“No, I haven’t read that book.”

“Do you really think he will ask her?”

“What about the quiet one- Lisa is it?”

“lets spray some of the stinky perfume in our compartment.”

Finally Lupin spotted two men he recognized in a bad excuse for muggle clothing. Stepping smoothly behind a column he pulled out his wand pointed it at the two men and muttered inaudibly under his breath. The two men both tripped, looked at each other and got on the dark blue train.

He turned as if to go, but in half turn he stopped. He had the distinct feeling someone was watching him. Looking around Remus saw no one. Wild thoughts whipped across his head- torture, death, and worse than death- all possible if he was caught. Trying desperately not to panic he started walking. He hadn’t minded undercover work until he had seen the bodies of Voldemort’s last victims. They were mutilated in ways never dreamed of. But he couldn’t think about that, not here, he had to control himself, there was a lot at stake. Stiffening internally Lupin headed out of the station.

***

Mrs. Figg was sitting quietly by the fire. She had a book in her lap, but she hadn’t turned the page for a half hour. She sat, and thought, and watched fire flicker orange and yellow. She was so intent on the colors that she didn’t hear the soft pop that announced her visitor.

“Marie dear,” a friendly voice said. “Are you alright?”

Mrs. Figg turned around and saw Dumbledore. She smiled broadly.

“Albus. How delightful. Please come and sit down, would you like some tea?”

“Never mind the tea,” said Dumbledore sitting next to Mrs. Figg in front of the fire. “I don’t have very long.”

“That’s right, shouldn’t you be at school? The students will be arriving soon!”

Dumbledore chuckled. “I have a few hours, all the preparation I had to do I finished weeks ago.”

“It’s just like you to be on top of things.”

They sat in friendly silence for a while. Mrs. Figg found herself slip into the past- eleven years ago.

She had been living on Privet Drive for about six years, her husband George had been working at Hogwarts, and Arabella was trying to find a home for herself- just a few years out of school. That summer had been a great one. When Mrs. Figg wasn’t watching Harry for the Dursleys she was able to visit her daughter and her husband. It killed her not having them close, but George would have it no other way, and neither would she.

After all, they had known Voldemort in school.

Dumbledore seemed to read her thoughts.

“There is nothing you could have done Marie.”

“I know,” said Mrs. Figg. “But I can’t help wondering if I had somehow given him a chance, if it would have turned out different.”

“You gave him a chance. We all did.”

He was right, She had given him a chance. More than one actually. She slipped back further in her memory. Ever since their first year at Hogwarts Tom Riddle had been infatuated with the lovely Marie Cantos, but she had been repelled by his inner cruelty.

Tom had been a model student of course, and he was always polite to the teachers and to his fellow student, at least on the surface. Mrs. Figg had seen his inner self. The part that would torture puppies and taunt students, the part he didn’t show except to his closest friends. And he desperately wanted lovely Marie to be his friend. To her, it was his one redeeming quality, she though he was capable of love.

But he wasn’t, not real love anyway. Tom didn’t love Marie, he had wanted her to be his, just like one wants a car, or a house. It was possession, not love. She had never really fallen for it, holding Tom off at arms length every year. They were friends, and frequently they were fighting. Every now and again she found out about something he had done that was so mean, so cruel, that she wouldn’t talk to him for a month. It was during one of these fights that she met George.

George was the very opposite of Tom. He was a good student, but far from perfect, he was clumsy and had a temper that kept the teachers on their toes. She had known George her entire time at Hogwarts, (who didn’t?) but it was a the beginning of seventh year when she ran into him (literally) out on the grounds that she fell in love. He had knocked her to the ground, being much bigger than her, and when he had reached down to help her up something had happened. Ever since that day they had loved each other, and even in the darkest times they had never stopped.

Tom had been mad. So mad he yelled at her in front of the entire great hall at breakfast once. George had yelled back, she had to have two of his friends help her stop him from hitting her past friend. That was the end of her friendship with Tom. They didn’t talk until the week before their graduation, he pulled her back after their potions final. She had been on the verge of forgiving him when he had told her he would kill George unless she married him. She had looked into his eye and knew he wasn’t joking.

She felt nothing but hate from that moment on. His front of kindness, of caring, was stripped away in an instant. Mrs. Figg had stood her ground against him. She had looked him straight in the eyes and told him that if he so much laid one finger on George he would regret it.

As she had turned to go she saw him raise his wand out of the corner of her eye. Whipping around she heard him cry “Crucio!” But she was ready. She yelled it back at him before his curse could hit her. They were stuck by their mutual curses for a minute before Frederick Fletcher found them. Tom had looked at her with shock beyond all belief. Mrs. Figg could tell he had administered the curse before, but he had never felt it. She had hurt him badly. Adding to his pain Mrs. Figg had threatened that next time she wouldn’t stop at Cruciatus, and stormed off.

The next time they met he had become Lord Voldemort.

“Marie, I want you to stop thinking about it,” Dumbledore said firmly.

“But they killed George because of me,” Mrs. Figg started to choke up. “If it wasn’t for me, if I had handled Tom better-”

For the second time in eleven years Mrs. Figg cried about her husband. Voldemort’s supporters had killed him. Tortured him and killed him eleven years ago today, just because George had loved her. The pain of finding out her husband was dead flooded back to Mrs. Figg as she wept uncontrollably into Dumbledore’s arms.

“Please Marie dear, I know it’s hard, but you can’t blame yourself. My godson loved you with all his heart. I know that he would have rather been married to you for a second rather than live with out you forever.”

Dumbledore had always know what to say. The tears slowly dried as Mrs. Figg got herself under control.

“Better? I have to leave soon so down to business.”

Mrs. Figg sat up straight and listened.

“The good first. Fletcher will be coming soon from France to help us. I expect you will enjoy that. Also, Arthur Weasley will be sending a ministry official to take Peter off your hands.”

Mrs. Figg smiled at that, she had not enjoyed having the stunned visitor in the house.

“Any questions?”

“One,” said Mrs. Figg. “What did you call this place when we first got here?”

“Ah,” said Dumbledore please she had asked. “It is called Katoikia, it means-”

He stopped in mid sentence and turned pale.

“Train, Harry, the devil,” he mumbled softly before slumping over and falling onto the floor.

Mrs. Figg let out a shriek and tried to catch the old man. She searched desperately for a pulse, but couldn’t find one.

***

On the Hogwarts express Harry felt a jolt.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” asked Ron.

“Didn’t you feel something, a bump?”

Ron and Hermione looked at each other. Neither of them had felt anything.

“Never mind,” said Harry quickly changing the subject. “here, look what I got for my birthday.”

Harry pulled out his mum’s book and held it out to Ron and Hermione to look at. Ron looked at Harry as if he had gone bonkers.

“An old poetry book, who gave this to you? The Dursleys?”

“No, it’s my mum’s. She even wrote in it.”

“Wicked Harry!”

Ron leaned in closer to Hermione who was paging through the book. Just then Harry felt another jolt, and a wave of nausea hit him.

“Harry, are you okay,” asked Hermione.

“Didn’t you feel that jolt?”

“No,” said Ron moving closer to his friend. “maybe we should go up to the front of the train, get some help.”

“No Ron, I’m okay, really.”

But as soon as the words were out of his mouth he slumped to the floor.

***

The 11:05 from Kings Cross to Edinburgh raced northward as usual. The passengers had settled in, and were quietly reading newspaper or paperbacks. Two husky men sat together and exchanged whispers. They got up all of a sudden and moved towards the toilets.

A few second after they left the train shook violently. A few of the passengers looked concerned, but the train kept going. A few more minutes passed. The train gave another shudder, and this time everyone looked up. They heard the screeching of metal and then were shaken out of their seats as the train jumped from the tracks.

When the rescue vehicles arrived on the scene shortly after they were met with chaos. People were wandering all over, looking for lost friends, crying, and just sitting in shock. A few small fires had erupted, and a stomach wrenching smell filled the air. As he was starting to triage one of the rescue workers looked into the sky. A large skull with a snake coming out of it’s mouth loomed overhead.

***

“What did you say the name was?” Penelope asked Arabella.

“Theavolos. Sounds nasty doesn’t.”

Penelope just nodded, so Arabella changed the subject.

“Anyway, Harry came up with the great keeper tactic this morning. I know you won’t be playing this year, but maybe you should pass this on to the coach. At least mention Harry’s name, that way-”

She stopped and looked at Penelope who hadn’t shown any sign of having heard.

“Penelope? Are you alright? Penelope!”

Arabella shook her gently.

“Sorry, I just zoned off. What were you saying?”

“Nothing, what’s up?” Arabella frowned at Penelope.

“How much do you know about Theavolos?”

Arabella frowned even more. “Not much really. Just that historically he seems to turn up before thing get bad. This is the first time Dumbledore has ever heard his name in connection with Voldemort though. That’s what really scares me.”

“Do you think they have information on him in the library?”

“I don’t see why not, he’s been around for at least the last 1000 years, why are you so concerned?”

“I think he may have been around longer than that.” Penelope said grimly. “Theavolos is an old Greek word used for the Devil.”

Arabella’s jaw dropped as she realized what her cousin was hinting at.

***

Scorn, Trouble and Jasper were sitting in the kitchen when Tipsy bounded in.

“Guys! The living room! Fast!”

Jasper couldn’t believe what he saw. On the floor was Dumbledore looking pale, and Mrs. Figg pumping his chest up and down.

“Jasper! Get help quick!” Scorn yelled to him.

He didn’t need to be asked twice. He bolted out of the room and into Mrs. Figg’s bedroom. Jumping onto a wooden desk he pawed at a mirror restlessly. It turned a creamy pale white.

“Arabella!” he said to the mirror impatiently.

It swirled purple and then blue. If only it would hurry he thought. Suddenly it cleared and Arabella’s face peered up at him

“Arabella! Come quick!” Jasper yelled, knowing full well that as far as Arabella was concerned he had told her that there were three men belly dancing in the living room.

He didn’t have time to see Arabella reaction because something hit him in the head. The hit was so hard that it threw him off the desk. Mirth stood by the mirror.

“Off.” She told it.

“What are you doing?!” Jasper said slowly sitting up, his head was pounding.

“I’m stopping help from coming,” Mirth slowly stalked up to Jasper. “Why, what are you going to do about it?”

Jasper tried to stand up taller, but his head hurt and his vision was blurry.

“It’s too late, she saw me, I’m sure she’s on her way now!” he said desperately wishing he had managed to sound more confident than he felt.

“Oh really? I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you. I believe I have hit you too hard, I hope so.” And with a cruel laugh she jumped at him.

***

Harry was confused for a moment. When his eyes came back into focus he saw Dumbledore, he was being choked by a pair of hands with no arms attached. Harry tried desperately to pry the hands from Dumbledore=s throat, but he couldn’t. He called out for help, but there was no one to hear him. He panicked.

“Harry! Harry, wake up!”

“Do you think we should call someone?”

Harry recognized the voices, but they seemed very far away. He wanted to talk to them, but hesitated, looking at Dumbledore.

“He’s quite again, is he still breathing?”

Dumbledore looked at Harry and it hit him, he was dreaming.

“Harry. Please, can you hear me? "

“He’s not waking up. we better get someone, the witch who comes around with the trolley”

“Wait!” Yelled Harry, sitting up abruptly.

Ron and Hermione jumped back looking at Harry with wide eyes.

“Harry, are you alright, we were so scared. You were so pale and-”

Harry interrupted. “Dumbledore’s in trouble!” Hermione and Ron just stared. “We need to do something, we need to help him!”

It was a testament to their friendship that neither Ron nor Hermione doubted that Harry knew.

“Do you know where he is?”

“Maybe we should tell the conductor-”

“-Or send an owl.”

“Hedwig!” Harry jumped up, ran and grabbed Hedwig’s cage. “But who are we sending it to?”

“Send it to Professor McGonagall, she’ll know what to do,” suggested Hermione.

Harry scrawled a fast note and sent Hedwig out the window.

“Should we go up to the front of the train too,” suggested Ron. “Maybe someone will know what to do up there?”

Harry answered by bolting out of the compartment and towards the front of the train. Ron and Hermione were following right behind him. They were almost there when Harry stopped. Blocking their path was Draco Malfoy.

“Where you going Potter?” Asked Malfoy with obvious contempt.

“Just get out of my way Malfoy,” said Harry while standing directly in front of Ron, who was being held back by Hermione.

To Harry’s surprise Draco raised his eyebrows and stepped to the side of the corridor to let Harry pass. Harry walked past Malfoy without giving him a second look, but just as he thought they were in the clear he heard a muffled cry and scuffling. Ron and Malfoy were rolling on the ground hitting each other.

“Stop it! Ron!” Hermione was trying her best to pull Ron and Malfoy apart, with little success.

“I’m going up front,” said Harry, not willing to waste anymore time. He ran on down the corridor, hoping he wasn’t too late.

***

“Did it work,” asked a cold voice.

“Of course it worked,” Theavolos replied with a sneer as he started to turn away.

“Wait,” said Voldemort softy.

Theavolos stopped and faced Voldemort, his eyes glittered darkly from underneath his hood.

“What is it you want. The train crashed, the dark mark was there. My work is done.”

“They are reporting that there were no deaths,” Voldemort watched Theavolos’ reaction at his words.

Theavolos waited a second before answering, “I think you should talk to you faithful death eaters about that,” and he left with a quiet pop.

Voldemort stared at the place where Theavolos had been standing. He couldn’t decide whether he had seen a flash of sadness in the eyes of the dark man.