Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

Draco's expression changed to one of complete confusion. "Blaise's barrettes? What the bloody…?"

"She gave me these to give to you," Hermione said shortly.

"She what? When? How?" Draco looked flabbergasted.

Hermione smirked. "Look, she just did, okay? She said they had protective magic of some sort. I don't know why. They look like perfectly ordinary barrettes to me."

"They're basilisk scales, actually," Draco said absently, looking down at the one in his hand. "Tiny baby basilisk scales, overlapping — there was a custom among pureblood families generations ago to wear ornaments containing bits of Dark creatures: Hellhound teeth, dragon blood pendants, werewolf bones. My signet ring — " he held up his hand — "has gryphon blood in the stone. It's a traditional thing."

"Well, she seemed sincere about wanting you to have one," Hermione said.

"I worried about giving it to you…"

"You shouldn't," said Draco, with a supreme and obnoxious confidence.

"She loves me."

"Everyone does," said Hermione wearily. "Pin it on your shirt, then, will you?"

"Suddenly I feel pretty," said Draco, doing as instructed. "Is there one for Harry?"

"Yes, and I'll give the other to Ginny," said Hermione.

"Is there another one for you?"

"Yes, she gave me four," she lied. "Stop fretting."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her, but before he could speak, the door opened and Harry came back into the room. He was carrying another plate, and this time he was surrounded by at least nine house-elves, all carrying plates, bowls, and platters. He looked very proud of himself.

"I didn't know what you might want," he said to Draco, "so I got a little bit of everything."

Draco burst out laughing.

"Oh, honestly," said Hermione, and threw up her hands in despair.

"What department do we want again?" Lupin asked, studying the embossed Ministry Directory with some confusion.

Sirius, leaning against the wall nearby and fiddling with the lid on his coffee cup, glanced over with a slight yawn. It was still early morning, and neither of them had gotten much sleep lately. "Department for the Regulation of Underage Wizards," he said. "It's usually on the third floor on Tuesdays."

"I don't see it," said Lupin, and turned back to the directory. Privately, he thought they were wasting their time and knew that Sirius did as well. But Ron had now been gone for three days, and Molly and Arthur were panicked. The clock on the wall still showed him to be traveling, and the goldenrod in the window box, planted the day of Ron's birth and linked magically to his health and well-being, was blooming and upright. But Ron was nowhere to be found. Owls had been sent to all relatives, the old crowd dispatched, Dumbledore notified. It now remained to make it an official matter of a missing underage wizard. That Arthur still trusted the Ministry surprised Lupin. But then, he had never trusted the Ministry himself.

There was, however, something very peculiar going on with the Ministry directory. Lupin scanned the list of departments with a raised eyebrow.

The Department of Redundancy Department

The Department for Putting Things On Top of Other Things The Department of Retroactive Continuity

The Department of Two Guys Named Vinnie

The Department for the Misuse of Muggles

Lupin blinked. "Shouldn't that be Misuse of Muggle Artifacts?"

Sirius tossed the coffee cup over his shoulder. "What's wrong with the directory?" He came to stand beside Lupin, smelling strongly of coffee and flowers. Lupin's nose twitched. The full moon would be on shortly, and his sense of smell was always stronger just before he changed.

"Must you use gardenia soap?" he demanded, unable to help himself.

"I asked you a question first." Sirius scanned the directory with curious dark eyes, then laughed without amusement. "Well, everything's arsed up properly, isn't it. Come along then. We'll just keep opening doors until we find someone who knows where we need to go."

"That seems like it would take a long time."

"Bollocks," said Sirius succintly, and took off for the nearest staircase. He raced up it quickly. He still ran like he had when he was a boy: as if he were being pulled onward and upward by celestial cords. Having spent his early years not having gone much of anywhere, Sirius had always been the one who wanted to go faster, fly higher, run farther. Lupin, who could run faster than any of them, had been too frightened of his own speed to do so, and James has always been happy enough where he was. As for Peter…

Sirius paused impatiently on the landing. "Remus, are you coming, or not?"

Lupin followed Sirius up the stairs. At the top was a long corridor, identical to hundreds of other Ministry corridors. The polished marble floors seemed to stretch into infinity, lined with oak doors. Sirius strode up to the first door, whose plaque declared it to be the Department for the Regulation of Regulations, and pushed the door open.

Inside, a small, pixie-faced witch, sitting at a desk, looked up and frowned.

Her nameplate proclaimed her to be a Miss Alice Wack. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for the Department for the Regulation of Underage Wizards,"

Sirius said in his most charming voice. "Might you be able to assist me?"

Usually Sirius' most charming voice melted the hearts of witches like chocolate in the hot summer sun, but this one looked merely nervous.

"I'm sure I don't know where that is. This is the Department for the Regulation of Ensorceled Fruits and Vegetables."

"Actually," said Sirius, glancing at the plaque and then back at the witch behind the desk, "it seems to be the Department for the Regulation of Regulations. Or isn't it?"

Her flush deepened. "I think you'd better talk to Master Malfoy," she said.

"He's in charge of the renovation plan."

"Bloody Lucius Malfoy," said Sirius through his teeth. "I'll show that maniacal bastard renovations. I'll renovate his face."

"Please go away, sir," said the witch. "You're frightening me."

Lupin pulled Sirius away from the door. "Thank you," he called back to the witch, "you've been very unhelpful," and he shut the door firmly behind them.

"Sirius, this is ridiculous. All roads lead to Lucius, you know that. I doubt there is a Department for the Regulation of Underage Wizards any more, or if there is, it's been transfigured into an espresso bar. Why are we bothering?"

But Sirius' eyes were bright with anger. This, Lupin knew, meant there would be no talking to him. He strode up to the second door on his right (Department for the Regulation of Divination, according to its plaque) and threw it open.

The office inside was empty save for a desk upon which sat an enormous crystal ball. It lit up when they poked their heads in, and spoke in a high trilling voice.

"Welcome to the Department for the Regulation of Divination," it said.

"We were expecting your visit and have therefore elected to be out of the office."

Sirius turned slowly to Lupin. "This isn't going to work, is it?"

"No," Lupin said gently. "Look, if you like, we can look for Frances Parkinson instead. He's temporary Minister."

"He'll be on the fourth floor in half an hour," piped the crystal ball.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Well, then."

Lupin sighed. "Off we go," he said.

As Sirius reached for the door knob, the crystal ball piped up one last time. "I'd tell you to have a nice day," it announced, "but I already know you won't have one."

"Oh, sod off," said Sirius sharply, and slammed the door behind them.

Upon leaving the infirmary with her books in hand, Hermione found Harry tooling around in the outside corridor with a disconsolate expression. She sighed and looked at him severely. "If they awarded points for moping, we'd have the House Cup in the bag for this year and for several years to come," she said.