The bank has been open for about an hour. Ragnik had told them to wait about that long, as there are usually a few customers who want to rush in right when they unlock for the day. That crowd should be thinning out by now. Draco and Hermione left a few moments ago to watch for their moment.

This is the part where we can't behave as if we're worried, isn't it. While hoping they either get done with it quickly and easily or have time to write and tell us how they're doing.

Being the one out there doing it is much easier. Even if we're sure the goblins won't throw up any roadblocks in their path.

Mordred.

Well, how bad was it?

You know, if I'd been thinking clearly I could have gone with you as Padfoot, for a little moral support.

Sorry for not thinking of it sooner. I suppose I've been distracted by drafting this Grim Truth Alice wants, trying to come up with ways to tell people about the private messages without making it clear that we have someone on the inside letting us know how long it would be before they start archiving them again.

Anyway, supper's ready if you're feeling like joining us. The 'whole family,' I suppose we might start calling it. Not that Remus, Hermione or I are very hungry after the spread they put on at Moddey. If you don't want to tell Draco how his mother is, you can tell me after Bea goes to bed.

I'm sure Snape wants to hear all about Dolohov's house, though.

So, what are the odds that we'll go more than ten minutes today without Bea reminding us that she's three?

I think the hardest part so far has been keeping her out of the cake. (To say nothing of the incongruity of Kreacher even making a cake. I've checked it for razor blades or rat poison or anything equally malicious.)

When are we expecting the Moddey contingent? I've fielded about a million questions about Kevin, Keisha and Sara already. Who else did Alice plan to bring? (I can't quite explain so she'll believe me that Rory's not really interested in a party for a three-year-old.)

Maureen is coming, isn't she? Because if there are about to be a dozen children under six here we might need to set up a few more safety spells.

We may be a little delayed coming home.

Everything's fine. Just the Swelling Solution the kids were working on went a bit haywire. I had a Deflating Draught all prepared, just in case, you know, and when I went to give it to Misses Saint and Smith, it wasn't there. So I used an anti-tumescent cantrip and that sorted them. Of course, I still didn't know quite what had happened to the vial I'd brought from home.

Would you care to take a guess?

Your daughter nicked it and dribbled it out on just about everything she could find. The vegetable patch. The hatchet Danny uses to chop wood. A goat. I've no idea how she gave Jacinda the slip but she made her way - as near as we can tell - to the kitchens and left a trail of mayhem in her wake. Victor finally caught her in the pantry. She'd gone and put a bit of the draught on about six of the jars of preserves. They shrank and shrank until the contents couldn't stay, er, contained. He heard the breaking of glass.

She had a few cuts, easily healed, and she's now fine, aside from the lingering certainty that the world is a cruel, unjust place for blaming her when she's misbehaved. We've righted all the shrunken items, except of course the preserves, there was no saving them. (You should have heard Victor about that: Naturally, she chose the strawberry and now there's only six jars of it left until next season. Plus, of course, they won't be able to use the jars for more canning, either.)

At any rate, you can imagine that we've had a bit of repair to do, particularly making sure that she's remembered everything she 'deflated' and we haven't missed anything. And then there's the lesson, which got disrupted and had to be restarted before the ingredients went to waste. (We can't afford to discard ingredients, not without any more shipments from Aleks.)

So, they've got another hour or so of brewing and there's the testing and everything. During which, young miss is in a 'time out' according to Jacinda.

Anyway. We'll be home soon.

Er, where are you? We expected you back an age ago.

Remus is looking a little fussed by the number of times he's said, 'We're expecting more of that, Madam, before the end of the day.'

And not that you can't handle yourself but ... well, we did think you'd only be an hour or so. So I think he's a bit worried about that.

Check in if you're going to be much longer?

Ta, love.

Well, that was ... interesting.

Alice, I do think we should perhaps simply meet Ridley for a summit. Too much back and forth is bound to lead to problems. More than a few.

Anyway, she's not half glad to confirm that Bill's a sympathiser, she clearly fancies him more than just as an office mate, and so does he, though I think neither of them are willing to admit it.

Which means I'd be happier if neither of them were directly involved in negotiating. Particularly given how free she is with her affections. And all those middle-of-the-night private messages, if they mean what I think they meant.

She mentioned that it's 'convenient' for the two of them to converse during the day but in their eagerness to please each other we might find ourselves agreeing to something we can't afford.

We'll have to see what Dora thinks. I think she might be willing to jump from DogStar if given the right motivation. But it might be to our advantage to leave her with one foot in each group, too.

Sorry for bowing out on the park but I think my staying with Ellie was a good compromise. She really seemed nervous still about being left alone but she's comfortable enough with her trusty guard hound. (Have either of you made any progress figuring out what's been troubling her since Monday? I thought she was feeling better until today's panic attack. Maybe I can get her talking this afternoon.)

Well, anyway. How is Bea enjoying the playground?

If you've got time between pushing her on the swings, you should take a closer look at the Juniors' conversation last night. Not that I would ever dream of barging in to their discussion. They need their space just as much as we do sometimes. But Moony, it'll make you smile.

They're seeing the big picture. They're picking up steam and they're getting their contemporaries to question the regime. And they're doing it in a way that we could never do. It's just beautiful.

Times like this I know we made the right decision to bring them all into the Order. That's our future, right there.

And I never thought I'd say it but bless Dolores Umbridge for being such an evil toad. Between her and the Carrows we barely have to lift a finger to show how oppressive the Protectorate is. Or how hypocritical.

I guess there's a reason that teenagers are always revolutionaries. They're already predisposed to find fault in their elders.

Curtis Reinman should be happily ensconced at Moddey.

We talked about going yesterday, but then Dora pointed out that today's Molly's birthday - Happy Birthday, Molly! - and decided it might be preferrable to wait until today, so that she could bring a new addition with her to introduce at Molly's birthday supper.

So once Dora woke up this afternoon, she and I went to Ely to collect Curtis Reinman.

It went so quickly that we decided to take a little side jaunt, out to Walsingham to see if we could close in on that device thing.

No guards this time, but it's certainly got about half a dozen different kinds of ward on it. We didn't get too close - you could feel the repelling charms - but we did cast a number of spells to try to determine what sorts of protections were on it.

Besides the repellent, there's an Impervius to protect it from the weather, there's a stablising charm on the base of the menhir and then, the worst one: There's a spell that burns anything attempting to go through it. (I threw a rock and it went through but was considerably charred when it landed.) We could tell there were another few spells as well but couldn't figure out just what without potentially tripping the wards we could detect.

But there's another thing. Dora reported last time that it's on a node of a ley line. There was a sort of ... energy ... emanating from the ring on the top. It radiated in two directions - sort of like a beam of light that gets sent through a focusing lens. I almost felt like we could mount brooms and follow the line. Not the ley line itself, but the energy passing through the ring. (It was running almost exactly northwest-southeast, by the way, almost parallel to the coastline.) So we went north a little bit from the plinth and ... well, there's no other way to put it: Things got rather odd.

Simple spells wouldn't work properly. Complicated spells worked too well. Curtis started kicking and fussing and we noticed that the trees were unusually lush for an area so close to the sea. (Also we both felt considerably twitchy and with Curtis crying, we figured we'd better retreat before someone heard him.)

Still, I think someone should definitely try flying north along that line of vibration and see where it goes.

Well, we're back from delivering Charles Kass - or rather, Dora just delivered him and got back with all her limbs in place.

Which is nearly more than we can say for her at the beginning of the encounter.

All right, there, Dora? You want to tell them your newest foolproof method of gaining trust, or shall I?

I've got a visitor here in the workroom. Dora, were you trying to nap with her? She gave you the slip again, love.

And she's quite insistent that 'Da' and only 'Da' can .... Dora, does 'Eed' mean 'read' or 'pee' these days?

Well. She's quite insistent about it.

She's not doing the wet nappy dance so probably 'read,' I think. In which case, 'Da,' you're wanted to read to her again. Probably the book about the baby goose? That seems to be the favourite this month.