Grimmauld Place had never felt more like home and more like a prison than the almost two months Harry had spent there. Kreacher followed the Ministry orders from Gaunt and allowed no letters out of the house. This was particularly painful as Harry had never had a chance to send Ginny a note telling her what had happened. The second letter he’d received from her he knew meant trouble. She was angry, furious. And he couldn’t blame her in the least. He was, by rights, a horrible boyfriend. Since the catastrophe at the memorial, he’d only sent her one measly letter. Now more than ever did Harry kick himself for not heeding Kreacher’s advice and seeing her.

Gaunt had sent him regular letters, letting him know what he was to expect. Harry had dozens of files strewn across his sitting room. He spent the time studying who he’d be meeting and how he’d be expected to act.

The Ministry had been investigating a group of magical artefacts smugglers. They had been focusing on big ticket items: larger items that had deep magical history behind them. Harry was worried about the locket he’d given Ginny. It was a very valuable heirloom and he wondered if it had any Dark Magic connotations. He tried to think back to the conversations he’d had with Hermione, but didn’t think anything dark would be associated with something from Godric Gryffindor.

He thought about using the journal she’d given him for his birthday, but Kreacher, in his fervour to keep him unable to communicate with the outside world, had hidden it. He had even bewitched Harry’s wand so he could not cast a Patronus charm to communicate.

The rows that followed were fierce. Kreacher held firm to the Ministry rules and Harry had, initially, told Kreacher to not allow him to communicate. He tried to retract the command, but Kreacher knew better and stuck to the original decree.

Not one person from the Ministry had stopped by, but Harry had been receiving messages through strange means. One of the files Harry had been given would flash brightly and create new messages for him. He had been sent a map of London. On it were marked various locations of interest where the smugglers had been spotted. It was still unclear whether there was one central figure, or vying groups.

After reading the various files, Harry was under the impression that there were specific items being sought after. It didn’t seem like anything related to Voldemort. Both he and Gaunt had ruled that out early. There was no way to raise the Dark Lord. That would be impossible. The Ministry had destroyed his body and all the Horcruxes had been destroyed as well. That had been the only way to defeat Voldemort. Harry had wondered if there might be rogue Death Eaters on the loose, but as he studied more, that seemed less and less likely.

Even Lucius Malfoy had stayed clean. He had avoided the smuggling entirely. The Malfoy family had sold many of its holdings in various corporations and seemed to be veering more and more towards honest work.

Harry had, thankfully, not seen much of Draco Malfoy since the previous year and this reminded Harry of seeing Hermione with him at the memorial. The look on her face came back to him when he thought about the Malfoy family. Hermione and Draco had been anything but friends. In all honesty, they seemed to both detest one another. Draco had made every attempt to make Hermione’s life impossible, through both Ron and Harry. And Hermione had no love lost for Draco. In their third year, Hermione had punched Draco outright for being a prat. Although he meant to be a nuisance, if not for Draco’s attempt to have Buckbeak killed, they would not have been able to save Sirius with him. Harry hadn’t seen Buckbeak, or Witherwings, as they changed his name to avoid Ministry policies, and wondered if he had been freed after the battle the previous year. Harry hadn’t seen him, but recalled Hagrid having him recently. He wondered if Kreacher couldn’t locate him.

He had pleaded repeatedly with Kreacher to go to Ginny, but the house elf refused. ‘Master Harry! I cannot go to Hogwarts. The Headmistress will not look kindly upon it. I dare not tempt her wrath!’ The house elf was practically trembling.

Harry groaned. ‘If I’m your ‘master,’ then shouldn’t you do as I tell you?’

Kreacher nodded slowly. ‘Yes, of course Master Harry, but you also told me to follow your instructions and not communicate with the outside world.’

Harry furrowed his brow. ‘I need to talk to her, Kreacher, you have to help me.’

The house elf backed away from Harry, as if he would strike him. ‘Master Harry, please do not ask me, I cannot, I dare not.’

Harry stepped back. ‘Kreacher, I don’t know what else to do. I can’t go see her. You refuse to help me. Who else can I turn to?’

Harry looked helplessly at Kreacher and the house elf looked away. He started quietly, ‘Master Harry, I know no solution you’d prefer. If you leave Grimmauld Place, you will make the headlines from The Daily Prophet true.’

Harry sat heavily on the nearby couch. ‘I know…but I can’t let her…bloody hell, you saw that letter. She’s lost complete faith in me! And who can blame her! I haven’t said a word to her in almost two months.’

‘She received your last letter, Master Harry,’ Kreacher offered.

Harry didn’t see fit to acknowledge this. ‘But what must she think since I didn’t reply to any of her other letters? I mean…she must think ill of me, the ring’s gone cold. And not the ‘she’s in trouble’ type of cold.’

Kreacher nodded slowly. ‘I’m of little use, Master Harry. I cannot break your original request; you said it superseded all others. I cannot break my word.’

‘But what if Ginny called you to her, then you’d have to go, right?’ Harry asked hopefully.

Kreacher gave Harry a curious look. ‘I suppose, Master Harry, but why would she call me? Would she not need a reason?’

Harry put his head in his hands. ‘This is so frustrating! I can’t go to her. You refuse to go to her. I can’t even send her a bloody letter!’

Kreacher cowered at Harry’s rage and Harry regretted it almost immediately. He put his hands up quickly. ‘Isn’t there anything I can do?’

‘Unless she calls me, Master Harry, neither of us can do anything. We are locked here, until Mr. Gaunt announces your next move.’ Kreacher meandered out of the room shortly thereafter to prepare dinner.

Harry didn’t have long to wait. The very next day a letter arrived, all in black. It was an invitation. Gaunt had finally convinced someone to let Harry meet them. The letter told Harry where to go and when to be there. Not fifteen minutes later, a long instructional letter appeared on the Ministry file. Gaunt gave Harry explicit instructions about all the things he was to do and what he was to be interested in. It was not a small amount of information and Harry found himself having to spend a great deal of time trying to remember all the various details.

Kreacher did not bring up Ginny and Harry spent as little time as possible looking at the various pictures of them together. It felt like a piece of his heart was being torn out, knowing she was questioning his motives and his concern for her. After everything they’d been through, he knew she couldn’t be so easily swayed. At least he hoped so.

The date came and Harry dressed casually. He wore dark colours and set out for a small pub near Piccadilly Circus. It was the first time he’d been out of the house in months, but didn’t dare go away from his course. He was to go straight to the pub and sit down for a drink. He would then be approached by another wizard and from there the details became a little unclear.

Harry entered the dimly lit pub and seated himself at the end of the bar near a Muggle television playing a local football match. One club seemed to be outpacing the other club by a large margin and Harry started to recall the rules of the game as he watched. He was so engrossed in it he didn’t notice the young wizard that sat next to him. The man tapped the counter for a drink and Harry turned, startled at his sudden appearance. The man was tall, despite sitting down, Harry could discern his height. He was dressed in Muggle clothes, but this seemed natural. He was wearing light colours and this offset the man’s blonde hair and gleaming blue eyes.

Harry sat down and commented, ‘Good match.’

The wizard waved blithely. ‘Perhaps. I don’t take in Muggle sports as a general rule.’

Harry grinned. ‘Ah, so are you my ‘date’ for tonight?’

The man laughed a low, hearty laugh. ‘Sorry I couldn’t be a red-head.’

After reading the file, Harry knew he had to play this just right. ‘She’s not too thrilled with me right now either, but I wouldn’t complain.’

‘Really? Trouble with young love, Mr. Potter?’ he asked.

Harry sighed, sipping his Muggle drink. ‘It isn’t always smooth sailing, as they say.’

‘No indeed.’ The man drank his drink quietly and Harry waited patiently, knowing he couldn’t force the issue. The man drained his glass and said, ‘Ready to go?’

Harry drained his glass and felt the effects fairly quickly. He cursed himself for his low tolerance and tried to nod. ‘Yeah, sure. Where we off to?’

The man laughed again, but mirthlessly. ‘You should know better than to ask that. How do you feel about Side-Along Apparition?’

‘Not my favourite, but if that’s how we have to play it, then let’s have at it!’ Harry knew he sounded like a young playboy, exactly what Gaunt had wanted. The idea was to give the impression that Harry had let his fame go to his head and now wanted bigger and better things.

It was an easy game, for this one man at least. Harry wondered how thick he’d have to lay his cover on as he met more people. The man led him out of the pub and around the corner. There were quite a few passer-bys, but the man paid them no mind. Harry jogged after him. ‘Hey, what should I call you?’

The man turned and smiled. ‘You know I won’t use my real name, Mr. Potter.’

‘Of course not,’ Harry concurred.

‘Then you may call me Tom,’ he said simply.

Harry wondered at the choice of name, sharing the first name with Lord Voldemort, but didn’t bother with it. Tom grabbed Harry fiercely around the collar and said, ‘Now don’t struggle.’

With a blinding flash, they evaporated on the spot. Harry felt the world flip upside down. This felt nothing like Apparition. Once they landed, Harry fell to the ground, vomiting everything he’d had for the day. He tried to get up, but rolled over onto his back. Tom stood above him, shaking his head. ‘Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Potter.’

Harry took a few moments to collect himself and slowly got to one knee. They had landed in the middle of a field. It had no striking landmarks to speak of, and Harry hoped that when this memory was viewed again later, it would reveal something worthwhile. But as he imagined, these people were too clever to use the same place twice.

He stood slowly, rubbing the back of his neck and then wiped his mouth. ‘I’m fine. Sorry about the mess.’ He waved his wand and the vomit disappeared.

Tom rolled his eyes. ‘Let’s go, Mr. Potter.’

Harry followed gingerly as Tom led him further into the surrounding forest. There was nothing in sight. Even the forest had grown silent at their arrival. As they reached another clearing, Harry began to discern three figures. All of them were of similar height and were shrouded in dark coloured robes. Harry slowed as they drew closer.

There was a nod between the three figures and Tom motioned to Harry. ‘As you’d requested, I’ve brought the great Harry Potter.’

Harry took a deep breath and said, ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

They didn’t move. Their faces were hidden by their hoods. The hoods had been drawn down, covering all of their features. The middle figure stepped forward, his wand to his throat, and said in a garbled tone, ‘Welcome, Harry Potter. We thank you for your part in Voldemort’s fall. We wish to honour you with admittance to our society.’

Harry ran his hand through his hair. ‘I’m not big on meetings, as you might expect after that mistake of a job at the Ministry.’

Tom chuckled and said, ‘We don’t have meetings, Mr. Potter. Once you’re a member, you’re privy to all sorts of things.’

The three seemed to confer wordlessly and Tom stepped forward. ‘Time to go. We’ll send word in one month. Please be ready to complete the rest of your…initiation then.’

Harry started to say thanks, but Tom pulled him away and towards the clearing. Harry cringed. ‘More vomit-inducing Apparition?’

Tom grinned. ‘My favourite as well.’

With a jerk Harry crashed back on the ground not far from Grimmauld Place. Tom looked around as Harry dry-heaved what little he had left in his stomach. Tom pulled Harry to his feet and said, ‘Remember what I said. In about a month, you’ll be getting another black envelope. Same deal. If you have questions, they’ll just have to wait.’

Harry nodded dumbly and headed unevenly into his house. Kreacher was there waiting, looking as nervous as ever. He drew Harry a hot bath and a cup of hot tea. Harry had told Kreacher all that had happened. He set to write out all the events in his Ministry paper; after doing so, he was told to send his memories to the Ministry straightaway.

Pulling memories was slightly less painful than it looked. Harry conjured a vial and placed his memory within it. He handed it to Kreacher and the house elf Disapparated on the spot.