue light began to drill a neat quarter-inch hole into the stone.
He had to stop at one point, to blow dust out of the hole - which necessitated removing the Cloak from his face. He was just about to replace the Cloak and continue drilling when Canby appeared by his side. "Progress, sir?" he whispered. Harry was pleased the elf had the forethought not to say his name aloud.
"Almost through, I think," Harry whispered back. He aimed the Wand back into the hole and reapplied Foro again. After another minute, he withdrew the wand and again blew dust from the hole. "I think that did it," he told Canby. "Let's try it." He inserted the Wand's tip into the hole. "Reducto!"
The Wand shot out of the hole like an arrow, expelled by the sudden discharge of energy. Only Harry's superb reflexes allowed him to snatch the Wand in mid-flight before it could clatter against the back of the bookcase, or fall to the floor. He could feel the shockwave of magic crawl prickling across his skin, just as it had the first time he'd tried breaking through the barrier; judging from the way Canby's ears stood erect, he'd felt the shock too.
"It isn't working?" Canby asked.
"No. The barrier seems to be everywhere in the room - flat against all the walls, apparently. Bleeding crap!" Harry rubbed one eye wearily.
"Then… then there is no help for it," Canby said slowly. "Canby must see if he can enter the Chamber."
"Wait a mo." Leaving his face uncovered - a necessary risk for the moment - Harry stepped back from behind the bookcase. Canby immediately moved it back into place, covering the new hole in the wall, as Harry stepped to the door that led into the Chamber. He gently moved the monitor apparatus to one side, so that it no longer blocked the doorway, and with a quiet "Finite Incantatem" assured that it wouldn't record what they were about to do.
"I don't suppose there's any way I can talk you out of this?" he asked resignedly. Solemnly Canby shook his head. "Right, then," Harry went on, "I'm going to Silence you so that we don't attract attention. Then I want you to try to appear in the Chamber right here, right in front of the door, so that if it looks like you're hurt I can Accio you straight out of there. I hope."
"With luck, it won't be needed," said Canby. Turning to face the door, he waited until Harry had applied the Silencing Charm. Then he closed his eyes and squinched up his face in concentration.
Two things happened in rapid succession. Canby vanished and reappeared just inside the doorway - and in the next instant, he was propelled forcefully out the door as though shot from a cannon. He collided with Harry and the two tumbled to the floor in a jangle of limbs.
"What was that?" Harry asked when he could catch his breath. He quickly cancelled the Silencing Charm to hear Canby's reply.
"Canby… Canby isn't sure," replied the elf, obviously confused. "It felt like… like Canby was being blown from the Chamber." He looked wide-eyed at the door, then back at Harry. "It is not a barrier, Canby thinks. It is a… a coldness… filling the Chamber! Pushing out everything like a strong wind."
"Uh huh. So it is keeping things out, and not in." Harry stood and stepped to the Chamber door. Experimentally, he extended his hand: as before, it was stopped, blocked from entering. And as before, it didn't feel solid, as an invisible wall might: his hand simply would go no further. It didn't feel like a rushing wind of any sort… but then, on this side of the doorway, there was no reason it should.
Through the door he could see the Arch, with its mysterious Veil fluttering gently. It had done so when Harry had visited the Chamber the night Sirius died, fluttering as though in a slight breeze, though the air in the Chamber had felt deathly still. He supposed it might still flutter gently, even if a mighty wind were somehow being sent through the Arch from beyond.
Why are you keeping everyone out? he silently asked the Arch. Why are you keeping me out? It's not as though I plan to hurt you, I only want to get rid of the Deathly Hallows. I'm only Master of the Deathly Hallows because I don't have any other choice…
His gaze fixed on the runes graven across the Arch… runes that glowed ember-red against the black stone. Harry might have thought the runes had always been carved there, remaining unseen until they'd started glowing - but the fact that the runes had altered themselves dispelled that notion. And they were some sort of warning now, according to Hermione…
With a start, Harry leaned forward and squinted to sharpen his vision. Hadn't Hermione said there were gaps in the runes now? He couldn't see any gaps in the gravings on the Arch. Either the runes had altered themselves yet again, or… "Canby," he said softly, "come look at the Arch. Look at the runes. Can you read them?"
Canby trotted to Harry's side and peered at the Arch. "Canby cannot read the runes, sir," he replied, equally softly.
"Do they cover the entire Arch?"
"No, sir. There is… gaps."
So I can see runes that no one else can see. Well, that's just splendid. Now if only I could read the damned things, we'd be making progress!
Harry hadn't studied Ancient Runes, as Hermione had; he knew runes existed, and that was about the extent of his knowledge. But he had a Seeker's eye for detail, and he used it now to compare the runes on the Arch with what he remembered on the parchment Hermione had shown him. Amidst all the other runes were two new ones, which he didn't recall from the parchment - runes repeated several times, runes he now suspected filled the gaps in Hermione's copy. One symbol was shaped like a bolt of lightning; it didn't take much thought to suss out that it must refer to him. The other was a variant on the symbol for the Deathly Hallows: the bisected circle within a triangle, but the whole within a square. Or… maybe not quite within…?
He squinted more closely, then conjured a pair of opera glasses. Looking through the glasses, he could see the symbol clearly: the vertical straight line, within a circle, within a triangle - all within, or surmounted by, a square with the bottom side removed. Three lines at right angles, the three top sides of a square, drawn as though hovering over the Hallows' symbol. Or, perhaps, covering it.
A cover? A box? A container? Harry racked his brain. No, not for the Hallows - the Hallows can't be contained. What is it, then, and why is it with the Hallows' symbol?
It must symbolize something else. Like the line symbolizes the Wand, and the circle's the Stone… some other object with roughly that shape. Three-quarters of a square… two uprights and a top…
And Harry couldn't help it. He burst out laughing, so hard that he couldn't stand. It was laughter at himself, laughter at his predicament, laughter with more than a tinge of bitterness. Laughing, because the alternative was crying.
He sat heavily on the floor and covered his mouth to suppress his laughter. Canby looked at him in astonishment, but Harry couldn't explain without giving away his secret. But oh, how he wished Hermione were there with him to share his discovery.
All these years, I've been calling myself the Master of the Deathly Hallows. I should have known that couldn't be the truth.
I'm only Master of three of them.
*
From his corner, Ron noticed various people's reactions when two wizards slipped into the conference room, one wearing the blue robes of an Auror: Concern, fear, expectation. The new arrivals went straight to Shacklebolt and Robards, and Zabini made a beeline for the group. They shared low murmurings for a minute or so.
"A week?!" Zabini had made no effort to lower his voice. He stared at the Spell Reversal specialist, who fell silent. By voice, by expression, by every sign Zabini seemed aghast and outraged.
"Don't sound so shocked, Zabini," growled Robards. "This is exactly the sort of attack we called this Conference to counter." He addressed the Auror who had accompanied the Spell Reversal specialist. "Any word on the search, Montagu?"
The Auror shook his head. "We're working our way down, floor by floor, sir. I've two agents in the stairwells, and three watching the Floo fireplaces and Apparation point. Oh, and the phone booth entrance."
"We convened this Conference," Zabini told Robards with icy courtesy, "so that the national Ministries might pool our resources to address the rise in international crime. Smuggling, even drug trafficking. But this - this unwarranted assault on an innocent bystander could be no part of our brief!"
"Why not? The attack on Miss Weasley was no different than my own attack!" Robards smiled thinly. "Oh, hadn't you heard? I was Obliviated on Sunday night, in the sanctity of my own home. We have proof of the attack, though of course I haven't yet recovered the stolen memories."
"Wait a minute!" Ron interrupted, suddenly realizing what they were saying. He bounded from his corner and marched up to the group, as the assembled delegates watched with growing interest. "You never said it was Ginny who was attacked! Is she hurt? Where's is she? What happened?"
"She was Obliviated, Mr. Weasley," Shacklebolt said, "right here inside the Ministry. She's lost," he glanced at the Spell Reversal specialist for confirmation, "about a week's worth of memories, but she's physically unhurt."
"We will find the culprit," put in Robards.
"See that you do," said Zabini in a low voice. "And I'll want to go to see her as soon as possible."
"Fine. Right after I do," put in Ron savagely.
Zabini didn't reply directly, but his glance at Ron clearly said the redhead wasn't worth his time. He dismissed Ron and turned back to Robards. "I know the last few days have been trying for you, Gawaine… but still, I'm not sure I understand how your Department could have grown so lax as to allow this attack in the first place. But it seems quite clear that it could have nothing to do with your own attack - or the purpose of this Conference."
"Oh, now, Zabini," came a new voice at the door, "don't sell yourself short. I feel sure you understand everything perfectly well." Hermione Granger-Weasley strode confidently into the hall, a Magical Law Enforcer behind her. At her nod, he closed the door and stood in front of it, arms crossed.
Hermione was, in fact, much less confident than she looked. She knew that diligent work, by her and Creevey and others, might well produce solid evidence - given time. But it might not. And in that time, Zabini would have consolidated his political influence further… while the Cartel Lords would have taken their own steps to protect themselves. If Hermione was to keep the initiative, she had to act now.
But her only course of action carried considerable risk, should it fail.
Zabini was about to reply, but Ron spoke first. "Hermione? What's this about?"
She frowned slightly and shook her head, as if the signal Not now, Ron was a conditioned reflex, before his presence fully registered. "Ron? What are you doing here?"
"I came to talk to someone about Ginny," here Ron dug the note from his pocket as he spoke, "something about her welfare and safety, and it looks like I was right to worry! Is it about… well, you know what…" He offered the note to Hermione.
She barely succeeded in hiding her astonishment that Ron hadn't understood the implications of that note - fortunately, her expression was still one of being slightly put out, which helped. Mechanically she accepted the note, but her attention wasn't on it, or Ron. Instead, Hermione kept one surreptitious eye on Zabini, while the other was monitoring the room, waiting to see who would react to her possession of this message…
There! Upon seeing the note, one of the wizards from the Greek delegation had given a tiny start, then begun to turn, taking a step behind one of his colleagues - not moving fast enough to attract attention, but enough to obscure Hermione's view of him. She pointed a finger at him. "Halt!"
His colleague promptly moving out of the way, the wizard straightened and raised his hands slightly in a gesture of cooperation. Zabini, meanwhile, had showed no reaction to Ron's note… which, given it was Zabini, meant nothing.
Hermione approached the wizard with an outward show of calm, not drawing her wand, knowing that Robards, Montagu, and the Enforcer at the door were covering her back. "And you are?"
"Sabas Doukas," he replied quietly, "clerk for our deputation." His face was completely different from that of the wizard who'd attacked her and Ginny. But a dose of Polyjuice Potion would make facial features irrelevant. More important was the fact that he was the same height and build as the attacker - and Hermione knew that Aurors using Polyjuice always tried to find a form close to their own build, so that their trained responses weren't thrown off-balance by a body of unfamiliar size or weight.
She held out her hand. "May we examine your wand, please." Phrased as a request, her tone made it a order.
Doukas 's eyes slid around the room, noting the interest of all the delegates - but more importantly, of the Aurors. Slowly, making no sudden movements, he reached into his pocket. After a moment, an expression of surprise filled his face. "I… I appear to have lost it."
Hermione nodded. "As I expected. Oh, it must have been a wrench for you to throw it away: I know how attached we grow to our wands, they did choose us after all." She turned and stepped backward so that she could address Shacklebolt and Robards, while still keeping Doukas in her field of view. "I've no doubt that we'll find his wand in the stairwell. And that Prior Incantatem on it will yield a positive result for Memory Charms. And that Doukas will claim it was another wizard who used his wand to attack me and Ginny."
"I do claim that!" Doukas said, with more force.
"In that case," replied Hermione cordially, drawing an empty ampule from her pocket, "you won't mind if I take a small sample of your blood?"
He stared at the ampule, motionless, mute, expressionless. Hermione felt a qualm of doubt… which she covered, as she frequently did, by talking.
"The Aurors will continue searching, of course," she said didactically, "but I came here, to the international delegates. I was certain the culprit would be here amongst them." She looked around the room at the assembled witches and wizards, some of whom were beginning to swell indignant at her words, and raised a finger as though lecturing. "The culprit used Peruvian Darkness Powder to escape. That's been banned in Britain… but it's still available in other countries. Reasonable that the wizard who used it brought it here from one of those countries. The Slavic states, for instance." She fixed her gaze back on Doukas. "You are Macedonian, are you not?"
"All very interesting, Madam Granger," put in Zabini, who seemed to have regained his sang froid, "but very circumstantial. As is the wand… even if it were his, well, as you yourself note, these aren't proof."
"Taken separately, I agree. And even if his blood tests positive for Polyjuice, that's still not proof." She gave Zabini the frosty half-smile for which all the upper levels of the Ministry had learned a healthy respect. "But cumulatively, it would be evidence sufficient to hold Doukas for questioning… under Veritaserum. And then, I suspect, proof will come readily." She turned back to Doukas. "Your blood. I won't ask again."
His lips curled in a snarl, and Hermione recognized the expression - and in that instant, knew she'd found her attacker.
Doukas lunged towards Hermione. But she'd anticipated this - she sidestepped, one hand guiding his body away and down while her foot stay in place to trip him. He started to tumble, turned the tumble into a well-practiced roll, and came out of the roll immediately back to his feet - with a knife in his hand.
The roll had taken him some distance from Hermione, and towards the door. Doukas instantly made for the nearest person between him and the door: Ron. The flurry of action had taken Ron by surprise; before he could react, he found himself held from behind, one arm twisted behind his back and the knife at his throat.
"Let us all stay calm," announced Doukas. "I would not enjoy making Madam Granger a widow."