Chapter 3

A/N: Nothing you recognize is mine. Certain passages are intended to be melodramatic and over-the-top with clichés. Please review!

* * *

Wind howled at the craggy face of the cliff and rushed through the cave where he had spent the past few nights. The floor was damp and hard, and the Dark magic of the place filled him with a deep dread. He took another swig of Firewhisky and stuffed the knife further beneath his rucksack.

"Another one," he muttered. "Soon."

He didn't mind drawing out his task, no, on the contrary. He relished his time away from Germany, from Wiepersdorf, from the shadow of Schloss Durmstrang, and from the site of all his failures. England wouldn't be another land of failure for him. It was his time now.

He would be triumphant.

* * *

"Avery Harz," Moody repeated in the quiet gloom of the Leaky Cauldron. "Otherwise known as Lucretius Thurkell."

"A Squib?" Ginny squinted at him and cast a Muffliato Charm on the table beside them. "That fits. We've considered the possibility, of course. Thaddeus Thurkell's family produced more Squibs than anyone and – "

"And maybe one of them wanted a Hogwarts letter," Draco said.

"That would make the killer about eleven years old." Ginny rolled her eyes and dragged a Cauldron Cake from her handbag. "An eleven-year-old wouldn't murder Professor McGonagall over a letter of admission."

"Never say never," grunted Moody. "But it's unlikely. No, Harz – Thurkell – leads a gang of criminals. Used to let You-Know-Who take credit for his work."

"A bunch a Squibs?" Malfoy began to tilt his chair back as far as it would go, until he had to hold it upright with his wand. "This is your big consulting tip? Squibs?"

"Look, there are plenty sorts of danger that aren't magic. You ever seen a Muggle fireleg, Auror Malfoy?"

"Firearm," Ginny whispered.

"Right, well. They're nothing to play around with. We underestimate Muggles and Squibs to our tactical disadvantage. We underestimate anything to our tactical disadvantage. Information. Tracking. And, goddamn it, CONST – "

" –ANT VIGILANCE!"

"What. The. Bloody. Hell. Are. You. DOING HERE?" Moody roared so loudly that the Muffliato Charm broke.

Polyxena conjured a sleek Eames chair and sat down beside him. "I fancied a drink. The usual, Tom."

The bartender sent an apple martini sailing toward the table. Moody caught it and tossed it on the fire grate.

"Go home," he hissed. "This is serious Auror business, we're dealing with a murderer..."

"Don't patronize me." She caught the second drink and took a brief sip. "I may or may not have helped him foil Harz eight years ago," she said to Draco and Ginny. "And..."

"She may or may not have been kidnapped by You-Know-Who in the process."

"And it was all rendered a bit pointless when the Dark Lord made off with my father a few months afterward. But we're still here and where's the Dark Lord now?" Polyxena smirked. "My father's well and making wands again, we're..."

"Making wands?"

"She's Ollivander's daughter, she has his damned eyes." Ginny scowled and added, "Auror Malfoy. Polyxena, Hermione told me something you said...I don't want to pry, but you told her you know 'plenty of Dark magic'? And you call You-Know-Who the Dark Lord; I'm not accusing you of anything, but..."

"It's really nothing sinister." With another sip of her apple martini, she settled back in her seat and smirked at her husband's glower. "My father always had an aesthetic interest in every type of magic. He was Ravenclaw like me, and I think manufacturing wands gave him a certain curiosity about their limitations. Anyhow, he taught me things, theory mostly, but I've certainly never...well, I've turned the Cruciatus on a Death Eater or two in my day, but..."

"For Christ's sake, Chief Weasley, would Mad-Eye Moody have married a Dark witch?" Draco thumped the table, eager to get back to Harz's lot. His own knowledge of Dark magic and the fact that he called Voldemort the Dark Lord were bound to come up.

Ginny went a bit pink and said, "Like I said, not accusing. Just curious."

"Right." Draco nodded jerkily and said the first thing that came to mind: "So, Auror Moody, weren't you supposed to have died? The Dark Lord said he'd killed you himself, and then you turned up after the Final Battle."

"Auror Malfoy, we haven't got time for this." Ginny brushed aside the crumbs of her half-finished Cauldron Cake. "We've got a case to solve..."

"...and no leads or evidence. What are we supposed to do with that?" Draco tousled his hair again so that the sleek ridges stuck up in the back. "Can Squibs wear Invisibility Cloaks?"

Ginny's eyes lit. "Good thought. Anyone can wear one, as it happens. The magic's contained in the fabric, not in the wearer. They're rare, so we could do a decent search. Contact the office and have them locate all Invisibility Cloaks sold in Europe over the past three years. If it's a Squib, he'll have to have bought it. Well, well," she continued when Draco had hastened to a more private fireplace. "A stroke of genius from Auror Malfoy. Who'd have thought?"

"If it's a matter of the cloak, I can help you there," Moody said. "If there's another attack planned and you lot manage to stake out the site in time. Could Dung help us, d'you think?"

"Probably," Polyxena said. "If it's to do with Harz. The cloak might have been stolen, after all. He's watching the kids right now, but I can..."

"He's doing what right now?" Moody choked on the contents of his hip flask.

"Oh, come on, he's Emma's godfather, isn't he?" Polyxena whacked her husband on the back a few times. "He'll keep them perfectly safe. He might teach them a bit of vulgarity or how to firewire the neighbor's car, but he'd never let anything happen to them."

"You're friendly with Mundungus Fletcher?" Ginny tilted her head and gave the Moodys each a quizzical stare. "Pardon, Auror Moody, but didn't he Disapparate and leave you to You-Know-Who?"

"Oh." Draco sneered and rejoined the table. "I thought we didn't have time for this."

"You-Know-Who's curse knocked my ear off," Moody grumbled. "Curse of the night, wasn't it? And yeah, I fell off my broom. Someone – "

"Severus Snape," Polyxena put in. "What? Credit where it's due. You hate to admit it, but he saved your – "

" – cast a Shield Charm that nobody noticed with all the curses and hexes flying everywhere. So I didn't break every bone in my damned body, but the blood pouring out of my head almost did me in. Wand was broken. Thought I was a goner."

Polyxena's eyes became overbright, and she began to fuss with the sleeves of her robes.

"But I fell near a Wizarding house, bit of Potter's luck, that, and the old woman cleaned up my wounds. She was a Muggle-born, though, so when they took her away after Thicknesse got control, they found me and threw us both in Azkaban. Didn't get away 'til the Battle of Hogwarts." He groaned and shifted until his leg was propped on another chair. "Wasn't in any condition for battle, though. Found Polyxena and Emma at Grimmauld."

"Yeah, and who was looking after us but Dung?" Polyxena finished. "He proved himself a decent bloke in the end. I think he felt guilty he had to bother about Emma and me at all."

"Right, well," Draco said. "This is all very fascinating, but what about this Harz bloke? You really think he might have offed McGonagall?"

"It wouldn't be entirely shocking," Polyxena said. "But it's not really his style. His business is what's most important to him, and I can't believe Minerva McGonagall would have gotten in the way of a thieving gang of Squibs."

"Right," Ginny said. "I'd imagine she didn't even know they existed. It's worth a visit to this Harz bloke, though. Auror Moody, you know where he lives?"

* * *

A low, strangled hissing echoed from the craggy walls of the dank cave, and a sea snake wriggled over the threshold. The hissing grew louder, more violent, and the snake slithered to the left, to the right, then further into the shadows.

"Half past seven," hissed the sea snake.

"Can you tell me how to reach the nearest train station," came the voice from within the cave.

The snake reared up in confusion. "Human, what do you want?"

"Wait...just...talk...a...little more slower...slowly...I mean..."

A loud beep sounded from the darkness, and a strange, emotionless voice said in perfect English: "End of lesson."

He clicked the button to stop the tape player and sighed. The snake regarded him with an expression of disdain and slithered away.

He reached for the tape and crammed it into a yellow box that read "Rosetta Stone: Parseltongue."

Soon...tonight...he would succeed again.