Professor McGonagall didn't say a word as she escorted Harry and his friends to Dumbledore's office, and nobody, not even Lucy, dared break her silence. It was obvious that this was something that couldn't be discussed out in the open.

"Palestrina", McGonagall told the gargoyles at Dumbledore's door, and they obligingly swung out of her way, allowing her and her party to enter.

The headmaster's office was as gloriously beautiful as always, but its joyousness was not reflected by its occupants. Dumbledore was seated at his desk, looking very old and sad and tired. Snape was there as well, as was Jack Crawford, seated in armchairs at Dumbledore's left and right hand; their facial expressions weren't sad, but grim. Fawkes the phoenix was on his perch, tensely expectant.

"Sit down," urged Dumbledore, and chairs suddenly appeared from nowhere. He waited for them to each take a chair before continuing. "I have some distressing news -- particularly for you, Miss Granger."

Hermione's face turned dead white. "My parents?" she said, speaking the words that flashed first in her mind.

"Kidnapped by Voldemort," Dumbledore replied, softly yet bleakly. He nodded to Crawford, who was holding a piece of parchment.

"Voldemort is apparently making one last-ditch gamble," the FBI man said. "His organization has taken several severe hits recently, and morale within the group is low. He knows that it's now or never. He had to try to find a way to get some sort of leverage over us, and he thinks he's done so by kidnapping several Muggles -- including your parents." He held up the piece of parchment, Levitated it, and pushed it towards Hermione. "This is a copy of the ransom note he sent us tonight."

Hermione read the note in silence, holding it with both hands in a white-knuckle grip.

At length, she let her face, drawn and hollow, rise from the parchment, slowly meeting Jack Crawford's gaze.

"He wants to be given command of the Ministry, effective at noon tomorrow? Otherwise he starts killing his captives?"

Crawford nodded.

Hermione sat for a long time, clutching the parchment, staring off into space.

The silence was agony for all concerned.

Finally, she, with newly-adult eyes staring out of a child's face, turned to Harry. "Harry -- remember your meeting with Voldemort, when he was using Quirrell's body?"

Harry's green eyes met hers. "Yes."

"He promised you all sorts of things then, too, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"And you knew at the time that you couldn't trust him to keep his word, didn't you?"

A short pause; Harry could see what Hermione was driving at. "Yes."

"Then -- all the hostages are doomed anyway -- including my p-p-parents--"

And suddenly Hermione was on the floor, crying uncontrollably.

Harry and Neville were immediately at her side, each taking an arm, holding her upright. Fawkes, seeing what had happened, jumped from his perch and glided over towards the three students; Harry saw him approach and rolled up one of Hermione's sleeves so Fawkes could drop a tear on her bare flesh.

Lucy was out of her chair, too, but for a different reason.

"Do we have a fix on their location?" she asked Crawford.

"We do," he nodded. "It's right where Harry's dreams said it would be."

Lucy's face was set in hard, grim lines. "I thought so."

Jack Crawford had known Lucy Stellanova, aka Clarice Starling, longer than anyone else in the room. But even he could not have known what she was about to do next.

"Hermione," she said quietly, just as Fawkes' tears were soothing the young girl's grief. Miss Granger looked up, puzzled.

"I'm going after them," she said, simply and directly.

Then, before anyone could react, she was out the door.



Dr. Lecter and Sirius Black were in the midst of a friendly chess game at Offhand Manor -- Lecter was within two moves of putting Sirius in check -- when the doctor's cellphone started vibrating.

"One moment," he said to Sirius, flipping open the phone at his belt and raising it to his ear. He listened dutifully to Dumbledore's voice on the other end. As always, he kept a carefully neutral expression; only the slight tensioning of his fingers on the cellphone gave away any hint as to the nature of the conversation.

"I see. I'll let you know if she appears here, Albus. Good night." He closed the cellphone and turned towards Sirius with a somber expression. "There's trouble afoot. Voldemort's just taken several people hostage, including Hermione's parents. He wants to use them to extort his way to power."

"Merlin's beard," whispered Sirius. "He's mad."

"Not to mention bloodthirsty. He knows perfectly well that Dumbledore and Crawford would never submit to his demands -- he almost certainly expects a show of armed and massive Ministry force at his hideout within the next few hours -- so he wants to cause as much harm as he can before his inevitable defeat."

"That barking-mad bastard," Sirius said, his eyes wildly staring. "Did they tell Hermione?"

"They did," affirmed Lecter grimly. "She, of course, understands that her parents will be killed by Voldemort no matter what else happens. It was a hard wrench for her, but she saw the sense in not negotiating --or rather, in pretending to negotiate while not actually giving in, as a way to buy time to gather the Ministry's forces." He sighed. "However, it seems we have a different problem."

"Which is?" Sirius' face was taut.

"Clarice took it upon herself to go into Voldemort's lair. Alone."

Sirius was on his feet so quickly he nearly tipped over the chessboard. "She what?!"

"She left as soon as Crawford confirmed that the lair was where we thought it would be."

"She'll be killed!"

"Very likely," agreed Lecter sadly. "She's always been possessed an excess of zeal. However," Lecter said, rising from his chair somewhat gingerly -- the cancer had spread to his liver and lungs by now, making the slightest movements painful -- "she has a fighting chance, if we help her."

Sirius looked at the doctor's face, yellowed by illness. "But how?"

Doctor Lecter turned to face Sirius, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Can you Apparate us to his lair, or near enough for our purposes?"

"Yes."

"Give me a moment to collect some things and then we'll go. I'll explain everything when we get there."