G. Lippert - James Potter and the Hall of the Elders' Crossing

"Miss Sacarhina," McGonagall said, "are you suggesting that the Ministry may well allow this man to perform his investigation and broadcast it to the Muggle world?"

"I'm sorry, Madam McGonagall," Sacarhina said sweetly, "I didn't mean to imply that, or anything else. You may rest assured that we are prepared to deal with this situation, regardless of the method we choose. I'd hate to burden you with any more detail than you've already been forced to deal with."

The Headmistress' face became rather pink. "Burden away, Miss Sacarhina, for I can promise you that the future of this school and its students is hardly the sort of detail I'm likely to dismiss."

Sacarhina laughed lightly. "My dear Minerva, I suspect that the future of Hogwarts, the students, and yourself is as secure as ever. As I mentioned, we have contingencies for such events. The Ministry is prepared."

"Forgive me, Miss Sacarhina," Franklyn interjected, taking half a step forward, "but you'd have us believe that the Ministry of Magic has prepared contingencies for a Muggle investigative reporter penetrating the school of Hogwarts on foot with a camera crew at the ready and intentions to broadcast the secrets of the magical world to Muggles worldwide?"

Sacarhina's indulgent smile tightened. "I'd have you believe, Mr. Franklyn, that the Ministry has prepared emergency response techniques for dealing with a wide variety of confrontations. The specifics do not matter."

"I beg to disagree, Miss. The specifics of this instance have revealed a rather large security breach that could, at this point, be utilized by virtually anyone. This school can no longer be considered secure until this breach has been addressed."

"One thing at a time, Professor. We appreciate your concern, but I assure you that we are fully equipped to deal with the matter in its entirety. If, however, you feel that the safety of yourself and your staff are at risk, we could possibly arrange for your early departure. This would cause us great disappointment and be quite a disruption to the school…"

"My concern, Miss Sacarhina," Franklyn said coolly, removing his glasses, "is for the security of everyone within these walls, and for the security of the magical and Muggle worlds in general."

"Again with the hyperbole," Sacarhina smiled. "Please, all of you, put your minds at ease. I, along with Mr. Recreant, will arrive tomorrow evening. We will meet with this Mr. Prescott and I am quite confident--positive, even--that we will reach a mutually amicable arrangement. You needn't bother yourselves with it any further."

"What about my dad?" James asked.

Sacarhina blinked, apparently mystified. "Your father, James? Whatever do you mean?"

"Well, don't you think he ought to be here along with you and Mr. Recreant?"

Sacarhina smiled her ingratiating smile again. "Why, your father is Head of the Auror Department, James. There is no dark magic involved in this unfortunate set of circumstances, so far as we can tell. There'd be no reason to bother him with it."

"But he's dealt with this man before," Neville said. "He and James witnessed him on the Quidditch pitch last year and led the search to try to capture him."

"And a fine job he did," Sacarhina said, her smile snapping shut. "That was his duty at the time. This, however, as you cannot fail to realize, is an ambassadorial issue. Harry Potter's skills may be varied, but ambassadorship is not one of them. Besides, Mr. Potter is currently on assignment and not to be interrupted. We do have, however, specialists in exactly this sort of negotiation. Along with myself and Mr. Recreant, we are arranging for another ambassador to join us. He is an expert in Muggle-magical relations. We expect him to spearhead our dealings with Mr. Prescott and his crew, and we have full confidence that he will serve all parties quite well."

McGonagall waved her hand dismissively. "What shall we do with Mr. Prescott until your arrival, Miss Sacarhina?"

"Make him comfortable. Allow him to make his telephone call. Other than that, as little as possible."

"Surely you do not mean for us to allow him free access to the school," the Headmistress said, as if it were a statement rather than a question.

Sacarhina seemed to shrug in the fireplace. "Whatever harm he might be able to do by observing is surely less than the harm he could do if he brought Muggle legal charges against us. We must, for the moment, treat him as a guest. Besides, it sounds as if he's seen quite a lot already."

McGonagall's face was unreadable. "Very well, then. Good afternoon, Miss Sacarhina. We will look forward to your arrival tomorrow evening."

Sacarhina smiled again. "Indeed. Until then."

The face vanished from the fire. The Headmistress reached for her poker and poked studiously at the embers for several seconds, strewing them so that no hint of the face remained. She replaced the poker, turned her back to the fire, and said, "Insufferable bureaucratic poppycock."

"I'll be happy to lodge Mr. Prescott in the Alma Aleron quarters," Franklyn said, putting his glasses back on. "I'd prefer to keep a close eye on him, anyway. I suspect we can keep him busy enough to prevent him causing any more trouble."

"I don't like this at all," Neville said, still looking at the fireplace. "Harry should be here. Prescott himself isn't a dark wizard, of course, but there is something extremely dodgy about how he got here at all. Somebody led him here, and that person somehow circumvented the Vow of Secrecy. I don't care what Sacarhina says, I'd feel a lot better with a decent Auror looking into it."

The Headmistress opened her door. "At this point, it is out of our hands. Professor Franklyn, your idea is as good as any. Let us escort Mr. Prescott to the Alma Aleron quarters. And despite what Miss Sacarhina might believe, I'd prefer for us to arrange for Mr. Prescott to be quite busy for the next twenty-four hours. The less time he has to explore the school, the better. Mr. Potter, please feel free to return to your classes, and although I suspect I cannot ask you not to speak of this to Mr. Walker and Mr. Deedle, I'd be quite happy if you managed not to talk of it to anyone else. Especially Ted Lupin or Noah Metzker."

As James followed the adults out of the office, a quiet voice spoke to him from the wall. "Going to be quite a busy day tomorrow, Potter."

James stopped and glanced at the portrait of Severus Snape, not entirely sure what he meant. "I guess so. At least for the Headmistress and everybody."

Snape's black eyes bored into him. "Answer me truthfully, Potter: are you still laboring under the delusion that Tabitha Corsica is in possession of the Merlin staff?"

"Oh," James said, "look, say what you want, but it makes sense. We're going to get it from her, too, one way or another."

Snape spoke quickly. "Don't be a fool, Potter. Turn over what you have. Give it to the Headmistress. Surely you see how dangerous it is to keep the robe, especially now."

James blinked. "Why? What happens now? Does it have something to do with this Prescott fellow?"

Snape stared hopelessly at James. "You don't see it, then," he sighed. "There is a very good reason why your father, dull as he is, is being kept from accompanying tomorrow's delegation. There are members of the Progressive Element even within the Ministry, although they do not call themselves by that name. Sacarhina is one of them. Recreant may be as well, although he is not really in charge. Either she is taking full advantage of a very suspicious coincidence or this is all her plan from the beginning."

"What? What's her plan?" James asked, lowering his voice and stepping closer to the portrait.

"The details are unimportant. All that matters is that unless you secure the Merlin robe by tomorrow night, all will very likely be lost."