Sirius and Remus could barely keep up with Gregoram as they hurried out of the Ministry buildings and down the street. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor scarcely seemed to notice the other pedestrians on Diagon Alley--he swept past them like they didn't exist, cloak flapping behind him.

"Where are we going?" Sirius asked, running to catch up.

"You'll see in a minute. Are you coming, Lupin?" Remus redoubled his efforts, and their speed increased slightly.

Gregoram eventually led them all the way to a tiny building right next to Eyelop's Owl Emporium. It was extremely nondescript and looked as though it had been intended to be that way--the gray walls and black tiled roof looked like any one of hundreds of Muggle homes Sirius had seen. Gregoram walked briskly up to the front door and rapped twice before turning the knob.

"Follow me, and don't be worried, whatever happens."

Sirius gave Remus an odd look and saw that he was just as confused by this remark as Sirius himself. Gregoram opened the door, and all they saw was blackness. Their former teacher stepped forward and disappeared into it.

Remus gasped in shock, and Sirius felt his mouth drop open. "Do you reckon we should follow?" he asked hesitantly. Moony nodded, recovering quickly.

"He knows what he's doing," he said confidently, and before Sirius could reply, he too had stepped into the building and disappeared.

Sirius took a quick look behind him--none of the pedestrians seemed to notice them. He wondered if the building had some sort of enchantment on it that kept anyone from really thinking about it unless they knew where they were going, rather like the Leaky Cauldron. He'd certainly never seen it before. Sirius took one deep breath and walked right into the doorway.

He heard the slamming sound of the door behind him but scarcely thought about it, because the moment he'd left Diagon Alley behind, the solid, dark floor beneath him had vanished, and now he was plummeting downwards through the blackness.

Sirius threw his arms out in front of him, his wand flying free of his grip, trying to catch at something--anything--to break his fall, but nothing met his frantic hands. "Remus! Professor!" There was no reply; his voice seemed to fade away the moment it left his lips. Though he could see nothing, the speed of the wind whistling in his ears told him that he was speeding up rapidly. His stomach gave an almighty lurch, as though he was being turned forcibly upside-down, and then he was blinking up at the ceiling under a bright white light. A clattering sound announced the arrival of his wand.

"Umph!" The breath had been forcibly knocked out of his body, though he didn't seem to have collided with anything.

"Padfoot...?" Remus' voice, oddly strained, came from somewhere to his left. Sirius sat up slowly and turned his head--his friend was laying on his back a few feet away, white-faced and wide-eyed in disbelief and shock.

"You're both alive and well, I trust?" Gregoram was standing over them, looking extremely amused.

"Fine," Sirius replied distantly, staring upwards. There was no long, dark tunnel to fall through, only a white ceiling.

"It comes as a bit of a surprise your first time," the Professor said, hauling Sirius to his feet. As he steadied himself, he took the opportunity to look around, and his jaw dropped.

The room they were standing in was enormous--at least the size of a Quidditch pitch, if not larger. The ceiling, on closer inspection, was not a plain white; streaks of silver darted across it, changing size and shape so quickly as to confuse the eye into thinking they weren't there. The streaks of color seemed to be streaming between each of the huge marble pillars that lined the walls every few meters. Velvet drapes of blue, scarlet, and purple hung between these, casting arced shadows across the floor and the white marble of the walls. Below their feet was an intricately worked pattern of blue, silver, and gold lines that reminded Sirius of something he thought he'd seen in a textbook.

Remus also seemed interested in the floor. He was bent down, running a finger over the lines in intense concentration. He looked up at Sirius.

"Celtic knots."

"What?"

"Never mind, you never paid attention in Magical Theory. That's what Muggles call them--they think they're just decorations and the stories about the power they hold are myths, but it's true. They're patterns like this, and if made properly, you can do quite a bit with them. This whole floor is one gigantic, complex Celtic knot."

"So, what's it used for?"

"No idea...it could be anything. I don't know much about them. Professor Quetzyl only mentioned them in passing."

Gregoram cleared his throat, and Remus snapped upright. Sirius' curiosity faded as he remembered why they were there.

"Where are we, Professor?"

"The British headquarters for the Guild."

"I thought it was in Arabia."

"Many of the members are British, including Miss Heckleburst. Follow me, and don't wander from side to side. Nasty things can happen to you in here if you're not careful."

Sirius raised his eyebrows, but Gregoram had already begun to walk away. Shrugging to himself yet again, he followed, taking care to stay directly behind the Professor. They crossed the floor silently. Sirius' thoughts were back with James--could they possibly find him here?

It wasn't until they'd gotten quite close to the wall at the far end that he noticed the last two pillars in the center of the wall--there was no drape between these. Instead, he saw a shimmering silver screen that leapt and danced with static. Before he could ask Gregoram about it, the professor had stepped through it. Sirius followed quickly, bracing himself for whatever surprise lay beyond this new opening. Much to his surprise, the three of them emerged into a small office room with no remarkable features whatsoever.

The witch sitting in the chair behind the single, large desk in the room looked up as they entered, tapping a sheaf of parchments on the desk and setting them down. She was very obviously foreign, with dark skin, eyes, and hair, but when she spoke, it was in a clipped, almost too-precise British accent.

"Vincent Gregoram, is it not? I do not believe that I have seen you in quite some time."

"I haven't been here for awhile. Do you have the files on a Rowena Heckleburst?"

"Naturally, I do. Do you have access to personal files?"

"I don't."

She adjusted her spectacles and raised her eyebrows expressively at Gregoram. "I need some identification, Mr. Gregoram."

"I have none. I'm not a formal member of the Guild."

"Ah...what is it, exactly, that you need from the records?"

"Background history, whether she's been charged with any crimes, anything you have. And we need to know her exact location."

"I am afraid, Mr. Gregoram, that I cannot help you with that, if you have no identification. Perhaps it would be different at the Guild Main Headquarters."

"Do you have a gateway open?"

"It will not take long." She looked past him at Remus and Sirius. "Who are these young men?"

"They are training with the Ministry. Both can come with me."

"Just a moment--I need to check on that. Your names, please?"

"Sirius Black."

"Remus Lupin."

The witch removed an empty manila envelope from her desk drawer. "Sirius Black." There was a brief pause, and then the envelope expanded until it was bulging with papers. She took the top paper out and glanced at Sirius, then read through whatever was written on it. "That will be fine, Mr. Black." She replaced the paper. "Remus Lupin." The process was repeated, but this time she paused halfway down the sheet.

"You are a werewolf, Mr. Lupin?"

Remus nodded, flushing, but the witch didn't react the usual way at all--there was no horror or fear in her face. "I am very sorry, Mr. Lupin. You will need to remain behind. According to British law, as I am sure that you know, werewolves may not leave or enter the country without the official processing papers."

"Leave the country?" Sirius exclaimed, but Gregoram took no notice.

"That is not a Guild regulation, nor an Egyptian."

"Absolutely true, Mr. Gregoram, but the Guild works alongside the British Government. We would not want to create dissention."

"Mr. Flamel is a personal friend of mine. I'm sure he would understand."

"Quite possibly, he would understand, but he also would not want to anger the British authorities. It is best that Mr. Lupin remain here while you are gone."

Gregoram had turned, apologetically, to Remus. "I'm sorry, Lupin...perhaps you ought to go back with Mrs. Potter. She'll probably want to talk with someone right now."

"It's all right," Remus said, but his voice was strained; Sirius could tell that he wanted to come with them. "Let me know once you find out anything. And--er--how do I get out of here?"

"I will take care of that," the witch said. "Mr. Gregoram, Mr. Black, allow me a moment to ready the gateway." She took out her wand and approached the doorway they'd come in through, muttering spells and enchantments that Sirius had never heard of. When she was finished, it glowed a bright indigo, and she nodded. "That will take you directly to the Guild Headquarters. Just walk right through it."

Sirius glanced back at Remus, who smiled encouragingly. "Good luck." Gregoram led him through the gateway.

On the other side, Sirius stepped out into a teeming crowd of people in a room strikingly similar to the first they'd seen, complete with the Celtic knot engraved on the floor. On the other hand, this was far from empty. The walls were lined with bookshelves and filing cabinets, and rows of desks extended across the whole room.

"Where--"

"The Main Guild Headquarters, in Cairo, Egypt."

He'd already noticed that scarcely anyone here looked European, and the snatches of conversations he could here were not in English, but the news still came as a bit of a shock. He had no time to brood on this, however, as Gregoram was making his way through the crowd, and Sirius definitely didn't want to get lost here. As they went, it occurred to him that not few of the women their were wearing the heavy veils with eye-slits that he'd always associated with those in Egypt and the neighboring countries. He mentioned this to Gregoram.

"Not everyone here is Moslem," the Professor replied. "Besides that, the wizarding communities here are not quite as traditional in many ways as the Muggle communities. Try not to stare, though, Black, whatever you do--they might take offense."

Sirius tore his eyes away from a man with a large purple tattoo covering about half his face--he'd certainly never heard of that custom, and wondered if it was an isolated example, as nobody else seemed to have one--and trotted along after Gregoram, who had begun a lecture reminiscent of countless Dark Arts classes, lapsing into the voice and vocabulary he always used in front of a class. Sirius wondered if he should be taking notes.

"The Guild is a bit similar to our Ministry, though actually it works alongside the Egyptian Magical Government as an adjunct branch. Most of the people here aren't actually Guild Members, just hirelings of the members. The Guild itself is very selective in those that it accepts. The criteria include proficiency in alchemy, defense against the dark arts, and magical theory."

In this room, there were doorways between each of the pillars, rather than the marble walls back in Diagon Alley, each with a sign above it. The words were in Arabic, but Gregoram either could read them or knew exactly where he was going; he hardly paused before choosing the corridor he wanted. "The records are kept in the North wing of the building. The Guild keeps tabs on all of its members, its employees, and anyone else they take an interest in."

"Including British Aurors-in-training?"

Gregoram smiled wryly. "As the secretary back in the British headquarters said, the Guild works with our Ministry from time to time. You would probably not find your own records here, but the Guild stations in each country will keep their records just as carefully."

"So how is this going to help us find James?"

"Supposing he and Rowena met up at one point, we can find her and see what she knows. Moody showed you his tracking globe, didn't he? Well, the Guild tracks all of its members, using a much more precise and reliable system."

"Why can't you just use a locator spell to find her, or James, for that matter?"

"You don't think I tried?"

His stomach twisted sharply. "You mean someone's concealing where they are?"

"That's exactly what I mean."

"So they have been taken by the Death Eaters."

"It's a good guess--for James, at least. Rowena can't be found with a locator spell. Guild members--particularly those in the Dark Force Defense League--are saturated with anti-dark spells, and they're hard to touch. Not much gets past them, aside from Avada Kedavra."

Before Sirius could completely comprehend what Gregoram was telling him, they'd reached the end of the corridor. The Professor reached up to knock on the door in front of them, and a voice answered in Arabic. He pushed the door open and motioned for Sirius to go in.

Once again, he was disappointed to find it a small room, with a single desk and secretary. What didn't at first catch his eye was the enormous world map that made up the back wall--it was perfect, down to every last detail, including the shadow cast by the sun at that particular time of day. Over the entire surface, a hundred tiny glowing pinpricks of light were blinking on and off. All were either red, blue, or green, except for about five white dots that shone brighter than the rest.

Looking down from the wall, Sirius saw that the desk in front of them was, indeed, occupied, by an Arab man with a neatly trimmed beard and, of all things, a Muggle business suit. He rose to his feet and greeted them with enthusiastic handshakes and an overflowing of deeply accented English.

"Professor Gregoram!" Sirius glanced at the other man sharply--how on earth did he become so well known around here? "You have returned to Egypt! I have not seen you in so long, Professor. Who is this that you have brought with you?"

"A former student of mine, Abdullah. How is your family?" They went on in this vein for quite some time, Abdullah exclaiming over his youngest son and his eldest daughter's marriage, before Gregoram finally got to the point.

"Abdullah, I need to call up a Guild member. We need her exact location, if possible."

"Certainly, Professor! Who is it?"

"A Rowena Heckleburst."

Abdullah removed a long wooden object from his desk drawer. It looked rather like a wand, but the tip was forked, and when he waved it at the map and said, "Rowena Heckleburst!" in a commanding voice, it glowed bright blue.

"What's that?" Sirius asked interestedly.

"This? It is a divining rod. Each of these spots of color is one of the people the Guild has decided to track." Abdullah indicated the blue dot that was now glowing more brightly than the rest. "Blue is for the Guild members, red for suspected enemies of the Guild. Green shows the honorary members, those only loosely connected. White is for our Leader and his appointed advisors. Diviso!"

The map flickered and suddenly, it was focused in on Western Europe, Rowena Heckleburst's dot still shining out, larger than the others. "Diviso!"

Now all that showed was Britain. Sirius saw that there were about ten blue dots, most gathered right near London, a few green, several red, and a single white. Besides these, Rowena's blue lay sprawled out over all of Wales and a great deal of England, blurry and rough around the edges.

Abdullah's jaw dropped. "This is not to happen," he said in astonishment. "There are no mistakes. The spell shows the exact location, not this--" He broke off, staring at the wall.

"It can only mean one thing," Gregoram said quietly; his eyes, too, were fixed on the blurry blue streak across the island. "The Death Eaters have her, too."

"Can't we do anything?" Sirius felt his voice cracking, but he didn't much care. "Can't we find them?"

"I can. But it won't be easy--this is more serious than I thought. Abdullah, send Mr. Black back to London for me. Black, find Dumbledore if you can, and tell him what's happened, he'll know what I'm doing. If you can't get a hold of him, tell Minerva instead."

"But-"

"Trust me. Hurry, though...I'll need all the help I can get."

********

195 Down--Infamous Dark Wizard, defeated in 1945

That one was easy--Grindelwald. Peter leaned forward and scratched the name out on the Daily Prophet's annual Giant Crossword, which took up nearly all of the table he'd laid it out on. 196 Down was harder--Quidditch team Captain, six letters, the first "A" and the fifth "L". He really wasn't all that great at crosswords, but they were relaxing. Sirius, on the other hand, got the Daily Prophet solely for the word puzzles, and was, surprisingly, outstanding at them. Peter frowned--James would know this, he was obsessed with Quidditch. The lounge door opened, and Arthur Weasley walked in, also on his dinner break.

"The six-letter name of a famous Quidditch captain, beginning with 'A'."

"Harrison Arnold," Weasley said promptly, sitting down next to Peter at the table. "Current captain of the Chudley Cannons."

"Thanks, sir."

It was about six now, and the mood at the Ministry was still subdued and shocked--people hadn't gotten over hearing about the Prewetts. Peter was tired out from his day of work, but there were still three hours left of it, and he was only too glad to spread his paper out on the lounge table and unwrap his corned beef sandwiches.

"What's this I hear about you quitting?"

Peter glanced up at Weasley, who looked curious rather than dismayed.

"It's not certain quite yet, I just wanted to talk to Balbus about it. I got a job offer from the Law Enforcement Department earlier today."

"Really?" He looked impressed. "As an Auror?"

"No." Peter jabbed his quill into the "D" of Arnold rather more emphatically than he meant to, hoping Weasley wouldn't notice his reaction. "In the Justice Department. They need a court secretary and an assistant for their public lawyers. It's not exactly the opportunity I was hoping for, but it could easily lead to promotions." He bit his lip, feeling guilty for some reason. "I hate to leave just now, since that there's so much work to be done and after you've done so much to help me out--but I just don't think this department's my thing."

"Don't apologize." Weasley gave him a kind smile. "Everybody's got to make their own goals. Just because yours are different from mine doesn't make that a problem. I understand completely. So, you're taking the job?"

"I start in a week. Balbus wanted me to finish up a few jobs here first."

Weasley nodded. "Makes sense." He sat down and took out his own dinner. "What do you think it'll be like, working for Crouch?"

Peter shook his head and swallowed his mouthful of sandwich. "I don't know him that well. He seems awfully strict."

He looked down at his hands, thinking hard. "He didn't seem to happy about the Committee's decision today, did he, even though he said it was unanimous. So he must have voted for Dumbledore as well."

Weasley nodded. "He probably wanted to hold a public election--thought he'd stand a good chance of winning it, and Dumbledore wouldn't run--but everyone thought it was too urgent a matter, so they decided they should get someone to fill in. Dumbledore's not actually the Minister, of course, they just needed someone to exercise some authority. I'd bet Crouch only voted for him because he knew he'd lose popularity with the other department heads if he didn't."

Peter had thought of that. "Makes sense, doesn't it."

"From what I know of Crouch, which admittedly isn't much."

He leaned back in his chair, looking down at the newspaper in front of him. "What do you think of him?"

Weasley glanced at him sharply. "You want an honest opinion?"

He nodded.

"I respect him--he's my superior and he's definitely against the Dark Arts. But it's become an obsession to him, and I admit that I'm scared to death of people like that. Did I ever tell you about my father?"

Peter shook his head. He'd heard about Jakob Weasley, of course. There were few people that hadn't, but how the former Law Enforcement Head had died at the young (more so, for wizards) age of forty-nine was a well-kept secret in the Ministry, one that he'd never heard.

"He became the Head when I first went to Hogwarts; you might remember, from History of Magic classes, that although Grindelwald had been defeated several years before, his old supporters had come together and tried to gain power again. I remember what he was like before then--I was the oldest of six children, you know, and he'd play with us every moment he was home from work, unless he was spending time with Mum, taking her to concerts and that sort of thing. That all changed soon after he got the job. He'd spend almost every waking minute in London, and on the rare occasion he was home in time for dinner, he'd eat in his study, holed up behind mountains of paperwork.

"I remember an argument he had with Mum in my second year. She kept on telling him that this wasn't a job any more, it was an obsession...and that he was going to end up sacrificing everything for it if he wasn't careful. She was right, of course, though I was too young to fully understand at the time. The Ministry's still keeping what happened a secret, or trying to. He ended up killing himself--and seven others--in experimental Dark Magic he was going to use against Grindelwald's supporters."

Weasley paused, examining his sandwich carefully. Before Peter could say anything, the door opened, and Balbus Ebriel stepped in.

He was a short man, mostly bald, with a fringe of gray-brown hair above his ears and a round, cherry-red nose. Peter liked him--he was essentially good-hearted, if bumbling and not exactly sober half the time he was at work. At the moment, though, his usual cheery smile was missing.

"Pettigrew," he said shortly, "James Potter is a friend of yours, isn't he?"

"He is, sir."

"Have you seen him at all today?"

Peter stared at him in complete confusion. "No, sir, I haven't."

Balbus scratched his head and frowned. "You'd better come with me, lad."

"What's wrong?"

"Jonas McCaffrey wants to talk with you."

"About what?"

"I don't know, Pettigrew, but I don't ask questions. I'd hurry if I was you."

"Yes, sir."

Peter stood, tossing the remains of his sandwich into a dustbin and crossing to the door. What was going on? Was something the matter? Something, of course, being completely aside from the fact that their Minister of Magic was dead and his new boss was obsessed with killing dark wizards.

Several minutes later, after crossing the street into another ministry building, Peter found himself in the Law Enforcement offices, Balbus directed him to McCaffrey's office. "He should be in there. If he's not, just wait a few minutes, and he'll show up."

His department head left without another word of explanation. Peter followed his directions until he arrived at McCaffrey's door. His knock was answered with a curt, "Come in!"

McCaffrey's office was similar in layout to Fletcher's, although it didn't look as though it had been recently set upon by a rabid manticore. The Auror was sitting behind his desk, but Remus, Minerva McGonagall, and Vivian Potter were also there. They all turned to look at him as he came in.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately. He'd seen Remus with that face on before, but the last time had been when they'd all been told that they were going to Azkaban.

"It's Potter," McCaffrey replied without preamble, swiveling around in his chair and motioning Peter to a seat. "He hasn't been seen since this morning."

"Well, he could be anywhere, couldn't he? That's no reason to get worried."

"He missed an Auror's class this afternoon, and nobody's seen him since. We've tried a locator spell. It's not working."

Peter's mouth had gone dry, and he stared from McCaffrey to Vivian, whose was staring blankly at the opposite wall. "You don't think--you don't think the Death Eaters--what would they want with James?"

"He was last seen with a young woman that the Death Eaters seem very interested in. If they managed to find her when they were together, it doesn't look good. Do you know where he might be?"

"I don't have any idea."

"Sirius and Professor Gregoram are trying to find out," Remus put in optimistically.

"Where are they?"

"It's a bit of a long story...."

"But will they find him?"

"Quite possibly, but it won't be easy. The Death Eaters will have thought of everything."

That, Peter thought decisively, was not very reassuring.

********

The door opened once more, and James was startled out of the daze he'd fallen into. He peered through the darkness--the room was dimly lit by an unseen light source--at the opening, where several dark shapes were moving. The short, thicker one shoved the other forward, and it collapsed down onto hands and knees. The door swung shut as the first figure disappeared into the corridor, closing with an ominous thud.

James caught his breath as the light threw her face into sharp relief.

"Rowena!"

There was no reply, just pained, gasping breaths. She lay facedown on the floor, shuddering every few seconds but otherwise quite still. How had she run afoul of her fellow Death Eaters?

Rowena's betrayal still smarted, but he couldn't help but feel sympathy for her. She was obviously hurt and weak, a condition he could relate to. The pounding in his head had receded somewhat by now, fortunately, and his body didn't ache too badly as he crawled toward her on hands and knees.

"Miss Heckleburst?"

She let out a moan, raising her head slightly from the ground and turning her eyes to stare blankly at him. When Rowena recognized him, she closed them again and laid her head back down. He could see her throat working as she swallowed.

"James."

"It's me. Can you sit up?"

"If you'd help me." He did so, raising her shoulders and helping her over to lean against the wall.

"I'm all right. Just sore." Her voice cracked, and she buried her face in shaking hands.

"What did they do to you?" She didn't reply, just shook her head and sat there, hunched over and quite obviously in pain.

"Is there anything I can do?" She shook her head again, then raised it from her hands, wiping perspiration from her forehead.

"It'll go away soon enough. I just need to rest."

"If you say so. What did they want?"

"Information."

"What information?"

"The room is being monitored, James. I'm sure of it. That's probably why they put us both here, hoping to overhear something. Besides, the less you know, the less they'll have to torture you for."

He'd regained his earlier resentment. "Why would you care?"

Rowena stared at him in confusion. "Of course I'd care, do you think I want to see you tortured to death?"

"That's why you brought me here, isn't it?"

Understanding flashed through in her brown eyes. "You think I did this?" Rowena laughed, a harsh, biting sound. "No. I was taken completely by surprise. I suppose it serves me right--I should have known better than to take a shortcut like that one."

James flushed. "I'm sorry. I just thought--"

"It's understandable."

"How long do you think it'll be before somebody notices we're gone?"

She shrugged, her shivers having abated somewhat. "When I don't show up to help Merulla out tomorrow, most likely. If it is tomorrow still. How long have we been here?"

"I was hoping you could tell me. My watch is broken--I think I knocked it against something when I got hit over the head."

"What about your mother? Surely she'll get worried if you don't come home."

"So maybe by evening they'll know I'm gone, at least. And I had a class with Moody this afternoon. Sirius and Remus will notice if nobody else does. But how much of a difference will it make? They'll have no way of telling where we are, or even if we're still alive, supposing that they work out who took us."

Rowena shook her head. "There's a way...but it might not work, if the Death Eaters have thought of it. And that's supposing anyone thinks to check, or realizes that we were together...."

James leaned back on the wall next to her, trying to ignore the now distant aching in his head and limbs. "In the meantime, what will the Death Eaters do with us?"

"Torture." Her tone was bleak, and he wished he could see her eyes in the dim light. "I don't know what they want you for."

"Information about Dumbledore's network of spies, I suppose. Not that I know much."

"Still, at the risk of sounding self-centered, I'd hazard the guess that I was the main target here. You were just a bonus. They can't expect a recent initiate to know much about the network at this point."

Rowena broke off, out of breath and panting. She coughed once, swallowed, and resumed. "They'll keep us here until they get what they want, unless it becomes too risky. In that event, there's only one thing they'd do with us." He didn't need to ask what that might be.

They both subsided into silence and their own private thoughts. James' flew to his mother--how was she taking this? Did she even know yet? And what about his friends--Sirius would be trying to convince the Ministry that they ought to torture Snape for information about where the Death Eaters might have taken him. Remus would pace up and down, hands clasped behind his back and a frown concealing any other expression that might cross his face. Peter would be somehow convinced it was all his fault, and Lily would be trying to comfort him.

His next thought was that he might never see any of them again. His stomach twisted painfully at the idea, and he lapsed into a dreamy half-trance in which no thought was necessary.

Rowena broke him out of it, what might have been hours later, with a small sigh.

"You shouldn't be here."

He sat up slightly, squinting across the floor at her. She was staring fixedly at the door, biting her lip in agitation. "You should never have been involved in this. They were after me, James, and it's my fault that we're here." He wasn't sure what to tell her, and when he tried to say something, she cut him off. "No, I was careless. I know better than to go wandering around in dark alleys." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You're too young to be involved in things like this."

He laughed. "I'm almost eighteen and I'm training to be an Auror. I'd better get used to it. Besides, you can't be much older than I am!"

"I'm twenty-eight. Ten years, James. Ten short years that you should be spending playing Quidditch, getting married, and finding a job somewhere safe."

"Did you?"

There was silence, and then another sound--that of a door creaking open. James could barely make out the tall outline of the cloaked figure standing there. Rowena seemed to be holding her breath and waiting for something. The moment came when the Death Eater had entered the room and shut the door behind him: in a sudden burst of energy, she leapt to her feet and threw herself at him. James was too shocked to do anything, and in seconds, it was over. Tom had her firmly by the shoulders and she hung, limp and winded, in his grasp.

"That was not wise, Miss Heckleburst." Tom's voice was gentle and faintly amused. "Irritating your captors won't get you anywhere; you are in no physical condition to overpower me. Was this what you wanted?"

He indicated his long, thin wand, held in one hand with Rowena's arm. "Even if you were to obtain a wand, there's no good in apparating out of here, you know. And there are guards. Do calm down, my dear. I've no intention of hurting you." He set her gently down on the ground and turned away.

"James. Is your head any better?"

"It is, thank you."

"Good--come with me. Do you need a hand up?"

"I can manage." He got slowly to his feet, and Rowena shuddered.

"He doesn't know anything. He can't tell you--"

"I think he can. Come along; you stay here, Miss Heckleburst."

They left her staring helplessly after them. The corridor outside was cold and damp, and James shivered in his thin summer robes. Tom glanced at him.

"Are you doing all right?"

"Fine."

Tom smiled slowly at him, eyes twinkling in a way frighteningly reminiscent of Dumbledore's. James shuddered. "You're awfully resentful of me, aren't you? I suppose it's natural. But you see, I don't have much of a choice in this matter, do I? You have your superiors at the Ministry, I have mine here. Their orders aren't always those you'd like."

"Crouch has never made us torture people."

"Hasn't he?"

James stopped cold, staring into Tom's intense, dark eyes. "What are you talking about?" he asked harshly.

Tom's smile had disappeared completely, and there was no mirth in his tone now. "James, think about it. Hasn't he tortured your classmates and yourself? Your best friends? Didn't you see them screaming in pain on the classroom floor? And aren't you learning how to do that to other people? If the Cruciatus isn't torture, James, I don't know what is."

James' mouth had gone dry; it was as though his own thoughts and fears, buried so deep that he hadn't known they existed, had been laid bare and he was forced to look at them. "That's different." His voice came out in barely a whisper. "It--it's for a greater good. The Ministry only wants to help--"

"Has no one ever told you that the road to hell is paved with good intentions?" Tom's face was pale, his eyes dark, glittering orbs in that white countenance. "It's true, James. I've seen it happen. I've seen people who thought they were fighting for the 'greater good' turn into inhuman monsters, willing to go to any means to achieve their own ends. That is who the Death Eaters are, James."

He turned and continued on down the corridor. James had to hurry to catch up.

"Where are you taking me?"

"You'll find out."

He'd no sooner said so than they turned a corner and met up with a shorter, thick-bodied man, whose cloak and hood matched Tom's. This hood, on the other hand, was pulled up to reveal nothing of the Death Eater's head but his eyes, which took in the scene at a glance.

"This the initiate we captured?"

"Yes, sir." Tom's tone was submissive.

"I'll take him, Marvolo. You have other jobs to be taking care of." Tom nodded and, before turning away, flashed James a quick glance, whether in warning or in encouragement, he didn't know.

The other Death Eater's voice was gravelly and low but authoritative. He jerked his hand for James to go on in front of him, and James knew without looking that there was a wand pointed at his back every step of the way. He tried to remember the twists and turns of the passages for future reference, but there was nothing distinctive in the darkness to guide him, and they took too many corners to remember.

"In here." The door they stood in front of looked exactly like the door in James' dungeon. It flew open with a wave of the Death Eater's wand, and James walked into the room, trying to conceal his terror. The sight that met his eyes was not reassuring.

A single, black-robed figure stood on one side of the room, which was furnished exactly like his cell--not at all. That was, of course, except for the large crystal ball standing in one corner. It gleamed dully in the light thrown by several torches lining the walls. James wondered what it was doing there. His Death Eater poked him sharply in the back with his wand, and he stumbled forward into the room under the intense scrutiny of the other at the back wall.

"James Potter," the Death Eater said in a distant voice that James realized, with some surprise, was female. She crossed the room to the crystal ball and sat down in front of it, taking out her wand and pointing it at him. "Auguro!"

Expecting the worst, he flinched away from her. Instead, the feeling in his body dissipated until he sagged limply to the floor, only dimly aware of his hands and knees striking the rock. It was incredibly difficult to think, like he was forcing his thoughts through a thick pudding....

Then, quite suddenly, the fogginess in his mind seemed to flicker, and his thoughts flew unerringly to a conversation he'd had just the previous evening with Jonas McCaffrey.

"Good, Potter. You're catching on quickly, all of you. Vincent told me about the Patronus."

"Thank you, sir."

"You know, Potter, there's no need for all that formality. Call me McCaffrey or just Jonas, almost everyone at the Ministry does."

"Yes, sir. If you says so."

He could hear the grin in his mentor's voice.

"You'll get used to it. Most new Aurors do sooner or later--we're a close-knit lot. We have to be--you've got to get to know the people who're guarding your back.

"Oh, by the way, Potter, before I forget...there's another meeting Sunday afternoon at six, same place, at Crouch's mansion again."

James' eyes were drawn to the crystal ball as the scene replayed itself in his mind. Distantly, he saw two figures inside it, talking to one another--and realized that he could hear what they were saying--

Horrified, he jerked his thoughts away from the conversation. Something else--anything else!

Dumbledore's voice echoed through James' mind and through the room, his face in the flickering light of Crouch's mansion clearly visible in the crystal ball.

"NO!"

The shout burst uncontrollably from him. It was just like breaking free of the Imperius curse--once he gained the will to do so, his head cleared immediately; along with the clarity came the distant ache in his head and the new, sharp pain where his knees and palms had hit the ground.

The woman at the crystal ball looked down at him.

"This is going to be more difficult than I'd hoped."

"He might not know much."

"He probably doesn't. Still, I want everything I can get. Auguro."

"One...two...three...four...five...six...seven...eight...nine...."

He thought back to a trick Moody had taught them--it was a way of concentrating yourself to break the Imperius curse. James set his mind firmly on one number after another; it was a simple task, but it might well work. Though he was counting inside his head, he could hear the words emerging from the corner the witch was sitting in. He felt something nudging his mind back to Dumbledore and McCaffrey, but he gritted his teeth and concentrated.

Sensation returned again. The witch had lifted her wand.

"It's not working. He's learned to fight it."

"There are other ways."

The witch stood up, and although her face was covered, James could hear the frown in her voice. "I don't like it, Mulligan. We don't want to end up with damaged goods--they aren't worth anything."

"He isn't worth anything if he doesn't talk, healthy or not."

"Very well. Crucio."

Pain...unbelievable, ripping, tearing pain flooded through him...for only the barest instant. He'd scarcely had time to scream before the it ceased, and the witch was looking down at him.

"That," she said quietly, "was the smallest fraction of what we can do to you. Do you want to feel it again?"

He screamed, thrashing about helplessly on the floor, just as he'd done a day ago on the floor of his classroom. Again, it was over almost before it began.

"Now, James Potter...what do you know about the wards set up around the Crouch mansion?"

"Nothing." He had to force the word out between clenched teeth.

"Is that so? Perhaps something to jog your memory. Crucio.

"Quite enough, Potter?" She'd bent down until she was looking directly into his face.

James let out a low moan, squeezing his eyes shut. "I told you, I don't know anything...." The words came out in a harsh, choked gasp.

"Is that so, Potter? Perhaps something a bit more specific. If you don't know anything about Crouch's house...you cannot be totally ignorant of the Aurors' work. That Jonas McCaffrey's caused us a good deal of trouble, you know."

I'll bet he has, James thought fiercely. And I'll take Avada Kedavra before I give him or the others away.

Funny, though. I don't know anything. What could I possibly--

The thought was cut off when he felt a hard, pointed object--probably her wand--pressed against his chest.

"Now, I want you to think hard and carefully, Potter, and then I want you to tell me everything you know."

"I already told you, I don't...."

"Crucio!"

This time, it didn't seem to end. The pain started, and it just kept going...and going...just when he thought he couldn't possibly stand it any longer, he heard the door come open with a loud bang that just cut through his screams, and the Death Eater lowered her wand. Tom was standing in the doorway.

"Clumsy work," he said, taking in the scene at a glance. "You're going about it all wrong."

"Marvolo, don't get out of line. You're not in charge here."

"Maybe not, but I've got my orders, Mulligan. The higher-ups weren't too happy when they found out what you'd planned for him, and what you'd done to the last prisoner."

James found a sickening sort of pleasure in the fear that seemed to creep up into Mulligan's voice, though he was obviously trying to hide it.

"This is the only way we're going to get any information out of him. Get out of here."

"You don't believe me?"

"I don't think it's any of your business."

"When you're killing off useful prisoners, it's my business. Once I learned what you planned to do to him, I informed Titulus. He wasn't especially happy about it."

" 'Titulus' has no authority over me, and neither do you, Marvolo."

Tom had been slowly advancing on Mulligan, and now he leaned slowly forward until the stockier man was backed into the wall, glaring defiantly up at him.

"Don't I, Mulligan? Perhaps a demonstration of the authority I do have...."

Their faces were so close together that Tom's nose must be pressing into Mulligan's forehead, though James couldn't see clearly--he was still on the floor, his vision swimming, and Tom's back was turned to him. Something must have happened, though, because an instant later, Mulligan had drawn in a tight breath, and he let out a terrified whimper.

"Now," Tom said slowly, pronouncing each word with perfect clarity, "are you satisfied?"

The other Death Eater couldn't even manage a nod, but as he sank, trembling, against the wall at his back, it was fairly obvious that Tom had convinced him of whatever authority he claimed to have. The female Death Eater was looking on in puzzlement, if James was reading her posture correctly--he couldn't even see her eyes beyond the mask from his position on the floor.

Tom turned abruptly, leaving Mulligan shaking with fear, and looked down at James. "Come with me. There are better ways to be doing this." He glared at the witch as he helped James to his feet and ushered him out of the room.

James stared at him in disbelief, the remnants of the pain in his body put aside for the complete confusion that was filling his mind.

"What did you do? How--"

"That's not important. Arrogant fool--he knows better than that."

"I thought you said your superiors--"

"I should have been left in charge of you. Mulligan will learn not to disobey direct orders. He hoped to gain approval from the Dark Lord; I doubt that he has succeeded."

"Now what's going to happen to me?"

"You'll be questioned. My way."

Tom raised his wand, and the stone walls around them dissolved. Much to James' astonishment, he found himself seated on a sofa in an elegantly furnished room. Tom was standing next to him.

"What is going on here?" he demanded, rising to his feet and staring about at his surroundings. "Where--"

"Our whole hideout is not all cold stairways and dungeons. Are you hungry?"

James choked, unable to reply. Tom nodded once and moved swiftly to the door on the other side of the room. "Don't try anything foolish, James. Security's no laxer here than anywhere else." He walked out, and James sank back onto the couch, his head spinning. Could Tom possibly have any power over the other Death Eaters? And how did his idea of "questioning" involve plushy armchairs and food?

The Death Eater returned in a moment, a large tray of steaming food floating in front of him. He used his wand to set it gently down on the table in front of James and took his own seat across from him.

"Help yourself, there's more where that came from."

He stared down at the tray--roast chicken and butterbeer never looked so good. On the other hand....

Tom was smiling in his distant sort of way, obviously amused. "I haven't poisoned it, if that's what you're thinking. We can't have you starving to death, can we?"

"I'm sure Avada Kedavra's more fun."

His voice sharpened. "Eat. If it helps, I'll have some too."

"I'm not hungry."

His stomach gave a telltale rumble. James watched Tom cut up a slice of the chicken and swallow it before he himself reached for a plate. The food was delicious, made all the more so because he'd spent the last few hours walled up in a cold dungeon with nothing to eat. This prompted a question.

"How long have I been here?"

"About nine hours. It's eight at night right now."

He reached for the butterbeer--it was hot and thick, and it warmed him up from his head to his toes. James took another sip and relaxed a bit; he could breathe normally now, without sudden stabs of pain.

"So, perhaps you'll answer my questions?"

"No." James bit into another slice of chicken and thought he'd die of pure pleasure. "I don't know anything."

"I believe you know more than you think. Have some more butterbeer."

James took another glass gratefully. He was starting to feel a bit lightheaded and wondered if the drink was stronger than usual. Tom waited until he'd drained the glass.

"How many others did Dumbledore decide to bring into his network?"

"Five." He had the funniest idea he shouldn't be saying this, but it felt right. Of course he'd answer all the questions he was asked. "Lily Evans, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Severus Snape."

Tom smiled across at him, and he wondered vaguely why he had ever found the Death Eater at all threatening. He was perfectly trustworthy, and James needed to help him. "And who are their mentors?"

"Lily's with Arabella Figg, Sirius is with Edward Cole, Remus is with Professor Gregoram, Peter's mentor is Mundungus Fletcher, and Snape's got Moody."

"And what do you know about each of them?"

"Not too much. I know Arabella Figg works for the Law Enforcement office and the Department of Mysteries. Cole's an Unmentionable, so I've got no idea what he does. Sirius might know. Professor Gregoram's the Defense teacher at Hogwarts, so I know him pretty well. He's an only child, I think, and he lives somewhere in Scotland. He's working for the Ministry, too, but I'm not sure how. Fletcher manages the intelligence part of the network, keeping records and all that. Moody's the best Auror the Ministry's got."

"What was that about Gregoram?"

"He's doing some secret work for the Ministry. Rowena's helping him teach this year because he needs time off to do that job. I think he's reporting to Crouch about it."

"What makes you think that?"

"Crouch was angry with him about the dementors, if I remember right. That was the idea I got."

Tom nodded and handed him another glass of butterbeer. He drank it down immediately and without protest. "Do you know anything about the wards on the Crouch mansion?"

"Crouch said they were as secure as he could make them. That's all I know."

"Have another drink, James."

Tom was holding out a glass into which he'd just put a drop or two of some clear liquid from a small vial he'd been hiding in his robes. James took it, and the moment he swallowed, his lightheadedness doubled. He seemed to be fading slowly from the room...he was still answering questions, but he didn't seem to need to think about them at all...it was the most natural thing in the world...he was floating away....

The world gradually disappeared, and the next thing he knew, he was sitting back in his cold dungeon cell, feeling more than a little giddy.

"Rowena?" he called, or, rather, tried to. His throat didn't quite seem to be working properly. James tried hard to remember what had just happened. He'd been with Tom, he remembered, but anything besides that was a blurry spot in his memory. For some reason, it seemed urgent that he remember--what had Tom wanted? Something about Crouch, he thought.

"James, can you hear me?"

He coughed to clear his throat. "Is that you?"

"It's Rowena. What did they do to you?"

"I don't remember. Tom-"

"That Death Eater who took you away?"

"That's him. He--said something to me, but I don't remember what. Something about butterbeer." It occurred to him, belatedly, exactly how ridiculous that sounded. "How did I get back here?"

" 'Tom' brought you back just a few minutes ago. Set you on the floor and left without a word."

"I don't remember that."

"You wouldn't. He used Veritaserum on you."

He leaned back against the wall, trying to puzzle it all out, despite the fact that his head still didn't seem quite attached to his shoulders.

"How do you know that?"

"I know the symptoms. I've had a lot of practice with brewing and using Veritaserum; it comes in handy in my line of work. Do you remember what they asked you about?"

"Nothing. It'll come to me when my head clears."

"Most likely."

There was silence for another minute. "So what exactly is your line of work?"

"I'm a member of the Dark Force Defense League."

"You're joking."

"No, I'm not. Why else do you think I got chosen for the Dark Arts job? Dumbledore only picks people with lots of experience."

"Is that what they questioned you about?"

"Yes, that's what they, very ineptly, tortured me for. 'Tom' seems to know what he's doing."

"He does. He doesn't seem like my idea of a Death Eater, though."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think he wanted to hurt me, just find out what I had to say."

"Didn't he? That's what the Death Eaters do, James. They kill people. Tom's one of them; you can't trust anyone at this point. Particularly not someone who's holding you captive."

"I know. It's just--strange, that's all. I can't quite figure him out."

The door slammed open with a loud bang, and the room was lit by several glowing wands.

"Up! Both of you!"

It was Mulligan, flanked by four others. James recognized the tall one on the left immediately. Before he could sit up, Mulligan's boot collided painfully with his side.

"Don't ask questions, just move!"

He was being shoved out the door, half-supported by Tom and another Death Eater. "We're changing hideouts," Tom whispered close to James' ear so the others wouldn't hear. "Don't react, just go along with everyone."

They were following the same path as he'd been led down earlier, but Mulligan stopped much sooner and turned to open the door to yet another dungeon cell.

"The wards are down here. They're going to use a Portkey."

Two of the Death Eaters were with Mulligan on the other side of the room, bending over something that James couldn't see. Tom remained with him, and one of the others was standing next to Rowena.

To his complete shock, James felt a thin piece of wood slide into the sleeve of his robes. It was warm in his hand--

"Apparate once you feel the Portkey tugging you away, back to the Ministry buildings. It's the only chance you'll have."

Tom glanced up at the rest. The three in the corner were straightening up, but the Death Eater next to Rowena had turned away. James saw the look on her face and realized with another thrill of astonishment that she, too, had been given back her wand.

"Don't say a word!"

"Come here, both of you!" Rowena and James were shoved forward to take a hold on the long woolen sock he assumed they'd just charmed as a Portkey.

Apparate back to the Ministry buildings....

The Death Eaters had fallen into place. Although he was holding the sock with one hand, he closed his other around the wand up his sleeve.

"Five seconds."

Apparate back to the Ministry buildings....

He fixed the visual in his mind, exactly as he'd seen it a hundred times.

"Three...."

Tom nudged him with his own wand as a silent reminder. Rowena, standing in front of him, was tensed and ready.

"Two...."

This couldn't possibly be happening.

"One...."

A powerful force seized him in the stomach, and he was flying forward...but not for long....

"Apparo!"

Someone else shouted it at exactly the same time, and the familiar white curtain sprang up between him and the rest of the world as James was forcibly yanked from the Portkey's pull.

Another jerk, and he was thrown backwards.

His vision flickered and held, and they were both sitting in the middle of Diagon Alley, wands outstretched, except a funny blue cloud was hanging around them, and a loud voice was shouting, "Employees of the Ministry and private citizens are reminded that as of noon today, wards are being set up so that one can disapparate from, but not apparate into, all Ministry buildings in London, so please make travel arrangements accordingly....Employees of the Ministry and private citizens are reminded that as of noon today, wards are being set up so that one can disapparate from, but not apparate into, all Ministry buildings in London, so please make travel arrangements accordingly...."

The doors to the Ministry building were thrown open, and half a dozen Hit Wizards came pouring out.

"Oh, dear," Rowena muttered inanely.

"Stop right where you are! Don't try to move!"

Neither of them did.

"Garrett..." said one of the witches exasperatedly. "This is getting out of hand. My goodness, what's happened to the two of you?"

"That's not important right now," Rowena said impatiently. "I need to speak with Jonathan Prewett immediately."

The witch and Garrett looked uneasily at each other, and then the woman turned back to them.

"Jonathan Prewett was murdered last night."

"What?"

"You hadn't heard?"

"I most certainly hadn't." Rowena's voice was shaking, and James felt almost as horrified as he had when he realized the Death Eaters had captured them.

"That," Garrett interrupted, "does nothing to explain what the two of you are doing here."

"We didn't know about the wards. This just makes it all the more urgent. Albus Dumbledore or Barty Crouch then, but I need to talk to them. Now."

"Hold it right there! You're in no position to--"

Though Rowena hadn't moved, and her wand remained limply at her side, an invisible force had lifted Garrett forcibly into the air, where he hung, twisting frantically.

"I am a member of the Dark Force Defense League, and I have important information for Crouch. I am in a perfect position to demand that you release us and show us to where we can talk with him."

Visibly frightened, the witch waved her wand at the two of them, and the blue mist (which had made any movement sluggish and hard to accomplish) disappeared. Rowena gently set Garrett back onto the ground and got to her feet.

"Now, if you would be so kind...."

He nodded frantically and led the way back into the building. James trailed along behind, gaping as openly as the Hit Wizards.

Disclaimer: As always, it's all J. K. Rowling.

9/10/01--Author's Note: I about started sobbing when I looked at the reviews for my story...most were about a page long.... Sigh. So here's a thank-you and response for everybody.

Trepidatio: Ooh, good luck at college...where are you going? I mean, obviously, you don't have to tell me (it's the internet and all) but I'd like to know. Everyone seems to think I should be figuring out where I'm supposed to be headed, but I'm not even graduating from high school for a few years. Plenty of time for that later. Anyway...I'll get around to the Imperio thing after awhile, I'm working on coming up with a good enough idea for its origins. It'll come eventually. Thanks so much, you're on my "favorite reviewers" list, among so many others.

JenesisDark: I'm different, am I? I love it! On a site like this, with 17500-some HP fics, that's saying a lot...thanks so much.

lore: I'm so glad you're enjoying it!

Episcopal Witch: What can I say? I'm delighted that you like Gregoram and Peter, I do too...and as for Tom Riddle, I have some interesting possibilities in mind for him...James won't be finding out who he is for quite some time, if ever. Let's see...what else...oh, yes, there will be a "cataclysmic" event of sorts that will set Remus' ostracism in motion. It will also lead to the suitcase thing; I've got that all planned out. And it has to do with the "Guild" and what I have in store for Gregoram, and meeting James' cousin, Malcolm Quirrell, since you asked. See, what I'm trying to do is set up a plotline for each of the four main characters, and the climax for each will occur at about the same time. The trouble is, each plotline's not going to last more than a year of their time or so. Have you noticed how slowly it's moving? I'm going to have enough type for about twenty novels by the time I'm done. The more, the merrier, I suppose.

Lena: I'm going to review your story...eventually...I've read it, but I won't say anything because I want to save that for reviewing. The trouble is, I usually only get about five minutes at most on the Internet, unless I catch my parents in a good mood and they don't need the phone line. So most of that five minutes is spent copying stories onto my hard drive, checking reviews, and updating. I checked out that website, www.schnoogle.com, and I considered getting an account. Then I read the info you have to submit--I mean, really. What do they want my birth date and home address for? I'm flattered that you think I should post my story, but I don't feel comfortable giving out that sort of information--I'm only 15, maybe I'll do it when I'm older. I love the site, though, so thanks a lot for recommending it! Reread my response for E. W., most of it applies to you too...thank you for reviewing. It's responses like the ones I've gotten recently that make this worthwhile and use up all the Kleenex in the house.

All right, we're going to try coming up with an even longer chapter. That'll be interesting, but I've got so much planned, it'll work out just fine, I'm sure! That's why this took so long. My sincere apologies, I thought maybe you'd prefer a better chapter to a quicker one.

9/15/01--I began this chapter, including the trip to Egypt, well before the eleventh. Please don't misconstrue any references to Arabs--I don't think anyone could possibly take offense, there's nothing derogatory whatsoever, but I just thought I'd be careful. I know that there has been talk of possible hate crimes against American Arabs lately. I have the profoundest respect for those of that nationality.

I really do apologize for taking so long. I did my best, but school started, and Calc at the university...the last week or two has been a bit of a nightmare. I'll try to move a little faster.