04. Offers and Offerings - Part B

Author's Note: In the first part of this chapter we met some new characters: Walden Macnair's son Tod, his mysterious girlfriend and Peter Pettigrew. Now, in the second part, we'll wrap up the Diagon Alley storyline and plunge headfirst into some more mysteries for future chapters. I'm always amazed how accurate some of my reviewers' guesses are, but I'm just as glad that so many of you fall for my red herrings. *smirks evilly*

Many hugs and cookies to Lici, my Brit-picker for this chapter, my artist Ebilein and my beta Notsosaintly. I also want to appreciate some web pages that I use in the translation of this fic. www.leo.org has been a great help and so has www.thesaurus.com. And nothing could've been done without the good old Oxford English Dictionary, on- or offline.

* * *

Amicus Draconis - 1st Cycle: Cycle of the Badger - Part 4: Offers and Offerings

"I wonder, I wonder, do you know what I wonder?"

"I wonder if I could throw my rubber duck at the other children when Auntie Voldie's not looking."

"Yeah, let's all go throw our toys at each other, that would be heaps of fun. We have so many toys at the Kindergarten, and we all watched Home Alone, although it's a Muggle movie and Auntie Voldie has forbidden us to watch Muggle movies, but we don't care as long as they have naked people in them."

"Yesterday, Lord Luscious got framed for watching Notting Hill."

"Eurgh ... bad image ... very bad image." *throws rubber duck*

"How dare you cast this rubber duck at me, scoundrel! I am Grand Chicken McDonald, Lord of the Burger Legion, and I can make you gain weight!"

"Hold your tongue, mingling mongrel. I am Grand Lick Luscious, also known as Mighty Malfoy Mouse, and I do not gain weight, because I'm incredibly sexy. And keep your hands off my son, pervert, or I'll go tell on you."

"Ha!" *scamper scamper* "Can't tell, can't tell!" *sticks out tongue* "Auntie Voldie knows everything you ever did. Naah-nah-nah-naah-naah! I'm Grand Greasy Ripper Rattyglue, and I'm telling on you all!"

"I fart in your general direction, you silly English kaniggets! Your father was a shrubbery and your mother was a pokémon. Cower, mes poupettes, for I am Grand Lay Strange, Master of Disneyland ... uhm ... actually I meant Azkaban, but they both look like Neuschwanstein anyways. I'm Aunty Voldie's favourite, favourite baby in all of Kindergarten."

"No, that's me, and I broke your favourite favourite baby doll. Oopsie!"

"I ate your burger!"

"I'm in on playing Hide-and-Seek and you're not!"

"I stole all your little horsies."

"Yeah, that's because you're blackmailing Captain Flintstone with his girlfriend. Grab and Growl, go get my pimpcane. And hit him. Hard."

"Eurgh ... bad image ... very bad image." *throws another rubber duck*

"Shush ... we have to be good boys now. Here comes Auntie Voldie."

"Shshshshsh...."

"Uhm, Fred?"

"Yeah, George?"

"There're no naked people in Home Alone."

"Thank goodness."

Amicus Draconis - 1. Zyklus: Zyklus des Dachses - Teil 4: Angebote und Opfergaben

* * *

Flames ate their way through the buildings, accompanied by clouds of smoke and the sickening stench of objects sweltering in the heat. Their angry crackle blended into a cacophony of terror: the steady pound of booted footsteps, the brisk bark of orders and the desperate shouts of voices in anguish. Wands flared and doors were blasted apart as the soldiers of the Dark Lord forced their entry into various shops and apartments, driven by their relentless determination to fulfill their master's commands. Pandemonium reigned in Diagon Alley, and it was a near miracle that no one had been seriously injured yet.

Not that the Blood Legion had found anything of importance so far. A few banned books were carelessly thrown into the fire, but none of them seemed to link to resistance groups, let alone the Order of the Phoenix itself. Insignificant romance novels or mystery stories, harmless except for the fact that they had been written by Muggle authors. The proprietors were fined a considerable amount of money, and their names were registered, but the offence was trivial; there were more pressing matters to worry about. Would their search be in vain? Had Lord Pettigrew made a mistake and there was nothing to be found?

Walden Macnair wouldn't have dared to speak any of these thoughts out loud.

Supported by two of his men, he was standing guard for Gringotts. They had to make sure that none of the fires would reach the British Wizarding Bank, or else there would be trouble. Goblins were worthless creatures, certainly, but they controlled the money. Wizarding governments, whether they be old or new, had to abide by the unwritten laws of economy. Trouble with the bank was the last thing they needed now; the damage to the stores was bad enough.

Macnair frowned; the Dark Lord wouldn't be pleased with all the havoc they had wreaked. Intimidation was one thing, destroying premises was another. But what was he to do? Once rage and murderous frenzy had taken over their minds and repressed all reason, even an elite Special Force was hard to control.

"Father, I believe we're onto something!"

Macnair didn't fail to notice the pride in his son's voice as Tod stepped up the now ashen-grey marble stairs to the bank. "This individual," with a brusque wave of his wand, the younger Macnair flung an elderly man to the ground, "attempted to conceal something from our Forces."

Tod handed a small wooden box to his father. "It doesn't seem to be jinxed," he explained, "but we haven't tried to open it yet."

On first glance the box looked like an ordinary wand case, but one could never be too careful. Macnair ran his own wand over it repeatedly, watching out for hostile spells. When nothing happened, he clicked the case open and found himself looking at a brand-new wand.

He took it out to have a closer look and handed the empty case back to his son. "Tod, as soon as we finish this search, you will Apparate back to headquarters and have this thing taken apart. Double bottoms, secret drawers, built-in mechanisms, magical or non-magical; I want to know about it. Take a couple of people if you need any help. I expect your report at dawn. As for this wand, I'm sure Mr Ollivander will be kind enough to reveal to us what its secret is."

"My most humble and sincere apologies, Grand Dragon Macnair." Wincing, the old man got to his feet. "This wand was a very special order, and I'm not permitted to speak about it, not even to you."

"My, my, aren't we cheeky tonight?" Macnair assumed an air of cheerfulness so that none of the men would notice how taken aback he was at these words. Was there any truth to the old man's claim? Or was it a bold attempt to bluff his way out, fuelled by the courage of desperation? Was this wand the very object they had been sent out to find?

"Who gave the order to have this made?" Without warning his voice hardened, and he pointed his wand at Ollivander's throat. "I will not ask again, old man!"

He was bluffing, at least partly; he couldn't kill Britain's finest wand maker without consulting his superiors first. But his sudden change of manner seemed to have done the trick; Ollivander gaped at him in fear, and his voice trembled as he replied: "He ... it was a man, but I didn't see his face, sir. Nor do I know his name. My most humble apolo...."

"Maybe you forgot his name and it will come back to you once you are properly reminded," Macnair interrupted coldly. "Crucio!"

Ollivander toppled over and fell to Macnair's feet, writhing with pain. He wasn't screaming yet; it was more effective to begin the curse with a subtle pain that you could intensify at will. In Ollivander's case such measures weren't necessary; he gasped for air and blurted out almost at once: "Pettigrew! He was working for Lord Pettigrew ... the ring ... showed me the..."

His voice broke. Macnair, who had discontinued the curse as soon as Ollivander had started talking, waited patiently until the old man had caught his breath. "What kind of ring did the man show to you?" he wanted to know.

"A crest ring, sir. He showed me a silver crest ring with the symbol of a rat as proof that he was working for Grand Dragon Pettigrew. I remember it quite clearly; the rat had small yellow jewels for its eyes. And he could activate the ring and make them glow in the dark. He gave me orders to have this wand made and forbade me to speak about it. That is the truth, Grand Dragon, I swear!"

He sounded sincere, so Macnair took a moment to think the situation over. The rat was indeed Pettigrew's symbol, but that fact wasn't widely known yet. Since Pettigrew wasn't a member of one of the old wizarding families, he had only recently received his crest ring from the Dark Lord. How would Ollivander know about it if he didn't speak the truth?

Macnair glanced down at his own crest ring, wondering how he should handle the situation from here on. He was treading on thin ice; he was still the most junior of the four Grand Dragons, and interfering with Pettigrew's plans could get him into serious trouble. On the other hand, why would Pettigrew interfere with his own plans and send the Blood Legion to Diagon Alley while Ollivander was still working on that special order of his? It just didn't fit together.

What if it was no more than a cover story? If Ollivander secretly worked for the Order of the Phoenix and he let him go now, severe wasn't a proper word to describe the trouble he would be in.

No, he should definitely investigate the situation further. For the safety of the Dark Lord's Empire. Well, probably more to satisfy his own bloody curiosity than anything else, but he liked to be informed about the happenings around him. "What did you use to create this wand?" he barked. "Which magical artefact?"

"Dragon heartstring, sir. Dragon heartstring from a Chinese Fireball. I once sold another wand with heartstring from the same dragon ... let me think ... I can't remember the name, but I'll look it up for you if that is your wish, sir."

"Yes, that is my wish," barked Macnair, not utterly convinced by Ollivander's words. Didn't the wand maker claim to remember every wand he ever sold? "And I also wish to know when your mysterious visitor will return to pick up the wand."

"He won't, sir. He paid in advance and left me an owl. I'm supposed to send the wand to a certain Skuld. I have no idea who that person is, but the owl will find him, I suppose."

Macnair snorted in disbelief. This story was becoming weirder by the minute. A mysterious order, a strange twin wand, an unknown man named Skuld – what was all of this about? A new scheme the Order of the Phoenix had cooked up?

The only thing that didn't fit was the ring. Ollivander had described Pettigrew's crest ring down to the very last detail; how would he know it so well if he hadn't actually seen it? Or had he been fooled as well? Was the ring a hoax?

"Father?" Jason and Michael, two of his younger sons, approached him, leading a second prisoner between them. The elderly woman's hands were tied behind her back; both boys eyed her apprehensively as if she was a particularly vicious creature. "We found a dangerous pamphlet in that woman's chimney," Jason stated.

"I had no idea it was there," the woman tried to defend herself. "Someone must have thrown or Flooed it into my chimney while I was asleep..."

"Of course they did." Macnair had better things to do than listen to pathetic excuses. "Michael, you will stay here, guard the prisoners and keep an eye on the bank. Jason, you will take this wand case to headquarters and then report back here. Tod, you're with me. We still haven't uncovered what our Master sent us here to find."

* * *

"Madam Malkin and Mr Ollivander? They're arresting Malkin and Ollivander? What in the world could they have done to deserve this?"

"They don't need a reason, do they?" Harry's eyes narrowed as he peered through the shimmering fabric of the Invisibility Cloak. The street looked dark and deserted now, save for a small fire in one of the houses. Yet, the deep red cloak of the young man guarding the two prisoners was clearly visible in the dim light.

"There's only a single guard." He held out his arm to stop Ron so they wouldn't come within hearing range of the small group. "This doesn't look like efficient security measures to me."

"Maybe they got a bit reckless," Ron wondered. "Or they are busy with something else and don't expect too much trouble from the two old fogies."

"Well, they certainly looked busy a few minutes ago," Harry mumbled. It hadn't been easy to stay hidden and witness the destruction when everything inside him screamed to rush out and fight these criminals. But what choice did they have? They wouldn't save anyone's life by reckless and foolhardy actions, only lose their own. And he could not account for leading his friends to certain death....

"Harry, we can take him." Something must have shown in his face, for Ron seemed to know exactly what he was thinking about. "He's only one man and there are two of us. And we're under the cloak, so he won't see us coming. We'll take him by surprise."

"Too dangerous." Harry shook his head. "We would..."

"Harry, how can you just stand there and watch this?" Ron broke him off in mid-sentence. "These people out there, they are people we know. We've talked to them; we've been to their shops. We can't just leave them to their fate!"

How could his best friend believe such a thing of him? Harry was about to give a hurt and bitter answer when a soft squeaking sound interrupted Ron's passionate appeal and broke the sudden tension rising between them. Harry turned his head, almost bumped his chin against Ron's shoulder and saw him clutching his hands into fists and into the yellow rubber duck he was holding. In a hasty movement Ron dropped the rubber duck into his pocket where it turned back into a wand.

Harry suppressed a smile. Did Ron keep one of Fred and George's fake wands as a lucky charm?

"I have no intention of leaving them to their fate," he assured his friend, "but we need a plan first. Even if we defeat one Death Eater, how will we escape from the others? We can't fit four people under the cloak."

"We need our broomsticks first, so we can take Ollivander and Malkin to safety," Ron agreed, his other hand now holding a pink piggybank. Obviously two lucky charms were luckier than one. "Two people to a broom works out all right if both don't try to fly it. But maybe we should get some help from our friends. One person could attack the Death Eater from under the cloak, and two others could fly in and rescue the prisoners."

"Yes, that sounds like a much better plan to me."

* * *

Guarding two old fogies was not much fun. Michael Macnair was still at odds with his cruel fate of forced boredom when a "Petrificus Totalus!" out of nowhere almost took him by surprise. As the full Body-Bind was only a minor hex, he was able to deflect it, but then an "Expelliarmus!" swooped down on him from the skies above and almost made him lose his wand.

During the quarter of a second it took him to hold onto this precious possession, the "Petrificus Totalus!" hit him again. As he toppled down, stiff as a board, he was forced to watch helplessly as two boys on broomsticks grabbed his precious prisoners, cut them loose and pulled them onto said broomsticks.

When, another quarter of a second later, two more Death Eaters came to his aid, there was no sign of boys or prisoners. Let alone broomsticks.

* * *

"And that'll be fifty points to New Hogwarts," Stephen Cornfoot cheered as the group landed on a distant field to catch breaths and check brooms. "We sure showed them!"

"What if they are still trying to follow us?" Madam Malkin did not share her rescuers' enthusiasm.

"They can't follow us over long distances; they don't use brooms," Harry tried to reassure her. "Through Levitation you couldn't possibly catch up with the height or speed of a broomstick, and Apparation is pretty much useless if you don't know where to go beforehand."

"What they could do is try to bewitch a broom or put a tag on one of us to see where we're going," Ron added. He was going to say more, but fell silent as Harry gave him a sharp look. It wasn't exactly safe to talk to strangers about the precautions they took against being followed.

"It seems you know a lot about our enemies," Mr. Ollivander said admiringly, even with a tone of awe in his voice. "We're very fortunate to have been saved by the Order of the Phoenix."

"No, we're not from...." Neville started, but was silenced by Hermione stepping on his toes. "Why, they're on our side, aren't they?" he shouted, protesting against such rough treatment.

"Of course they are, but with each word we say, we bring them into more danger," Hermione answered. "Madam Malkin, Mr Ollivander, do you have any contact with one of the resistance groups, or do you know any other safe place where we could take you? After tonight, Voldemort's people will be searching for you."

"Yes, there's a friend's place where I could hide." Apparently lost in her thoughts, Madam Malkin raised her head to look at the young woman again. "I wouldn't want to endanger her, but it seems that I've got no choice."

She swallowed hard. "Fighting groups, secret resistance ... I'm not familiar with people like that. I'm merely a simple tailor and certainly not the right person to fight evil dictators and dark lords. I'm sorry, children."

"Everybody has to decide for themselves...." Harry broke off when he noticed an unfamiliar coolness creeping into his voice; it hadn't been his intention to chide the elderly witch. Nevertheless, if everybody thought as she did, there wouldn't be any resistance at all.

"You shouldn't try to contact your family," he added in a softer tone. "They might use your loved ones to get to you. It's the way Death Eaters work."

"I appreciate your advice." Madam Malkin gave a nod of thanks to Harry. "I only hope they don't take the shop away from my daughter. The poor girl ... how would she support her children?"

"Mr. Potter, I would like to accompany you and your friends," Ollivander proposed. "In such dark times every stout soul must take up the fight against evil. Therefore, I offer my services to the Order of the Phoenix. I might not be very skilled in battle, but I do know a thing or two about wands."

The young witches and wizards looked at each other, unsure what to make of this offer. "Well, we could use some help," Eloise Midgeon considered.

"An adult would only push us around," Dean protested. "So far we've got by without them."

"How about we put it to a vote?" suggested Tara Moon.

Harry, who had remained silent so far, shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr Ollivander. Your intentions are honourable, I'm sure, but we can't risk taking strangers into our hideout. Too many lives would be at stake, and we have to put the safety of the children first."

"Hey, Harry, I'm sure that your intentions are honourable, too, but it wouldn't hurt to talk things over once in a while before making decisions," Seamus complained, and Stephen added: "What about the children we rescued? They were strangers as well."

"Seamus, we do talk things over." At once, Hermione rushed to Harry's defence. "But we can't stand here and hold long debates; it's too dangerous."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Ernie Macmillan beat him to it. "Dumbledore always trusted Harry's judgment, and so should we."

"Thanks, Ernie. Stephen, you're right about the children, but in their case we had no choice. They were children and they had no place to go. And besides, they are from Muggle families with no connection to the wizarding world. Do you think it likely that any of them would be working for Voldemort?"

"And now you have a choice?" Ollivander asked with increasing desperation. "I don't have any place to go either. Would you really leave me to those cutthroats? Do you want this on your conscience?"

"You won't be left behind, Mr Ollivander," Madam Malkin promised, and her voice sounded much more firm than before. "You can accompany me. We're not in an easy situation, the two of us, but I'm sure we can figure something out."

"Thank you, Madam." Ollivander seemed none too pleased, but he made no more efforts to persuade Harry and his friends.

"You can share my broom," Stephen offered. "Just tell us where you want go, and we'll take you there." He looked positively delighted at the prospect of another adventure.

"I'll take Madam Malkin, if it's all right." Ron suggested. "How about we split up? Harry and Hermione come with us while Ernie and Hannah take the rest back home?"

"Sounds good to me," Harry agreed. The third pair of Prefects, Terry Boot and the newly elected Padma Patil, had stayed home to watch over the younger children and the third golden key.

"But shouldn't someone go back to Diagon Alley?" Hannah wanted to know. "What if the Death Eaters try to take more prisoners?"

"No, Harry, we can't risk it," Hermione protested, before he had a chance to answer. "The Blood Legion knows about us now. They're prepared for more attacks, maybe even lying in wait for us. You would lead our people to their deaths. Didn't you just say we have to put the safety of the children first?"

Harry sighed, then gave a tiny nod and turned away from her, facing the two adults. "Before we leave, you should take these. As a precaution...."

With a few steps he walked over to Ron, pulling two wands from the pockets of his friend's robes. He handed the wands to Ollivander and Madam Malkin.

It happened so fast that no one was able to react in time. Ollivander grabbed Stephen, who was standing closest to him, pressing his wand to boy's throat. "Everybody stay calm," he said coldly, "or your friend here will pay the price."

They stared at him, shocked, dumbfounded, unable to believe their eyes. "We saved you!" Hannah was close to tears. "How can you do this?"

"I never asked to be saved, you silly children." His voice no longer sounded cold, but hard and angry. "They took me prisoner, yes, but it was no more than a misunderstanding. I was working on a crucial task, which would've made my fortune, if you fools hadn't meddled with things you don't understand. You ruined everything, do you hear? Everything!"

"Why am I not surprised? You should never trust a man who admires Voldemort."

Harry would never forget the day he had walked into Ollivander's shop to buy his first wand. And he would never forget the words the old man had softly whispered into his ear: "I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter ... After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great."

Back then, he hadn't understood. All he had felt was a cold shiver down his spine.

Ollivander trembled at the Dark Lord's name, but he stood his ground. "What a clever boy you are, Mr Potter. Word has it you are also brave, courageous and true. So, be a good little hero now and trade places with your friend here. Harry Potter happens to be a far more valuable hostage than some nameless Ravenclaw."

Still holding Stephen at wandpoint, he took a few menacing steps towards Harry. "You're the one they're all trying to find, didn't you know? For some curious reason you're more important to them than McGonagall, the Weasley family and this Black fellow all put together. Turning you over will grant me entry to their inner circle. Perhaps even a seat in the Dark Council...."

"Ambitious plans," Harry replied coldly. "Take it from a good little hero; a pink piggybank may not be the proper tool to achieve them."

Ollivander stared. Instead of the wand he had been holding, a small rubber piggybank wriggled in his hands.

Harry didn't waste any time. He rushed forward, pulling Stephen away from his confused attacker. The others reacted only a few moments later, seizing their wands and pointing them at Ollivander, who automatically took a step backwards.

He raised his hands, smiling anxiously at the field of wands before him. "My dear friends, you didn't really believe that I..."

"Don't play Pettigrew with us," Harry interrupted Ollivander's would-be defence. His face was calm and impassive; only a fiery spark in his serpentine eyes showed his anger. "And now, be kind enough to leave, before I change my mind."

"You want to let him go?" Ron asked, bewilderment in his voice. "After all he did to us?"

"Do you honestly think we have the time and the means to trouble ourselves with people like him? We don't have room for prisoners, and if we wanted to kill every pathetic Voldemort supporter that crawls in our way, we'd better become Death Eaters ourselves. They're the experts on murder after all."

Harry turned to face his best friend. "No, Ron, I'd rather we left that particular way of solving conflicts to our enemies."

"Speaking of Death Eaters," Stephen cut in. "I may be wrong, but weren't some Red Robes looking for this bloke here?"

"Right." A smirk crossing his mock-concerned face, Seamus Finnigan winked at Ollivander. "Maybe he should start to run and hide or whatever it is people do in such situations."

"Who knows, he might even challenge Harry's position as 'the one they're all trying to find'," Eloise added, playfully raising her wand a little higher.

"Scampering like a rat, that one. Disgusting, don't you think?" Lavender coughed as if she could barely restrain herself from getting sick.

And Ron couldn't refrain from sending a little hex after the fleeing Ollivander. Just a little one. When a rat's tail suddenly appeared from below the wizard's robes, everybody broke into liberating laughter.

"You can tell your Dark Lord that we will never surrender. As long as one last breath is flowing through our veins, Harry Potter and the brave rebels of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff... oh, do I have to say it all over again?"

* * *

Ernie and Hannah were given the task of taking Madam Malkin to her friend's house while the others returned to the hideout under the lake with Harry and Hermione. As soon as the young witches and wizards had landed, Harry pulled the Head Girl aside. "Wait for me here, we need to go back up. I'll go fetch Ron; I don't want him to think we're keeping secrets from him again. We're going to need his help with this."

Hermione swallowed hard. Did Harry want to talk to Ron about the letters and the ring? Well, he would eventually have to, but why now?

"Harry, wait!" she called, hurrying after him. "I don't think this is such a good idea." More softly, she added: "I know you hate keeping secrets from your best friend, and you have my full support if you really want to come clean on ... uhm ... you-know-what, but believe me, this is not a good time. We know Ron will take it hard anyway, but right now, he might have even more reason to, because of his feelings...."

"No, Hermione, it's not about that." Harry turned to face her and a frown crossed his face. "I wanted to ask you two a favour, that's all. Take the Map and my Invisibility Cloak and sneak into Hogwarts. I will wait for you at Hagrid's place."

"You want us to give Snape a message?" Hermione gave a sigh of relief; she knew at once where this was headed. "You want to make sure the Order is warned about Ollivander. I think it's a good idea, but Snape won't be pleased at all. He'd rather we didn't interfere with Order business."

"We're not. We'll only pass him a note about what happened with Ollivander, that's all. It's his choice what to make of it."

Hermione agreed with him, but she was certain that Snape would have a different view on the matter. What if he alerted the rest of the Order, and what if they tried to put a stop to the rescue missions of New Hogwarts? And besides, sneaking into the castle was a great risk. It would be safer to send an owl ... but no, it wouldn't be. Since the change of power, all owls were required to bear a Dark Mark on their wing, and sending Snape an owl without such a mark would put him at great risk. It could blow his cover as a spy for the Order.

And the only owl within their reach that bore a Dark Mark was the one they couldn't possibly send. What if Snape recognized it? What if the Order found out where Harry got his information from? They would put a stop to it for sure. And who could blame them?

She followed Harry with her eyes, watching his unruly head of hair disappear within the crowd. Oh, how much he had changed. The Harry of old would have run into danger himself; he would never have delegated an important task to others. But this new Harry understood about the principles of leadership. He still hated most of them, but he understood.

"Hermione? Hey, Hermione, is it true, what they're saying? Did Harry really use a fake wand to expose that evil git, Ollivander? Isn't he an incredible wizard? And so clever!"

A group of younger Gryffindors had approached her, Colin and Dennis Creevey among them. They didn't even wait for her to answer their questions, but rambled on and on about Harry's alleged skills and abilities: "It's his scar, isn't it? It burns when evil people come near him. So he knows exactly who's trustworthy and who's not. Our Harry isn't fooled by false smiles and sweet lies."

'If things only were that simple,' Hermione thought to herself.

* * *

"Enter."

"It's me, Father." Tod stepped into Walden Macnair's office. "I'm here to turn in the report on the wand case. We tried every possible spell on it, but we didn't find anything. I'm sorry, but it seems to be just an ordinary box after all."

"Well, I can't honestly say that I'm surprised."

Tod shuffled his feet uncomfortably as if he was expecting a scolding; then he took a deep breath of relief as Macnair continued: "I have spoken with Lord Pettigrew, and as it turns out, Ollivander was telling the truth all along. He was supposed to create this wand according to the instructions and send it to that Skuld person afterwards. Pettigrew believed the wand already gone when he sent us to Diagon Alley tonight and was surprised, if not to say worried, that it fell into our hands. Now we're supposed to keep it safe until we receive a special owl and then send it off immediately."

"But he didn't tell you who that Skuld is and what he's supposed to do with that wand?" Tod asked curiously.

Macnair shrugged. "No, unfortunately not. I managed to throw a few well-placed questions into our conversation, but Pettigrew doesn't seem to know much about the matter himself. His only concern was whether the wand had been damaged, and he was relieved when I told him that it's in fine condition. If you ask me, he was merely following orders."

"Orders by whom?" Tod wondered. "There aren't too many people who can give orders to a Grand Dragon of the Dark Council."

"Right you are, son." Macnair flicked his wand to open the bottom drawer of his desk, stowing away the report without sparing the thick bundle of papers so much as a glance. "And that's exactly the reason why I won't pursue this any further. I'll do what I'm told, and so will you. We have more pressing matters at hand than meddling with things that aren't our concern. The Blood Legion is in enough trouble as it is."

"Trouble?" Tod's mouth fell open. "Why, what did we do wrong?"

"Think, boy. That attack last night; it was already the third one in a row. Pot – You-Know-Who is targeting us. Twice now, he and the Order of the Phoenix freed the Mudblood children we captured, and last night they liberated our prisoners from the raid. Do you honestly think that all of this is just coincidence?

Tod gaped at him, then shook his head in disbelief. "Father, I don't understand why everyone is so worried about that little boy and his miserable lot of would-be rebels. It's not like they're doing any real damage, is it? A Muggle here, a Mudblood there, I mean, what's with all the hassle?"

"The Dark Lord considers him dangerous, and you would do well not to doubt our master's judgment," Macnair scolded. "It's possible that these skirmishes are nothing but a distraction from our enemies' true plans. But that isn't what this is about!"

Without warning he slammed his hand down on the table. "Three attacks and all three of them against the Blood Legion! Do you still not understand why this worries me?"

Tod's eyes were completely blank. "No, Father, I'm sorry."

"Do me a favour, lad, and use your brains for once! Can't you see what happened last night? We conducted the Diagon Alley raid only a short while after we had got the order, but we found absolutely nothing. Instead we were attacked. And those children last month? It wasn't that big a secret that we were taking them, but it's not like we put an ad in the paper either. They knew where we were taking those children. And they knew about the raid. Do you honestly think that all of it was coincidence? Bad luck?"

"You think..." Slowly, comprehension was beginning to dawn on Tod's face. "You think someone told them? Someone from the Blood Legion. But ... but," he sputtered, "that would be treachery!"

Macnair gave a deep sigh. "Yes, son, that's exactly what I'm talking about."

Tod gaped at him. The very idea that someone among their own people could be a traitor seemed too much to grasp for his son. But after tonight, there could be no other explanation. Someone was passing information to their enemies, and that someone couldn't be an outsider. He knew too much about their plans.

"Do you have any idea who...?" Tod wasn't able to finish his sentence. "Or any proof?" he added after a moment's silence.

"None so far." Macnair lowered his glance, examining his own fingers lying on the table. "And that's what worries me most. A traitor among one's own causes damage enough, but if we can't catch him before others come to the same conclusion, the Blood Legion will be in trouble. We might lose our reputation. If things go bad for us, we might even lose our status as the Master's elite force."

"No, Father, what are you saying?" Tod protested. "We can't lose our status. He needs us. We're far too important for him. I mean, we are his number one. He couldn't just dump us and pick someone else."

"And why couldn't he, Tod? His only true elite force are the Dementors, all human organisations and institutions are exchangeable. We are no more than pawns to his game. He could overthrow his own order if he wanted to and create a new one. It's his game, Tod, and his order. He made it; he can destroy it. The only reason why our world is the way we know is because that's the way that suits him best. He could change it. Any time, any way...."

Macnair broke off. Tod didn't look like he understood any of those things. Probably this was his own fault, not the boy's. He had raised his sons to obey, not to understand.

* * *

"I kept my promise, didn't I, little butterfly? I said I'd be back before you wake up!"

"Hai, Toto-chan."

Tsuzuku...

*

Dark night, nothing to see,

Invisible hand in front of me.

Scared to death there's someone near,

Scared to move but you can't stay here.

You know me, evil eye!

You know me, prepare to die!

You know me, the snakebite kiss!

Devil's grip, the Iron Fist!

*

extra Extra EXTRA!!!!

"Dear readers, viewers, listeners, spectators, audience, we're muchly disappointed in you. Draco Malfoy, headbanging half-naked on a table..."

"Wearing leather pants..."

"Wearing leather trousers *glares at George* and none of you cries wolf anymore. Where has all the howling and whining about clichés and fanon assumptions gone? We're actually getting owls about such primitive and boring things as: *fanfare* Plot!"

"Unbelievable!"

"Storyline!"

"You can't be serious!"

"Character development!"

"The world is a madhouse!"

"Yes, yes, we figured that one out three episodes ago. So, our most sincere (and that's no irony:-)) thanks go to shocolate, loonyluna256, Dragenphly, katherine_15, madam_lash, sikodelika, PerdoAnima, vanilla_taste, jamc91, ali, yuuh and all the other charming witches and wizards who sent owls to our studio.

"Look here! Imperfection Is A Bliss from barking-up-the-right-tree-land muses that a big secret is revealed each cycle and that all those secrets lead up to bigger secrets."

"One secret per cyle? It's more like one per episode, muharharharharhar! You'll see!"

"Episode Number Five will reveal a secret we've been wondering about since Episode One. A sweet and innocent fair maiden, whose name is not Mary Sue and who has no special powers, is attacked by evil wizards. But what do these strange people waving sticks in her face want with a young shopgirl anyway? Kill her, kidnap her, save her, use her?

A member of the Ghost Rider must face a tough choice. A member of the Blood Legion has already chosen. And someone much more powerful than both of them holds all the threads in his hand. And the scissors which cut them."

"But what happens when someone else takes those scissors away from him and uses them for his own purpose?"

"So, will Hermione, Lavender and Parvati be able to save the day, or are they too busy bickering at each other?"

*

Amicus Draconis - 1st Cycle: Cycle of the Badger - Part 5: Owl SMS

Coming soon to your Favourite Radio Station

*

Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

* * *

Author's Note: This one's about the Special Forces. But why Special Forces? Wouldn't the Death Eaters be far more powerful if they all fought together in one big group instead of quarrelling with each other in several smaller groups?

Basically, it's the "Divide and Conquer" pattern. Voldemort doesn't have a powerful outside opponent anymore, and his people need something to do. Also, it would be too dangerous for him if all the power was in one place. What if they teamed up against him?

Six different Special Forces will be mentioned in AD (not counting Dementors, Giants etc.) but only two of them play an important role in Cycle of the Badger. The Blood Legion is a well-trained elite force; they are allowed to use special magic such as Apparition or the Unforgivables (you can imagine that in a dictatorship the more powerful magic is limited; it wouldn't be exactly safe for Voldemort to let people Apparate around the country).

At the beginning of the story, the Ghost Riders are little more than 'errand boys', as Macnair puts it so nicely. The plot bunny for them hopped into my mind while my brothers and I were dancing to Iron Fist at a Motörhead concert. The musical scene in the Leaky cauldron was the very first thing I ever wrote for the Ghost Riders; even before I made them a part of my Harry Potter fic.

Also, you might have noticed that the Ghost Riders are a bit of a parody on the Nâzgul from LotR, while the plot bunny for the Blood Legion derived from the Sardukar from Dune.

As some of my German readers were quick to spot, the whole Blood Legion vs. Ghost Riders power struggle bears a certain resemblance to the situation in the Third Reich. Hitler had two Special Forces (SS and SA) that absolutely loathed each other. In the beginning, the SA was the elite force while the SS was basically for anybody who wanted to join, but over time the power between the two shifted.

Which brings us back to the whole "Wizarding Fascism" and "Muggle Fascism" topic. I believe there are also similarities between the HP Pureblood Philosophy and some of the ideas the Nazis used, so I decided on a few parallels between Hitler's and Voldemort's reign of terror. But if you take a look at history, you'll see that many dictatorships follow similar patterns anyway.