Chapter 32

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a while. I promise to put them back when I'm done. Oh, nope, no money either...just for fun. Once again, those events that are not mentioned that happen in the books are as it happened in the books.

I want to give a great big thank you hug to my alpha reader, Arabellabloodgood, Proulxes for the bit of Brit-picking, and to DuchessOfArcadia for combing through this and helping me clean up my many mistakes. I really appreciate it more than you can possibly know.

Thank you, Jay, for the beautiful banner. I absolutely love it!

Hermione ran straight out onto the beach. Suddenly, two more wizards appeared, wearing blue uniforms similar to the French Foreign Legion's light blue greatcoat with the red sashes, white-fringed epaulettes and white fourragères. More spells fired in the air around her, but the new wizards were aiming for the house. One wizard shouted, "Periculum," sending red sparks into the sky as people around them ran in every direction, screaming.

Another witch in the same blue coat but with a double fourragères appeared right in front of Hermione, grabbing her arm. "No too fast. You come to me," she demanded, grasping the medallion on her fourragères. The next instant, Hermione felt the sensation of a Portkey trans-relocation.

They arrived inside what looked like an old Parisian bank, in an enclosure off the main lobby that reminded Hermione of thick bulletproof glass. The witch shoved Hermione forward as a thick glass door opened, allowing them to pass into another enclosed space behind what once may have been the teller's counters; and two more wizards in the same blue uniform moved to intercept them with their wands drawn. On the other side of the opaque thick glass, several witches and wizards, also wearing a buttoned up blue coat, sat at the long counter helping people who were lined up in the main lobby on the other side of the thick glass in front of them.

"Mademoiselle Granger."

Hermione turned to see a wizard in the same blue coat with white and gold-fringed epaulettes and double red and white fourragères standing in front of her. "I am Auror René Marche, Directeur du Département des Aurors en France. Zis es my bras droit, my Chef de Cabinet, Lt. Amanda Penverne." The woman nodded in greeting. "You are in Departement de la Sécurité Magique of ze le Ministère Français de la Magie, and I am 'ere to assist you, but you must come wiz me," he said, drawing her over to one of several desks. "You do not have your wand, no?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "It's back at the house..."

The two wizards who had appeared next to her on the beach suddenly Apparated into the thick glass enclosure she'd arrived in, one holding Pierre by the collar, the other by the arm. Hermione noticed that his hands were bound. "My associates, Albert Batteux and Marius Trésor, bringing one of ze young men zat attacked you. You recognize mes Aurors, no? Zey were zere to assist you, yes?"

"Yes, I think so," she said, avoiding looking Pierre in the eye. "I recognize the uniforms." She turned to look at him.

Hermione was led to a room with several chairs and a table. Her parents stood the moment she entered, and Hermione ran over to hug them both. "You're all right," her mum said, holding her tightly.

Her father stood and placed his hand on her back. "We were so worried, pumpkin," he said, his speech slightly slurred as if he were inebriated.

A brunette witch, wearing an unadorned version of the blue coat and whose hair was styled in a 1940's bob, placed parchment, inkwells, and quills on the table. "Madame, Monsieur Granger, would you like an'udder cup, per'aps?" she asked softly, and her father drained the contents of his cup.

Her father handed the woman his cup, but her mum shook her shook her head, mouthing, 'No thank you.'

"No, Marie, de té sólo claro," Auror Marche told the woman, Marie.

"Je comprends, Directeur," she replied, nodding once with a smile. She collected the cups and left.

Auror René Marche and Lt. Amanda Penverne sat down on the other side of the table. Lt. Penverne organized her parchment and inkwell on the table in front of her as another witch in the buttoned up blue coat similar ones worn by the people at the counter came in carrying a pad of parchment, a quill and ink. She sat gracefully at the end of the table, set her things down and then held the quill posed ready to write. "Mademoiselle Granger, if you please, tell me what 'appened zes afternoon?" Auror Marche asked, "Please be specific and detailed."

Hermione told then what happened, pausing when either Auror Marche or Lt. Penverne asked for clarification on something or had a question. Both Auror Marche and Lt. Penverne jotted down notations, but the witch at the end of the table seemed to be taking down everything said. After Hermione gave the Aurors her statements, she was asked to identify five magical images.

"'Ow do you know zis boy?" Lt. Penverne asked as Marie returned with a fresh cup of tea for Hermione's dad and left quietly.

"He said his name is Pierre Baudelaire," she replied, sadly. "He befriended me on the beach." Hermione explained how she met Pierre and that he walked her home. "He seemed like such a nice guy at the time. He was charming and liked me, or so I thought."

"Zea all do," Lt. Penverne stated as the brunette witch wearing the unadorned blue coat entered quietly and handed the Auror a few files, then left. "And do you 'ave any ozzer contact whiz des boy before today?"

"Mostly I'd see him on the street or on the beach, and he'd wave at me and smile," Hermione said.

"So, you only spoke to 'im once, zen agreed to 'ave lunch wiz 'im today?" Auror Marche asked, tapping his quill on his parchment. He moved his quill up to something near the top of the page. "Yet, you see zis boy several times in ze street, by ze shops, in ze square, and on ze terrace of a café, no?"

"Yes," Hermione said, with a definitive nod. "That was all. Well, until today..."

"When 'e asked you to 'ave lunch," Auror Marche said as if finishing what she was going to say. "Did you not just 'ave lunch wiz your muzzer zis afternoon?"

"Yes, but we argued and I didn't finish it," Hermione said, then quickly added, "Just a misunderstanding between mother and daughter." She glanced up at her mum, but both her mum and dad were simply sitting quietly, calmly listening intently, which was rather odd.

"Over zes boy?" Auror Marche asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No, over my choice of school, my friends, and some of the things that has happened to me in the past."

Auror Marche looked up at her and held his quill with both hands. "But zis is related, no? You were attacked because of your association wiz your friends, 'Arry Potter and de Weasleys. Your 'Eadmaster, Dumbledore asked zat we keep an eye out for you."

"If he did this is the first I've heard it," Hermione said in shock. All three Aurors made notations on their parchments.

"So you do not know who zis boy is, yet you followed 'im to 'is 'ouse?" Lt. Penverne said, pointing the feather end of her quill at Hermione.

Hermione shrugged, "I had no idea it was a set up until Ciarán Montague walked into the house. His brother, Gareth Montague, was in school with me. He was in Slytherin House, Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team and was one of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad this last year."

"Who es zis Umbridge, and what is zis Inquisitorial Squad?" Auror Marche asked.

Hermione explained it to him as best as she could.

Lt. Penverne opened one of the files and picked up some pictures, turning them so they faced Hermione. "Pierre Baudelaire, es de grandson of Charles and Margarette Baudelaire," she said, tapping the edge of the picture. "'E attended Beauxbatons. 'Is father 'as been wanted in connection of a few International Secrecy violations and International Class A Non-Tradeable Goods and Class C Non-Tradeable Substance transactions. We believe 'im to be in league wiz your Dark Lord Voldemor'. But, zis is ze first time Pierre 'as been in trouble."

"Figures," Hermione sighed and looked at the other pictures. "This one is Philippe, but I can't remember his surname," she said, and appointed to the next image. "This one is Ciarán Montague. I don't recognize the two men."

"Zee ozzer two wizards are zought to favor zis Dark Lord Voldemor', Lucien Laurent and Jean-Vincent Jonquet. Eet was Lucien Laurent's 'ouse, zat you escaped."

They asked her many other questions, and Hermione tried to answer them all but she had little more to offer them.

Surprisingly, Jean and George Granger were awfully quiet throughout the questioning, almost as if they'd had a Calming Draught or were under a spell. When Auror René Marche and Lt. Penverne were satisfied, Hermione and her parents were escorted over to the French International Magical Transportation office, where transportation was arranged to the Ministry of Magic in England by international Portkey. Hermione, her parents and a French Ministry employee arrived in a special alcove, just past the corridor of Ministry Floos. Jean clasped her husband's hand, her other wrapped around his arm as if leaning on him for support, although her father wobbled a bit before steadying himself.

A wizard with a thick mustache and wearing a monocle waved them to come forward, so they stepped out into the atrium, facing the new statue in the reflection pool. Hermione was shocked to see all their luggage, including Crookshanks in his carrier, stacked up neatly beside them. Jean clung to her husband; however, George Granger looked anything but supportive, looking around the immense room with a sense of wonder.

An imposing wizard with shoulder-length tawny hair, bushy eyebrows over yellow eyes and wire-rimmed spectacles approached, followed by a scowling Dolores Umbridge, Percy Weasley, (who carried a clipboard and quill), and thin, stubborn-looking witch with dark hair in a tight bun. "Miss Granger, I am Minister Rufus Scrimgeour. I want you to come with me," the bespectacled wizard stated, and two of his companions stepped aside to let her pass.

"That will not be necessary," Dumbledore stated, his voice firm and politely authoritative, making both Mr. and Mrs. Granger flinch. Hermione turned, quite surprised, yet relieved to see him, Professor McGonagall, a lovely, stately-looking witch, and a tall wizard in the French Auror uniform. "As I happen to have a copy of the report filed by the French Aurors regarding the incident that took place in St Jean de Luz earlier this afternoon."

"Dumbledore, really," Dolores said in her sickeningly sweet little girl voice, "we must determine the validity and thus the severity of the incident."

"I assure you the French Aurors were quite thorough," Dumbledore insisted with a tolerant smile.

"That be as it may, we have questions," Dolores persisted, "and I for one do not read French."

"How fortunate then that Monsieur Edouard Courbet of the French Aurory here is quite fluent in English and can translate the document for you," Dumbledore said with a kindly smile, his eyes twinkling. "He also has the files on the wizards involved in the attack on Miss Granger."

The Minister demanded an explanation, which Headmaster Dumbledore insisted firmly could wait. "I'm sure Miss Granger will be happy to comply if you have any further questions after you've read the French Ministry report," Dumbledore stated, adding, "but I'm quite certain you'll find that the French Aurory has been most thorough in their investigation," rather firmly. Monsieur Le Rousè nodded curtly, his grey eyes hardened, as if Minister Scrimgeour had insulted him personally.

Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived. "I came as soon as I could," he said, nodding politely to Dumbledore.

"Wonderful! I'm sure that Mr. and Mrs. Granger are exhausted by their daughter's ordeal, so if you'll escort them to the Madam Vance's residence until their home can be properly secured," Dumbledore said kindly but with a definite edge of insistence. The stately-looking witch turned to Hermione's parents, offering her condolences and her support as Professor McGonagall moved over to Hermione's other side. Hermione was a bit surprised how quiet her parents were, considering everything, and now was quite certain that the French Aurors had benumbed them with a few doses of Calming Draught.

"And since it appears that Miss Granger is already packed," Dumbledore continued, "I think it best that Professor McGonagall escort her to her friend's house, the Weasleys'."

Professor McGonagall placed a caring arm across Hermione's shoulders and nodded with a kind smile. "Are you all set?" she asked.

"Now you wait one minute, Dumbledore," Minister Scrimgeour sputtered angrily. "You cannot..."

"Yes, I can, and I must insist; however, as you request, I shall spare you a minute," Dumbledore said with a smile. "More if you should require it, but I really must see to the protection of the Grangers' home as soon as possible, as I'm sure you can understand." He nodded to Professor McGonagall while looking at her intently and then did the same to Kingsley and Madam Vance.

Professor McGonagall whisked Hermione away to the Ministry Floos, followed by Kingsley, Emmeline Vance, and her parents. "The Burrow is being given the highest security measures that Albus, Severus and Mad-Eye can conceive," Professor McGonagall explained as they walked up to the outgoing Floos. "Even I have lent my wand; but then Molly is quite the formidable witch, you know. You'll be going there tomorrow once Albus thinks the Burrow is safe."

"The...safe? I thought...it's always been safe, hasn't it?" Hermione stammered, coming to a stop.

Behind her, Ms. Vance was talking to her parents, trying to reassure them that staying with her for a few weeks was a necessary precaution. "Your belongings will have been delivered, if I know Albus. I live nearby, a few streets away from number Ten Downing Street, London," Hermione heard her say. "My home is quite safe, and as soon as your house is secured, you can return home."

Hermione sighed in relief, knowing that her parents would be taken care of, and followed Professor McGonagall into the Floo as Kingsley and Emmeline Vance led her parents into another.

"Ole Pitlochry Tavern, Scotland," Professor McGonagall called out as she threw in the Floo powder. They arrived in an inn and exited quickly.

Professor McGonagall took Hermione's hand and Disapparated, arriving on the garden path of a grey stone farmhouse surrounded by fields of barley and clover and lush, rolling hills. "Let's get you inside," she said as she ushered Hermione toward the house.

"What is going on? I mean, I know I was targeted, but the director of the French Aurory said I was attacked because of Harry and Ron...that Dumbledore asked him to keep an eye on me! Has anything happened to Harry? Is Ron all right? Was the Burrow attacked as well?" Hermione rambled as she quickly followed her professor inside the Scottish farmhouse.

"Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are fine, and no, the Burrow wasn't attacked per se," Professor McGonagall said, holding up her hand to stem off any more questions when Hermione opened her mouth.

"Please, Professor, tell me what's going on," Hermione begged.

"Well, I assume you'll hear all sort of rumors, so I might as well tell you what I can," she said, indicating that they enter the parlor and closing the door behind them. "Yes, Miss Granger, you were targeted this summer, as were the Weasleys. In fact, each of you who followed Mr. Potter to the Department of Mysteries were targeted. Or didn't you know that Amelia Bones was found murdered in her home? Susan barely escaped to Hannah's great Aunt's."

"Susan's home attacked?" Hermione asked, stunned. "But-but by who? Death Eaters?"

"Amelia is believed to have been brutally murdered by Voldemort himself; if not him, then we suspect Greunn Goyle."

Hermione sank onto the closest chair. "I remember that Goyle said that his father thought Susan's aunt was a troublemaker and that someone would teach her a lesson! If Susan...what about Hannah? Did they try to follow Susan?"

"Yes," Professor McGonagall said sadly. She sat on one of the wingback chairs, facing Hermione. "If the Abbotts hadn't been in Brookshire instead of Cornwall, they'd all be dead. Their house was destroyed. We, well Albus actually, foresaw that Voldemort would target the twenty-four of you." Professor McGonagall folded her hands on her lap and sat up rigidly in her chair, a pose Hermione knew well; it meant she had more unpleasant things to say. "The Order has been frantically trying to secure the families."

"Who else was attacked?" Hermione asked, dreading the answer.

Her professor's lips twitched as if suppressing a smile. "Miss Chang, both Patil girls and Miss Edgecombe used the Edgecombe's Floo to escape to the Patils' home, but they'd left the house immediately after. Evidence suggests that two Death Eaters were at the Patils' house when the girls arrived. We only found the girls an hour ago and all four are all right, but quite frightened, as you can imagine," Professor McGonagall said somberly. "Harriet Edgecombe, who as you know works for the Floo Network authority in the Ministry, was beside herself. I'm sure it will be mentioned in the Prophet tomorrow."

Hermione was still trying to piece all the information together. "Who else? Is everyone else all right?" she asked, a slight pleading to her voice.

"No, not all of them." Professor McGonagall smoothed her skirts with both hands, then clasped her hands together above her knees. "Augusta says Mr. Longbottom is fine, and Kerianna assured us that Mr. Finnigan is well protected. However, the Creeveys are not at home, but they like to camp and hike over the summer holidays. The School Registry simply said the blue and green dome tent, Pembrokeshire Coastal Path, Pembrokeshire Coast National Park, southwest of Moylgrove...we sent Hagrid and Charlie Weasley to find them. According to the Floo registration, Miss Katie Bell and her little brother used her Floo to escape an attack, but the Floo Network's trace led to a dead end. We've yet to find them. And Miss Lovegood and her father are missing. I was on my way to check the school registry for them when Albus sent word that you needed my assistance."

Hermione rubbed her left hand over her right hand knuckles as she stared out of the window. "She mentioned going to Africa this summer to search for the crumple snortdak horned-something or other." Despite the turmoil of her thoughts, she did think that the view of the Scottish moors was remarkably beautiful.

"I'll inform Albus," Professor McGonagall stated as Hermione continued to stare out of the window. "Miss Granger." Hermione turned her head to look at her professor. "I must insist...please do not try sending letters directly to your friends. If you feel you must, send them through one of the Order members for the time being. Also, don't speak a word of this to anyone until things are settled down. We don't want Rita Skeeter or some eavesdropper finding out something they shouldn't. And you must be extra careful until school starts. No wondering off or any wild adventures."

"Oh, no, I promise!" Hermione said, holding her hands up in supplication, then dropping them to her lap. She fervently hoped that the rest of her friends were all okay.

"And I must insist, when Mr. Potter finds out, you'll help us by keeping him from doing anything rash as well," her professor said pointedly, and Hermione fully understood her meaning.

"Of course," she answered with a nod, "but he'll want to know. He hates not being informed about things."

"All in due time. I'm sure he'll find out soon enough, but I'm trusting you to help him keep a level head about all of this."

Hermione nodded again and Professor McGonagall relaxed somewhat.

"Good. You'll be going to the Burrow tomorrow morning. Mr. Potter's transfer to the Burrow is being arranged, but not until Albus feels safe in doing so, you understand. I suspect it will be in a day or two. You can bring him up to speed about what happened then, but please use discretion in deciding how much you tell him."

"All right," she agreed, although Hermione knew Harry would want to know everything. But her professor was right; Harry already felt like he'd put everyone in danger just going to the Ministry...this information would really upset him.

"Let me show you to the guest room," Professor McGonagall suggested, rising, and Hermione followed her. "If you want a bath, it's in there," her professor said, pointing to a door and opened another. Crookshanks was curled up asleep on the bed, and her trunk was on the floor at the foot of the bed. "Your cat has settled, I see. Well, I'm off. If you need anything, ask my granddaughter-in-law."

Hermione thanked her and decided to take advantage of the offer for a bath, but didn't soak too long, in case the house only had one bathroom. When she returned to her room, she heard a very young voice say, "You're Muggle-born."

Hermione whirled around, seeing a small curly-haired boy in plaid, footed pajamas, holding a stuffed brown moose, standing behind her. "Yes, I am," she said, smiling at the adorable boy.

"I'm Kieran. Can you show me how tae use the fellyphone and a inks pen?" he asked, walking over to look at Crookshanks. "He's pretty," he said, reaching out and gently petting her cat.

"Thank you," Hermione said as Crookshanks began to purr loudly.

"Gran Nan says you know Harry Potter. She writes about you and him all the time," Kieran said and turned, holding his moose with both hands. "Can I meet him? I can ride a broom."

Hermione refrained from laughing. "Yes, I know Harry Potter, and if your Gran Nan says yes, I can show you how to use an ink pen."

The boy smiled at her, showing a pair of dimples in his cheeks.

"Geoffrey Kieran Hamish McGonagall, do nae be botherin' our guest!" a woman said in a thick Scottish brogue.

"Mum, she's only here one nigh'!" Kieran whined. "And she's Muggle!"

Hermione couldn't contain her chuckle as a pretty, red-haired witch entered the doorway. "I'm sorry if he be botherin' you, Miss Granger."

"No, it's all right," Hermione said. "He's adorable."

"And will talk yer ear off if n' you let him. I'm Maggie, short for Margaret," she said. "Minerva's daugh'er-in-law, so tae speak. I'm married tae her grandson."

"Nice to meet you, Maggie," Hermione replied. "Please call me Hermione."

"Will you read tae me?" Kieran asked, to which his mum immediately admonished him, "Kieran, let the girl rest."

Maggie looked up at Hermione. "You must be exhausted? Geoffrey is ou' helping Minerva secure the kids. He said ye've been bounced from France tae England tae here. Are ye hungry? I can only assume ye would be."

Hermione's stomach grumbled loudly, answering for her. "Yes, I am a bit."

"I'll whip up some Shepherd's pie; it should be ready in a half hour," Maggie offered. "Now, Kieran, behave yourself."

"Aw, Mum!" the tyke whined.

"I'll read to you from my book for a bit," Hermione suggested, smiling at Kieran's answering smile and bobbing head, and Maggie smiled too, then left the room. Hermione pulled out her book with short stories of great wizards in history from her trunk, slipped off her shoes, and sat on her bed. Kieran climbed up, patted Crookshanks again, and settled in next to her. Hermione turned to the chapter on Rowena Ravenclaw and selected one of the stories of her early adventures. Kieran snuggled in closer as Crookshanks rose, circled, and settled down at her feet.

"There aren' any pictures," Kieran said, pouting.

"If you listen carefully, you'll see them in your mind," she suggested. "It takes place in a meadow...well, much like the fields out back behind your house."

"Okay, I can do that. Is there heather?" Kieran asked.

Hermione made a mental note to mention heather in all the appropriate places. "Yes."

Severus entered the Entrance Hall of Malfoy Manor with all his Occlumency shields in place and his emotions carefully in place. So far this summer, the Dark Lord had allowed him to live in his home at Spinner's End instead of taking up residence in one of the opulent bedrooms or one of the bedroom suites the manor offered.

Quite a few of the financially lesser fortunate members of the inner circle, and a few of the currently favored Death Eaters, had been provided room and board at Narcissa's expense. Unfortunately, that also included the Mordaunts, Greyback, and the Carrows. And with Lucius still currently in jail, the Malfoys were in disgrace because Lucius had been unsuccessful in retrieving the prophecy and had been arrested. The lord of the manor, therefore, was none other than the Dark Lord himself, when he was in residence. The Dark Lord had situated himself the master suite, taken his 'rightful' place at head of the table and commandeered the use of the Malfoy's vaults. However as far as Severus knew, Narcissa was holding up very well, ever the gracious hostess to those invited or summoned to her home.

Although, possibly due to his pampered upbringing, Draco Malfoy wasn't faring as well living under the Dark Lord's rule as his mother. Ever since the night Narcissa and Bellatrix had paid Severus that fateful visit, he had been watching the boy, and whenever Severus saw Draco as of late, the boy's complexion was frequently ashen or sweaty and he frequently had blood-shot or puffy eyes. He also noticed that Draco frequently tried to hide his squeamish reactions to the punishments the Dark Lord dealt out.

Severus had tried on a few occasions to talk to the boy, but Draco wouldn't exchange more than coldly stated polite greetings before excusing himself. It was highly irritating. Nonetheless, once school started, he'd have more opportunities to try and get Draco to confide in him regarding this task. But whatever the task was, almost no one knew anything, not even Wormtail.

He'd been sly. Thanks to the complicated layout of the manor, Severus was occasionally able to get certain individuals aside, under carefully thought up pretexts, to speak to the weaker minded residents. Then, using carefully constructed sentences with multiple hidden or alternative meanings to confuse the unwary, he'd probe their minds for answers, then Obliviated the conversations, replacing the missing minutes with false memories. It was tricky, and yielded some interesting information, but not what he needed to know. However, the bits of information he did acquire turned out to be quite helpful to the Order on several occasions, pleasing Dumbledore immensely.

Still, he was getting nowhere in solving his own dilemma: Draco's task.

As Severus walked confidently across the great hallway, he nodded politely to Drachenblut, Merkle and Macrae as they passed them on their way out.

Pucey and Amycus Carrow acknowledged him with juts of their chins from across the large room before Severus turned and walked toward the withdrawing chamber on his left, to wait for his arrival to be announced to the Dark Lord.

He could hear the voices even before he entered the withdrawing chamber from the main hall. "The boy was bragging about his Dark Mark. Our positions are not so secure that we can be so reckless," Rabastan was saying, his tone harsh and low. "It's bad enough that Nott and Urguhart broke into the hall of records."

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed as Severus strode purposefully in through the open door. He raised an eyebrow as Bella hissed, "Rab, you talk too much."

"Severus knows about the infiltration of the Ministry," Runcorn said, nodding once sharply at him, and Severus returned the gesture. "That Umbridge witch is going to play right into our hands, and she'll be right helpful when the time comes. She's going to help my niece get that Vance witch's job at the ministry."

"I hardly think being a clerk to a Muggle is going to be all that helpful," sneered Bella.

Severus wanted to smile but refrained. Cryptanthus Lestrange was not as steadfast a supporter as her uncle believed she was and, given encouragement, could prove helpful to the Order. And if Kingsley supports her placement... I'll speak to Dumbledore about the appointment.

At that moment, Narcissa entered the chamber from across the room and walked directly up to Severus, her appearance as graceful and elegant as ever. "Good, you're here. He wanted to see you as soon as you'd arrived," she said and turned, indicating for him to follow her. "He is using the grand salon today."

Ignoring the looks from Bellatrix, Severus followed Narcissa into the lavishly decorated grand salon, which, much like their gallery, usually contained a fine display of the Malfoys' finest works of art.

However, the great salon was set up as a throne room with a low dais supporting a large wingback chair, magically enhanced and enlarged to imperiously frame the imposing wizard who sat on it. Nagini, ever present, coiled on a large beech branch stand by the nearest window, no doubt enjoying the sun's rays on her scales. On the floor before the dais, Mountbatten was scrambling up off the ground, his body still trembling violently.

"Ah, Severus, come," the Dark Lord called out as soon as he looked up.

"My Lord," Severus said, bowing to show his supposed reverence and submission. "You have asked for me."

"I wanted you an hour ago," the Dark Lord snapped.

"I was unable to comply as I was with Dumbledore at the time," Severus said, bracing himself for the ensuing anger.

Instead, and much to his surprise, the Dark Lord waved his hand dismissively. "And what did the old fool want with you?"

"Dumbledore gave me the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor," Severus said.

"WHAT!" The Dark Lord rose, his robes billowing as he literally glided off his dais. "What did you say?"

Severus knelt in case the Dark Lord struck at him with the Cruciatus. "He summoned me to his office to inform me that I shall be given the post of Defense Against the..."

"I heard you!" the Dark Lord snarled, his hands tightening into fists. "But why?"

Severus looked up at the gleaming red eyes that flashed with suppressed discontent. "He did not tell me, Master."

"HE did this to push my hand!" the Dark Lord said, staring down at him. "Get up."

"I don't know if he thinks the boy is ready or not," Severus said as he rose to his feet. "It might be possible that it's because of his hand."

"Yes, his hand is crippled...or so you've said...from his failure to break a curse," the Dark Lord said, his voice soft, almost thoughtful but still quite angry. "One you don't know, which I wonder about. Yet his magic is as strong as ever..."

Severus carefully suppressed any thoughts about the cursed ring, but the Dark Lord, thankfully, started pacing in agitation. "He knows the position is cursed and that you'd only have one year in the position if not the school. It will force me to escalate my plans to take over. I'm not ready...there aren't as many wizards and witches flocking to me as I'd like, not like the last time. Too many people don't remember...they've forgotten my power, my strength, my purpose." He stopped and stared at Severus. "The books have it all wrong. They've lied." He took a step toward him. "Severus, return to your home for now."

"Of course, master," Severus said calmly, pleased to separate himself from the goings on at the manor and the many eyes watching his comings and goings. Not that having Pettigrew under his roof afforded him any greater privacy.

"And take that vermin Pettigrew with you. I want him where I know he can't scuttle around as a rat, eavesdropping on me," the Dark Lord insisted, making Severus inhale as he forced his expression to remain indifferent, although he felt anything but.

The Dark Lord turned. "Where is Master Draco? Send him to me." There was a brief sound of scuffling at by the doorway to Severus' left.

"Severus, you may go."

"My Lord." Severus eased back a ways without turning his back on the Dark Lord, then walked out of the side exit to find Pettigrew. Bugger. Where is that thrice damned Rat? Too bad I can't use him as a potions ingredient and make that maniac drink him.

~ T. B. .C. ~

Author's Notes:

For those who didn't figure out the French, although I tried to be as clear as possible in the chapter:

Directeur du Département des Aurors en France = Head of the Auror department in France

bras droit is the same as Chef de Cabinet, meaning: Chief of Cabinet or second in command.

Departement de la Sécurité Magique of ze le Ministère Français de la Magie = the Department of Magical Law Enforcement of the French Ministry of Magic

de té sólo claro = just plain tea

Vous comprenez, Directeur = I understand, Director

According to Snitchette, who kindly helped me with my translations, the head of the police was called chef de la sureté (head of the safety/security) in the 19th century. So I called the Department of Magical Law Enforcement - Departement de la Sécurité Magique.

Thank you, Snitchette and Proulxes, for the help correcting my dismal attempt at French. I really appreciate it very much!

Crypthanthus is a genius of the botanical family of Bromeliads. The name comes from the Greek 'cryptos', meaning hidden, and 'anthos', meaning flower. I thought that àpropos.