Turn Me Loose: A Harry Potter Adventure
I Gotta Do It My Way

By JBern

Previous I was Born to Run I was Born to Dream The Craziest Boy You've Ever Seen I Gotta Do It My Way Or No Way at All And I'm Here to Please I'm Even On My Knees Making Love to Whoever I Please I Gotta Do It My Way (reprise) Or No Way at All (reprise) And Then You Came Around Tried to Tie Me Down I Was Such a Clown You Had to Have It Your Way, I'm Saying No Way So Why Don't You Turn Me Loose? Turn Me Loose Next

Chapter 4 — I Gotta Do It My Way

Monday October 14th, 1996

You limp down the passageway away from the Room of Requirement.   Kwan’s bludgeoner left a grapefruit-sized bruise on your thigh.   He wasn’t very appreciative of the Switching spell that moved his moustache to where his eyebrows were.   Perhaps some time in the future the Fu Manchu unibrow will have its day!   However, it won’t be this day.  Sadly, you were laughing too hard to successfully dodge his return fire.

It’s worth the pain to be able to show that image in a Pensieve to Bill.

People always say that it is better to give than receive. The same advice applies to Kwan. It’s far better to give punishment than receive. Fortunately, you’re getting better at giving, but you’re still receiving far too much.

Ron’s standing in the corridor. He’s got the Marauder’s Map in his hand. You’d been wondering where it was. Great, now you can add a pain in your arse to the one in your leg.

"Hello again, Ron.   Come to return my property?"

"I figured you were in there when you didn’t show up on the map.   You’re lucky to be able to get in there.   After classes let out for the day, there’s usually a line of people waiting to use it."

"Five points to Gryffindor for your mastery of the obvious."

"Are you going to shut up and listen to me for a minute?   I already said I didn’t know what was going on until after you left.   You want to be mad at me, fine.   At least let me have my say first."

"Sure. Your family's taken my money, my house, and my memories. What're a few minutes of my time?"

 "No need to get shirty. Look, about this summer…"   The two of you are interrupted by several students heading for the Room of Requirement and looking pleased that no one is using it.

"Bloody hell, Ron! You really think I give a shit about the summer any more?"

"It might not be important to you, but it is to me."

You really don’t want to hear this. Not right now. All you want is to hobble down, get some lunch and go sit in Potions class and pretend to care. Still, if you don’t listen to him now, he’ll only build up a head of steam and get stupid in public. "I’ll walk. You can talk along the way."

He finally notices your limp. "Sure you don’t want to go have that looked at first?"

"No. I’ll use a Numbing charm before Potions. Until then, it’ll remind me to move faster next time. So what’s your story? Last thing I recall was listening to Hermione tell Ginny about your big blowup about how she and I were supposedly dating."

"Well, yeah, I was jealous. I’m a prat. You know what I’m like. I didn’t know about the potions at first. When I learned about it I was a bit angry, but I lost it the first time they Obliviated you."

"Who did it?"

Ron doesn’t answer for a second and looks down. Finally, he mutters, "Mum. I couldn’t believe it when she did it."

"Why did that set you off?"

"You saw Lockhart in that ward. He was going to do that to us. Mum’s not a professional Obliviator; she could have really injured you!   The potions were one thing, but that’s just not right!"

You snap back, "So mind control with potions is okay?   How’s that any better than Imperius?"

"Yeah, Hermione said the same thing. I guess it’s one of those things you get used to being raised in the magical world. Love potions never last. People build up a resistance after a time. The weak ones are just used by people to generate some interest, like giving a girl flowers or chocolate. Only the hardcore ones which really bewitch a person are taboo. Hell, Fred and George sell the mild ones in their shop."

The world must be going crazy! Ron Weasley is giving a philosophical argument on the differences between the Muggle and Magical cultures. Quick, someone check the temperature in hell, because it has got to be getting chilly down there!

"Okay, suppose Pansy slipped me one and I stupidly followed her until she could turn me over to her Death Eater parents?"

"She’d have to use a real strong one to do that.   If you take something that Pansy gives to you, you deserve what you get.   Unless Pansy is what gets you going?" He actually has the nerve to smile while saying that.

You want to smile at his attempted joke, but that isn’t going to happen.   "Not likely! Fine, I get it. Weak love potions are okay in most people’s books. How about stealing people’s money and going to Quidditch camp?"

"They’d already signed me up and paid to get me out of the way. Dad told me that Dumbledore didn’t really want to include me. I guess they expected I’d bollocks things up, or figure out that something wasn’t right."

"So your dad was in on it too."   You’re not surprised, just more disappointed than anything.

Ron pauses for a second and a look crosses his face that you usually associate with him getting a taste of something he didn’t like.   "Yeah.   Never thought I’d be comparing my parents to the Malfoys, but it happened.   Either way, take your pick; they didn’t want me around you. I guess what no one expected was you reacting to the potions that fast. Maybe Snape spiced them up or you always had a thing for Hermione."

"I might have, but not any more.   Supposedly, I acted more ‘normal,’ if that’s the word, around Ginny, but I don’t really care."

"Anyway, I didn’t know they were using your money to send me until after I got back. If you want it back, just say the word."

You know Quidditch camp runs over a hundred galleons and raise one eye questioningly at him.

"Sirius set up a vault for me and one for Hermione.   My parents are holding the key until I turn seventeen, but they’ve been trying to nice to me.   So far the only thing I bought, other than my school supplies, was a better set of Keeper pads.   I won’t say the money isn’t nice, but I’d rather be your friend."

Money isn’t really something you need, but given how much of it you really have a hundred galleons is chump change.   You grimace having to negotiate the stairwell on your injured leg.   "I don’t need the money back.   As for being friends again, only time will tell.   Actions mean more than words.   I’ll tell you the same thing I told Hermione.   My friendship is earned these days, not given."

"Fair enough.   I reckon that I’d be suspicious too."

"So, how was Quidditch camp?   Everything you’d hoped for?"

Ron accepts your changing the topic, "Camp was pretty good.   I’d have enjoyed it more if my parents hadn’t told the camp I wasn’t allowed to use the Floo.   They though I was homesick or something, when I was really trying to contact you."

"Really?"   There’s a hint of a drawl in your voice.

 "Yeah, really.   My dad redirected owls coming to the Burrow to Fred and George’s store. I got back a day or two before you escaped, but I was confined to Fred and George’s flat. My own bloody brothers holding me prisoner! They even made me a taste tester for their Wheezes, since I was their captive audience. After you escaped, they let me go back home. I told my parents what I thought of them and went to Charlie’s before they dragged me off to Sirius’ house for the rest of the summer."

"What about you and Hermione?"

"She came over to Charlie’s a few times and we tried it as a couple, but it wasn’t working. We went to Florean’s and she caught me eyeing up a pretty bird and next thing I know we were rowing again. That was one of the ‘good’ dates."

Somehow, this soap opera has you drawn in. It’s amusing to imagine what the "bad" dates went like. "What happened then?"

"We had it out the second day at the headquarters. She started saying I had issues with my mum or some kind of mental crap she came up with. I told her that you were the lucky one, because at least you wouldn’t remember being her boyfriend."

Despite yourself, you laugh. Ron being a prat is easy to be mad at. Ron joking around and being his thick self isn’t. Reminding yourself that you’re supposed to be angry at him, you observe, "I can see you giving up being a Prefect; you don’t like the work.   You kept the Quidditch Captaincy, though."

"I didn’t earn being a Prefect. It should’ve been you all along. I just wanted to be near Hermione last year, but hey, I live and breathe Quidditch. It’s probably the one thing I’ve really worked for since I’ve been here. Katie didn’t want it with her NEWTS. Charlie didn’t think it was fair that he would be playing as you, much less being the Captain of the team. Ginny’s a decent player, but she’s just likes playing the game. That left me or the Beaters, and they stink!"

"You aren’t exactly a great Keeper."

He looked a bit hurt. "I’m not in Wood’s league, but I’ve gotten a lot better. Lavender said I just needed a confidence boost."

"Lavender, huh?"

"Yeah, turns out the girl is nutters about me, go figure. She caught up to me on the way back from our first practice and dragged me into a greenhouse. I swear she snogged the magic right out of me! If only she wouldn’t call me ‘Won-Won,’ but I can put up with it."

"Won-Won?" Now that’s funny!

"Well, she can’t call me that if I have my tongue down her throat."

You had to concede that point. There’s a minute or two of silence before he says, "So are we okay?"

"Maybe.   We’ll see.   For now, I’ll accept you at your word. A lot of people have lied to me. You could be lying to me right now. More importantly, I’ve got bigger problems than mending friendships right now. I’ve got a war to fight. I don’t really have time for Quidditch or girlfriends. The jungle changed me. I’m not the same Harry Potter anymore. If you ask me who my best mate is, it’s Bill.   I’m a Curse Breaker and an Ambassador from Brazil."

"You’ve got to tell me the story behind that!"

It’s a painful reminder that while Ron’s apparently growing up, he’s still a teenager. "Even if I could, right now I wouldn’t.   You don’t know Occlumency and someone could kidnap you and rip it right out of your mind."

"Oh.   I guess that makes sense."

"As much as anything does these days. Wait a second; I think I’ve learned my lesson for today.   Let me do a numbing charm real fast."   Pain can teach lessons, but this lesson has run its course.

"Where’d you pick that one up?"

"Kwan.   The wandwork is a bit trickier, but it last twice as long as the ones they teach around here."

"Show me sometime.   You know how it is on the pitch.   It’ll come in handy for practice."

"Yeah, sure.   Catch me after Potions.   How is this Slughorn guy anyway?"

Ron shrugs, "Think Lockhart with real talent.   You get the lesson, but have to listen to him go on about all the people he’s taught this potion to, irritating, but better than Snape any day."

Ron’s a horrible liar.   He’s either telling the truth, or had his memory modified to think he’s telling the truth.   Funny, you would have never considered the last option a few months ago.  

"Come on let’s grab some food."

He hands you the folded up map back.   "Mind sitting with Lavender?"

"Is she going to call you Won-Won?"

"Probably."

"In that case, lead on.   I gotta hear this."

***

You sit with Ron and Hermione during Potions.   The not-so-Golden Trio reunited.   Let the good times roll!   She gets this hopeful look on her face and you make a point looking away from her.   There’re no trust issues here, nosiree!   It’s mainly because you have no intention of trusting your life to either of these two ever again.   That’s what you have Bill, Kwan, Hack, and, to a lesser extent, Fleur for.   Right now, you can see yourself possibly befriending Ron again.   Hermione, you’re working your way up to tolerating her presence.

You’re decent at Potions, but Snape spoiled your taste for it.   Besides, the potions most likely to be found with a Curse Breaker are of the healing variety.   Potions don’t break wards, but they help keep the person that does break the wards on their feet.  

You thumb through your book looking at the material you’ve missed.   Kwan’s intentionally explosive concoctions are far more interesting than working in a Potions lab.   It’s doubtful that any of the hitwizard’s brews are on the curriculum.

Ron nudges you and you respond, "Yes, Won-Won."

He rolls his eyes at you, "Hey, check this out.   I got lucky the first day and got an old book by this Half-blood Prince bloke, who’s some kind of bloody genius!   Normally, I hate second hand stuff.   Most of my books belonged to Charlie and he doodled all over the place.   Whoever this guy was he didn’t mess around."

Hermione bristles from his other side, "As I have told Ronald on several occasions, following someone’s handwritten instructions is a recipe for disaster!   There’s no way for him to know how much testing this person did.   What if the person’s recipes only work because he used fresh doxy wings instead of ones that have aged in a cabinet?"

She’s obviously had no luck changing Ron’s mind, so she’s rehashing this to score points with you.   Ron stares at her for a moment and turns back to you, "Anyway, my potions have been coming out great ever since I started using his recipes.   She’s just mad that I finish my potions before her now.   Lav actually has me checking over her assignments now."

It’s almost like you’ve never left.   Perhaps some things never really change.

"I most certainly am not!   Using someone else’s shortcuts does not make you a good student.   Your girlfriend might as well have a flobberworm checking over her work.   You don’t understand why this person changes the stirring rate or alters the temperature on the cauldron.   Maybe if you could grasp the underlying principles…"

Yeah.   Funbags is really spun up about this.   Ron actually starts ignoring her as Slughorn calls attention to the class.   If they were acting, they were giving an award winning performance!   Ron whispers his final thought as the lecture begins.   "Anyway, if I had followed them off the bat, I would have won this really cool potion on the first day of class.   Now, I follow it all the time.   Blimey, I wish this guy taught the class!"

The obese man looks at you with a smile that seems to dip down to his third chin.   "Ah, Ambassador Potter!   It’s so nice to see you again.   Welcome, welcome to the class.   Oddly enough, this isn’t the first time I’ve had the honor of teaching a high ranking diplomat.   If you find yourself behind on any of the topics, my door is always open to you."

You wonder how many of his colleagues have been getting owls about his personal instruction of the legendary Harry Potter.   Fortunately, politics is teaching you how to deal with self-serving people like Horace Slughorn with a smile pasted on your face.   "I’m sure I’ll manage, but I’m honored by your offer."

Hernando de Soto’s statue would be proud of you.

***

"Harry, this would be much easier if you looked in my eyes and not continually stare at my breasts.   Most women would find that behavior annoying."

"Sorry."   Okay, maybe getting Fleur to give you some dance lessons ahead of this diplomatic function isn’t such a great idea.   Of course parts of you seem to think it’s a smashing idea.  

She laughs, which only makes those perky bundles of joy shudder slightly and draw your attention right back to them.   She sighs, "Sadly, it’s not like you haven’t seen them before.   Is your resistance to my aura weakening?" The fact that you’ve seen the "dynamic duo" devoid of any clothes on more than one occasion, and at least once with only traces of whipping cream on them, isn’t helping.   A pleasant reminder that Bill’s favorite dessert isn’t on the menu at Florean’s, it’s a Fleur Sundae.

You step back and shake your head.   "No, I’m just going to claim being a case of teenage hormones in proximity to a very attractive woman."   Karina, Amy, and then Lauren spoiled you.   Before, you were hopeless around females.   Now, you could be a bit of a man whore.   Hell, Funbags offered herself up for the greater good the other night.   Other than your distaste for that particular girl, the only other thing holding you back at the moment is a terribly shy Ravenclaw, who is much more than most people give her credit for.

Fleur rewards you with one of her dazzling "thank you" smiles.   "I have spoken with Kwan.   If you cannot learn from me, he has offered to teach you.   He mentioned something about your footwork being a very large problem and some rather interesting suggestions on how he could fix that problem."

Dance lessons with Kwan — it doesn’t sound like torture, but you know better.   Lunch with Kwan is torture; a bedtime story with Kwan is torture.   The truth of the matter is most anything involving Kwan translates into physical discomfort of some type.

His family must be scary.   A Kwan family reunion, now that must be an unimaginable level of torture.   Maybe you could send Riddle and Dumbledore invites to it and watch the fireworks.

"Learning to dance isn’t worth risking my life over.   I’ll just have to suffer through this instead.  

"How is Bill?"

"He should wake up today.   You will be able to see him tomorrow.   What of you and your friend Luna?   Have you had a chance to talk to each other?"

She’s steering you away from staring at her assets by bringing up the female you’re really interested in.   She’s a sly witch, isn’t she?  

"Only briefly.   We’re still trying to figure out how to proceed.   It sounds strange, but the letters may have made us too open between each other, and now that we’re around each other it feels strange."

"The two of you should spend more time together. The only way to work through that is to be comfortable with each other.   Take her on a picnic.   Take her to this dance you must go to."

"I’d love to, but around here she’s only known as a friend.   Taking her out there in the real world paints a target on her."

"Yes, that would pose a problem.   So who is your escort for this party?"

"Tonks."

"The Auror from the Order?   Isn’t she a bit…"

"Clumsy.   Yeah.   That’s why I don’t think I’ll have to dance very well."

"Oh Harry, at these high society functions you will likely be expected to dance with more than just your escort.   William and I will be there and I fully expect a dance with you.   Perhaps you should consider taking this a bit more seriously, oui?"

You groan in response as she restarts the music with a wave of her wand.   Time to focus on her… eyes.

***

The two of you go back to her quarters and attempt to rouse "sleeping beauty."   Fleur does a few Diagnostic charms and says that it will still be another hour at least.

"So would you like a continuation of our dance lesson?   I can put on some bulkier robes that will prove to be less of a distraction."

You laugh it off.   Covering her body with poorly fitted robes should be a crime.   A far better solution would be for her to remove the robes completely.   After a brief period of adjustment, say three or four hours, you wouldn’t be so distracted by her being topless.   No, those are bad thoughts Harry — best friend’s fiancé and all that rubbish.   Perhaps the best solution is to find a different activity.   Something’s been bothering you ever since the battle two days ago.   "How’s your Occlumency, Fleur?"

"I am versed in the art.   It helps me reign in my aura.   While not an adept at it, I am beyond the novice level.   Why do you ask?"

"I want to go back and look at the fight with the Daemon.   It might do good to have an outside observer to catch anything I might miss.   You deserve to see what a hero Bill was."

"Oh, I’m afraid I had to send my parent’s Pensieve back to France.   I might not have specifically asked for their permission before lending it to William."

"It’s okay.   We picked up one while we were there."

"Really?"

"Yes.   Would you be willing to watch it with me?   It’s not for the faint of heart.   Thundercloud’s daughter and son-in-law looked on the verge of being sick when they came out of it."   Come to think of it, they looked a wee bit scared of you.   No real need to mention Thundercloud’s granddaughter, Lauren, pretty much wanted to drag you upstairs and make babies.  

"I would be honored to see it."

Five minutes later, the two of you are standing in the middle of the lost city watching the phantom image of you circling above the temple preparing to detonate the sappers.  Fleur scowls distastefully at all the undead milling about.   She doesn’t appreciate the utter "coolness" of having an army of the living dead fighting on your side.   You want to get the "Daemon Eye view" of this battle.   The detonation is massive and you flinch instinctively and immediately feel like a fool for doing so.

The Daemon emerges shortly afterwards roaring for its freedom and begins cutting an angry swath through your hapless undead horde.   You sneak a glance at Fleur and see she is stunned.  

She points at it and states incredulously, "You and William defeated that?   It must be a Greater Daemon!"

The abomination continues its rampage through the horde of zombies.   Your counterpart in the vision attempts the Cruciatus curse.   You recall the Daemon looking amused.  

"Did you honestly think that would work?"   The Daemon asks aloud with a low grumbling laugh.

Talking to Fleur, who really seems to be bothered by all the undead, "It swallowed Ravenclaw’s seer glass, which seemed to boost its Divination skills.   It talked about all the possibilities, but we kicked its arrogant arse anyway."

"Now who sounds full of himself little wizard?"   The Daemon speaks again.   The four arms of the monster rending the milling undead as the flesh eating plants snap at the legs of it and the zombies impeding the way forward.

A chill runs up your spine and you swallow hard.   Slowly you look up at the Daemon’s face.   It is looking directly at you and the lips on its goat face curl into a cruel smile.  

This was a bad idea.   Time to exit the memory.   Something’s wrong!   It’s not working, this isn’t good.   "Oh don’t go just yet, little wizard.   The fun is just beginning.   Is this truly your memory, or perhaps you carry a connection to me now as well as all the other links to your essence?"

On the "This is Troubling" scale, this ranks off the charts.   "You can see me, can’t you?"

"Yes and no.   I see all possibilities Harry Potter.   If you are listening to me right now it means you were victorious, or perhaps more correctly, it means you think that you’ve won."

You really don’t like the sound of that.   "I beat you!"

It seems bored clawing its way through a sea of zombies laughing as it tosses one right through where you’re standing.   "Yes, yes.   So you keep saying, mortal.   Perhaps if you repeat it to yourself and the female there enough, it will be true."  

To emphasize its point, the Daemon reaches "through" a stunned Fleur and pulls an Inferius from behind her hoisting it into the air.   It did this several times during the fight to shield its face from the bullets ricocheting off the thick hide.

The Daemon continues to push forward while addressing both of you.   "I see you are at a loss for words.   It further reminds me of the limitations of such a finite being.   I could tell you how I can see and hear you, but I doubt my explanation would be of any use to a lesser creature such as yourself.   It would only serve to confuse you and waste my time."

"You’ve never met me!"   Fleur protests shaking her wand at it, fast draw, you’re impressed.

"Not in this possibility, young witch, but in the ones where another female accompanies this group, you are the one most often here.   Your death shrieks are usually the loudest, except for the times Harry here foolishly brings the witch and her little boy with him.   I have seen a rather memorable timeline you accompanied this group here and Chilotha possessed you instead of the American.   Did you ever want to rule this insignificant planet under an iron fist?   Your body could have."

She refuses to answer him, which only encourages the monster.   "Did you know that when I head straight for the red headed male and kill him first, the child wins the majority of the time and the two of you end up as lovers."  

Fleur’s a bit unhinged at the Daemon talking to her.   Quite honestly, you’re not too happy about it either.

You respond, "That’s enough!"

It roars in laughter.   "No, I have no desire to dabble in the affairs of your heart.   You almost never win when I head straight for to you.   Killing one of your friends fuels your magic with anger.   Without it, your only salvation lies with unleashing the monster inside of you.   I like those odds better.   We shall see if I am only talking to a possibility or a reality soon enough.   I again offer you a truth, Harry James Potter — winning this battle does not win the war.   Farewell mortal.   I do not say goodbye, for there is always the path where we meet again."

The Daemon pushes forward and begins hurling the undead ahead of it into the ward zone.   You and Fleur stand there looking at each other.   The rest of the battle seems unimportant at the moment.   For that matter, Riddle actually doesn’t seem that important either.  

Fleur puts her hand on your shoulder.   "Harry, my father is a very important man in France.   He has access to some of the darkest tomes concerning these creatures.   If he cannot send them to me, I will go to France and do the research there.   I have no abilities as a seer, but I think we should learn more about this Daemon in particular."

Why do you get the feeling you’ve fought your first Daemon, but not your last?

The two of you watch the battle play out as your enlarged jaguar form surrounded in a Patronus mist circles the injured Daemon.   The end comes much quicker than you remembered, but then again, your point of view had been a bit skewed at the time.   The Daemon’s head rolls backwards and it stares out across the battlefield at you and Fleur, continuing to mock you even in defeat.

Exiting the Pensieve, you leave the memory swirling in the pool.  "When you’re ‘finished’ with Bill let him watch this and see what he thinks."

"Are you okay?"

"Why would I let a little thing like that bother me?"

Fleur puts her hands on her hips and gives you a scolding look.   "Do not toy with me, Harry."

"I’m just going to go clear my head and carve for a few hours.   Let’s let sleeping monsters lie for the moment."   Gesturing to Bill, you finish, "You’ve got your own sleeping monster to worry about."

***

Clearing your mind didn’t really help that much and you’re in a somber mood as Dumbledore announces the replacement Transfiguration teacher at dinner.   You have to give Scrimgeour some credit; he moved quickly.

"Hogwarts is pleased to welcome back a familiar face to our halls.   While we search for a permanent replacement for our Transfiguration vacancy, Minister Scrimgeour has graciously offered an interim solution.   For the past two years Percival Weasley has been working in the Ministry, most recently as an aide to Minister Scrimgeour and his predecessor.   Students in fourth year and above will recall his time as our Head Boy.   Mr. Weasley’s academic achievement and fervor for knowledge is unquestionable.   I expect that he will acquit himself admirably."

Percy stood and bowed, but chose not to follow Delores Umbridge’s route of making some kind of speech.   He looked a bit uncomfortable up there.   Currently, you’re sitting at the Ravenclaw table again trying to be entertained by "Looney’s" antics.   Anthony Goldstein knits his brow and grumbles.   "I didn’t really care for the ponce when he was Head Boy.   If he’s a Ministry stooge, then I wonder if he’ll be toad, junior?"

You stifle a chuckle as he continues, "Harry, maybe you could talk to Fleur Delacour and see if she’ll be willing to teach.   The two of you are pretty tight right?   I know I’d be more interested in Transfiguration."   For such a large boy Anthony easily dodges Su Li’s swat.  

"Dumbledore asked, but she turned him down.   He’s just an interim Professor.   They didn’t give him the High Inquisitor role.   I don’t think Scrimgeour would repeat Fudge’s stupidity.   From what little I remember, Percy had top marks in Transfiguration."  

You don’t need to go into Fleur’s lack of trust in the Headmaster or the fact that she’s going to be researching forbidden knowledge about Daemons for you.   You don’t say those things out loud.   Rumor has it that the ICW sends hitwizards after people caught accumulating knowledge of such creatures.   Most governments claim they have destroyed any such scrolls and tomes in their possession, which is political speak for, "saving them for a very rainy day."

You can’t see out the windows, but the clouds just got a little darker.

***

"You’re awfully quiet.   Is something the matter?"

Looking over at the tiny blonde headed terror walking next to you, you try to come up with the right words.   "I don’t even know where to begin."

"How about, ‘Once upon a time?’   That always has a nice ring to it." She smirks at you.   Humor is a defense mechanism for her.   Hell, it’s an offense mechanism as well.

"I wish it was that easy.   The Minister’s up to something.   Riddle’s up to something.   As long as Dumbledore is breathing, he’s up to something.   I feel like I don’t have any room for missteps."

Luna just smiles at you, "You know how corrupt the Ministry is.   Daddy is always saying what a hold the Rotfangs have on them.   Vampires with poor dental hygiene are an irritable lot.   The headmaster is aligned with the Gnomes of Zurich, who are the secret backers of the ICW.   Don’t let this get out, but I think Professor Flitwick is his contact.   As for your enemy, I think if he should be more afraid of you."

"You’re not taking this very seriously."   It comes out a bit too harshly.

She gives you a sour look, "And you’re overestimating your enemies.   Mr. Moody seemed to be very obsessed with his enemies.   Is that how you wish to end up?   I’d much rather be looking for a fantastic creature around every corner than an enemy waiting to pounce.   Regardless, you should consider this; the people you are concerned about are far from perfect.   Even if the new Minister is a genius, he’s still hampered by the organization Minister Fudge mismanaged.   The Headmaster has been out maneuvered so many times since you’ve been here.   Most recently, if what little you’ve told me is accurate, by a painting and our late non-magical janitor.   That’s hardly impressive.   Finally, that pesky Dark Wizard, he’s got a blind spot for you that will end up being his undoing."

You need a bit of cheer and she’s trying.   Of course, Luna doesn’t know about veiled threats from the Netherworld.

"You’re enemies are just as capable of making mistakes.   Just do your best; the rest will sort itself out in good time."

The two of you reach the door to your quarters.   "Do you want to come in?"   Merlin!   That line came out cheesy!   You’ve always been the one being chased by the older female.   Sounding stupid was expected back then.

"Sure.   Let me see what a kind of room a Junior Ambassador rates here at the school." Luna eagerly pushes you aside and enters the suite.   She spends the next few minutes looking around and being impressed with your fancy accommodations, glancing at the various tomes spread out on your desk and the collection of professional rune carving material on the workbench.   You’d better count your chisels later, she looks very interested in them.

She perches on your desk and runs her hand over the cover of your copy of Golinard’s Field Curse Breaking Manual.   Sounding a bit coy, she asks, "Any chance you’ll let me take a peak inside?"

"It’s my personal spellbook.   I don’t know.   You’d have to be pretty convincing."

She tosses her hair over her shoulder with a hint of flirtation.   "You can’t buy a copy of this book in this country without being a Curse Breaker’s Apprentice.   It’s almost as hard to get your hands on as the Auror training manuals.   They don’t even have a copy of this in the Restricted Section.   And here we have little old me, a Ravenclaw with a thirst for knowledge, how nicely do I need to ask?"

She’s actually blushing slightly.   Luna’s trying to flirt with you.   Okay, two can play at that game.   "That’s a pretty significant request.   One day that book could end up in a Museum in an unbreakable case.   Something on those pages could be the spell or ward scheme that defeated a Dark Lord.  

"Wow!   That is impressive, maybe it’ll end up next to a Crumple Horned Snorkack.   That’d really be something!   I’d definitely bring my camera!   So, say I gave you a nice long hug, would that get me to page one?"

"That might get the cover open, but it wouldn’t even get you to the table of contents."

"I could always just open it now."

"Go ahead and try."   You move close to her to watch the fun.

She does, but the book refuses to open.   "Spelled shut I see."

Less than a foot of space separates the two of you.   In the back of your mind, you start to wonder where this is heading.   "Pass phrase and Locking charm, Luna.   Golinard’s is a Breaker’s lifeblood.   Better luck next time!   I believe you were offering bribes.   So far the cover gets opened for an extended hug.   Care to sweeten the offer?"

She sets the book down and stands up with a determined look.   She’s very short.   Lauren and Amy were both very short.

"I don’t know; let me see what’s on the other side of the cover first."   She wraps her arms around you and eases into you, squeezing gently.

You take the opportunity to nuzzle against the top of her head and wrap your own arms around her.   After about thirty seconds of this, she lets go with one arm and reaches back to tap the book.   "I believe you should open the cover now, Ambassador Potter."

"Fair enough, the pass phrase is ‘Here, Kitty, Kitty!’   Don’t worry, I’ll change later tonight."

She opens the cover and looks inside, still keeping an arm around your waist.   "Hmm, nothing spectacular so far.   ‘Property of Harry Potter, Curse Breaking Animagus.   Have wand, will travel.’   Cute."

"I thought so.   So how badly do you want to see that table of contents?"   You stop her hand as she tries to turn the page.

"Are you ticklish?" She asks.

"If anything, that’ll get the cover closed."

"So you are.   I’m glad I’m not."

"You seem a bit too quick to offer up that fact.   Maybe you actually are and just want to mislead me."

"Maybe, then again maybe not.   Still, if you’re trying to tickle me, I can’t be offering up more bribes."

"You brought it up."

She giggles, "I suppose I did.   Now where were we?   Oh, I was trying to get to the table of contents.   How far would another one of those nice hugs get me?"

"Technically, I think your left arm is still around me.   I still have both my arms around you.   I believe we are still hugging."

"Hmmm.   I hadn’t considered that.   A friendly peck on the cheek is at least worth the Table of Contents.   Personally, I think it should be worth all of chapter one."

You change your arm positioning.   Your arms are now on her waist and her one arm shifts to the middle of your back.   "There’s some quality material in chapter one.   A peck on the cheek gets you Table of Contents plus the first five pages of chapter one."

"First eight pages."   She’s driving a hard bargain.

"You don’t even know how long the first chapter is?   Eight pages for a peck on both cheeks."  

"A peck on each cheek!   One peck gets me two or three pages of the Table of Contents plus at least six pages for the deal already on the table!   The second peck only gets three more pages.   Methinks the ambassador from Brazil is negotiating in bad faith.   A peck on each cheek for twelve pages plus the table of contents."

Her other arm leaves the book and joins its counterpart as you counter her offer.   The game just keeps getting more interesting.   "I think it’s called the law of diminishing returns.   The second peck on the cheek might not be as exciting as the first one.   Ten pages."

"But it would still be the first kiss on that cheek.   Still new and every bit as exciting!   Eleven, and I’m not going any lower."

"Deal."   You lean down and close your eyes as a feather light kiss is planted on each cheek.   How much farther is this going to go?

She smiles impishly as you look back at her.   She’s blushing brightly now.   "Let’s see what my reward is."  

Luna lets go of you and twists, still in your arms and starts flipping pages.   You edge slightly closer to her to look over the shoulder with your arms still encircling her waist.   "Harry, the Table of Contents says chapter one is only ten pages!   I do believe a penalty must be applied.   Are you certain you’ve actually read this book?"

You playfully nuzzle at her hair again.   "Sorry, it’s been awhile since I looked at the introductory material.   What kind of penalty were you thinking of?"

"It’s somewhat difficult for me to think up a suitable penalty when you’re doing that."   Luna tries, but fails to sound annoyed.

"So I’m like a Confundus charm?"

"Perhaps, maybe a poorly cast one."   Her voice has a slightly breathless quality to it.  

"In that case I’ll work on my casting technique."   One of your hands comes up and sweeps her hair off her right shoulder and you twist your head in and start kissing her neck directly, bumping her radish earring with your nose.   She takes a long breath of air and after the first few seconds her hand comes up and starts running through your hair as she whimpers back a slight moan.

You’ve gotten a substantial education in the art of kissing since that wretched date with Cho, and from when Ginny and Hermione had been complaining about how dreadful you were.   Karina wasn’t much help, quantity over quality.   The two of you kissed sloppily and all over the place, like a pair of animals in heat, which given the circumstances is a fairly accurate summary of what took place.  

Amy liked to be kissed, but not so much directly on the mouth.   She liked various other places more, much more in fact.   You took those lessons with you to Lauren and now Luna, the former was quite satisfied and the latter seems mightily impressed.

In between kissing, you move up to her ear and whisper, "Is my casting technique getting any better?   Have you come up with a suitable penalty yet?"

"Um, it’s pretty hard to think right now.   What were we talking about?   Just keep practicing on my neck for a minute while I clear my head."

You’re not really sure which of you really made the first full move, but after another minute or two of this, either you started to turn her or she turned into you, and the game entered another level with direct contact of the lips.   There’s plenty of passion in her response, but also a certain hesitancy which you detect.   It reminds you that you’re the one initiating all this.   For the first time you’re the more experienced person.   Hell, this is probably Luna’s first kiss.   You do your best to make it memorable for her.

She turns full into you and wraps her arms around your neck.   You pull her petite form close.   The animal in you senses her attraction to you and responds fairly vigorously.   She made a joke once about a "monster in your chest."   It’s not too far off.   Pace yourself, Potter!   Don’t spook her.

Luna puts on the brakes when your hands drift a bit lower onto her bum.   You feel her stiffen and her hands come away from your neck.   You grudgingly release your grip and step back.   One thing is certain; she’s just been good and thoroughly snogged.   It’d take a professional Obliviator to get this memory out of her mind.   Her normally pale complexion is very flushed and her large blue-grey eyes seem even larger than usual.

"Sorry Harry.   This is a little too fast for me.   I’m not…" Her voice lacks any "dreamy" quality to it.   Luna sounds almost wanton.   She’s heaving a little making her small but perfectly adequate chest rise up and down slightly under those robes.   It’s her head putting a stop to this.   Her body’s telling you an entirely different story.   As much as you’d like to read this "bedtime story" right now, it’s not a good idea.   That animal instinct inside you growls in frustration.

"It’s okay.   I understand."   You actually do and aren’t just saying that to try and make her feel better.   It’s only been a week since you were sleeping with Lauren.   A true Animagus responds to his or her emotions instead of suppressing them.   Because the Sioux woman was also a true Animagus, the intensity was reciprocated.   Throw in a few hours of close proximity with Fleur and if Luna said for you to "take her," the two of you would be horizontal shortly and you’d be showing her all sorts of things you learned over the course of the summer.

She fans herself with her hand.   "That was rather intense."

You manage a smile.   "I’m intense.   It’s the only way I know how to be."

Luna swallows, "Consider me warned."

"At least you’ll know what to expect next time."

Her eyes brighten at the prospect of a "next time."     With a smirk, she laughs, "Now, we have to assess the penalty and determine just how much that snog was worth."

"I’d be willing to give up the rest of chapter two as the penalty, but since the snog just kind of happened, and it involved both parties equally, I don’t really see how you can come back and try to negotiate for it after the fact."

"You’re a cruel person, Harry Potter."

"Says the person, who just stopped our snogging session.   Do you want a butterbeer?"   That chest monster screams at you to ignore what she’s saying.   She wants you!   You push it back.   If she is prey to be hunted, you can stalk her nice and slowly.   It might even be more fun that way.

You go over to the chill box and remove a butterbeer for her.   It’s a nice perk of no longer being part of the student body.   A few kind words to Dobby along with a sack of galleons and you have a chill box full of butterbeer, some Honeyduke’s chocolates, and even some beverages from the Normal world which apparently Dumbledore’s brother stocks.

"Thanks."   She says opening up the bottle and taking a long drink from it.   She sets it aside.   "I’m still nervous about how this is going to work."

That makes two of you.   "In public, we should just be friends.   Everyone knows you went to the Department of Mysteries with me.   There’s no hiding that.   You’re already going to be a target for that reason alone. Anything more and you’d become a high priority. Plus, you’re still doing your ‘Looney’ thing."

Luna looks slightly torn.   "I know."

"Hey, we still have the journals and now there won’t be a delay time.   I’m not good enough with Charms to whip up a set of mirrors, but I bet Fleur is and if she isn’t I could get your head of house to show me."

"Fleur’s partly to blame for tonight."   Luna says off the subject.  

"Why is that?"   You ask suspiciously.

"She sent me a note this afternoon.   In it, she said that you have a lot on your mind right now and that this would be a good time for me to consider expressing more than just a passing interest in you.   Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?   You won’t find a better listener."

"Do you know Occlumency yet?"

"Isn’t that conjuring an octopus?   The Giant Squid in the lake wouldn’t be too happy about that."

She doesn’t miss a beat while deadpanning it.   If you didn’t know about her act, it would fool you.   Luna smiles before continuing, "I picked up a book about it in the summer, shortly before our little blow up.   I read the first couple of chapters, but haven’t picked it up since.   Could you help me with it?"

"Actually, I’m not very good at it either, but Fleur knows more than I do.   I have a bit of a combined approach that involves crude Occlumency and my Animagus form.   It’s enough to protect my mind from Kwan’s Legilimency and if I sleep in my form, it should prevent Riddle from getting at me."

"Speaking of which, I haven’t seen that form yet."   She snaps her fingers twice and points at the ground while taking another drink.

You shuffle nervously, for the first time tonight, slightly uncomfortable.   "The last time I was in the form I’d noticed a few changes.   If you don’t mind, I want to talk to Bill about it first?   Can we do it another time?"

"Is it part of what’s bothering you?"

"Yeah."

She sets her drink down and then hugs you again.   "Then I’ll see it some other time, when it isn’t bothering you.   I need to get headed back to my dorms.   Could you check your Map so we don’t start an international scandal?"

It’s your turn to tease her slightly.   Pulling her into a quick kiss, you slide off her lips and to her ear, "But what will the Nargles be saying about us tomorrow, Miss Lovegood?"

"Naughty things, I assure you, Mr. Potter, but only the intelligent and well-informed can understand them, which rules out the majority of the student body."

"Thank goodness for that."   You unfurl the map noting that Fleur and Bill are practically one dot on the parchment.   Fleur has some nifty silencing charms in her repertoire.   Seeing that the passageway was clear, she gives you a quick kiss and heads out the door.

"Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Luna."

***

"Not planning on getting rid of me anytime soon are you, Harry?   Our friend seemed to hint at you and my fiancé.   Should I be worried?"

Bill’s laughing.   You’re not as cheerful.   "I can’t give the best man speech and then steal away the bride, can I?"

"No, that’s considered bad sportsmanship in most cases."  

"Awfully cavalier attitude you’ve got their Bill."

He tips his glass of Firewhiskey at you.   "The only two people I can think of in this castle who lead a more reckless life than me are the hitwizard across the hallway and the man I’m looking at right now.   Brains, good looks, and being the coolest man in England are my forte.   Kwan’s a better fighter and you’re Harry Potter.   Ominous Daemon warnings aside, I got another chance to watch you beat the stuffing out of that thing.   If someone does manage to ‘get’ me, you’ll make them pay and take care of my girl to boot."

"I won’t try anything with Fleur."   You try to sound deadly serious.

He laughs again, "I know mate.   I’m more worried about her."

"What!"   That wasn’t the reply you were expecting.

"She seems really keen on making certain you and Luna make a go of it.   Fleur’s in love with me, but I can tell she feels strongly about you.   She’s trying to steer it towards a sisterly type of affection.   She actually wishes that her sister was older, so she could pair the two of you up."

"Did she tell you this?"

"Gabby, yes.   The sisterly thing, no.   She didn’t have to.   She’s still young and I’m a good deal better at reading people than most realize."

"Part of your innate coolness?"

"It must be.   What can I say?   Now, what’s this I hear about the mess on the third floor?"   He motions to the Pensieve he brought back along with the bottle of Firewhiskey.   "Riddle’s award put up a fight didn’t it?"

"And then some.   There’s plenty of other information you need to know."   You stuff the memory of the lost city fight back into your head and start concentrating on the events of a few days ago.   You start with Dumbledore and Hermione in the headmaster’s office.   No one else knows about the Blood Wards.   After it swirls in the cauldron, you gesture for him to proceed.   There’s no desire in you to relive this particular fight.

Bill exits the Pensieve after about ten minutes.   "I don’t know which would be more hazardous to your health, Dumbledore as your friend, or your enemy.   I can see why you’re worried about your Animagus form.   Let’s see it."

You ease out of the chair and shift on the way to the floor.   Bill inspects you.   "Yeah, the scales are still there, but they seem less pronounced than in the memory, but that could be a matter of your own perception affecting the memory.   Any further than six feet from you, and I don’t think anyone would be able to tell.   Anyone closer than that is either a friend, or probably won’t live to tell the tale.   Did you actually poison Filch’s cat?"

You nod.

 "I thought so.   I’m going to conjure a jar and we’re going to "milk" your venom sacks.   I can get that new Potions professor to test it for toxicity.   I’ll tell him I picked it up in Brazil or something."

It takes about ten minutes and you insist on Bill putting on some gauntlets, but the upper sacks yield quite a bit of toxin.   He casts a preservation spell on the jar and seals it with wax paper.   When you transform back, your gums are sore.

"So what do you think?"

"Who knows if this is permanent or not?   We can get a camera and take a picture of you to see if the scales spread up the leg or retreat.   We could measure the amount of venom you produce and determine if your venom sacks are getting bigger or smaller.   I figure, the scientific method is our best bet here.   Collect data and see what changes over time."

Sounds funny coming from a wizard, but Curse Breaking requires grounding in logic.   "Sounds good, I guess."

"Well, be sure to let me know if you start growing horns or anything."

"Fuck you too, Bill!"

"Yeah, yeah.   I’ve heard it before.   Let’s move along.   How about we take care of that locket?"

"Right."   You reach over and press against the touchstone to alert the house elves that you need assistance, yet another perk of having your own private quarters.   Dobby arrives within ten seconds.

"Hello, Dobby."

"Mister Harry Potter has summoned Dobby!   Dobby is so honored."

"I need a small favor Dobby!"

"Mister Harry Potter is asking for a favor from Dobby!"   You eye Bill and he just smiles.   More and more Dobby reminds you of a character that should be on a children’s show.

"Yes Dobby.   I need something retrieved from Number Twelve Grimmauld Place."

"Dobby would be honored to retrieve something for Mister Harry Potter."   He immediately disappears.

Bill offers, "Not the brightest Light spell in the class is he?"

"Nope, but you can’t fault his enthusiasm.   Any bets on how long it will be before he comes back?"

Bill takes ten minutes, you take fifteen.   Dobby comes back in six.   He shuffles his feet, "Dobby didn’t wait for Mister Harry Potter to tell him what he needs.   Dobby is a bad elf!"

Bill’s laughter makes it hard for you to reply.   "Don’t worry about it, Dobby.   I think you’re a great elf."

"Really?"

"Of course.   Now, the item I am looking for is a locket.   Wait Dobby, don’t go… yet.   Bugger.

"I’ll take five minutes this time."

"I actually like fifteen.   He’ll go all over the house looking for lockets."

"Crap!   You’re right."

Sure enough, twenty-seven minutes later Dobby returns, he has eight lockets with him and some interesting marks that look suspiciously like fingernail scratches on his face.   "Dobby would have been back sooner, but had problems getting this one off Mrs. Wheezy’s neck."

He offers up a locket with some reddish colored hairs entwined in the chain.   Nice to know Molly is still mooching accommodations off of you.   You mull over kicking them out on their arses.   Still, this was funny, but dampening the mood was the fact that none of the eight lockets were the locket with the large "S" on it.

After Bill ensures that his mum wasn’t badly injured, you move back to the matter at hand.   "Dobby, the one we’re looking for has the letter ‘S’ on the front of it.   Did you see one that looked like it?"

"Dobby has failed Mister Harry Potter!   Dobby is miserable!"   He runs straight into the wall and staggers backwards.   He gets ready for another run, but you call out to him.

"Dobby!   Stop!   You haven’t failed.   Relax.   Now, please don’t leave until I tell you to."

"Yes, Mister Harry Potter."

"First, I’d like you to go get Kreacher and bring him here.   He might have hidden the locket, but I’ll order him to bring it to me.   Second, go ahead and return all these other lockets.   You can just put this locket back on the nightstand next to Mrs. Wheezy."

Dobby stands there looking like he wants to pee.   "Oh right, go ahead and leave."   Bill’s wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes.

Three minutes later Dobby returns dragging Kreacher with him.   "Kreacher is a bad elf.   He oversleeps and takes long breaks!"

Kreacher hisses at Dobby who looks slightly frightened of the grizzled house elf and pops away to return the lockets.

"Master returns.   Kreacher hoped you had died and Kreacher could have a suitable master."

"Sorry to disappoint you, vermin.   I haven’t forgotten that your lie to me helped get Sirius killed."

It snarls at you.   "Kreacher not responsible for careless Master.   If new worthless Master had any spine, he’d kill Kreacher now."

He’s trying to egg you on.   "No, I’m planning on living a long time.   I won’t be so careless in my orders either.   I need a specific artifact brought here from my house."

It grumbles, "Not your house."

"Oh yes it is and you know it.   Now, I need the locket with the Green ‘S’ on it, the one that can’t be opened.   You will go and bring that to me now."

"Kreacher can’t."

"Can’t or won’t?"

"Can’t."

"Why?"

"Filthy Fletcher take many things from your house.   Old pathetic Master order Kreacher not to hurt any members of precious Order, so Kreacher could not stop him."

Bloody Dung Fletcher!   "When did he take it?"

"Two days after pathetic Master dies."

"What else did he take?"

"Coins, jewels, wands, cauldrons, magic carpet, brooms, crystal and alcohol.   Master looks angry, maybe new Master isn’t so worthless?   What does Master want to do about it?"

"That’s not any of your concern.   Do you know where Fletcher is?"

"No.   Idiot Master send Kreacher to Hogwarts to work."

"That’s right.   Resume your duties here at Hogwarts.   You are not allowed to communicate by speech or written word with any students in this castle other than myself.   You are not allowed to communicate with Professor Snape.   Have either Draco Malfoy or Professor Snape spoken to you?"

"No."

"Have any other students spoken to you?"

"The foul Granger bitch, Kreacher hates her."

"Careful Kreacher, I might assign you to her if you don’t behave."

"Worthless Master is cruel."

"Resume your duties here at Hogwarts."

"As you command, Master."

The piece of filth disappears leaving you looking at Bill.   "Great, Dumbledore’s fucking personnel choices bugger us again.   Any idea where that rat bastard is?"

"Tell me what you really think, Harry.   No, we’ll have to wait until morning and ask Dumbledore."

***

The two of you enter Dumbledore’s office and find Percy sitting in the chair in front of Dumbledore.   The phoenix shifts on its perch and eyes you.   Nice to see you too, Fawkes.   "Ah William, it warms my heart to see you on your feet again."

Bill shrugs at the headmaster’s greeting.   He focuses his attention on Percy.   "Good to see you again, brother.   You’ve been upgraded from waiter at the Ministry.   Congratulations on the promotion."

"I’d say thank you, but I don’t believe that was intended as a compliment, William."

Dumbledore interjects.   "Ah yes, Mr. Weasley and I were having a lively discussion about some of the more recent theories in the field of Transfiguration.   Regrettably, I have been much too preoccupied to keep up on the latest research.   I must commend you for a bold approach to your assignment.   When you begin to cover this material for your sixth and seventh years, do be so kind as to let me know so that I may listen in on that series of lectures."

Percy looked a bit stunned at a Master of Transfiguration wanting pointers from him.   Makes you wonder what Dumbledore’s "angle" is, but you’re too busy to look for hidden meanings today.   Percy’s voice squeaks slightly as he replies.   "I’ll be sure to let you know, sir."

"Now if you’ll excuse us, your brother and the Ambassador obviously have a need to speak with me."

"Good day to you headmaster."   He looks at both of you before mumbling, "You as well, Ambassador Potter, William."

Dumbledore waits until he hears the gargoyle slide back into place downstairs before looking up at you.   "Something urgent lads?   I had a rather strange firecall from Molly Weasley this morning."   The room is well-lit by the early morning sun and his tall form sits behind the desk like something out of a portrait.

"Sorry about that, no, not really.   Dobby left to perform a task before getting the complete instructions.   I’m afraid he fouled things up."

"Indeed he caused a sizeable ruckus.   Molly seemed quite upset."

"Yes, I’m sure she was, from the safety of my home.   Of course you understand.   You’re used to having your underlings destroying your carefully laid plans.   This is all still new to me."

He looks at Bill, who shakes his head.   "My disappointment in my parents is only matched by my contempt of you at the moment.   Harry’s brought me up to speed on your manipulations."

"Your loyalty to Harry is admirable."

"Your willingness to use him for your own ends, isn’t."

Bill really is the only Weasley worth a damn.  

"We’re getting nowhere,"You state.   "You want to know why we’re here.   Another one of your idiots may have cost us a chance to get the next Horcrux."

That gets things moving in the right direction.   "How so, Harry?   If you are prepared to leave, you need only give me a minute to gather some items.   The sooner we move on this the better.   May I be so bold to ask where we are going and what we are looking for?"

"Good question.   It is a locket with a large green ‘S’ on it.   It was located at headquarters.   Kreacher told me last night that Dung Fletcher stole it along with many other things after Sirius died.   Where is that fucking thief?"

Dumbledore’s expression falters.   "I’d heard rumors of Slytherin’s locket.   You say it was in Headquarters all along?"

"Held it in my hands last summer."

"This does not bode well.   Mundungus is currently in Azkaban serving a one year sentence for trafficking in stolen goods.   It appears that we now know where the goods came from.   He refused to name the source of his goods, which now makes perfect sense as he could not violate the charm protecting headquarters."

"So where do you think the locket is now?"

"Only Mundungus can tell us for certain, but the best scenario has it in one of his many hiding places.   The less desirable one is that it along with the other stolen goods resides in the hands of the Ministry, meaning we will have to identify you as the person affected by this crime.   It would be tricky, but we would need to minimize what is told to Minister Scrimgeour.   The last scenario is that the necklace has already been sold.   In that case, we will need to learn the whereabouts of the buyer from Mundungus.   I will go to Azkaban and speak with him."

Dung is not getting away with this!   "I’m going too."

"I don’t believe that is wise."

"I don’t care what you believe.   You’re making the assumption that I want to keep Scrimgeour in the dark.   I could just as easily cut a deal with him and leave you out of the loop."

The old man gives you a measured look.   "That also would be most unwise."

"Someone was nice enough to point out to me that for all your scheming and power, you’ve been out maneuvered every step of the way.   That’s my stuff your man stole.   You are the Secret Keeper and that means you allowed him into that house.   Maybe if you had been more forthcoming in your suspicions about Horcruxes, I would have realized that the locket in headquarters was one of them!   Instead, we’re in here staring at each other like fools as yet something else has slipped by before we even noticed it."

He attempts to dismiss your argument.   "Perhaps Harry.   I will concede that many mistakes have been made along the way.   It is quite possible that I have tried to do too much in the past and not rely on others.   Still, you were not ready for the knowledge at the time."

You dismiss his comments by mostly ignoring them, "By your standards naturally.   Either way, Scrimgeour isn’t the idiot Fudge was.   There’s no way one or both of us is getting in to see Fletcher without sending up a big red flag.   How much would you be willing to bet he’d be ten minutes behind us with a flask of Veritaserum to find out just what we talked about?"

Hang around enough crooked politicians and you start to figure out how things really work.

"Very true, Harry.   You again have found a way to surprise me with new information.   I have no easy solution for this and I recommend that we adjourn for the moment for breakfast.   During the day, I ask that each of you consider possible avenues we can take and that we meet here this evening to discuss how best to proceed.   Unless of course you would like to discuss any information you have on the final Horcrux.   I have two candidates: Nagini, Tom’s familiar, and a goblet rumored to have belonged to Madame Hufflepuff."

"One’s right.   The other isn’t."

"Care to elaborate, Ambassador Potter?"

"Not at the moment.   Maybe when you are more forthcoming."

"I see.   In that case, I bid you both a good day."

Exiting, you look at Bill, "He loves this shit, doesn’t he?"

"I think you’re on to something there Harry.   I wonder if I’m still welcome at the Order meetings."

"If you are, let me know.   I think I’d like to go too.   Do they serve good refreshments?"

"Mum usually cooks."

"I’ll pass on that then.   Drug me once, shame on you.   Drug me twice … We could always send Dobby back to cook especially for us?   That’d be interesting to watch."

"Yeah, I suppose it would."

***

It’s now Saturday; you’re getting dressed to go to this Embassy Function.   Supposedly, you will be staying the night and the better part of Sunday at the Brazilian Embassy.   Like most things these days, that is a lie.   You and the geezer get to spend Sunday morning on the Island of Azkaban conversing with Fletcher.  

For the moment, all Minister Scrimgeour knows is that Dung stole some things belonging to you while you were away this summer and that you wish to personally question him about their whereabouts.   Dumbledore is spinning it so that this trip sounds like his idea to earn a portion of your trust back.   It’s a wonder he can keep up with all his lies and half-truths.  

First, you’ll make a side trip to Auror Headquarters to see the items currently being held as evidence.   With some luck, you won’t have to make a trip to Azkaban, but you’ve got a bad feeling about this.

The mirror in front says that you look nice in these bothersome dress robes.  Luna seconds the motion.   "See, I told you that color goes well with your complexion."

"Ah, but everyone knows you’re crazy."

Her tone gets that dreamy quality to it.   "But perhaps everyone else is crazy and I am the only one sane.   Have you ever considered that?   Would you like my Butterbeer cork necklace?   It will complete the outfit."   She’s dressed in her formal school robes for the remembrance ceremony in the Great Hall starting in a few hours.

You adopt a similarly dreamy tone.   "Luna, as tempting as that sounds, I’ll have to pass."

She starts to say something else when the adjoining door to your suite opens and Hermione walks in.   "Harry, do you need any… help?   Oh,hello, Luna."

"Hello, Hermione.   You’re looking better.   The scufferbums have ceased haunting you.   I was beginning to fear for you."

"Ever hear of knocking, Hermione?   Unless of course you want me to walk into your quarters any time I want?"   You need to put a proximity alarm around that door.   You’ve already tried warding it directly, but something, most likely Dumbledore is preventing it from working.

"I’m sorry, Harry.   You’re right.   It… it was very thoughtless of me to not announce myself properly."

"As you can see, I’m capable of dressing myself.   Fleur has done an excellent job of giving me pointers for life in high society."

Luna chimes in, "I’ve instructed the Ambassador on how to spot agents of the Rotfang conspiracy.   They are a devious lot, but your parents are dentists, so you already know the telltale signs."

The look on Hermione’s face is priceless.   "Um, yes, I suppose.   Harry, I really want to set things right between us.   You’re not making this easy for me.   I guess you’re entitled to that.   I’ll go now before I upset you more."

Great!   She’s got a new crusade.   Why can’t Hermione go back to freeing the elves?   Maybe the centaurs need someone to convince them that humans aren’t really so bad.   She leaves and you raise a privacy ward.

Luna looks at you questioningly.   You shrug and explain, "She could try and listen, or she could start crying.   I don’t want her to listen to us, and I sure as hell don’t want to hear her crying.   What?   You don’t approve?"

She cocks her head and looks at you.   "Hermione’s never been deliberately cruel to Looney, but I don’t mistake her tolerance for kindness.   She crossed you.   Deal with her however you want.   You don’t spoil my entertainment, and I won’t spoil yours."

"Fair enough.   You got yourself a deal."

"Not until we seal it with a kiss."

"She could walk back in…"

"Who would she tell?   Better still, who would believe her?"

Hard to argue with that logic, isn’t it?   Your lips had just barely touched when there’s a knock at the door coming from the hallway.   Luna sighs in slight frustration as you walk to the door.   Hagrid’s massive frame fills the doorway.

"Arry!"

It’s hard not to smile at the jovial half-giant dressed in the same outfit you saw him in during the Yule Ball.   "How are you doing Hagrid?"

"Been better, been worse too. Can’t really complain.   Ello there, Miss Lovegood."

"Hello, Professor.   How are the bowtruckles?"

"Good I suppose, do you really think you can learn to speak their language?"

"I’m working on it diligently, sir.   It’s my OWL project, Harry."

"Of course it is.   So what brings you here, Hagrid?"

"I’ve got a bit of a delicate situation on my hands ‘Arry."

"What has Hack done this time?"   Your troll and your former teacher have hit it off famously.   On your new "This is Troubling" scale, also known as TiTs, it rates a solid "What now?"

"Well, we sorta owe Aberforth fer three mebbe four barrels of ale, nuttin to fret over, just a bit of wrasslin that got outta hand.   There’s also the small matter of Hack’s bar tab.   He didn’t take the news that he isn’t going to yer party thing that well."

Yeah, he was pretty upset.   As much as you’d like to see him dance and again hear his impressive rendition of Hotel California, you’re going there to make a good impression.   "I thought you two were banned from the bars in Hogsmeade?"

"No, no.   That’s Rosmerta’s place and she’ll get over it in a week or two.   Hack was probably wrong to drop his pants, but she shoulda realized he was going to do it when she said that."

"It was good to hear from her again, even if it was a howler.   I’m just glad it wasn’t a Hogsmeade weekend.   Where is he?"   You already know, he’s in the hut, but you need to ask anyway.

"He’s sleeping it off in my hut."

You shake your head and go over to your desk.   "How much?"

"Thirty galleons."

"Should be fifty in this bag.   That should cover the rest of the weekend.   Try to leave the village intact."

"Yer a great wizard, ‘Arry.   Most wouldn’t take the time to befriend a troll.   Word in the forest is that out past Grawp’s cave bout a half day’s walk there’s a group of trolls.   I’d have already taken him out there, but old Aragog’s been ill lately."

"Sorry to hear that."   Okay, it’s a bit of a white lie, the giant spider tried to kill you a few years ago, but Hagrid has an attachment to the creature.

"I know.   He’s lived a long life and I don’t know how much longer he’s got left in ‘im.   First. Minerva, and now this.   I think we’re in for a rough year."   His statement is a bit somber.

"I agree, let’s hope for the best, but prepare for the worst."

"Aye, sound advice.   Don’t be a stranger ‘Arry.   Drop by anytime."

After Hagrid walks away, you shut the door and look at the witch raiding your Butterbeer stash.   "Learning to speak Bowtruckle?"

"Gets me out of doing homework all year.   They make a little chittering noise.   I’m pretty sure it’s either ‘I’m hungry,’ or ‘Leave me alone.’   So what exactly did Madame Rosmerta say to make Hack drop his pants in public?   Do I really want to know?"

You time it for when she’s taking a swig.   "Oh, that.   There was a drunken wizard at the bar and she said that he was the biggest prick she’d ever met.   After Hagrid explained what a prick was to Hack, he decided to introduce her to his."

It’s worth it.   She snorts a bit of beverage.   "Gah!   That’s awful.   This stuff stings when it goes up your nose."

"You asked."

***

Exiting the castle, you size up your "date."   Tonks is fifteen minutes late, but she looks very nice, having chosen a tall, athletic form.   The troubling thing is that she’s said barely a word to you since you got back.   "Bee in your bonnet, Tonks?   Didn’t like splitting time with Charlie pretending to be me?"

"I think I liked you better when you just sat in the corner and didn’t say much to anyone."   She reminds you of last year when you were at headquarters and kept to yourself.   "It cost me most of my vacation with the department just to cover for you. That’s after spending almost all my free time this summer chasing down leads on your whereabouts."   She says off handedly.

"Sorry, I was busy getting myself out from under Dumbledore’s thumb.   Blame him if you’re looking for someone.   And if you’re that worried about vacation, I can speak to Minister Scrimgeour and get it back for you."

"Don’t put yourself out, Mr. Bigshot."

Okay then, so it’s a little more than just resentment from a few weeks of pretending to be a sixth year boy and losing some vacation time.   "Fine.   Since we’ll be spending some time together this evening, why don’t you just say what’s on your mind?"

"Do you really want to know?"   Her tone isn’t the friendliest which, given her normally jovial nature, says quite a bit.

"If you’ve got an axe to grind with me, let’s take care of it before we get to Hogsmeade."

"Remus is a good man!   He’s full of self-loathing and you’re just adding to it!"

Hadn’t expected that one!   That came out of nowhere!   It sounds like a romantic tale — The Auror and the Werewolf.   "Oh, is that all?   You want to know what I think of Remus Lupin?   Fuck Remus Lupin!"

Tonks form looks a bit more menacing.   She spits out the next few words.   "Why you ungrateful little shit…"

You cut her off.   "Yeah, I should be grateful for him blindly following Dumbledore.   The Order’s payroll is coming out of my vaults, and Lupin acting as bookkeeper.   Did anyone think to ask me about it?   Hell no.   Then, Lupin has the balls to stand in front of me saying that he’d still have done it anyway."

"He’s trying to protect your wretched life!"   Fleur, Bill, and Kwan are watching the byplay waiting to see how you handle this.

"I assume you know about the Potions and the Obliviations?"

"Remus didn’t have anything to do with that, and you know it!"

"Oh-bliv-i-a-tionS, Tonks!   I have no idea who did what.   Don’t you get it?"

"He was your parents’ best friend!"

"Who stayed away from me for over a decade!   And the Weasleys claimed they were my second family.   Pick a better argument."

It starts a glaring contest.   Bill tries to get everyone moving again.   You shrug and start back down the path.   She doesn’t move.

"I’m not through with you yet, Potter."

"Actually, you are.   Here’s the reality, Tonks.   The only person from the Order I trust is Moody.   I don’t trust Dumbledore, Lupin, most of the Weasleys, and I don’t trust you.   Tomorrow marks one week that I’ve been back in England.   In that week, I’ve killed two people already.   You’re here because I’m supposed to have a female escort to this thing and you’re the only female in the Order under thirty.   Pull your head out of you arse right now, you stupid cow, or go the hell home.   There’s a good chance that someone will take a shot at me tonight.   That means you need to be focused on the surroundings and not on Lupin crying in his cups."

Her expression is as hard as steel.   "I’m an Auror!   I know what I’m doing."

"Really?   You ever think that if you could have lasted more than ten seconds with Bellatrix that Sirius might still be alive?   If one of these people behind me takes a curse tonight because you can’t carry your fucking weight, I will make you suffer!"

You take the slap face.   That kind of insult is a "deal-breaker."   By the time she’s done, your wand is already leveled at her head.   "Real smart, Tonks.   You’re as stupid as you are clumsy.   Go for your wand first, then slap the guy.   If I was an enemy, you’d already be dead.   You’re useless to me like this.   Go home, go back to the castle, I don’t care — go fuck yourself!   Come back when you’re not useless."

"I’m not going anywhere.   My orders come from Dumbledore."

"I could just stun you and leave you here, but here’s your wake up call.   Just like Snape, you’ve got two masters.   Scrimgeour will be at this party tonight.   You insist on coming along and I mention your little assault on a foreign diplomat.   Want to lose a pay grade, or worse, Auror?"

Face red with fury, Tonks storms back up the path towards the castle.   Your dates don’t always go so well, do they?   Kwan had also drawn his wand.   Quite possibly one of the reasons he’s among the best.

Bill speaks, "Not exactly what I’d call winning friends and influencing people."

"Better to jettison her now than when the shit hits the vertexcis.   I’m guessing the Aurors really wanted her for her special skills.   She could even be a right spiffy dueler, but I remember Kwan here and Collins laughing at me when I asked them to teach me how to duel.   I need fighters not liabilities, and tonight she’d just get in the way."

"Good points, but we might want her down the line."

Kwan counters, "No, Potter’s right.   Stupid rookie Auror angry and full of herself.   Angry people make mistakes.   Maybe she wise up.   Maybe she stay stupid.   Maybe we stand here all night wasting time because we stupid."

Kwan has an eloquent way of summing up a conversation and the rest of you get going.   Waiting for you at the edge of the wards are all six of the Brazilian "peacekeepers" assigned to Hogwarts.   The lead one, a burly dark skinned man with short hair introduces himself, "Adao Santos, Ambassador Potter.   You’re party is short one person.   I was told to expect five."

"My escort fell ill and will not be coming."

"I understand.   We are expected to Floo from the Hogshead Inn.   In keeping with security precautions, this has now been changed to a Portkey to coordinates two kilometers from the embassy.   When we receive the ‘all clear’ signal from the gate, we will proceed via direct Apparition.   If we do not receive the signal or encounter hostiles, I request that you reactivate the Portkey and return here.   Do you have any questions?"

Perhaps you’re still a bit angry after Tonks, but you say, "If we encounter hostiles, you have two of the most dangerous men in the world with you.   I am a diplomat out of necessity, but I am a fighter first and foremost.   That said, I am not a tactician.   If we do run into a fight you will follow any instruction from Mr. Kwan here as if it came directly from me.   If he signals retreat, we all retreat."

Like damn near everyone else, Santos seems skeptical of you, but he clearly knows who Kwan Chang Ho is and acknowledges your command.

***

Fortunately, your arrival at the Brazilian embassy is uneventful.   The embassy itself is a fine looking manor house with a serviceable ward set protecting it.   Alesandro Dimperio and several others greet you in the parlor leading to the ballroom.   You kiss the back of his wife’s hand, while trying to remember her name.   Deborah!   Crisis avoided.   "No escort, Mr. Potter?"

Why are people always so curious who happens to be on your arm?   "She became ill."

Her husband answers, "No matter.   My assistant, Miss Lopez will serve as your escort.   Sheila Lopez, Ambassador Harry Potter."

The young woman is decent looking, if a bit plain, brunette, and reminds you slightly of the warm, sunny beaches in Rio.   She smiles and extends her hand.   "We’ve met before, though I did like your hair better as a blonde."

Your former Dodgespell teammate seems quite pleased.   You take her hand and kiss the backside in formal greeting.   "It’s nice to see you again, Sheila.   Last I saw, you were an attendant at a dueling hall."

"And you were going by the name James Black and never did take me up on that game of pool."

"Something tells me I would have ended up owing you far too many galleons.   What brings you to England?"

"It sounded like a better opportunity than working at my father’s dueling hall.   My uncle is Ambassador Dimperio’s Chief of Staff. "

"Yes, Mr. Silva, we meet again, sir.   I had the pleasure of meeting your niece in Rio.   It’s refreshing to find a familiar face."

She seems a bit too excited.   It ranks on the TiTs scale, but not very high.   Female interest doesn’t really compare to death and mayhem.   "I look forward to several dances with you, Ambassador Potter."

You offer a word of caution.   "As I do with you.   Just don’t read too much into this, Sheila."

She’s startled, "Why?"

"The first person my enemies will try to kill is any one I’m romantically linked to.   You don’t want to be that person."

She nods her head slowly, getting a rather rude introduction to the world that is Harry Potter.   The Ambassador, his wife, and Sheila’s uncle all follow the conversation.   Alesandro nods, "Indeed, when speaking to this Skeeter woman, make it clear that Miss Lopez is a last minute arrangement at my request.   Now, let us step into my office, so that we may discuss matters of state."

You make brief introductions for Fleur’s sake and follow Alesandro into his office, sensing the privacy wards as you cross them.   It’s good to be a curse breaker!   "Harry, our superiors would like a more detailed report of the events that took place at the school."

"There is not really much more I can say without compromising sensitive information."

He is displeased.   "The explanation Albus Dumbledore has provided is feeble at best.   I am more than a dabbler in the field of Enchanting.   The level of power needed to cause the level of damage reported could not have come from such a tiny object.   Waverly’s principles of magical output don’t support the level of destruction.   This understandably concerns me."

"I’m not too happy about it either.   The woman who died was a person I respected.   How’s your Occlumency?" You seem to be asking this question all the time.

"I have never been trained in the art, but even if I knew it, would it truly stop someone from torturing it out of me?   I can avoid casual eye contact, but if I am captured potions and curses merely take longer."

The man has a point.   Occlumency isn’t everything.   "You want to know, I’ll tell you, but I also need a few favors…"

Alesandro cocks an eyebrow at you as you begin to explain.

***

You’re resting between dances with Fleur, Sheila, and Deborah Dimperio when you here a sickly sweet voice that makes your skin crawl.

"How very nice to see you again, Mr. Potter."  

"Who let you in, Delores?"   She’s about the last person on this planet you wanted to see.   Technically this embassy is under Brazilian law.   You could challenge her to a duel and kill her.   Is it worth it?   Probably not.   You’ve already chatted with the Minister, and who knows what Rita is going to write.   You’ve got other things on your mind ever since you saw the guest list.

To an outside observer the two of you appear to be old friends talking about good times.   "I believe my title is Madame Undersecretary."

"And mine would be Ambassador, but for old time’s sake you can call me a liar about Voldemort’s return and I’ll just stick to calling you Dumbbitch."

"Quite full of yourself aren’t you, Mr. Potter?   I won’t forget how you left me to those monsters in the forest.   Did you know that Minister Scrimgeour is dispatching me to Brazil to oversee the establishment of our embassy?   Rest assured that I’ll get to the bottom of all your lies."

"I should have brought my troll.   I was worried that he wouldn’t have a dance partner.   Enjoy the warm weather and brush up on your Cooling charms then, Madame.   Considering how consistently you were outwitted and outsmarted by a group of schoolchildren, I’m quivering in fear at what you will find in South America.   Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find someone or something more pleasant to be seen with -- an overturned rubbish bin will do."

So, Scrimgeour obviously wants to know more about your Brazilian exploits and Umbridge convinced him that she’s the zealot for the job.   If Minister Dimperio wishes to expedite his Goblin War, he need only involve her in the negotiations.

At least you’ve pretty much scraped the bottom of the barrel of this party’s guests…

"Good evening, Ambassador Potter.   Would you care to dance?"

… or so you thought.   The beautiful woman curtsies gracefully and extends her hand to you.   You choke back the bile and brush your lips across the back of her hand.   "Good evening, Lady Malfoy."

***

"You’re surprisingly light on your feet.   Quite honestly, I hadn’t expected much from you, Ambassador Potter."

"I’m full of surprises, or you need better sources.   The reporter woman writes what she thinks people want to read and your son suffers from delusions of grandeur."

Narcissa gives a derisive laugh.   For a woman in her early forties, she’s certainly attractive.   You recall thinking that you’d do her, but only if Draco and Lucius were forced to watch.   Her dress is a bluish-green affair that highlights her without making her look like a slut.   "Oh and you are full of wit tonight, how nice."

"Did you come alone?   I don’t see Lord Malfoy."

"Oh, I’m afraid he couldn’t make it this evening, dear.   I’m sure he’s looking forward to meeting you again."

Concentrating on your footwork, you continue dancing with her. "I’m actually hoping to catch up to Bellatrix first.   I have memories of a house elf besting Lucius.   Bellatrix might provide a more lively opponent."

"Oh dear, now who is suffering from delusions.   Dear Bella would chew you up and spit you out."

Your turn to laugh, "Which explains why she didn’t stay around to say hello after I killed Dolohov?   Perhaps you didn’t get the whole story from the deranged woman.   After all those years in Azkaban, can she still hold a polite conversation, or do you need to keep a rag handy to wipe away the drool?"

She scowls at you as the music ends and the next song begins.   "I’m sure she is more interesting to listen to than Sirius these days.   Shall we take another turn around the dance floor? I haven’t delivered my message yet."

You expected the Sirius comment, let it slide.   "Why not, Lady Malfoy?   I didn’t realize that you were just a well dressed owl this evening."

Narcissa brushes off your insult.   "I’m going to enjoy watching the Dark Lord dispose of you, whelp."

"He keeps trying, but your half-breed master has always been a bit of a disappointment."

With a feral smile on her face she leers at you.   "He knows what you are up to.   There’s no way you can succeed.   You’ll never find what you’re looking for.   The only thing you’ll find is death.   If you are fortunate, that death will be swift."

You knew there was no way Voldemort could ignore your trip to Brazil and the dust up on the third floor.   Back in that hidden city in Brazil is a talking statue.   He’s as wise a "man" as you’ve ever met.   You left him there, but you picked up a new pair of journals, so that you could continue consulting him.   The "real" conquistador Hernando de Soto watched Francisco Pizarro conquer the Incan empire with a handful of fighters and a colossal bluff.   Between the two of you, you came up with this gambit.   You’re playing with not only your life but so many others.   Screw it!   If you’re playing, play to win.

It’s time to kick up some shit, time to put him on the defensive, time to prod him and see if he makes a mistake, like attacking you at Hogwarts.   Kwan thinks it’s reckless and could backfire in spectacular fashion.   Bill thinks it’s brilliant, but isn’t sure you should play it now.   Fleur’s naturally concerned, but didn’t have any better ideas.     Dumbledore doesn’t know, yet.   That’s probably the best part.   The look on his face will be priceless!

"Oh silly girl, if the young serpent knew what I was up to, he’d be more scared than even your feeble sister."   You lean close and drop your voice.   "I have a message for your traitorous master.   Tell him that most of his toys are destroyed.   Tell him that Harry Potter went to the jungles of Brazil, but Veras Chilotha came back in his body.   Did he really think that he would keep me imprisoned to mock for eternity?   Could a mere child defeat the mighty Daemon left guarding the Horcrux?   Tell the pretender that the roles are reversed this time.   It is I who will destroy his followers this time, one by one, and leave him a helpless wraith.   I’ll even use the smiling fossil Dumbledore as my unwitting pawn.   The best part is the people here, in Brazil, and all over the world will cheer me on as their hero as I enact my revenge."

You feel her tense in you arms.   "Oh yes, little witch.   He has his baubles protecting his existence and I have mine.   In fact, make certain to show him this memory, Lady Malfoy.   I want the pretender to hear my words and know that I will be coming for him, and the masses will rally to my side.   Thank you, Tom Riddle, for engineering my ultimate victory!   I foolishly would have been content with South America, but now I can have the whole world!     Even if I never find your last few Horcruxes, who will bring you back when you have no followers?   I found a memory in this boy’s mind of the fool Dumbledore.   Didn’t that relic warn you that there are worse things than death?"

There’s a tremor in her voice, "You’re lying."   It’s actually a heady rush to have someone afraid of you.   It must be where Riddle gets his jollies.   You wonder if your "maniacal monologue" is over the top or just about right?  

Now drive the message home and really sell it.   The panic needs to spread to his followers.   "Watch your master’s disfigured face when he sees the memory.   Does he look concerned?   Does he possibly look afraid?   Will he kill his followers who know where his trinkets are?   If you dare, ask him why he can no longer get into the mind inside of this body.   That’s when you’ll have your answer."

"The master isn’t afraid of anything!   His power is all-encompassing!"

"Yet your master lurks in the shadows, spending an entire year trying and failing to learn a prophecy.   His ridiculous anagram is ‘Flight from Death.’   His fear is his name!   I am his fear brought to life, little witch!   Oh pity, it looks like our song is done.   I must go dance with the Ambassador’s wife again.   She is a powerful and attractive woman, much like you.   Should you survive this with your wealth and status intact, you might make a suitable concubine.   It might be the best way for you to guarantee the safety of your spawn."

She angrily sucks in her breath, "Leave Draco out of this!"

De Soto said Chilotha had a long history of debasing women.   The more "European" the woman was, the better.   "I don’t plan to touch him, he is of no consequence.   However, I might consider touching you.   I do hope no one you cared about was at the Rookwood estate this evening?   I hear there may be some trouble there."   Sean and his associates are razing it as you speak.   It’s a low priority target, but coupled with this threat, it should send a shockwave through his minions.   After they finish there, they’re destroying Snape’s house as well, but that’s more a guilty pleasure on your part.

You walk away from the stunned woman, wiping the mental slime off of your mind and noting that her nipples have made an appearance through her dress.     Oh dear god!   It’s not just her sister who is the deviant freak.   She’s a woman with a power fetish.   You just hope you’ll never have to follow through with it.

As you dance with the charming Deborah Dimperio, you make certain to catch Narcissa’s eye and smile.   The Daemon’s message in your memory taught you a lesson: keep your enemies wondering.   Uncertainty can lead to fatal mistakes.   Luna reminded you that overestimating can be just as much of a problem as underestimating.   If Riddle panics, he’ll send people looking for non-existent Horcruxes all over the world.   He’ll try to scout out your mostly imaginary powerbase in South America and possibly lose some of his followers to the alerted Policia de Magia.

Best of all, only you and Riddle know the location of the hidden city.   Neither of you can tell anyone else, because until Hernando disconnects the reservoir powering the Fidelius charm, the secret died with the real Chilotha.   If he goes there, all those wards that survived the fight with the Daemon are hidden among the rubble that was once Veras Chilotha’s temple.   It’s a deathtrap made by your hand, so maybe you’ll get lucky.

The dance ends and Madame Dimperio offers you the private tour of the embassy that you’d arranged with her husband.   It would be interesting to know what Narcissa makes of her leading you upstairs halfway through a party.   Then again, her mind is probably in a disgusting place.   Alesandro merely needs to keep an eye on Rita Skeeter and mention casually within earshot of Narcissa that he’s concerned with your sudden rise in power.

All you have to do is pretend to be a Dark Lord pretending to be Harry Potter.   That shouldn’t be too hard, right?

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