Author note: I didn't have a great number of ideas for this particular chapter, that's why its quick and jumpy. I just wanted to get past it because things start to really heat up after this. That's why it isn't as good as some of the previous ones, just in case anyone wants to shout at me.
Chapter Eight
The following takes place between 9:00am and 10:00am on the day of the Wizengamot Ministerial election.
Events occur in real time
9:00am, Ottery St. Catchpole
James and Celesca hurried along the path leading around Stoatshead Hill towards the village. James kept chancing glances over his shoulder, half expecting that Albus would have ratted them out as soon as they were away from the house. As the Muggle shops and houses of the village came into view, however, James began to relax a little, thinking that if his grandparents were in pursuit they'd have caught up to them by now.
Celesca was trotting along at James's side, setting the brisk pace at which they were walking. Her temporary euphoria at the inception of the idea had given way to all the concerns which had plagued her before, coupled now with the added anxieties over what they were going to do once they reached Hogsmeade and how they were actually going to get there in the first place.
The village was just beginning to come to life. Coffee shops and little cafes sent a sweet aroma into the air, while James longed to linger at the window of a bakery where freshly cooked bread and buns called to him. Celesca hurried him along however, past a post office and newsagents, along the pedestrianised cobble street towards a stile at the end, which led out towards the main road in the distance.
Sat around the rickety wooden fence, which the stile crossed over, were a group of Muggle youths. James could barely make out their faces, as all five of them were wearing hooded tops, but as they approached them he was struck by a sudden sense of foreboding. His sense of alert was heightened, as though he could scent danger, and as they drew nearer to the group his instincts became ever more pronounced.
The first jibe came as soon as they were in earshot. James couldn't make out much of the content, though he was sure the one phrase he did hear -'oi, love' - wasn't aimed at him. Celesca, scenting James's change in mood, gripped his hand to steady him. It didn't really work; James felt his ire rising as he watched the group of youths laugh and slap hands. By this time they were passing directly by them
"Oi, mate," one of the youths, who was clearly the leader, shouted. "Lend us your girlfriend. We could do with something to play with."
"Ignore them, James," Celesca whispered, though she quickened her step anyway.
"Oi, mate," the youth called again, though slightly more aggressively. "I'm talking to you."
James heard movement and knew the gang were following them. He clenched his fist, disengaged his other hand from Celesca and made for his wand.
"James, don't you dare," she hissed. "We are not Muggle-baiters."
"No," James agreed. "But if they try and hurt you -"
James was interrupted by a forceful shove in the back. He turned and found himself face-to-face with a spotty, pockmarked boy of about his own age. He looked like the sort of person who had never had a coherent thought in his life.
"You deaf or something?" he asked, spitting slightly. "I said give us that pretty little girl you're with. We wanna have some fun with her."
James eyeballed the ugly youth. "Yeah, I heard you the first time. And that's not going to happen."
The gang laughed. The leader squared back up to James. "You're going to stop us are you?"
The thug reached into his jacket and James instinctively jumped back. It was a good thing too; the gang leader had taken out a flick-knife and opened the blade. James reacted quickly, smacking it from his hand, but the response was for another of the youths to punch him hard in the face. James reeled back, turned and pushed Celesca away and onto a verge nearby. He span round and clobbered the nearest youth in one movement as the gang closed in on him. Something cracked, the kid toppled away yelping in pain.
The next few minutes were a blur in which blows came, and were returned, from all directions. Punches hit James in the head and side; his own fists connected with fleshy stomachs and bony skulls; blood poured from cuts to his face and a tooth fell out from his mouth. But James was doing well; three of the five gang members - including their leader - were in a worst state than he, though he could barely make out the other two as one of his eyes was swelling up. What he did see - and his world stopped for a moment - was one of the gang picking up the discarded flick-knife.
"James! Duck!"
James looked over to see Celesca, eyes full of fear and fury, standing on the grassy verge with her wand raised. Instinctively, James dropped to his knees and rolled away.
"Petrificus Totalus Maxima!"
James looked up to see a spell erupt from Celesca's wand the likes of which he'd never seen. Instead of a single blast of light, a wide arc spread from the wand-tip and hit all five of the gang members together. Each of them had their arms and legs suddenly snap together and they fell to the ground, as stiff as boards. James looked up at Celesca with a sort of wondrous awe and saw her fall to one knee; the effort of casting the spell seemed to have knocked the stuffing out of her.
"Cels? Are you alright?" said James, scrambling up to her.
"Yeah, I'm okay," she said, looking dazed. "But look at you! Look what they've done to you!"
"I'll be okay," said James, dabbing gingerly at a cut to his lip which was bleeding into his mouth, while Celesca smoothed the bruises on his cheek and jaw. "Come on, we have to get going."
"We cant just leave them like that," said Celesca, gesturing at the gang. "What if someone finds them?"
"That's what I'm afraid of," said James frantically. Celesca looked quizzically at him. "Cels Bells, don't be dumb - you've just done magic outside of school. Magic reversal, Improper magic use, Obliviators - they'll all be on their way. We have to get moving. We`ll be no use to your Aunt if we get caught here."
"Oh, yes," said Celesca, suddenly fearful. "I didn't really think of it like that."
James grabbed her by the arm and they hauled each other up. They took off down the dirt path as fast as their shaky legs could carry them.
* * *
9:06am, an airfield near Cardiff
Agent Scott pushed the speedometer of the Land Rover past eighty. It sent the vehicle into a state which would have made even the best traveller slightly queasy as the wheels bumped and jumped over the uneven, off-road surface. They were following tracks cut into the grass by Kelly and his gang, hoping to make up ground by the time MI5 reported in with their actual location.
Malfoy endured the ride as best he could. The jerking of the vehicle was causing the seatbelt to cut painfully into his shoulder, while the constant shuddering was making him incline his head towards the open window and the fresh breeze. He was determined not to show any weakness in front of Scott, who seemed to be in his element; a car chase was a distinctly Muggle discipline and Scott seemed to be revelling in being able to dictate proceedings.
Just when Malfoy thought he could feel vomit knocking on his palette, Scott swung the car sharply to the right and out of the field. They were now on a country lane and the flat tarmac surface was a much welcome relief, though there was no sign of any of Kelly's vehicles up ahead.
"It's the only road," said Scott. "This direction leads towards Offa's Dyke. Chances are that Kelly will be making for the border rather than heading south."
"How long does it take for a satellite feed to come up?" called Malfoy over the sound of the engine. "They could be miles away by now."
"When they have it I'm sure Barnes will send it to us," said Scott.
"Did you find anything useful in those crates back there?" asked Malfoy.
"They stank of gunpowder," said Scott. "Chances are they were weapons, or parts of bigger weapons. And a lot of them. Twenty-four crates can store a small arsenal."
"And if they needed so many vehicles they're likely to be targeting several places at once," Malfoy speculated.
"Or just targeting one big place," said Scott. "We'll know more once we get the satellite."
"Radio in and ask."
* * *
Barnes ignored the phone as it rang. Scott's caller ID came up and the Director hardly knew what to say. He looked at the handset, vibrating slightly with each tinny ring, and tried to think of the right words. It was always tough to disclose that mistakes had been made.
"Are you going to answer that, Sir?" asked Agent Miller, also looking at the phone.
"Its Richard," said Barnes. "What am I going to tell him?"
"The truth, Sir," said Agent Miller. "It's hardly your fault."
"You're right," said Barnes. "Put it on speaker."
Agent Miller pressed the appropriate button. Agent Scott answered at the other end.
"Finally. I thought I was going to go through to answer phone!"
He laughed at his own comment.
"Scott, its Barnes. You're also on with Agent Miller. What's your current position?"
"We're heading due East from the airfield." said Scott. "We can't see any other cars up ahead. What's the progress with the satellite?"
"Ah, we've - erm - had a little problem with that," said Barnes.
"What do you mean `little problem'?" Draco Malfoy's voice came over the speaker.
"It seems that the satellite rotate speed was set incorrectly," said Barnes. "It didn't move over your position in time."
"What? Are you saying we have no satellite?" asked Scott.
"That's what I'm saying," said Barnes, slightly sheepishly.
"Great!" said Scott. "So we could be going in completely the wrong direction."
"We're moving the satellite to your location now," said Miller. "If the roads are as empty as you say we might get lucky."
"Don't patronise me," said Scott angrily. "That's not going to work and you know it. Once they hit the motorways we're done."
"We're exploring other avenues," said Barnes. "When we have something workable we'll let you know. Just keep on moving."
"Down blind alleys?" said Scott. "Someone there needs to pull their finger out. We're wasting our time out here and a dangerous terrorist is now loose in Britain with a planeload of weapons. Get back to us if you have anything useful. Scott out."
Barnes looked shocked at Scott's outburst, but knew his deputy was right to be enraged. Miller rolled her eyes and went back to her station. Barnes, meanwhile, crossed the room to the tech department. He took a seat near to Cara, one of the most promising analysts on the staff.
"Can I help you, sir?" she asked, timidly.
"I'm hoping so," said Barnes. "Tell me, Cara, how often are the satellites retuned?"
"Retuned, sir?"
"How often are their settings changed or refreshed?" said Barnes.
"Very rarely, sir," said Cara. "They generally only get altered if they report an error in their programming."
"That's what I thought," Barnes mused. "Would you be able to log onto a satellite and pull off its data history?"
"Yes, sir, but why?"
"One of our satellites has malfunctioned," said Barnes. "It hasn't done what we asked it to. I want to see if there is a fault with it."
"I can check it down in IT," said Cara. "That's where the relays are."
"Good. Its GeoSat 212. And Cara, do it quietly and report only to me. If you can mask your activity, do it."
"This is all very strange, sir, I'm not sure if I'm comfortable -"
"Cara, we may have a leak in this office and if we do I have to find out," said Barnes. "But I cant do it alone. I need your help. Can I trust you to be onside with this?"
Cara thought only for a moment. "Yes, sir, of course."
"Good, then get going to IT," said Barnes. "And remember - report your findings to me alone. If I'm not available when you're ready, wait until I am. Wait five minutes after I leave then go. Make it look natural."
Barnes got up and made his way towards his office. Something just didn't add up and Malfoy's claims of a mole seemed to have more weight that Barnes liked.
* * *
9:12 am, Weymouth
Two small pops signalled the arrival of two people in a forest clearing just outside a small village. Harry and Hermione adjusted themselves and moved through the thin cluster of trees and made for the smattering of shops close by.
"How did you know to Apparate here?" asked Harry. "Have we been here before?"
"I know the various bland places we pitched our tent in during the Horcrux hunt sort of blended into one," Hermione began. "But this one stuck in my head. It was where we stayed just before we went to Godric's Hollow. Don't you recognise the village? It was here that we pinched the hair of those poor Muggles to use in the Polyjuice."
"Your woman was so mousy," Harry remembered.
"And you were bald!" said Hermione.
"Yeah, not too far off that now," said Harry, stroking the crown of his head where his messy black hair was just starting to thin a little. He stopped himself from speaking; the memory of that one, almost blissful week, where he and Hermione were alone and their normal selves, had risen to the surface. It was the week where both had realised what it was they were feeling for each other; a realisation snuffed out all too soon by Ron's return.
"Don't think about that," said Hermione, as though reading his thoughts. "Who knows what we'll do if we let regret take over us."
"You're right," said Harry. "I'll get past this, I promise."
They walked in relative silence until they reached the row of shops, neither one knowing what to say; it was as if an embargo existed on all subjects, or that any topic either could bring up would lead to the one thing both wanted to say, and avoid, in equal measure. They were spared from having to think too much on excuses as they arrived at their destination.
"Herbal Essentials," said Harry, reading the sign. " This is the place. Shall we?"
Harry opened the door and Hermione passed him. A bell tinkled somewhere in the murky reaches of the shop as Harry entered. The place smelled earthy and damp; flowers of every colour sat in pots and trays along the walls, while large plants and garden accessories dominated large steel shelves running along the centre of the place. There wasn't much light; most that did come in entered via the dirty front window, giving the place a dreary and murky atmosphere. Harry didn't like it at all.
They made their way to the front of the shop. An antiquated till stood next to a truncated tree on a counter whose paint was peeling and faded. There was an unearthly quiet to the darkness of the place and Harry thought it was the perfect location for black deeds to be arranged.
"Can I help you?"
The voice spoke behind Harry and Hermione, causing them both to jump. A man, far younger than Harry had expected, loomed out of the shadows cast by the high shelves and Harry couldn't help feeling that he'd been waiting for them, perhaps even watching as they'd passed through the shop.
"Are you looking for anything in particular?" the man asked.
Harry regained himself after the initial shock. "We're looking for Neil Gardner. Are you him?"
"Who's asking?"
"I am," said Harry. "That is to say, we are."
"And who are you?" asked the man, his eyes shifting quickly and nervously from Harry to Hermione and then back again. "Trading standards? Floristry commission? Who?"
"We're here on behalf of … The Baron," said Hermione dramatically.
"Who's he then?" asked the man, though he noticeably took a step away.
"I understand you've been trading with this individual," said Harry, stepping closer.
"I trade with lots of people, its my job."
"You are Gardner, then?" asked Harry.
"Yeah, that's right," said Gardner. "Now what do you want?"
"Tell us what you sold to the Baron," said Hermione. "What did he ask you to get for him?"
"Customer confidentiality is crucial for good business," said Gardner. "I don't have to tell you anything."
"No, that's true," said Harry, closing the gap again. "You don't have to tell us anything, but if you know something, you will tell us. And trust me - it will hurt a lot more if you don't tell us by choice."
"I don't have to listen to threats in my own shop!" cried Gardner. "I think you should get out. Go on, on your bikes."
Hermione joined Harry at his side. "Talk to us and we'll be on our way."
Gardner looked utterly nonplussed. "Okay, I have an invoice here somewhere …"
He went to the counter and rummaged under it for a few moments. Then Harry thought he heard something click; it sounded like a gun cocking but before he could register it Gardner had sprung up and fired a shotgun in Hermione's direction.
"HERMIONE!"
Harry's scream barely cut the air as the blast from the gunshot echoed around the place. He turned his head to her, but Hermione wasn't where she'd been standing a moment before. He looked around, wildly half-expecting to see bits of her scattering the floor, but there was nothing. Harry heard the gun click again and, though he could barely think straight, dived to the ground. The second shot ripped through one of the larger plant pots and Harry was covered in a shower of earth and compost. Struggling to clear the stuff from his mouth, Harry heard several things; first, muffled footsteps from the direction of the counter told him that Gardner was on his way; second, the hollow sound of new cartridges being loaded into the shotgun reached Harry's ears and he couldn't think to get up; then there was a little tinkling sound.
"Stupefy"
Harry didn't think he'd ever been happier to hear Hermione's voice. The thud of Gardner's body crashing into the counter resounded around the shop and Harry felt Hermione's hands brushing the dirt from his face. She cleaned his glasses and he looked up at her.
"Good timing," said Harry. "Where did you go?"
"Apparated outside," Hermione replied, helping Harry to his feet. "My wand got stuck in a loose thread in my robes. I had to yank it free, look."
She showed Harry a tear in her robes. A gleam of white shone beneath the azure of the fabric.
"Er … Hermione," said Harry cautiously. "Is that your underwear showing through?"
"My what?" she looked down. "Oh my dear lord! Harry, don't look … Reparo, Reparo, Reparo!"
She cast the spell quickly with the most embarrassed voice Harry had ever heard her use, her face taking on the deepest blush. The tear fixed itself and Hermione tucked her wand away, though she couldn't look in Harry's direction. He grinned at her.
"You could have left it, you know," he teased. "I'm sure I could have stopped myself from looking … maybe."
She slapped his arm. "You're incorrigible. Come on, lets get to Gardner before he wakes up."
They made their way back to the counter. Gardner had been thrown with such force by Hermione's spell that he'd hit the counter and tumbled over it. His left leg was bent beneath him, undoubtedly broken in several places. Harry rounded the counter, drew his wand and pointed it at Gardner.
"Enervate," he said.
Gardner woke slowly, looking drowsy. He glanced around but with three seconds the pain hit him; his scream was shrill enough to smash glass.
"Tell me about the Baron," said Harry.
"Aarrghh! My leg!" cried Gardner.
"The Baron," Harry repeated.
"Harry, give him something for the pain," said Hermione.
"No," said Harry firmly. Hermione had made for her wand again. "If he talks to me, I'll fix his leg. If he doesn't, I'll break the other one."
"No! No! Please!" cried Gardner. "Make it stop! Make it stop!"
"Tell me what you know, then I'll help you," said Harry.
"Alright, I'll talk, I'll talk," whimpered Gardner.
"Don't tell me you'll talk, just talk," said Harry angrily. He slapped Gardner.
"Harry! Was that really necessary?"
Harry looked up at Hermione. "No, I just fancied doing it."
"I'll tell you everything," said Gardner. "Just make the pain go away."
Harry huffed, then pointed his wand at Gardner's leg. "Torpeo. That's a numbing spell, but it wont last for long. If you tell me something useful, I'll heal your leg. If you don't, its back to the pain."
"Alright, I'll talk to you," said Gardner, at ease now the pain was gone. "The guy you want, The Baron, paid me to stock some illegal magical plants. I trade with wizards, I know some of your Tradeable Items laws."
"How did you get the stuff?" asked Harry.
"Couriers," explained Gardner. "They'd turn up at all times of the day. Different ones all the time. They'd leave stuff with me and I'd get paid to store it. Then the other courier would turn up and she'd take the stuff, giving me the second half of my payment."
"She?" asked Hermione. "There was only one person who collected from you?"
"Yeah, blonde piece, all dreamy like," said Gardner. "Didn't seem the kind to be caught up in something dodgy."
Harry and Hermione exchanged pointed looks at the mention of a `dreamy blonde'.
"And when was the last time she collected from you?" Harry asked.
"A few weeks ago," said Gardner. "But the Baron, himself, came today."
"Today?" said Hermione. "He was here?"
"Yeah, picking up some rare ingredients I'd managed to get hold of for him," said Gardner. I've made a few contacts with wizards since I trade with `em."
"What do these ingredients go in to?" asked Harry.
"One is the last bit of a poison," said Gardner. "I had a list of ingredients to get and a wizard mate of mine said that if they're put together right they made a deadly poison. Kills in hours."
"And the other?"
"Well, its for the cure, isn't it?" said Gardner. "My mate called it the `White He-Licks-Her'. Sounds like a bad porn movie title to me."
"What were the ingredients?" asked Hermione.
"Can't remember, I gave the list to my buyer," said Gardner. "All I know is that one of them makes hydrogen blow up. I told the Baron not to mix it with water or it'd explode. But he just said he was going to poison the water."
Poison the water? So that was the plan. Harry's mind went into overdrive. Gardner seemed to have given up all that he was going to. Harry had to be good to his word, as Hermione wouldn't let it be otherwise, and together they healed Gardner's broken leg and modified his memory. They left the shop and made for the forest clearing again, discussing what they'd learned.
"So the Baron is going to poison the water," said Harry. "He must even have had someone in the Department of International Magical Commerce in his pocket to import illegal plants. The guy really does have his fingers in an extraordinary number of pies. I thought Gardner gave up his info without much prompting, mind you. He was very helpful."
"Yes, well," said Hermione lightly. "Excruciating pain and a Confundus Charm will work wonders for you."
"You Confunded him?"
"Well … I just fancied it," said Hermione.
"Why would anyone poison the water supply?" asked Harry. "Doesn't make much sense."
"Actually it makes perfect sense," said Hermione haughtily. "Water is essential to health and industry. A society is only ever three meals away from revolution, or in this case one drink away."
"I don't get it," said Harry.
"Think about it," said Hermione. "If you poison the water and have the only cure -which I'm betting is what this White Elixir is - then you can demand anything. What kind of government will stand by and let their people die if they can prevent it?"
"Will it be possible to affect that many people?" asked Harry.
"Maybe, if the Baron strikes at the right place," said Hermione. "He could target the reservoir systems, water treatment facilities, the Evian plant."
Harry chuckled. "Yeah, if he targets the Evian plant the middle-class will be wiped out by next Thursday!"
"Harry this isn't the time for joking!" said Hermione shrilly. "We have to act fast. If he already has the poison we may be too late already."
"You're right, I'm sorry," said Harry. "We have to find Luna. If she was the courier who the Baron used every time except today, she might know what the target is."
"Lets hope so," said Hermione. "She's all we've got."
* * *
9:21 am
A few miles north of Ottery St Catchpole a hooded wizard moved slowly through thickets and hedgerows lining the sides of a dirt track. There was only one house up ahead and as the wizard drew near to it he felt the thrill of excitement build within him. His quarry was inside, unknowing and in no state to defend herself. The assassin remembered his orders, though he doubted that the fragile little woman he met once before is anywhere near as dangerous as his boss made out.
He made his way over the garden gate and up towards the house. He checked one window after another, eventually stopping at the rear of the house where a door led into a small, circular kitchen. Inside, listening to a Wireless set, a blonde-haired figure sat hunched over the kitchen table.
"Alohomora!"
The assassin opened the door quietly, checking through the window to make sure his target hadn't moved. She was still sat there, her position so fixed she might have been asleep. The assassin crept into the kitchen, the tiled floor masking his light footsteps. He was a foot of so behind the woman; he looked at her callously and raised his wand.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Green light blasted from the wand, illuminating the body before him. It didn't move, didn't fall to the table or anything. Could an Avada Kedavra totally freeze a body? The assassin hardly knew. He went to leave, but then thought it wouldn't hurt to check the body. He stepped forward and pressed his fingers into the neck of the woman. It was hard and stiff, cold to the touch. Surely the body should still be warm. He didn't have much time to consider it.
"Stupefy!"
The spell sent the assassin flying headfirst over the kitchen table and he landed in a heap out of sight. Luna entered the kitchen and lowered her wand; she had been expecting an attempt on her life and had been in the garden hiding her gnomes when the assassin had appeared. She had watched him enter the house and attack the mass of odd bits of wood she'd transfigured into a mannequin and stuck a blonde wig on. She advanced on him now, looking over his unconscious form and wondered what she was going to do with him.
* * *
9:26 am, The Burrow
Albus was surprised to hear a knock on the door. Despite trying to look his innocent best after helping James and Celesca escape, Grandma Weasley was still annoyed at him for nearly setting fire to the house. She had unofficially banished him to the bedroom and Albus didn't argue; he knew he'd end up telling her everything about James and he didn't want to waste the good information by spilling his guts in a huff and getting no reward for it.
"What do you want?" he called through the door.
"Can I come in?"
"Oh, its you, Rose," said Albus. "You can come in if you want."
Rose entered the room and shut the door. "Is it true that you nearly burnt the kitchen down?"
She had a sort of impish grin on her face and though Albus was still seething about everything, he still recognised the kindred spirit that made he and his cousin get on so well.
"Sort of, though Grandma is going way over the top about it," said Albus.
"What are you up to?"
"Not much," said Albus. "Not much I can do stuck in here."
"I know something you can do," said Rose. "You can tell me what's going on."
"Going on with what?" said Albus nervously.
"Don't play games," said Rose briskly. "My mum wakes me and Hugo up at the crack of dawn and send us here. A few hours later you all turn up looking like you've spent the night tickling sleeping dragons, and then my mum just disappears with your dad again."
"Yeah, she's been making a habit of that," said Albus waspishly.
Rose looked stung. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," said Albus.
"Don't give me nothing," said Rose. "What did you mean by that?"
"Just drop it, forget about it," said Albus.
"I'll do no such thing," said Rose. She sounded affronted at being told what to do and Albus thought she was a lot like her mother in that respect. A corrosive dislike for Rose crept up into Albus's chest.
"I'm not telling you anything so you're wasting your time asking," said Albus.
"Why are you being like this?" asked Rose. "When did you become such a horrible Slytherin?"
Albus's anger bubbled at being insulted by this bossy hag. His restraint was weak and broke easily.
"I suppose the moment your tart of a mum started knocking off my dad!"
Rose looked like she'd been slapped and hit in the face by a strong wind at the same time.
"What an awful thing to say!" she cried. "How can you say something like that?"
"Because its true," Albus sniped. "She's been throwing herself at him forever. Now she's gone and made him put my mum in Azkaban. She's even turned James against her. But I know the truth, I know your mum's nothing but a no-good harlot."
"My mum is not a harlot!" cried Rose. "Why would she put your mum, her own sister-in-law, in Azkaban? Why are you making up these lies?"
"They're not lies, they're true," said Albus, his voice rising. "She put my mum in prison so she could get to my dad. You watch; all she has to do now is get your dad out the way and her work will be done. She's probably gone to bump him off right now."
Rose was stuck for words, but her own anger at these claims was rising in her chest. "My mum has done nothing. If your mum is in Azkaban she probably deserved it. She always was a -"
She was stopped in mid sentence; Albus had stepped close to her and pulled out his wand.
"Another word about my mum … just one more word," he said darkly. To his surprise, Rose smirked at him.
"Don't bother, Albus, you`ll only embarrass yourself," she said.
Albus looked down and saw Rose had drawn her own wand in a flash, or maybe she'd already taken it out without him noticing. For several moments they just stared at each other. The next thing they knew was the door opening suddenly.
"What is all this commotion going on in here?"
Grandma Weasley, alerted from downstairs by all the shouting, had come up to investigate. She clocked one look at the pair of them, wands in each others' faces, gasped and then crossed the room in one bound. She separated them, pushed their wand-arms down and clipped them both around the ears.
"Now just what in the name of Dumbledore do you think you're playing at?" she yelled. "Rose? Albus? One of you had better explain yourselves or there will be trouble in this room."
"He called my mother a tart and a harlot!" said Rose.
"Only because she is one," hissed Albus.
"Albus! Hold your tongue!" said Grandma Weasley. "And I suppose you insulted in kind, Rose?"
"No, I didn't!" she protested. "That isn't fair!"
"You were both shouting at each other," said Grandma Weasley. "I seriously doubt you didn't say anything bad, Rose."
"Well I didn't," she replied simply. "He was the one telling all the lies."
"They aren't lies, you silly Muggle," said Albus nastily.
"Albus, that's quite enough," said Grandma Weasley. "I want you to apologise to your cousin."
"No chance," said Albus firmly.
"Good, because I wouldn't accept it if he did!" said Rose. She wrenched herself free of her grandmother's grip and dashed out of the room. Grandma Weasley turned to Albus.
"Now why have you got to going saying things like that for?"
"Because they're true," said Albus. "My mum and dad have broken up and its her tramp of a mother's fault."
"Your father told me what happened out in Greece. Your mum is sick, or being controlled by bad people. She did dreadful things to your dad."
"How can you believe that!" cried Albus stoically. "She's your daughter."
"I saw your dad's scars," said Grandma. "Ginny did that to him. I don't want to believe it either but Harry didn't do that to himself."
"Maybe that dung-face Hermione did it."
"That's not possible and I wont believe it."
"But you will believe your own daughter did it?"
For a moment, Grandma Weasley was stumped. "I believe in what your father said. Look, he and Hermione are going to find the people behind all this. He'll find a way to clear Ginny's name. In the meantime I don't want you to go goading Rose because you blame Hermione for all this, though I cant understand why you would. Your father wanted this kept quiet. I know you love your mum but I'm sure you love your dad, too, and that you'll respect his wishes."
Albus looked mutinously guilty for a moment. "I'm sorry, Gran. I'll be good. I promise."
"Its not me you should apologise to, but I think hoping you'll do that is going too far," she replied.
"I'll stay in here," said Albus. "I'm not saying sorry, but I wont tell Rose the truth again if you keep her away from me."
"I have a feeling I wont have to work too hard to do that," Grandma Weasley replied. She got up, muttered something about checking on Lily then left, leaving Albus wondering if he could worm a way to get at Rose into his revenge on James. He'd love to see that stupid bint knocked down a peg or two.
* * *
9:32am, MI5 HQ
Cara logged onto the terminal in the IT room. There was no-one about so it would be easy to act in secrecy, though part of her was worried that she may be being watched. She'd seen enough of those TV shows to know that traitors tended to lurk in the shadows of deserted rooms, waiting to strike if someone got close too discovering them. As such, Cara spent as much time looking over her shoulder as she did looking at the terminal screen.
Accessing the satellite was easy, a process made quicker by the fact that MI5 had already been communicating with the on-board computer and a link was still active. Cara latched onto the signal and tapped into the memory logs. She wasn't expecting to find anything; satellites had an extraordinary lifespan and rarely needed maintenance. She was amazed, then, when she found herself faced by a number of logs pointing to remote access of the satellites' navigation, some were very recent.
"This isn't right," said Cara to herself.
She scrolled through the logs, noting the times and places they had been recorded. Amazingly, most had used terminals from the very room she was in. Cara gasped as she reached the last one - it was dated from not more than two hours ago. Cara accessed the deeper files on the system; they revealed just one log-in code for the entire set.
"Agent Miller?" said Barnes, astonished. Cara had just briefed him on all she'd found out. "Why would she do that?"
"I don't know, sir, but there's more," said Cara.
"More?" said Barnes, exasperated by what he already knew.
"The rotate speed - how fast the satellite moves to a new location - was altered, but there was more done to it. It seems the actual feed from the satellite had been changed, too. A single section had been recorded and played in a continuous loop. It might have been some kind of failsafe in case the satellite got to where we wanted it in time. Agent Miller didn't want us seeing anything down there."
"My god," said Barnes, scratching his head. "Miller's the traitor. She knew everything. All our movements, all our plans, everything."
"Shall I alert security, sir?" asked Cara.
"No, not yet," said Barnes.
"But sir, after what she's done -"
"She'll answer for it, don't worry," said Barnes. "But right now we need her."
"Need her?" said Cara. "She's impeding us, sir!"
"I know, she's evaporated our leads, but we need her to generate new ones," said Barnes.
"I cant see her helping us to do that," said Cara.
"Not by choice, no," said Barnes. "But she's bound to be in contact with Kelly again. Cara, I want you to put a trace on all her activities - all her calls, all her movements. If her key card opens an electronic door I want to know about it. Can you do that without her knowing?"
"Yes, sir, with a scrambler code," said Cara.
"Then do it, right away," said Barnes. "But we cant let her know we're on to her. Keep working normally, if she suspects anything, she'll withdraw. We have to let her continue to work with Kelly. Once she slips up we'll be all over her like a cheap suit."
* * *
9:38am, The Knight Bus, somewhere in Derbyshire
The great triple decker gave a big lurch and took off again. The seats rolled from side to side as the bus careered up pavements and shot through miniscule gaps in Muggle traffic jams. Post boxes and traffic cones jumped out of the way, lamp posts leant back and low bridges expanded as the Knight Bus flew past and under them. The Muggles, bless them, saw nothing of course.
Celesca did her best to dab and clean James's wounds with a wad of cloth they'd been given. It was blind luck they'd caught the bus in the first place, summoned to them when James had stumbled to avoid a rat-trap in a field and thrown out his wand arm. The conductor had bought their flimsy excuse about James falling down a river bank and tore them a rag from a large sheet, which they usually ripped up to clean drink spillages and the occasional vomit puddle.
"This bleeding wont stop," said Celesca helplessly. "We have to get this seen to."
"We cant go anywhere that people might be looking for us," said James. "It'll stop eventually."
He said the words but he hadn't yet confessed to Celesca that he felt extremely light headed and that he was having trouble breathing, a side effect of the agonizing pain in his side which he thought might have been a cracked rib.
"We'll be at Hogsmeade soon, we're one of the next stops," said Celesca. "Maybe we can find something up there to help."
"Yeah, maybe," said James. His eyes were becoming more and more unfocused and though the movement of the bus didn't help, he felt that his dizziness was entirely independent. He suddenly felt very scared, as though he were about to die. "Celesca!"
He groped for her but she was gone. He felt himself falling down, down, though he didn't know to where. He felt very cold and shivery and frightened like he'd never been before. He had become so used to being with Celesca that he never felt alone; but now, with her gone, he was utterly by himself and terrified of the sensation. He groped around for her, catching hold of something he was sure was hair. It didn't feel like hers - it was more matted and had the consistency of old rope - but he wasn't going to let it go. He pulled hard.
"Watch it! I'm gonna be wanting ter keep me beard if yer don' mind!"
James looked up, colours swimming into view. Light flooded his vision and though he couldn't see much, he felt overwhelming joy at not being dead.
"Celesca!"
"I see he won' be denied."
"James! I'm here."
And then she was. The warm, scented feel of her enveloped James's body and ensnared his senses. He held her back, quite determined that he wasn't ever letting her go. He tried to get up and hug her ever more intently but a sharp pain forced him down again. He opened his eyes, seeing only the golden locks of Celesca's hair blocking his vision. She moved away at his yelp, allowing him to see where he was.
"Hagrid! Where am I? How did we get here?"
"Looks like he took a crack or two on tha' noggin' of his," said Hagrid. "Maybe we should get Nurse Evesham back `ere."
"Nurse Evesham?" said James. "Am I - are we at Hogwarts?"
"Yes, sweetie," said Celesca. "I brought you to Hagrid's. I couldn't think what else to do."
"An' it was the right thing, an' all," said Hagrid. "Gettin' in ter a spot of bother with the Whomping Willow. Good thing I was in, really; I was supposed ter be playing Cluedo with me brother."
"Whomping Willow?" said James, confused. "I wasn't -"
"Maybe he has taken a knock to the head, cant even remember why we're here," said Celesca, cutting across and looking meaningfully at him.
He returned her stare with a quizzical one of his own. "Maybe I have. Why are we here, again?"
"Oh, you have'n got ter go in ter details," said Hagrid suddenly. "You find out how ter get in ter the Shrieking Shack an' while you're in the area, an' the school's shut, you pair o'lovers slip away from yer dad and try an' sneak in there. Don' take a genius ter work out what yer up to."
"Oh, yeah, right," said James looking questioningly at Celesca.
"Look, Hagrid, you wont tell on us, will you?" said Celesca sweetly. "I don't want Mr Potter to think anything bad about me."
"Now why would he think tha`, yer a lovely girl," said Hagrid. Celesca simply looked back at him and comprehension dawned. "Ah, see wha' you mean. Don' fret, yer secret's safe with me."
"Thanks, Hagrid," said James. "Look we'd better get going. Dad'll be wondering where we got to."
"Nurse Evesham said ter rest fer a bit," said Hagrid. "I can go an' fetch Harry if yer like. Up at the Broomsticks, is he?"
"No, I'm fine, really," said James quickly. Gritting his teeth and holding back a wince, he stood up. "We really should get going. Besides, we don't want him to know where we've been."
"Well, if yer sure," said Hagrid.
"Yeah, thanks," said James.
Hagrid showed them to the door. "Now take care you two. The village is tha' way - don' try an' go back to the Shack firs', ter finish wha' yer started."
"We wont," said James.
"Thanks for the tea, Hagrid."
"You had time for tea?" said James when they were out of earshot of Hagrid's hut. "How long was I out for?"
"At least ten minutes," said Celesca. Her lip was quivering and then, very suddenly, she jumped into James arms so forcefully that she was lifted into the air. She was crying more uncontrollably than anything James had ever seen. "You were so cold and I couldn't wake you up. I thought I'd lost you. If it weren't for Hagrid and the Nurse ..."
She broke off and sobbed hard into his shoulder, apparently unable to speak her thoughts out loud. James winced at the pain and Celesca broke away suddenly.
"Sorry, I didn't think," she said, wiping her eyes.
"It's okay," said James. "I'll be alright. I know Skele-Gro when I feel it. The pain always lingers after the injury is healed."
"It was only a fracture so it worked right away," said Celesca. "But your lung had been punctured and was taking on fluid. The Nurse had to siphon the liquid from your body. I'm going to learn how to do that."
"Why would you want to know how to siphon liquid from a lung?"
"No, not just that, dopey - I'm talking about healing spells generally," said Celesca. "Some wounds you can heal with a wand. I'm sure I saw a book on how to do it in the library."
"You read far more than you need to," said James. Celesca looked scandalised at the claim that he thought it was possible to read too much. James retracted swiftly. "But if you want to take on more reading, great. I love the library."
"Since when do you love the library?" Celesca scoffed.
"Okay I don't," said James. "But I love you, so I do through you. That`s how it works."
"Ah, I see," said Celesca, grinning wryly. "But that logic isn't universal; the next time I catch you looking at those girls in Playwitch magazine, don't expect me not to clout you because `I'm supposed to love it too'."
"I've never seen a copy of Playwitch," said James defensively. "You'll have to shown me an edition one day."
"Shut up, James, or I'll break something of yours that not even Skele-Gro will mend."
By this time they were passing through the village. James might have fancied nipping into Honeydukes, but his stomach didn't feel up to digesting anything after being hit so many times. They passed the post office and the Hogs Head pub and followed the path down the hill. There, a handsome red-brick building stood before them. They made their way towards it, stopping at the entrance gates.
"Right, lets go over this again," said Celesca. "They keep the boys and girls separate in here so I'll have to go in by myself while you keep watch."
"I'll stay by that fire escape over there," said James, pointing to a wrought iron staircase clinging to the side of the building. "I'll keep the door open so you can run out once we get your cousin."
"Right, but where will we go then?" asked Celesca.
"We'll deal with that later," said James. "We have to get your cousin first, and we don't even know if she's there. Let's just get her and we'll think on the fly."
"That's pretty much par for the course with us, isn't it?" said Celesca nervously. "Okay, lets go."
* * *
9:50am, a manor house in Shropshire
Ron looked over the scattered documents on the table. In front of him were a number of parchment sheets pertaining to all sorts of things; multiple elements to this plan were laid out in plain sight. Ron scanned through them; one piece stuck out from all the rest.
Meet Kelly, 10:15
Ron checked the clock on the wall. The meeting was taking place in under twenty five minutes and Ron wondered if he`d be able to get to the meeting place himself in that time. As he thought on this, voices filtered in through the door he'd left open.
"What's that door doing open? Is the Baron returned?"
Ron froze. He looked to his right; a red scarf lay discarded on a chair at the head of the table. Footsteps drew closer to the room, stopping outside the door.
"You cant just go in there!" a second voice hissed. "Not without an invitation. You know how he doesn't like to be disturbed."
"And what if its someone snooping around inside? What about that?"
"What if it isn't?" said the second voice. "There's a lot going on; maybe the Baron forgot to close the door. Do you want to take the chance?"
"Do you want to take the chance there's an intruder?" said the first voice. "If something goes wrong or missing and the Baron finds out that we could have done something about it, how do you think he'll react?"
There was a slight pause. "Okay, fine. But at least knock first."
There was a knock on the door, which creaked open with the force. "Hello? My Lord? Are you in here?"
The door opened completely, though the two speakers didn't see the door to a large closet close as they entered.
"The room is empty," said the second voice. "But this is the Baron's scarf."
"I'm sure he has more than one. I'll just put this away over here."
The voice was very close to Ron now.
"No! Don't move it! Put it back," said the second speaker. "If the Baron finds it moved he'll know we've been in here."
"You're right," said the first voice with genuine anxiety. There was a pause. "It was like this, wasn't it? Draped over this part?"
"Yeah, just move it to the right a bit," said the other voice, nervously. "That's it. Come one, lets get out of here."
A few moments later, the door clicked shut. Ron slipped out from the closet, grabbed the note about the meeting time, which included a location, waited a few minutes then left the room as carefully as he could.
* * *
9:58 am, Thames Water, London
Elton Brewer checked his watch again. It was time. He moved across to the cauldron; the slightly shimmering fumes covered a black substance inside. Brewer reached into his pack and removed a ladle; scooping a full amount into the ladle's dish, Brewer moved carefully across to an inlay valve in one of the main water pipes.
"Open it," he commanded.
"Are you sure we should do this? It isn't ten yet," said Coles. He wanted to be sure. "Let's give it a few more minutes."
"The Baron said if the government hadn't capitulated by five-to, my orders were to introduce a trace amount as a demonstration," said Brewer. "I have already given them an extra few minutes. The Baron demands results."
"But I thought you said they'd cave in," said Coles. "Why haven't they?"
"Spragg, our Minister for Magic, is a stubborn man," said Brewer. "It was unlikely he would fold without some inducement. I'm about to give it to him. Now open the valve."
Coles did as he was told. Brewer spooned the contents of the ladle into the water flow, watched it disappear and replaced the valve. He turned to Coles.
"Phone your boss," he said. "He's meeting with the Baron shortly. Tell him to give him a message from me. Tell him, its begun."
10:00am
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