going to be all right? Did I say anything about Tom? Or Harry? Or — '
Ben set the book down, his dark eyes suddenly serious. 'No,' he said, shaking his head. 'You gave me a Time-Turner set to this date. You told me to give you that flower. You said you'd need it later, and that…' He screwed up his face thoughtfully. 'That I should tell you that you are the anchor.'
'I'm the what? The ankle?'
'Anchor,' Ben repeated firmly. 'Does that not help?'
'Not a lot,' Ginny said with a sigh.
'Oh,' Ben said. 'You also told me to remind you to lock the bedroom door, so your mother doesn't come in and find us here.'
'Oh, now you tell me!' Ginny leapt to her feet and ran to her door. She slid the lock home and leaned back against the door. A moment later, the knob rattled.
'Ginny!' called Mrs. Weasley from the hall outside. 'Are you all right?
George said you were up looking for food.'
'I'm fine, Mum!' Ginny called back. 'I'm just going to sleep!' Ginny bit her lip. She hated lying to her mother. Still, this seemed a sin of omission, as it seemed unlikely that her mother was going to ask if her if there were two ancient, time-traveling, rather cute but probably gay wizards hanging out on her desk, reading romance novels. ' I'll see you in the morning!'
'Hmph,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'Well, all right then.'
A moment later Ginny heard her mother's footsteps retreating down the hall. She sagged against the door in relief and looked over at Ben and Gareth. Ben was regarding her over the spine of her book, a quizzical look on his face.
'You don't mind if we just stay here and finish the book, do you?' he asked. 'I do want to know what happens in the end.'
'Oh, dear,' said Ginny.
'Bloody buggering hell,' said Gareth, his tone mournful, 'I've eaten all the sandwiches.'
Malfoy, I know I said I wasn't going to write but this is important. I don't know exactly how to say this, but I think you should keep an eye on Seamus Finnegan from now on. I can't really say what happened but I bumped into him in Diagon Alley and he was acting very strangely. I would have warned Ginny directly but then I thought it would probably be better if I told you and you could keep an eye on them both. Something very strange happened to me today and I (the next part of the letter was blotted out with ink and carefully written over) hope you're all right and that everything else is too. I'll be back as soon as I can, Harry
'Seamus,' said Draco flatly, and let the letter drop out of his hand. 'He bumped into bloody Seamus. Sorry, Tom. How bloody ironic. I'm surprised he's still alive to write and warn us.'
'Don't say that,' said Hermione automatically, picking up the letter. She glanced over it, fumbling in her pocket for her wand. She tapped the tip of it to the letter and whispered, 'Originatus revelatus.'
Nothing happened. The spell meant to reveal from what location the letter had been sent was not working. Harry, Draco thought, must have blocked it.
'Harry's not quite that dimwitted,' said Draco, with a dry sort of amusement. Hermione made a face at him. 'Although, certainly, dimwitted enough. That letter will be one for the history books. 'Bumped into Seamus Finnigan the other day. He seemed a bit off color. Perhaps he has 'flu, or has been possessed by the spirit of the most evil wizard who ever lived. Both options are so exciting I'm having difficulty choosing.''
'Oh, let Harry alone,' said Hermione. 'You know, it isn't exactly a conclusion that most people would jump to.' Something seemed to occur to her. 'Oh, God,' she said. 'I hope he isn't stalking Harry or anything. Oh
— we have to get to him, Draco, as soon as possible.'
'I'm aware of that.' There was a bitter taste at the back of Draco's throat that had nothing to do with the antidote he had just swallowed. 'Any suggestions as to how?'
Hermione was still looking thoughtful. 'Have you ever heard of The Continuum Translocatrix?'
'Didn't they get to number five on the pop charts with I Do Believe We're Naked?''
'Don't joke.' Hermione glared. 'It's a locator spell that uses time magic.
See, we burn the letter and make a paste out of the ashes, then we feed the ashes to a Kneazle, and then we use some of the Kneazle's blood to make a Locanarus Potion, and we boil the potion six times, and after that we — '
'We could do that,' Draco agreed. He had picked up the letter again and was holding it up to the light. 'Or we could just go to the address printed on the parchment.'
'The what?' Hermione snatched the letter out of his hand. 'What address?'
'It's a watermark. Hold the paper up to the light.'
Hermione did as instructed. Her brow furrowed. 'I just see three letters.
TMC.'
'Yeah,' Draco said. 'It's a place.' He hesitated. 'Not a very nice place.'
Hermione lowered the letter. 'What do you mean? Is it a dangerous place?'
'It's near Knockturn Alley,' said Draco, a bit diffident now. He wasn't exactly sure how Hermione was going to react to the news that Harry seemed to have found his way to an infamous den of wizarding vice. He wasn't sure how he felt about it himself. Knowing Harry, he'd wandered in there thinking it was a flower shop. But then Draco wasn't sure exactly how well he actually did know Harry after all. 'It's a club of sorts. A… gentleman's club.'
Hermione narrowed her eyes. 'A strip club?'
'It's not a strip club,' said Draco, with perfect truth.
'Then what is it?'
'It's a brothel,' Draco said, and cringed.
Hermione went a greenish sort of color. 'A brothel?'
'A Polyjuice brothel,' said Draco. 'Very illegal. People go there to…'
'I know what people go there to do!' Hermione said furiously. 'I've read about places like that.' Belying her officious tone, her cheeks were scarlet.
'And how do you know all about this one, Draco Malfoy?'
'Because,' he said. 'My father owns it.'
Hermione shook her head. 'I suppose that shouldn't surprise me.' She sagged back against the counter, biting her lip. 'Now what? We can't exactly turn up at a polyjuice brothel and demand to search the place.
Those places are horribly illegal and I doubt they like attention. They'd toss us right out on the street, or worse.'
Draco looked at the letter again. The writing was hurried, urgent, the letters sprawling across the page, but still unmistakably Harry's, those looping a's and curving s's. He wondered if anyone could imitate Harry's handwriting well enough to fool him. He doubted it. The tone of this letter, like the other he had received yesterday, was Harry's; he heard Harry's voice speaking to him in his head when he read it. And Harry's terrible handwriting would be hard to imitate. His own would be much easier: it was careful, elegant, standardized handwriting, just as his father had taught him.
He looked down at his right hand. Pale and slender, the index finger heavily laden down by the weight of his family signet ring. He flexed his fingers and lowered his hand thoughtfully.
'Draco?' Hermione said, in a worried tone. 'Are you…?'
'I need parchment,' he said. 'And a quill. And some wax — sealing wax.
And we need to hurry — I'd imagine we don't have very much time.'
She drank the Polyjuice Potion before she put on the costume they had given her to wear. She couldn't have fit into it otherwise. The clothes were very small, made to be worn by a young girl, one no older than sixteen or seventeen, and a small girl at that.
She had worn her share of schoolgirl clothes before. It was amazing how many wizards had that fetish. The only other costumes more common in the brothel were Quidditch players' outfits. People went mad for those, and the brothel made them with 'special adjustments' — tight trousers, high leather boots, heavy-buckled wristguards
