05. Owl SMS – Part B

Disclaimer Addition: None of the Book/Movie/TV show quotes Fred and George use are mine. They all belong to their respective authors. The opening song for Episodes 1-13 is Sonnet No 92 by William Shakespeare and the ending song for Episodes 1-11 +13 is Iron Fist by Motörhead. The ending song for Episode 12 is Sleeping Sun by Nightwish.

Author's Notes: Welcome to more mysteries, evil schemes, and power play among the Death Eaters. As always, cookies to my amazing artist Ebilein, my breathtaking beta Notsosaintly, and my brilliant Brit-pickers, Ellie and Lici :-)

* * *

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

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

"You wonder how the game works, right? It's real easy; all you have to do is copy the movements. Ready?"

"Actually, I was wondering if the weather..."

"Here it goes."

"But..."

"Up! Down! Up! Down! Choo! Choo! Choo! Up! Down! Up! Down! Choo! Choo! Choo!"

"What?"

"Right! Hey! Left! Hey! Choo! Choo! Choo! Come on, hurry up already. You'll never get any points until you copy the movements, and you'll never get a boyfriend either."

"This game is stupid."

"You need the right-right-right clothes. Or you'll be left-left-left out! You need fancy make-up-up-up! Always bow down-down-down to your superior! And never smo-choo-choo-choo any Muggles! Or you'll be hey-hey-hey-hated."

"You don't know who you're talking to, scum! I'm Captain Head Girl Know-it-all, mighty and invincible. I'm way-hey-hey-hey better than you are, and I'm way-hey-hey-hey too smart for these games. And I don't need a boyfriend either."

"But everyone needs a boyfriend. This is a fanfiction. Everyone needs boyfriends in a fanfiction."

"Well, I don't. I happen to have a wonderful girlfriend. And you better shut up-up-up before the mods start complaining about all your netspeak and your one word sentences."

"Spoilsport. I H8 U4 this."

"H8 U2." *sticks tongue out*

"O RLY?"

"YA RLY!"

"OMG STHU b4 we get b& plz."

Amicus Draconis - 1. Zyklus: Zyklus des Dachses - Teil 5: Eulen SMS

* * *

"Hey, SIC, take over for me. Something came up ... uh ... special assignment. Can't say more; it's ... uh ... confidential."

Marcus tried his usual dirty grin on Adrian Pucey, only to realize upon seeing the other boy's facial expression that he had failed dismally. Pucey's eyes were narrowed in suspicion, his lips drawn back in a sneer.

"Got a problem?" On the second attempt to appear blasé and nonchalant, he didn't fare much better. Now Pucey stared at him as if he had grown an extra head.

"No, of course, not, captain." Marcus gave an internal sigh of relief as Adrian finally abandoned his confused expression and broke into a grin. "See you ... uh ... later. And hurry up, I don't like working overtime."

Was Pucey simply trying to make fun of the situation, or was he really suspecting something? Even if he did, he'd better keep quiet. You didn't ask your superior about his private life.

Marcus made himself a mental note to enforce the discipline of the Ghost Riders. All of the other troops worked much more efficiently and didn't have an authority problem. They didn't question orders or talk back to their superiors. It looked like he really needed to do something about the morale of his people, and he would start with it as soon as he got back.

Hell, he would've started right now if he hadn't been in such a hurry. But Pucey and his big lip would have to wait. For the moment, he had more pressing matters to deal with.

Avada Kedavra. The killing curse. Someone had used the killing curse on Bridget's friend. But who? And why? Had the killer been some random wizard who wanted to have a bit of fun, or was there more behind it? Some sort of plot perhaps?

No, that couldn't be. After all, no one knew about Bridget and him. Was he getting paranoid? Still, even if the killer was just a bloke having fun, he was possibly still around looking for more of it. And another helpless young Muggle girl was fun on a silver plate.

He had to find Bridget as quickly as possible and bring her to a safe place. But where should he take her? Who could he turn to?

Certainly not his people. Should they ever find out the truth about him and Bridget, the consequences would be severe to say the least. The Ghost Riders would lose all respect for him, and eventually he would have to step down from his post. The mere thought of this scenario made him shudder. In their book, nothing could be as unforgivable as close contact with a Muggle.

But didn't he think the same way about Muggles? Didn't he find them disgusting?

They certainly were. This thing with Bridget, well, it was different. A special case. She was a Muggle, yes, but she was ... Bridget.

Brooding over all these strange and complicated thoughts made his head spin, so he decided to rather stop. Right now he needed to keep a clear head so he could save Bridget. He also needed someone to help him save her, and he finally knew who. After all, there was one person who knew about him and Bridget, and that person had assured him his help not too long ago.

"Well, as long as you know your limits and keep your private life to yourself, there won't be any trouble. I'll make sure of it, eh?"

* * *

"Don't be scared of us. We're not going to hurt you. We're here to help."

Hermione knew that her words wouldn't do much to comfort Bridget. How could mere words help a girl who had lost a friend in such a terrible way? And how could they make her understand what had happened? Could you explain something as complex as the wizarding world in a few simple sentences?

She felt incredibly sorry for this young woman who had been so mercilessly pulled into a war she couldn't understand, let alone fight. In this moment she wished more than anything that there could be a way to heal Bridget's pain and let her go back to her old life. Yet, neither pity nor ignorance would save this girl from the threat looming over her like the sword of Damocles. They needed to tell her the truth, and they needed to find out in what way she was linked to the Death Eaters. Preferably fast.

"Listen, I'm going to let go of you now. Please don't scream or panic or try to attack us. We're not your enemies. We're three girls your age, so please turn around and let me explain what's going on. Nothing bad will happen."

Bridget spun around, and for one endlessly long moment Hermione did fear that the other girl would start to scream and charge at her, but she only stood there silently, her eyes wide open with fear. Hermione did not speak and neither did Lavender or Parvati.

"What do you all want from me?" Bridget finally asked, taking back a step.

"We're going to explain everything, but first we need to sit down somewhere. What we have to tell you will sound very strange, almost like a fairy tale from a storybook. Nevertheless, every word of it is true."

Hermione took a deep breath, realizing how pathetic her words sounded. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

"Don't worry, lad, we'll see what we can do about your little problem, eh?" Macnair's voice sounded cheerful and reassuring; he had lost nothing of his usual jovial demeanour. "You worry too much anyways. The incident with that Muggle was unfortunate, yes, but it can't have been more than an accident. No one would dare to lay a hand on your girlfriend. After all, she's under the protection of one of the most powerful men in the country.

"Listen, son, I'll get back to you as soon as I've dealt with some of my other responsibilities. Don't worry, everything will be fine."

Macnair's voice faded away and so did the green fire inside the Ignisian Cup. Only a few puffs of smoke remained, stinging uncomfortably in Marcus' throat. He turned his face away and used a Freezing charm to cool down the hot metal of the enchanted bowl.

Should he simply wait for Macnair to contact him again? Too bad Ignisian Cups didn't allow travel; otherwise he would have Flooed right into Macnair's office to talk to him in person. But even if it had been possible, he couldn't leave the park. He had to wait for Bridget.

On such a gloomy night, even Peter Pan didn't look like a cheerful little boy anymore. His crooked smile, clearly visible in the darkness, felt like the devious smirk of a sly little demon not to be trusted. Marcus felt a sudden urge to blast the statue away, but he resisted it, knowing that a rash action like that would only get him into more trouble. What if Bridget saw him doing magic?

Well, what if Bridget saw him doing magic? They were the ones in charge now, not the Muggles.

What was taking her so long? Why wasn't she coming? She didn't live far from Kensington Gardens, so why wasn't she here by now? Had something else happened? Was she in danger?

He couldn't stand the uncertainty any longer. A Flaming Charm and a handful of Floo Powder brought the green fire back to the Ignisian Cup.

* * *

"This is weird, so weird. All of it."

"Believe me, I know how strange this must sound to you, Bridget. I felt very much the same way when I first heard about magic. It's hard to imagine that there is a second world out there, so different from the one you know."

All four young women sat in Bridget's kitchen, drinking hot tea laced with rum and planning their next step. A careful examination of the entire flat had shown them that there were no traps, assassins or any other dangers lurking nearby. They were safe, at least for the moment.

Hermione had used a spell to levitate Jenny into her room and put her on her bed. There was nothing else they could do for the poor girl. She made a mental note to call the police later on, but the Muggle police wouldn't even be able to understand that there was a crime involved. Victims of the killing curse never showed any signs of external violence.

Once in a while, Bridget would glance nervously at the second door of the kitchen, which led to Jenny's room, as if she hoped – or feared – her friend would come out any moment. Other than that, she seemed to struggle very hard to follow the explanations of the three young witches.

"This Voldemort person," she wanted to know, "the one who's supposed to be responsible for all this trouble – who is he?"

"Unfortunately, we don't know much about him." Hermione stirred her tea, but did not bother to touch it. "Since he came to power with his little dictatorship, he calls himself Imperial Wizard officially, but most of his followers refer to him as the Dark Lord or the Master. Twelve members of his inner circle, the so-called Death Eaters, form the Dark Council, his farce of a government. Four of them..."

"Thanks," Bridget interrupted firmly, "but I still don't understand what all of this has to do with me. I'm not a witch; I can't make things float like you can, and until tonight I didn't even know that any of it existed. Why do they want to attack me?"

"They don't need a reason." Lavender, who had just raised her own cup to drink, put it back on the table, untouched. "They hate Muggles, non-magic people, and they kill and torture them for entertainment."

Bridget gave her a bewildered look. "Are you trying to say it's a form of discrimination? Like some whites discriminate against blacks or others have a problem with foreigners? They actually think that people only count as real people if they can do magic?"

"Well, discrimination works the same way everywhere." Parvati pushed her cup away with a look of disgust on her face. "In the wizarding world, people think I'm oh-so special because I'm pureblood. And in the Muggle world, I hear things about Indians being lazy and stealing hard-working people's jobs."

"Then you shouldn't ever listen to my dad because he does say rubbish like that." Bridget stirred her untouched tea with a spoon, staring into the dark liquid. "Maybe he would think twice about it if he knew that others despise him for not being able to pull a rabbit out of his hat. Presumed he had such thing as a brain."

"I agree with all of you that discrimination is a horrible thing, but I don't think it's the reason Bridget was attacked," Hermione interrupted in a brave attempt to steer the conversation back to its original topic. "We received your name as that of a potential victim, so whoever attacked you wanted to target you specifically, and they must have had a specific reason for doing so. If we could only find that reason, it would bring us a lot closer to the people who are behind this."

"What do you mean 'received my name'?" Bridget asked in confusion.

"Well, let's put it this way. We have friends and they have friends who have spies among the enemy," Hermione explained. "They give us information about people in danger, and then it's our job to save those people."

"Or, at least, we made it our job," Parvati added. "We can't just watch all this injustice and do nothing, so we took our chance to do some good in this world."

"And those spies," Bridget wondered, "they didn't tell you what was going on? Just my name and that I'm about to be attacked?"

"It's not that simple. Hag ... ouch!" Lavender broke off in mid-sentence as Hermione kicked her under the table. "Our ... er ... informant gets only bits and pieces of information."

The four girls flinched when an unexpected noise blared from the hallway, but it was only the tune of 'Yesterday'. "Don't worry, it's my mobile," Bridget explained hurriedly. "A phone, a telephone. We ... uhm ... non-wizard people use it for communication."

"I know what a mobile is." Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Excuse me." Bridget slipped off her chair and rushed out into the hallway.

"Was that really necessary?" Lavender grabbed hold of her foot with a pained expression as if Hermione had broken it instead of giving it a small kick.

"Yes, it was." Hermione rose from her chair as well and walked to the door so as not to let Bridget out of her sight. "You were about to reveal Hagrid's name. No one's supposed to know there's a connection between him and us. Can't you imagine the danger he would be in if the Death Eaters ever found out?"

"But you're the one who's been spilling secret information for the last half-hour or so." Lavender gave Hermione an angry scowl. "We're not supposed to talk to Muggles about our world."

"Yes, but in this case things are different. We need to know what's going on, and Bridget needs to know as well. Her life is at stake."

"We know, Hermione," Parvati interrupted. "But we could've just grabbed the girl and taken her to a safe place. Remember the Muggles we saved from Hogwarts? We didn't give them any long-winded explanations. Our job is to protect this girl, so maybe now's not the right time for detective games."

"But how are we supposed to protect her if we don't know who was behind the attack and why? There's something wrong here. I just can't seem to grasp what it is...."

Hermione paced the kitchen, glancing briefly into the hallway where Bridget was still talking on the phone. "Maybe, from now on, we should follow a different policy concerning Muggles. I know we're not supposed to talk to them about our world, but the government who created this rule is dead and gone. Our situation is completely different now.

"Back then, they weren't in any danger from wizards. They are now. They have a right to know who's threatening them. Voldemort is the enemy of wizards and Muggles alike."

Lavender and Parvati exchanged nervous looks; this was one of those well-known situations when Hermione Granger thought herself smarter than the rest of the world. Since there was nothing they could reply, except for, 'We always did it that way, why should we change it now?' they decided to remain silent and let Hermione talk herself out of it.

"All right, I'll talk to you in a minute."

Bridget came back into the kitchen, still holding her mobile. "It was my boyfriend. I couldn't really explain things on the phone, so I told him to come over. He'll be here in a minute." She said those words very defiantly as if she was waiting for someone to contradict her.

"Great." Lavender gave a sigh. "Let's explain everything once again to another Muggle."

"Bridget, what's going on?" There was a note of suspicion in Hermione's voice when she addressed the other girl. "What are you not telling us?"

"What do you mean by that?" Bridget narrowed her eyes, scowling at Hermione.

"I'm Muggle-born, so I know what a phone is. And I know how it works. And this phone doesn't work at all because it's turned off. It was turned off when you came back into this room pretending to talk to your boyfriend."

"I was talking to him!" Bridget raised her voice, almost shouting now. "Yes, I know the phone's broken. I don't know why he could still reach me. There's probably some technical explanation for this."

"Explanation, yes, technical, no." Hermione snatched the phone from Bridget's hand, running her wand over it. "The explanation is quite simple: that phone is bewitched."

None of the other girls was able to say a word. A bewitched mobile phone? Who would ever have heard of such a thing?

"Bridget, who else had any access to this phone?"

"Jenny, perhaps, but I'm sure she's ... was no witch. And maybe my boyfriend, but he wouldn't have done anything with it. He doesn't understand technical stuff very well, and that's what makes him so special. All the other blokes are constantly going on about their mobiles and computers and that new music player that just came out, MP3 or whatever it's called, but he's different. He's..."

Hermione gasped, a terrible suspicion flashing through her mind. "Bridget, what's your boyfriend's name?"

Before Bridget could answer her, someone rang the doorbell.

Everyone jumped in their chairs. "I'll accompany Bridget to the door," said Hermione, who was already standing. "You two give us cover."

Lavender and Parvati stayed back in the hallway, their drawn wands directed at the entrance while Hermione carefully approached the door, followed by a trembling Bridget. "Hello," Bridget asked nervously. "Who's there?"

"It's me," a voice called from outside, a voice Hermione was certain she had heard before. "Bridget, open the door, quick!"

"Marcus!" Bridget gave a sigh of relief and was about to release the door chain when Hermione shook her head, pointing backwards. Bridget scowled at her, but nonetheless she took cover behind the wardrobe cabinet as instructed.

As the door opened, three wands were directed at it.

"Hello, Flint," Hermione said coolly. "It's been a while."

* * *

"How many times do I have to say it, I'm not responsible for the attack! Why would I want to attack my own girlfriend?"

"Let's see, maybe because you've grown tired of her. She's no longer fun."

"And she endangers your career. What if your little Death Eater friends found out about her? Maybe they already did."

"Does someone like you really need a reason to kill a Muggle?"

After having disarmed Marcus, they all had returned to the kitchen to question him. The three young witches kept an Argus-eyed watch on him, their wands at the ready, while Bridget sat next to her boyfriend, scared and confused. Her Marcus was supposed to be a wizard? And an evil one at that, a supporter of the inhuman regime she had learned about during this last hour. Could this even be possible?

No, it couldn't be. It had to be a mistake. The Marcus she knew couldn't hurt a fly.

She was on the brink of tears again, but this time she held them back, trying desperately to keep her temper. By no means would she let those strange girls with their weird stories about witches palter with her love for her boyfriend. And neither would she let them hurt said boyfriend.

"Don't worry, we have no intention of hurting him." Hermione hadn't missed Bridget's hostile expression and the suspicion in her eyes. "Well, at least not as long as he behaves himself," she added in a harder tone. After all, she didn't want Flint to become too sure of himself and start getting ideas.

"He didn't do anything," Bridget sobbed. "This is a mistake, a terrible mistake!"

"Well, if it's the murder you're talking about, I believe you," Hermione interrupted. "It's pretty unlikely that Flint is behind it. It seems that the killer mistook your friend Jenny for you, and I should think that Flint knows what his so-called girlfriend looks like. Besides if I remember right, you and he were together when the murder happened."

She leaned over the table, gazing suspiciously into Bridget's eyes. "Would you have covered for him if he hadn't been with you during that time? Would you?"

Bridget didn't answer. She averted her face and finally burst into tears, unable to bite them back any longer. As Marcus moved, the three witches startled and raised their wands higher, but all he did was put an arm around Bridget, pulling her close. He was crying as well, even if he did his best not to show it.

Hermione wasn't impressed in the least. "So, you're not responsible for this murder, but this doesn't change anything about the things you've done, the crimes you've committed! How many Muggles did you torture and kill, how many of them? You didn't get into such an important position by big talk alone, did you? Did you?"

"I'm not important," Marcus sobbed, not daring to meet Hermione's eyes. "They're the big guys. I only follow my orders."

"Oh, how convenient," Hermione said coldly. She turned to Lavender and Parvati, who had begun whispering. "What's wrong?"

The two exchanged a couple of nervous looks until Lavender finally broke the silence: "Hermione, could we have a quick word with you?"

"Yes, of course."

"No, not in here, in private." Lavender beckoned to the door leading into the hallway.

Hermione shook her head. "We can't all leave the room together. At least one of us must stay behind to keep an eye on Flint."

"I'll do that," Parvati promised. "You two go on ahead. Lavender will explain everything."

"Why me?" Lavender mildly protested. "You're much better at explaining things. Oh, well, if I must...." She gave a sigh, rising from her chair.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked as soon as Lavender had closed the wooden-framed kitchen door behind them. "Any new ideas about the murder?"

"Well, we..." The slightly ironical tone in which Hermione had asked that last question clearly indicated that she did not believe Lavender and Parvati capable of coming up with anything important. Lavender swallowed hard and finally tried a more direct approach: "Don't you feel sorry for them at all?"

"What do you mean, 'feel sorry for them'?" Hermione had no idea where this conversation was going, but it was so like Lavender to pull her out from an important interrogation to talk about feelings. She hoped they would be able to deal with this quickly and get back to business. Now that Bridget's connection to the Death Eaters was revealed, it was clear that she was in far more danger than they had first assumed.

"I mean that they're in trouble and we should help them. Isn't that our job at New Hogwarts?" Lavender asked defiantly.

"Well, obviously. That's what we're trying to do, isn't it? Or did you and Parvati have something else in mind?"

"Well, we thought ... Couldn't we take Bridget and Flint with us? Inside our hideout they both would be safe."

"I can't believe that you actually want to show our hideout to a Death Eater," Hermione hissed, trying to keep her voice down. "Lavender, have you gone completely mad?"

"No, wait, you're the one who doesn't understand. Just look at them. I mean, just look at them..." Lavender broke off, gazing through the milky glass of the kitchen door where two blurred shapes held each other in a comforting embrace. "What a heartbreaking scene," Hermione remarked dryly, her tone like ice.

Lavender couldn't believe her ears. "How ... how can you be so callous?" she stammered. "Don't you have any heart at all?"

"Oh, no, I'm completely heartless when it comes to people who try to play the tear-jerker card on me. 'I'm not important. I just follow my orders.' What's next, bad childhood and abusive father? If that bloke is looking for someone to pat his shoulder and tell him that everything will be fine, he definitely knocked on the wrong door. I'm not stupid enough to fall for it!"

'Not anymore,' she added silently to herself.

"Of course, I forgot that little Miss Perfect can see through such evil manipulations," Lavender snapped back. She had started shouting now, shocked by the force of her emotions breaking through. "Damn, Hermione, you're so egoistic and self-righteous, with your holier-than-thou attitude, I can't bear it any longer! You hypocrite! We should help those people, and all you do is just stand there and sneer at their suffering. How can you do this? How can you be like that? God, Hermione, I don't understand you, I really don't!"

It seemed to Hermione that the unsaid words of many many years had waited for this particular moment to burst through the surface of the shallow and tentative relationship she had built with Lavender during their time at Hogwarts. Why couldn't they have had this conversation a long time ago? Why now, in the midst of all this trouble? They could never work this out between a kitchen door, a rescue mission, a scared Muggle girl and her crying Death Eater boyfriend...

Lavender's words had struck a chord with her, hurting her in a way she hadn't thought possible. She felt like yelling and screaming and shouting at the other girl, but she forced herself to remain calm. "I'm not a hypocrite," she insisted. "I may seem a bit harsh sometimes because I tend to base my decisions on thought rather than feeling, and that's definitely not the way you do it. Still, this doesn't mean that I would simply deny my help and walk away while others are suffering."

"Then ... then let's help those two," Lavender pleaded.

"Lavender, that boy lied to his girlfriend ever since he met her. He told her stories about love and romance, while in truth he supports a system that despises and kills people like her. What kind of love is that supposed to be? And now that she found him out, did you hear him telling her the truth? Did he even apologize? No, nothing. All he does is cry, play the innocent victim and wait for us to step in like superheroes and make his problems go away." Hermione shot Flint an angry glance.

"Yes, but I'm sure he's sorry for what he's done. Did you ever see Flint cry before?"

"No, and I agree with you that these are honest tears and not simply a show put on to manipulate us. Maybe he's not a bad person, maybe he truly has feelings for Bridget, but it's not enough. I want to hear him say that he's sorry, that he's ready to change, and I want to hear these words from his own mouth. He has to stop being such a coward, for Merlin's sake! No, for Bridget's sake ... oh, whatever." Hermione took a deep breath.

"You expect him to take a stand against Vol ... against Voldemort, don't you? But it's not as easy as it sounds..."

"Nobody said it was going to be easy, but yes, that's what I expect. And Bridget can expect no less from a man who wants to be her partner in life. He has to take responsibility for the crimes he committed, and he has to try to make up for them. He has to be completely honest with her from now on. No more lies, no more blaming others, no more licking Voldemort's boots. We'll be here to catch him, but he's the one who has to make the jump."

"I'm beginning to see your point, Hermione, but I still think that he'll need our help to make that decision. You know, Flint may have been Quidditch captain, but he was never a high-flyer, so he probably needs a bit of a push in the right direction. Why don't we go back inside and you talk to him like you've just talked to me? Explain to him what he needs to do, and I'm sure he'll gladly turn his back on the Death Eaters."

Lavender's voice sounded hopeful, but Hermione did not share her positive view of things. "I'll give it my best try, but I don't think he's strong enough. However, I do hope for Bridget's sake that he'll prove me wrong."

"You know, Hermione, you sometimes have a very negative attitude. I mean, how can you be so sure of this?"

"I can't, but I..." Hermione paused, and Lavender could almost feel her inner struggle as she continued. "It is ... let's just say it's not the first talk of this kind. Some time ago, before Voldemort took power, there was a situation similar to this one. A boy and a girl fell in love, but she was considered beneath him and he wasn't especially good at handling pressure."

She sighed, switching back to her matter-of-fact voice. "Well, to cut a long story short, the whole thing didn't work out."

"That boy's name," Lavender asked cautiously, "was Viktor Krum, wasn't it?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but before she was able to speak, the silence was broken by the ear-splitting crash of a door being blasted out of its frame. On pure instinct, with absolutely no clue what was going on, both girls dropped to the floor, grasping for their wands. Their quick reaction had most likely saved their lives because the very next moment it was raining spells over their heads. One of them flashed by so close, that Hermione could swear it had singed her hair, but there was no way she would raise her head to check. "Protego!" she yelled, managing to create a shield over them that warded off the next couple of blows.

"Expelliarmus!" Parvati had pushed open the door, returning the attack and buying them a few seconds time to scramble back into the kitchen. "Two, Blood Legion," she gasped, pulling Bridget to the floor. Marcus had already taken cover behind the table.

"Move the furniture and get out of the kitchen!" Hermione ordered. If their attackers truly were from the Blood Legion and if they had seen the interior of the kitchen, no one was safe in here anymore. She urged Bridget and Marcus through the second door into Jenny's room and helped Lavender move the table while Parvati knocked over all the chairs. A couple of seconds later, they too had withdrawn into the next room.

Hermione's assumption had been correct. Just as the young witches rushed towards the window, they could hear the loud cracks of Apparition behind them, followed by angry curses and the splintering of wood. It seemed that at least one of the Death Eaters had found himself in an unpleasant encounter with the rearranged kitchen furniture. Nevertheless, such small troubles wouldn't keep their enemies for long. They had to hurry.

She blasted the window apart, not bothering to open it the conventional way. They had to get away as fast as possible; they wouldn't stand a chance in an open fight with the Blood Legion, and much less so if they had to protect Flint and Bridget as well. As she Accioed their brooms, she remembered with a cold shock that they had left Marcus's wand in the kitchen. How was he supposed to defend himself?

As it seemed, Marcus had other plans. He rushed back to the door, shoving it open with one hand and grabbed Bridget's arm with the other, pulling her with him into the kitchen. "We're here!" he shouted. "I'm Flint, the captain of the Ghost Riders!"

"Lord Macnair sent us," one of the Red Robes answered, nursing a bleeding leg, while his companion lay sprawled on the ground, foraging for his wand. "He informed us that you require assistance."

"I do." Marcus closed the door and held out a hand to pull the other young man up, letting go of Bridget's arm. "We're under attack from the Order of the Phoenix."

* * *

At first, Bridget had been taken completely by surprise, making no attempt to resist her boyfriend's manhandling. Facing these two strangers in her kitchen, however, planted the first doubts about his honesty. "Marcus, who are these people? What's all this supposed to mean?"

"Don't worry, they'll protect us...." Marcus was still digging for words when one of the Red Robes cut him short. "Leave that dumb Muggle now, get your wand and help us!"

"Certainly." Marcus ran to the counter, searching for his wand. Bridget was in no immediate danger now; he would explain everything later when this situation was sorted out. Now they had to get those Order girls and arrest them ... He was sure they put his wand somewhere here ... Ah, there it was.

"You bloody liar!" Bridget yelled at him. "You deceived me all along!"

She turned on her heel and stormed out into the hallway. The Red Robes didn't pay her any attention; a Muggle was completely irrelevant when they had to deal with the alleged Order of the Phoenix. They took position and blasted away the door...

Marcus felt cold sweat trickle down his back. If he abandoned the battle now to go after Bridget, it would be treachery. No one could get him out after that, not even Macnair. Everything would be over...

They would take him to Azkaban. Or worse.

But he couldn't just stand there and let her go. Couldn't lose her. He needed his Bridget.

No, he wouldn't lose her. On the contrary, if he helped to arrest known enemies of the Dark Lord, it would be a great achievement, and he would never need to worry about his private life again.

No, he didn't turn his back on her. The decision to stay would help her as much as it helped him. It was the right choice, wasn't it?

Wasn't it?

The door was blasted apart in a blaze of light. As they looked into the next room, all they could see was a dead girl lying on her bed and three very much alive girls flying out the window on their broomsticks. The spells they sent past them hit nothing but air.

"Call your Nightmare, Flint," one of the Red Robes ordered. "Bring them back, dead or alive."

* * *

"Fly around the house," Hermione shouted against the wind. "We'll grab Bridget and be off; she can't be far yet! If I heard right and she ran out the front door, she must be somewhere on the stairs by now."

"There's no need to save Flint," Lavender muttered. She and Parvati followed closely when suddenly a blurry shape chased past them, almost knocking them off their brooms. Hermione gasped, clawing her fingernails into the sleek wood, and turned her head. At this speed, the thing was impossible to make out, but it was huge and black and shadowy, and definitely not the kind of creature you wanted to meet in the middle of the night. A screech, a terrible hissing sound, and within the blink of an eye it was gone.

Only these eyes didn't look as if they needed to blink. They were like glowing embers in the dark.

* * *

Marcus stumbled over the remains of what had been once an entry door and ran out on the balcony. He reached for the small bone whistle he carried around his neck and gave it a mighty blow. The sound was too high for human ears, but his Nightmare would hear it wherever she was and come to him immediately.

Down the stairs he saw a small slender figure scurry away. Damn, Bridget, where do you think you're going? I've got everything under control; I'll get us both out of here in a couple of seconds."

The very next moment his steed came galloping through the skies, her fiery eyes locked on him. Marcus climbed the balustrade to jump into the saddle. He wasn't going to lose any more time.

However, the demonic horse didn't stop to let him mount. She was already carrying a rider. And both rider and steed raced past him to swoop down on Bridget.

* * *

The last thing, Hermione, Lavender and Parvati saw of Bridget as they turned around the corner, was a large shadow and a flowing black robe, snatching her away. Flint was standing on the balustrade of the balcony screaming her name into the darkness.

"Hermione, we need to follow!" Lavender shouted.

It was pointless, completely pointless. Following a Nightmare on a broomstick was like chasing Buckbeak on a tricycle. Flint was the only one who could get her back now.

'But will he even try?' Hermione thought, looking down at the desperate young man. 'Or will he be a good little Death Eater and go for us instead?'

* * *

Marcus looked up and saw Granger and the other two girls on their broomsticks at the very same moment his own Nightmare finally descended from the cloudy night sky. There they were, his enemies from the Order of the Phoenix, ready for battle. But there were still three of them and only one of him. And what about Bridget? That other bloke, that Ghost Rider, had kidnapped her; there was no time for fights with the Order lot right now. He couldn't just leave her to her fate.

But what would the Blood Legion say if they saw him walk away from a fight to chase after a worthless Muggle? It would be treason.

Yes, but they couldn't see it, could they? They were still inside the flat, probably contacting Lord Macnair for new orders. They couldn't see what was happening on the other side of the house, nor did they have any idea that Bridget was in danger. He could fly off and rescue her and later pretend to them that he had been chasing the enemy. They would never know the truth, and he wouldn't need to take any risks.

What would he have done if there had been a risk? Saved Bridget, or followed his orders?

It was a good thing that he didn't have to worry about such stupid questions. When this was over, everything would be different. He would be different. He would stand up to Macnair and demand better protection for Bridget. Perhaps a Fidelius charm on her flat or a secret place to hide her. Also, although this wasn't official, there were ways to mark Muggles so that other wizards could see they belonged to someone and know they weren't allowed to harm them. There were rumours that the members of the Dark Council sometimes used Muggles for their purposes and they needed to make sure that no Muggle-basher accidentally interfered with their business. So why shouldn't he be allowed his own Muggle? It wasn't a big thing to ask, no more than a little favour.

And Macnair owed him. Macnair owed him big time. After all, Macnair's silence about the whole Bridget affair hadn't come cheap.

First, there was information. Anytime, a member of the Dark Council sent the Ghost Riders on an errand, Macnair wanted to know all about it. Marcus doubted that any of the things they did were important, but still, the knowledge gave Macnair a certain insight into the plans and schemes of the other council members. It could prove valuable intelligence in his struggle for power.

Second, there was loyalty. Officially, Marcus owed the same obedience and loyalty to all council members, but it was always Macnair's business that came first. Sometimes it seemed that Macnair commanded not only the Blood Legion but the Ghost Riders as well. Not that Marcus cared; having a powerful protector usually paid off. Macnair had kept his word, hadn't he? He had sent men to help him.

Marcus forced his thoughts back to his present situation. He had to get Bridget back, and everything else could wait.

* * *

I won't fail this time!

Adrian Pucey's second plan was simple, direct, and fail-safe. He would rise high up into the sky and then push the Muggle off his horse.

He had followed Flint back to the flat and taken position on the roof, soon realizing that his curse had hit the wrong girl and that the right one was still inside. Now all he had to do was wait for an opportunity to strike. Whatever Flint, the Blood Legion and the Order of the Phoenix were doing there was none of his concern. He wasn't going to get involved in anything, least of all in any battles. He was going to do his job and collect his reward. Nothing more, nothing less.

His job was done. With a satisfied grin, he let go of the screaming girl and watched her tumble through the clouds. As she disappeared into the foggy night air, he leaned back with the satisfaction of a job well done.

"Why, what's going on with you, Pucey?" a drawling voice asked with mild curiosity, and a second rider emerged from below, pulling the still screaming Muggle girl nonchalantly behind him. "Muggle-bashing, all on your own? How bored can you be?"

"Get lost, Malfoy!" Adrian snarled. "This is my Muggle, so if you want to play, go get your own."

"Now she's mine." Draco smirked mischievously. "If you want her back, come and get her!"

Playfully, he circled Adrian and closed in on him only to make his steed leap away the very next moment. He probably did think that Adrian wanted to kill some time with Muggle-bashing; it was a popular sport among the Ghost Riders. Still, you could never know with Malfoy. Maybe he knew about the job and was trying to butt in. Jealousy, perhaps?

It was strange anyway; why hadn't Malfoy received the job instead of him?

Now what should he do about the whole situation? Tell Malfoy the truth? No, that would be a foolish thing to do. Pull rank on him and order him to surrender the Muggle? No, that would only raise his suspicions. It was best to play along for now. There would be plenty opportunities to kill the girl later. These little games usually proved fatal for Muggles.

And Malfoy enjoyed killing very much. Wouldn't it be a twist of fate if Malfoy did the job for him, and he, Adrian, received the reward?

He loosened the reigns and galloped through the skies towards Draco, pretending to aim for a head-on collision. Instead of showing fear, his opponent only laughed at him, holding up the girl as if he were a matador and she the red cloth. "Toro, Toro!" he shouted. As Adrian approached, Draco put spurs to his horse and pulled the reigns at the same time, which caused her to rear up, her sharp hooves only inches away from Adrian's head. Adrian steered his Nightmare a bit lower to avoid getting hit.

He stopped a moment later, spun around on the spot, frantically looking for Malfoy, but he was nowhere to be seen. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. Only seconds later Adrian heard a yell and felt something touch his head.

He looked up and startled in his seat. It was a hand, the girl's hand to be exact. Malfoy and his steed were hovering above Adrian, and Draco held the once again screaming Muggle girl by her ankles, letting her dangle above Adrian's head. With an angry snarl Adrian tried to grab her, but Malfoy had already pulled her back up on his horse.

Adrian's patience was wearing thin. He would finish the girl, and there was no need to physically touch her for this. What did he have a wand for? All he required was an opportunity to cast a killing curse on her without hitting Malfoy. It was a bit risky, yes, performing an illegal curse in front of a witness, but then, who was Malfoy to tell on him? That bloke had AKed more Muggles than he had fingers on his hands and toes on his feet.

For the moment, casting a spell was too difficult because the girl was in the saddle with Draco and they moved very fast. He had to change that, perhaps trip him up a bit, make him lose his cool. Why shouldn't Malfoy be the one to get angry? After all, it was the Blood Legion who taught its members about psychological warfare, and Adrian had just the thing to strike Draco where it hurt.

"So, you're worried about losing another girl to me, aren't you?" He circled Draco with a half-hearted attempt to reach for the Muggle. "Losing the first one must have been tough. I remember it well, it was a June weekend in Hogsmeade, and a hot day it was. I believe it was right before your year's NEWT exams...."

He watched Draco's face intently as he spoke, but couldn't see any reaction on it. The smirk was still in place, although it seemed a bit frozen. "Pucey, you dunderhead, what are you talking about? When my NEWTs came up, I was a good boy for once and spent my weekends studying. I never went to Hogsmeade that June; ergo, I don't have the faintest idea what you're trying to imply."

"I know you weren't there." Adrian made no attempt to hide the malice in his voice. "You weren't there when she needed you the most. Say, did I ever tell you that it was your name she screamed when the Dementors ripped out her soul? But you weren't there to hear her cries, and you couldn't do a thing to save her."

"It's good that I don't have a saving people thing, then." His opponent's voice still didn't betray any emotion, and Adrian couldn't see his face anymore because Draco kept moving. Draco's Nightmare made a huge leap over Adrian's, and he had to turn around to continue the conversation. "How does it feel, Draco?"

"How does what feel? I still have no idea what you're talking about. If you want me to get angry at you or have a crying fit, it would really help if you gave me some clues. That girl's name, perhaps?"

"Wait a minute!" Adrian pretended to be thinking hard, although he had no idea about the name. He only wanted to give Malfoy the impression that he wasn't paying attention to him at the moment. Perhaps it would lure him into a false sense of security and make him stop all that jumping around.

"Don't worry about it. Do you think I keep a list of names from all the people I knocked off?" Draco was closing in on him, the Muggle girl, still before him in the saddle, a perfect target. Not close enough to grab her, but close enough for a spell.

It was time. This might be his one chance, and he wouldn't miss it.

"Some people simply aren't worth being remembered. Accio badge!"

Adrian felt his rank insignia being pulled off his cloak and suppressed the urge to forget all about the Muggle and curse Malfoy instead. Yes, he would make him pay. Malfoy would pay dearly for his insolence, but the job came first, and this was his chance to strike. "Avada – "

A glint of triumph in Draco's cold eyes warned him that something was wrong, very wrong.

He would never know what it was...

"Petrificus Totalus!"

It wasn't Draco who had cast the full Body-Bind on Adrian Pucey. It was a third rider who had suddenly appeared behind Adrian. Marcus Flint had never been a fast thinker, but seeing a wand pointed at his girlfriend and hearing the first few syllables of a killing curse was enough to make him react.

Unable to stay in the saddle, reins slipping from his stiff fingers, Adrian fell over. He tumbled through the clouds and vanished into the foggy night air.

A moment later, an ear-splitting bang could be heard, much like the sound of bursting stone.

* * *

He was in trouble. Oh, Merlin, he was in such trouble. He had killed, he had murdered one of his comrades, and he had done so for no apparent reason. A Muggle girl wasn't a reason. This was treachery. They would kill him or worse. He had to run, run fast, run far and never come back. No, he couldn't run; Malfoy still had Bridget.

Bridget ... I have to save Bridget....

Oh, Merlin, what should he do? Fight Malfoy? No, he couldn't kill him as well. That would make everything much worse. Try and bribe him into letting her go? But what did he have to offer? He wasn't rich or powerful like the Malfoys. He was just a normal guy.

Oh, Merlin, what should he do? He was in so much trouble.

"I owe you my life, Marcus. That was bloody close!"

What if he just stunned Malfoy and grabbed Bridget before....

"What?"

"My life. You saved my life, Marcus. That nutter was about to kill me, and you arrived just in time to save me. One second later and I would've been the one lying down there. I'm still recovering from the shock." Draco ran a hand through his windswept hair as if he was trying to put it back into place.

Then he lowered his glance to check his fingernails.

That changed everything. All the images of danger, fighting and running away in Marcus' head burst like soap bubbles. He didn't care whether Malfoy truly believed that his life had been saved or whether he was simply putting up an act. All that mattered was that Malfoy wasn't going to turn him in. He was safe. Pucey had tried to murder Draco, and he, Flint, had killed Pucey in self-defence. It was a perfect official version of Pucey's death, and there was a witness to confirm it. And if they were going to investigate – the last spell of Pucey's wand was an attempted killing curse. It all fell into place. Nicely.

"Marcus, you're a bastard!" That was Bridget's voice, grief-stricken and hoarse with sobs. In his relief Marcus had forgotten all about her.

"You know the Muggle?" Draco raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "Could it be that the curse was meant for her? I remember Pucey saying something about giving you some wand, so maybe he wanted to kill her to take revenge on you. Anyway, he was a difficult person, more trouble than he was worth. No wonder they kicked him out of the Blood Legion."

Draco steered his Nightmare beside Flint's and lifted a sobbing Bridget over. "Here we go. If I had known that she's yours, I would have been more careful with her, but she's not damaged. I suppose we'd better not mention her when we report Pucey's death. It would only make the whole thing seem fishy. We'll just stick by the old version that he tried to kill me and you accidentally killed him in self-defence. Oh, and Pucey dropped this."

He held out his hand and showed Flint a small silver badge. Marcus knew it well; it was the rank insignia Pucey had worn on his cloak.

Marcus nodded slowly; he had been expecting something like this. Help was never for free, and he had already been wondering about the cost of Malfoy's. Well, he needed a new second-in-command anyway, and Draco was the obvious choice.

"Draco Malfoy." Marcus took the badge from Draco's hand and, with a flick of his wand, stuck it to his newly appointed officer's cloak. "I hereby promote you to commander of the Ghost Riders. May you prove yourself worthy for the honour bestowed upon you."

* * *

"Did we fail Bridget, Lavender? What if the Death Eaters killed her just because we were too stupid to help her?"

"We did everything we could, Parvati. We tried so hard to save her." Lavender's voice sounded small and choky. "I don't think they got her. I wish we knew, though. Not knowing, that's the hardest part of it."

"Coming home from a mission used to feel so good, like we made a difference and all. But I don't have that feeling now."

"We won't be successful all the time, you know that, Parvati. We won't be able to save everyone. Remember what Harry said? We're not heroes, we're just ... people."

After a desperate and completely fruitless search for Bridget, the three Gryffindor girls had flown back to their hideout to inform the others about the battle and what they felt was a failed mission. Lavender and Parvati had finally returned to the girls' dormitory to catch some sleep while Hermione was still with Harry, talking strategy and forging new plans.

Lavender was so exhausted that her eyes hurt and she could barely walk a straight line. She dropped down on her tatami mat and waited for sleep, but sleep wouldn't come. As she listened into the silent darkness, she could hear Parvati rolling around as restlessly as she was. Finally, despite Tara's and Eloise's protests, they had lit some wands and candles and started talking. About Bridget. About Marcus. About failed missions, failed battles and failed love.

"I think Hermione was right about us being too naïve." Lost in her thoughts, Lavender gazed at a tiny spark emanating from the tip of her wand and slowly floating upwards. "If Marcus had truly loved Bridget he would've stopped supporting the Death Eaters."

"Hermione's always right," Tara mumbled into her pillow. "And that's exactly what makes her such an insufferable know-it-all."

Normally, Lavender would have gladly latched onto the change of subject and joined in in another light-hearted Hermione slagging-session, but somehow it felt childish to do so. She couldn't go back to every-day school-girl life as if nothing had happened tonight. Why did Bridget's fate have such an impact on her? Was it because she was a young woman her own age? Or was it because in those few fleeting hours they had had a much closer look at Bridget's life than the lives of all the other Muggles they saved before?

Or was it because, for once, the story didn't have a happy ending with the damsel-in-distress happily snogging her prince and the heroes riding off into the blazing sunset?

We're not heroes. We're just ordinary people.

The spark had reached the ceiling now and slowly died down.

"We should talk to her once she's back."

"Talk to who?"

"Hermione?"

"Why?"

"Is there a problem?"

Lavender got up, looking at all the confused faces around her. "Yes. Of course, there's a problem. There's been a problem for about seven years now, and that problem is that we don't talk to each other. Hermione does things her way and we do them our way. We don't want her in our lives and she doesn't let us in hers. We've been living in totally different worlds all these years, not even bothering to take a peek over the walls.

"Yes, but we've learned not to constantly fight with her anymore, haven't we?" Eloise pointed out, and Parvati added, "She isn't going to change, no matter what we say or do."

"No, I don't want to change her, that's not what I meant. I just want to understand her. I want to know how she's ticking, get all those unsaid things out in the open. Do you know what I mean? I mean, look at us! Talking about injustice and discrimination all day long, and in the night we fly out fighting for a better world and all that. But if someone's just a little bit different, we can't cope with it, and instead of talking things over, we slag her off. You see, we pretend to be heroes, but we can't even deal with our own differences. How pathetic is that?"

And besides, I'm dying to hear that Viktor Krum story, Lavender added silently to herself.

"Wow, what a speech, Lavender." Parvati giggled. "Harry couldn't have put this better himself."

* * *

"Bloody women!"

Marcus hurled his empty beer bottle away and watched it shatter to pieces on the road. The two young men sat on the roof of the Leaky Cauldron while down below them some metal band bawled about death and destruction. The Cauldron itself was almost empty; second shift was over, and the first sliver of dawn was beginning to creep over the ghastly silhouettes of houses in the east.

The birds had already started their morning noise, but you couldn't really count their whistling and screeching as singing.

"It's over, she told me. Dumped me, just like that. Never wants to see me again." Marcus was struggling with his tears and the stubborn cap of the next beer bottle. "I promised her I would take care of her. No wizard would ever lay a hand on her again; I would've made sure of that. I'm not just anybody, you know?"

Although his head was already floating on clouds of alcohol, the memory of his last conversation with Bridget was cold and clear, cutting like ice through his dizzy mind. Nothing had gone as expected. He had saved her life. He had risked his neck for her. And was she at least a tiny bit grateful for all that? No, not at all!

"You're asking too much of me," she had said. "You want me to forgive you your lies? I could do that. You want me to forgive you the crimes you committed against other people like me? Maybe even that. But to think you could just go on as if nothing happened, that's definitely the pits!"

"Well, what did you expect?" he had shouted back at her. "It's not me, it's just the world we're living in. I can't do anything about it. Do you want me to throw away my life and die for you? For a bunch of crazy ideas that don't work in this world anyway? Do you want us to be fugitives when we could live safely and happily? You have no idea what you're getting yourself into! They'd kill us both!"

"I can tell you what I expect from the man I want to share my life with." Her voice was firm and clear despite the tears still running down her cheeks." I expect that he doesn't support a system which considers people like me less than dirt. How can you say you love me and kill others like me?"

He couldn't answer her question, and there was no point in even trying. What answer could there be to a question as old as humanity itself, and who was he to find it?

Instead he begged her not to leave him. Promised that nothing would happen to her ever again. A powerful protector would guarantee her safety.

Not that he truly believed in his own words; after all, Macnair hadn't been able to help him. But it didn't matter; he would've said anything just to make her stay.

She didn't. "Just be careful that your powerful protector doesn't backstab you one day. Or perhaps your new second-in-command when he doesn't want to be second anymore. That's how things work in your world, isn't it? Well, I'm not going to be a part of it. Adieu, Marcus!"

And then she had turned around and walked away. "I could kill you," he had yelled after her. "I could kill you right now and no one would stop me!" But she hadn't stopped walking, and she hadn't turned around either.

And he certainly hadn't done anything to her.

He lost patience with the cap, smashed the bottle's neck instead and wanted to gulp down the beer. Draco took the broken bottle away from him before he could cut himself and gave him another one, already open. It was good that they had taken the entire crate, Marcus considered as he took a deep swallow.

He was too much engulfed in his own worries to notice that Draco, too, was lost in thought. These thoughts, however, had little to do with his captain's present situation and love life. They dwelled on a dinner at Malfoy Manor, which had taken place a few nights ago. The Malfoys had been visited by their old friends, the Macnairs. Father and Walden Macnair had exchanged Death Eater stories from the good old times while Alice Macnair complained to Mother about her eldest son's girlfriend: "I don't trust that little jezebel with her slit eyes and her fake smile. Mark my words, Narcissa, she is going to break my poor Tod's heart."

Draco couldn't fail to notice that politics weren't an issue during the dinner conversation. It seemed that both his parents and the Macnairs carefully avoided the subject. He was curious to find out whether his father and Macnair had certain disagreements, but his curiosity wasn't satisfied until the Macnairs had left and his parents had returned to the drawing room, believing themselves alone.

"What an ungrateful little snot your so-called friend has turned into!" Narcissa could barely hide her contempt. "Has he already forgotten that it was your influence that brought him to power? Where would he be today if you hadn't pointed him out to our master?"

"Don't be too harsh on him, Narcissa," Lucius answered with a benevolent smile. "He's going through hard times at the moment. Things are not going too well with the Blood Legion. All these rebel attacks – dreadful, dreadful."

"Did you know that he's found a new way to snoop around the rest of the Council? Alice let slip something earlier; after all these years the woman still hasn't learned how to keep a secret." Narcissa sneered, an expression all Malfoys could do in their sleep.

"Yes, dear, I'm aware of it." Father leaned back comfortably in his armchair. Like the lynx, the crest animal of his family, he could be an image of utter relaxation on the outside and yet never slack in his vigilance. "I already managed to find out about his new source of information. He's blackmailing Flint, the captain of the Ghost Riders."

"Blackmailing Flint?" Narcissa raised her eyebrows. "Shouldn't you do something about it, then? Walden already has the Blood Legion under his thumb; he doesn't need the Ghost Riders as well."

"No need to worry," Lucius replied calmly. "The necessary counter measures are already in preparation."

Narcissa stood by the window, looking out into the rambling park of the manor. "Who would've thought," she said, more to herself than to anybody else, "that Marcus Flint of all people has a skeleton in the closet?"

"Well, she's not a skeleton yet," Lucius' fingers stroked the stem of his wine glass, "but she will be. She will be."

Father's counter measures had worked perfectly well, except for one slight change of plan. However, the only one who had any reason to complain lay scattered all over London. Bad luck, Adrian. Rest in pieces.

Pansy, wherever you are, I hope you were watching.

Draco raised his bottle. "To power! A much more consistent force than love and much more reliable, too."

Marcus shook his head in disbelief. "Power ... it's always about power! And what's all this power good for if you can't be with the one you love?"

"You're drunk, Marcus. That question is pathetic and unworthy of a Slytherin."

Shrugging, Marcus turned his eyes back to the road, staring without focus. Preoccupied with his own thoughts, he missed the glint of triumph in Draco's eyes and the way his fingers stroked the new badge at his shoulder.

"It's simply a question of how much power you have to gain."

Tsuzuku... (to be continued)

*

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!!!!

"Ah, Fred, there's romance in the air."

"No, there's not."

"Yes, there is. Just look at all these letters: People keep firing questions about possible Harry/Ginny, Harry/Ron, Harry/Draco, Harry/Cho, Harry/Lisa, Harry/Hermione, and Harry/Millicent Bulstrode pairings."

"Except for ali from my-son-is-obsessed-with-pokémon country. ali thinks that Harry has other things on his mind than romance. He is trying so hard to be a leader (Harry, not ali) and he is busy being ambiguous with Snape."

"No, he's not."

"Spoilsport!"

"Kaelin-Hikaru from I-use-a lot-of-...s country is worried about horrible fandom names. Oh, we do so love horrible fandom names. Sevvie and Hermy and Drakey-Poo..."

"Freddy, Georgie, Nevvy, Marcy Flinty, Ollie Woody, Auntie Voldie ..."

"Uh Fred?"

"Yeah, George?"

"We do use Auntie Voldie."

"Oh, uhm ... how about we forget everything I just said and tell our dear audience something about Episode Six! It's a double episode, so brace yourselves."

It's October and Hallowe'en is coming up. Auntie Voldie has very special plans for this night, and all of these plans have to do with finding Golden Boy's hideout. Three witches will gather at midnight in the moor for a secret ritual that, if successful, breeches even Dumby's most powerful protection magic. So, will Urdy, Skuldy, and Verdandy triumph or can Harrie, Hermy, Ronnie and Nevvy save the day?

"Uhm, Fred?"

"Yeah, George?"

"That's about enough silly nicknames for one summary."

"So, stay tuned for:"

*

Amicus Draconis - 1st Cycle: Cycle of the Badger - Episode 6: Blood Oracle - Part I

Amicus Draconis - 1st Cycle: Cycle of the Badger - Episode 7: Blood Oracle - Part II – Priori Incantatem

*

Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

* * *

Author's Note: About the Crest Rings

Looking back on this chapter, I couldn't resist the temptation to add a few sentences here and there, for example at the Lucius/Narcissa scene. It's such a classic image to picture Lucius lolling in an armchair (with style, of course), playing with a wineglass and plotting someone's death. It's almost as decadent as Draco dancing half-naked on the bar. *smirks*

I'm curious; did any of you guess that Lucius was the one pulling the threads behind the assassination attempt? Some of my German readers recognized him right away when he still played mystery man. In case you're wondering, yes, we'll get to see more of him in future chapters. As for Bridget, you might have guessed that she's a one-chapter protagonist, like Ophelia or Lisa Turpin. She might make another appearance later in the story, but the focus lies on other characters.

Anyhow, I wanted to talk a bit about the crest rings. As you already know, each member of the Dark Council carries a ring with a certain crest animal. In Episode 5 Adrian recognizes Lucius because of his ring while in Episode 4 Pettigrew uses his to give Ollivander the order to have a mysterious wand made (and we will find out about this wand, don't worry :-)).

Usually, the eldest son and heir has another ring just like it, so in most cases there are two or three rings to each family. These rings are usually made of silver, with different gems as the animal's eyes. The rings do have magical powers, but before you ask, no, Voldemort is not using them to control his subjects and neither is he the keeper of The One Ring. *g*

My first idea was to use the twelve animals of the Chinese zodiac as crest animals, but I finally decided against it. It wouldn't make any sense for all the British wizarding families to choose their crest animals according to a certain system. And besides, the members of the Dark Council will change during the course of the story.

So I tried to fit the animals to the characters rather than basing them on a system. Pettigrew got the rat, that one was obvious. The Malfoys got the lynx because he's a symbol for beauty, solitude and above all for cleverness and slyness. In German we have the idiom "to lynx something from someone" (jemandem etwas abluchsen), which means that you trick another person into giving something to you. Remember that story from the Bible about Jacob persuading his brother Esau to sell him his firstborn's right for a bowl of lentil seeds? That's exactly what lynxing means. And from what we know about Lucius, he does seem the type to manipulate every situation to his advantage.

As for the other crest animals, I can't tell you anything about them now because we haven't encountered them in the story yet. Some are mentioned only in passing, but others will play a vital role to the plot, so I don't want to give anything away.

Yamato