Sirius had plans to meet Harry at the Churchill Arms, an old pub near the coffee shop, on Friday evening. When he woke up early Friday afternoon, he decided that he wanted to check that address in the East End one more time to see if Mr. Peregrine had left any additional evidence of suspicious activity. As he rounded behind the house, he immediately noticed that there was quite a commotion going on a bit down the alleyway. He could see that a wizard had just put a full body bind curse on a muggle. It appeared that some of the wizard's cohorts were robbing and beating the poor fellow. As Sirius whipped out his wand, the wizard that seemed to be in charge whirled around, saw Sirius raising his wand and yelled "Expelliarmus!" Black's wand flew up in the air and into a nearby dustbin. Sirius leapt back into the shadows of the nearby alleyway and transformed, as he could do nothing for the muggle and did not feel up to a fight at the moment. But, Sirius was all too aware that the wizard had witnessed his transformation.

He heard one of the cohorts yell, "Hey, Sloan, who was that and where did he go?" Sloan began to approach Sirius, looking stunned and angry at Black's interference. But, before he could venture any closer to Black, he suddenly disapparated, mere moments before a Ministry enforcement squad and memory charm team arrived on the scene. The enforcers muttered curses, and ropes sprang out of the air to bind up Peregrine’s friends. With a wave of their hand, the enforcers caused the bound goons to levitate and float off into the waiting Ministry van. Meanwhile, the memory charm squad magically mended the muggle’s wounds, erased his memory of the incident and sent him on his way.

As Black made his way back towards Notting Hill Gate, he wondered to himself "So that was Sloan Peregrine . . . how did he know I was there and what I was going to do?" He also ruminated about one aspect of today’s encounter that had the potential for rather serious consequences. Peregrine had seen Black transform, and this could prove troublesome. And while Sirius wasn’t yet confident that he knew what the implications of that knowledge might be, he felt sure it was not a good thing.

*******************************

Harry was leaning back in a kitchen chair in front of the open window, reading Doubleshot, Raymond Benson's latest thriller spy novel. He started at the sound of a knock at the front door and looked at the clock. It was already late afternoon; he’d need to leave to meet Sirius for drinks soon. He threw his book face-down on the table and got up to answer the door. It was Ginny Weasley, carrying a bag of what appeared to him to be scraps of bright silky material. "Oh, hullo," he said with a smile as he moved aside to let her in.

"Hi Harry – I had told Hermione I’d stop by with some of these scarves we were talking about at the match on Wednesday," Ginny said. "Is she around?" She glanced around the flat, and Harry thought she seemed somewhat ill at ease.

"Umm . . .no, not yet. I expect she’ll be here soon though. I think she has plans with Rufus this evening. Come in and sit down," Harry replied. He’d shut the door and moved back toward the kitchen.

"Oh, I don’t want to be a bother if you’re busy Harry. I could just leave these things for Hermione and stop by another time."

He couldn’t help wondering if she’d heard any of her family’s remarks to him on Wednesday. "Not busy at all," Harry grinned as he held up his copy of Doubleshot. "Hermione thinks I have the most juvenile reading taste, but look what I found in here today." He pointed to the Bridget Jones book he’d found while rummaging around in the pile of magazines & books near their end table for his novel this afternoon. He'd left it in the armchair so Hermione would be sure to know he'd seen it.

Ginny laughed as Harry went on, "Oh, she’s always so condescending about my James Bond novels . . . but even I know that one is quite mass market," he said, laughing as he thought of all the ways he could bring the travails of the notorious Bridget Jones into conversations.

He motioned her to join him in the kitchen. "Come in and sit down. We’ve got some pumpkin juice, ale, and bottled water in here," he muttered as he rummaged through the icebox. "What do you fancy?"

"Oh, I’ll have some pumpkin juice. Thanks."

Harry sat down with a glass of water. "We didn’t get much chance to talk the other day. How are things over at . . . Sorry, what is it again . . . Ladies and Hags Journal?"

Ginny laughed and said, "Sadly, that is a very apt description of the magazine’s average readers." She paused a moment and went on, "I’m thinking it might be a good time for a job change actually. I haven’t felt I was in sync with the editorial staff for some time now. They’re so resistant to change. They say they want to appeal to the younger witches, but it’s near impossible to do something as simple as adding a regular monthly column that would really appeal to younger readers. I persuaded the editors to run a test column on career advice for young professional witches for a few months, and the marketing studies showed that it was really drawing in the target readers, you know? But, they discontinued it after the trial run – said they just couldn’t see anyway to fit it into the current layout of the magazine." She sighed. "I’m sorry Harry . . . I must be boring you silly. I can prattle on about my career endlessly."

"Oh, you’re not boring me at all." He was thinking to himself how far she’d come from the giggly insecure young girl he’d first met some ten years ago. He was also thinking how attractive she looked in her street clothes – a muggle-style dark green business suit and high heels. "So, d’you think you might change to another magazine? You know . . are there any other magazines that might suit your style a bit more?

Ginny was cut off from answering as Hermione bustled in noisily, murmuring about losing track of time. "Oh! Hi, Ginny." She looked somewhat surprised to see Ginny, and as Hermione’s eyes swept over her and Harry sitting companionably in the kitchen, Harry might have sworn he saw the slightest trace of . . . annoyance cross Hermione’s face. "No, annoyance wasn’t quite right," he thought, but before he could analyse whatever it was any further, it was gone. Hermione had clapped her hand over her mouth -- "Oh I’m so sorry Ginny! I’ve been so wrapped up in all this revising that it completely slipped my mind . . . we talked about meeting around 6:00 today to look at those scarves, didn’t we?"

"D’you mind if we look at them back in my room while I get ready? So sorry, but I’m running quite late for my plans with Rufus as is," Hermione went on, and Ginny shrugged and smiled at Harry as she picked up the bag of scarves and followed Hermione back to her room.

Harry glanced at the clock. He had half an hour or so before he’d need to leave to meet Sirius. He settled back down to his novel. He could hear Hermione and Ginny’s muffled voices from her room. Hermione seemed to be exclaiming over the various scarves. He tried to focus on the exploits of his novel, but he found his thoughts kept shifting back to Ginny. What was it Charlie had said? "She’s free, you’re free . . . you get on well with one another. Why not?"

Ginny had gotten over her crush on Harry by her fourth or fifth year at Hogwarts, and they’d become good friends over the years. She moved to this neighbourhood after visiting he and Hermione right after she left Hogwarts. "Why was he even thinking about this? She was Ron’s kid sister. They were good friends and that was that."

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. "That must be Rufus," he thought. He forced himself to smile nonchalantly as he opened the door; he didn’t want to let on that he now knew Rufus was jealous of him. "That would definitely make things worse," he thought as he pulled open the door.

"Hullo. Come in," he said in a casual tone and stepping aside to invite Rufus in. As usual, Rufus appeared nervous at the very sight of Harry. "Sit down. I’ll just let Hermione know you’re here." "Ginny is back there with her," he added. Rufus still hadn’t said anything but merely nodded and gave Harry a tight-lipped smile as he stood near the door.

He tapped on Hermione’s door and said, "Rufus is here." Hermione opened the door a crack and stuck her head out. "I’m almost ready. You can talk to him for a bit, can’t you?" she wheedled. "Yes, but hurry! He doesn’t like me at all," Harry hissed quietly. "I know, I know," she muttered and the door clicked shut. He rolled his eyes and grimaced at the closed door.

As he wandered back into the living area, Harry saw Rufus edging closer to the door as though he wanted to be ready to bolt if necessary. He was going through his rucksack, seemingly searching for something important. Harry cleared his throat. "So, where are you two off to tonight?" He groaned inwardly, realising too late that this sounded like a question Hermione’s father would ask.

Rufus still didn’t look up, but mumbled something about a party thrown by some witch friends from his divination study group, E²

"Hmm . . that should be fun." Harry hoped he didn't sound sarcastic and thought to himself, "Hermione hates anything to do with divination or fortune-telling! She can’t restrain herself from biting sarcasm whenever the subject is mentioned." "Been interested in divination long?" Harry ventured.

"Awhile," Rufus responded tersely.

"Hermione and I both studied it a bit at Hogwarts . . .well, actually Hermione . . . ," Harry trailed off, realising again too late that he was taking the conversation in entirely the wrong direction. It didn’t seem to matter though as Rufus hadn’t even bothered to look up and didn't seem the least bit interested in conversing.

They lapsed into silence for a bit; the only sound coming from Rufus rapidly rumaging through his bag. Harry stared down at his clasped hands, thinking desperately for something that might prompt a civil conversation. He felt sure Rufus was glaring at him.

Harry breathed an inward sigh of relief as he heard the door to Hermione’s room click open. Ginny strolled in, "Hi Rufus. Hermione’s just finishing up. She should be only a bit longer. You know I’m really glad to meet up with you here – I’m having a terrible time with my foxglove. I thought you might be able to advise me on what to do with it. It’s turned bright purple and there’s no new growth. Does it sound hopeless?"

Rufus launched into an animated conversation with Ginny about possible treatments for her wayward foxglove, and the two of them were still chatting amiably when Hermione breezed into the room. She was wearing a simple long black skirt with a light-weight burgundy jumper. She had a satchel with one of her dressier robes, and Harry could see, one of Ginny’s scarves – to throw on once they’d reached the party. She’d braided her long thick hair and pinned it up at the nape of her neck. "Sorry I’m late," she murmured to Rufus as she kissed him quickly.

"Seems it was worth the wait," he replied. He told Ginny to owl him or to let Hermione know if her foxglove didn’t take a turn for the better soon. Then he linked his arm through Hermione’s and said, "Well, we better get on. I don’t want to miss the latest tarot card theories."

"Thanks for stopping by with those scarves Ginny," Hermione said quickly. "I’ll drop the one I borrowed by your place over the weekend . . . Did you want to walk out with us?"

"No, I’m not leaving quite yet," Ginny said quietly. "Oh, and don’t worry with getting that scarf back to me this weekend. I know you’re so busy with your exams coming up next week. There’s no need for you to bother with that -- I’ll just stop by and pick it up sometime next week."

"Okay then. Thanks," Hermione replied. She gave Harry a swift smile and said, "Oh, Harry, tell . . . Ian hello for me, will you?" He nodded, and Rufus hurried her out the door.

Ginny looked quizzically after Hermione. "Ian?" she asked. "Oh! . . . that’s the name Sirius uses, right?"

Harry nodded. "Do you have plans with him tonight?" Ginny said.

"Yes, I actually probably ought to be off soon. We’re just meeting up at a pub over near that coffee shop where he works," Harry said. "Would you like to come with me? I don’t know if the food’s any good at this place, but the drinks aren’t too pricey and the owner has a really interesting butterfly collection." He was doing up his shoelaces as they talked.

"A butterfly collection in a pub?" she said with a laugh.

He smiled. "Yes, you know . . . mounted behind glass, drawings, books, that sort of thing. Those butterflies can look awfully interesting if you’re a bit pissed. So, with that, did you want to come?"

"Well, as interesting as that sounds Harry, I think I’ll beg off for tonight. I’m a bit knackered after this week, and I’m thinking a nice quiet evening sounds appealing," she said. "But thanks for asking. Maybe another time?"

"That’d be nice," he said. They walked out to the street and were standing at the corner where she needed to cross to get back to her flat. "Hope you get a nice quiet evening," he called as she waved and crossed at the light.

***************************** 

Harry found Sirius already seated in a dark corner of the Churchill Arms Pub with his pint of Guinness. Harry waved to him and went to the bar to order his pint of lager. "So what were you able to find out over in the East End?" Harry asked as he settled himself into the chair across from Sirius.

"Well, do you want to hear the report chronologically or in order of importance?" Sirius asked.

"Mainly I need to know whether this Sloan Peregrine chap is dangerous or just a bluffer," Harry said. He was facing away from the other patrons and trying to keep his voice down.

"Well, if this afternoon is any indication, I'd think he is on the more dangerous side," Sirius commented.

"Why? What happened this afternoon?"

Sirius went on to explain the events of earlier in the day and the muggle he had seen Peregrine and his cohorts attacking.

"So, what did you say you did to stop them?" Harry asked, knowing only too well that Sirius would immediately jump into the middle of an altercation in order to help the hapless muggle.

"Nothing, I didn't get the chance. The man I now know is Peregrine disarmed me before I even knew they'd seen me."

"He disarmed you? . . . How did he know you were a wizard?" Harry asked, but went on without giving Sirius a chance to answer. "What did you do once your wand was gone?"

"I did what I usually do. Ducked behind some dustbins and transformed . . . kind of self preservation instinct, isn't it? . . . The only problem is, I have a sneaking suspicion our friend Sloan saw my transformation."

Now Harry really looked worried. "That can't be good, can it?"

"Probably not. Then came the other odd thing . . . he just disapparated in mid-stride as he moved toward me. The Ministry squads screeched into the alley within seconds after he disapparated."

Harry looked puzzled. "He disapparated before the Ministry squads arrived? So, did any of the Ministry blokes see you transform?"

"No, I told you -- I had already transformed by the time Peregrine was disapparating. I was well hidden by the time the Ministry arrived."

"Good," said Harry, a bit relieved. "It sounds to me like Peregrine might have some precognitive ability."

"Ah, that reminds me, when I was there on Monday, I took the liberty of going through Peregrine's house. He needs a house elf, that's for sure . . .," Sirius said with a chuckle.

"Don't tell Hermione that!" Harry said with a grin.

Sirius smiled and then continued on, "There was an entire room full of divination stuff upstairs."

"Divination stuff?"

"Yeah, he had all manner of crystal balls, tarot cards, and the like. And a whole bookshelf full of texts . . . and there was a card about a group for divination devotees…it was called Enchanted Eye or something like that. Yeah, I think that was it. There was also some kind of a catchy slogan, with the group name abbreviated E²."

"Did you say E²?" Harry asked as his ears perked up.

"Yeah, does that mean something to you?"

"I don't know anything of the group; it's just that Rufus said he and Hermione were going to an E² meeting tonight."

"Oh, is Rufus speaking to you now?"

"Just barely. Anyway, I guess they might meet up with Mr. Peregrine this evening," Harry said with a definite look of concern on his face. "I wish I'd known all this before she left."

"Well, if he's a member or guest of this group, I'd bet he'd be more likely to be recruiting followers than threatening lives," Sirius advised.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Luckily Hermione doesn't put much stock in the divining arts. It’s the only class I've ever seen her walk out on at school."

"Well, then you don't have to worry about her being recruited. And if Rufus is a member, that would give you an excuse to torture him, now wouldn't it?" Sirius joked.

"I've never wanted to torture Rufus . . . Maybe force a congeniality charm on him, so he'd at least be civil to me," said Harry with a smile.

Changing the subject, Sirius asked if there was any new information from the interrogation of the potions thugs they'd apprehended in Singapore. "No," Harry replied. "I'm expecting something on that one anytime now. But, it does look as though I may want you to join me in Cardiff early next week. We've had an unrelated leak that some wizards from that circle may be active in the Cardiff area right now. Can you get away for more than a day?"

"I'm off on Monday night. I'd need to be back by Tuesday evening though. Would that work?"

"I think so. You know, if we do go then, we could also squeeze in a match or two at the Welsh regional Quidditch finals."

"Now that sounds like a good plan," Sirius said enthusiastically. "Incidentally, I can't believe the Cannons won that match against the Minotaurs this week."

"The Minotaurs were using their reserve Seeker," Harry said quickly.

"Even with that win, the Cannons don’t stand a chance of advancing to the inter-island rounds, do they?" Black said with a sly smile. Harry knew Sirius avidly followed the Scottish Quidditch teams, and the Dundee Dragons were his particular favourite.

"Oh, I don’t know," Harry went on. "I ran into Oliver Wood in Diagon Alley a few weeks ago. He plays for the Cheddar Cavemen you know."

"I thought he was with Puddlemere?" Black asked.

"Got traded to Cheddar last season," Harry answered. "Anyway, he seemed to think the Cannons were a decent contender in their league. He says he’s watching them to be advancing on to the regional round, where they’ll likely meet up with the Pirates. Of course, the real team to watch this season is the Birmingham Bats, what with them trading Mulligan for that Keeper from the Glasgow Griffins -- what's his name . .. . McPherson, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but the Bats lost to the Edinburgh Eagles twice already this season," Black commented wryly. They chatted a bit more about the prospects of various Quidditch franchises.

Black went to the bar to get them another round of drinks and some food. He came back with the drinks and two plates of fish & chips. "Say, speaking of Quidditch players, didn’t you used to date one of the Minotaurs’ chasers?" Black asked curiously. "There was a small write-up about her in the Daily Prophet yesterday – did you see it?"

"Yes, I saw it. I suppose she’s one of their standout players. I saw her briefly after the match," Harry added. "Yes, we did date for awhile during our Hogwarts years."

Black raised his eyebrows. "You did, did you?" he said with a roguish grin. "I’d say she’s quite attractive based on the picture the Prophet printed yesterday. Thinking of taking up where you left off back in the innocent days at Hogwarts? Or, were those old days so innocent after all?" he asked with a sly grin.

Harry shook his head and smiled. "Those particular old days were quite innocent I assure you. But, no, I have no plans to pursue Cho again.

"So, there’s someone else then?" Black was still grinning widely.

"No, not really," Harry said in a non-committal tone.

"Not really?" Black cocked his eyebrows again. "Hmmm . . . I don’t suppose things have changed between you and Hermione in that cozy little flat, have they?"

Harry wondered why everyone these days seemed to describe their flat as "cozy." It was really just cramped, he thought. He shook his head quickly and said, "You know the answer to that Sirius. Hermione and I are just friends -- she’s my best friend."

"You don’t find her attractive?" Black said with raised eyebrows and a smirk.

"Well . . . yes, of course I think she’s attractive," he said quietly. There was a trace of a pensive expression haunting his eyes. "But, we’re just friends. You know how much we've been through together," he said with finality. He took a big swig of lager and tried to ignore the expression on Black’s face.

Black continued to stare at Harry for a few seconds more, seemingly wanting to say something more. But, instead, he just smiled and said, "All right, then." They ate in silence for a few moments. "Speaking of women, there's an attractive muggle who’s visited my coffee bar twice in the last week," Black said casually.

"Oh?" Harry grinned, relieved that the subject had shifted away from his own love life. He had long known that Black had a reputation for being a bit of a rogue back in his younger days, but he couldn’t help wondering whether he’d pursued women at all in the years since his escape from Azkaban. If he had, he’d never confided it in Harry. "Bit rusty, are you?" he asked Black with an innocent smile.

"Not so very rusty, thank you very much," he replied a bit defensively. "Bit like riding a broomstick, isn’t it?" he added with his trademark smirk.

"So, were you thinking of . . . er . . . taking that old broomstick out for a ride again?" Harry asked.

"Well, the thought has crossed my mind, now you mention it," Sirius said with a quick smile. "Problem is, she’s a muggle. For all my past . . .er . . . broomstick rides so to speak, none of them were muggles. Don’t really know how to go about this properly. Well, especially in light of my own particular circumstances . . .," he said quietly.

Harry looked up and cleared his throat. "So, you’re not really contemplating just a single broomstick ride with this woman then, are you?"

Black shook his head, a rueful smile playing about his mouth. "No. This one’s different somehow. Do you believe in soul mates and all that rubbish?"

"Well, thanks to me you still have a soul!" Harry teased.

"Yes, well, my soul has been without a mate for some time now you know. And, there's something about this woman . . ."

"Sirius, are you thinking about telling this woman your entire past?"

"Well, I’ve got to if I want more than . . . a one-time broomstick ride as you put it. Ever date any muggles?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I think Fred Weasley has though." He paused for a moment and then went on, "Maybe you should just take her out a few times . . . you know, without the broomstick ride at the end of the evening. See how things go before you go and tell some muggle that you’re not only a wizard, but an escaped wizard convict at that."

Black laughed. "Yes, I suppose I could do that. Takes all the fun out of it though, doesn’t it?"

Harry grinned at Black, "Well, if you’re serious about all this, might I suggest you brush up on your memory charms?" They both laughed, and the conversation gradually returned to Quidditch as they overheard some nearby muggles discussing soccer. Harry assured Black as they were leaving that he would send him an owl first thing in the morning with an update about the Peregrine situation.

Harry passed by Ginny’s flat on his route home, and noticing that her lights were still on, he thought briefly of stopping for a visit. Glancing at his watch, he decided it was too late for an impromptu visit, and as he strolled back to his flat, he couldn’t help wondering why Ginny Weasley was in his thoughts.

 ************************************

Cordelia Hunter clicked off her speaker phone and glared at it. "Don't they know it's close to 9:00 on a Friday evening here?" she muttered as she started parsing through the stacks of documents on her desk. She'd been on a conference call with a cast of thousands from the States for the past four hours.

"Four hours on that bloody call, and we didn't even really accomplish anything," she thought angrily. "Now, I'm starving, and we've got loads of work to do before I can leave for New York on Sunday." As if on cue, she looked up to see the three assistant solicitors who were working with her on the transaction in her doorway. They'd been on the call from their own offices. She sighed and motioned them in.

Dividing up the various document revisions amongst the three assistant solicitors and answering all their questions took another half-hour. When the last one had departed, she remembered that she hadn't eaten anything since noon. She wandered down the hall to the firm kitchen and was pleased to find in the icebox a tray of sandwiches & fruit left over from someone's meeting earlier in the day.

Back in her office with a plate of food and a cup of coffee, she began reading all the emails that had come through while she'd been tied up on that call. She found herself ignoring the ones from clients; "I can't give those the proper attention in this frame of mind or at this time of night," she thought. She began sifting through the inter-office messages instead. "In-office seminar on construction law -- delete; welcome tea next Monday for trainee solicitors -- won't be here -- delete; new office opening in Seville -- delete; commentary on new EC directive relating to importing items from Paraguay -- why was this sent to all lawyers and not just to those practising in the international practice group? -- delete." She paused as she read one announcing the attorneys who would officially become partners of the firm at the beginning of July.

 Cordelia had done her training contract and spent more than ten years as a solicitor with this firm. She'd been a senior solicitor for the last four years, but the truth was she should have been made a salaried partner as early as two years ago. She'd been disappointed but not terribly surprised when she heard she'd not been made a partner after completing her 8^th year of practice. After all, Slaughter & May was one of the largest firms in the world, and partnership criteria were quite stringent. Her disappointment had changed to frustration by the end of her 9^th year with the firm, and she had now reached the point of outright hostility about the matter now that she was in her 11^th year of practice.

She couldn't stop herself from scanning the list of partners in the email. "Lucy Masters? She doesn't have any of her own clients either!" she raged at her computer screen. "And Geoffrey Thompson? Please! He wouldn't recognise a high-stakes merger if it bit him in the arse!"

Finally forcing herself to delete the email, she rapidly finished reading the remaining non-client items. She walked down the hall and refilled her coffee. She'd had the intention of organising the documents she'd need to take to New York, but as she sipped her coffee, she instead found herself thinking about that man from the coffee bar -- Ian Black. "What is it about that man?" she thought. "After all, he works a night-shift in a coffee bar. He couldn't possibly be my type. He is . . . well, quite attractive. But nice looks will only go so far. God knows I've been down that road before."

"But, you've made one trip back to that coffee bar just to see him again," answered a sly voice in her brain. "There's something about him that keeps drawing you back. You'd love to stop by there right now in fact."

"Well, you're not going to," she told herself firmly. "Not tonight anyway."

Casting a weary eye around her office, she decided, on reflection, that she'd best go get some sleep. She'd have a long day in here tomorrow as it was.

 ************************************

Harry heard the door open, and people whispering as he woke sometime in the middle of the night. He heard Hermione whisper "Just let me get a couple of things. I'll be out in a minute."

"Just Hermione headed over to Rufus' flat," he thought drowsily as he rolled over, accidentally brushing his glasses off the bedside table as he drifted back to sleep.

Harry was again in the maze from the Triwizard Tournament in his dream. But, instead of seeing magical creatures and other tests of his wizarding skills at every turn, he found himself running into women. He walked for awhile, and Cho came flying by on her Firebolt Mark III. She tried to pull him onto her broom, but he resisted and she flew away. As he passed a particularly dark passage in the maze, he was certain he could guess who was at the end of that corridor, and he found himself running past it. As he continued, he saw a number of other women -- women he'd been attracted to at one time or another but had never dated. He could sense he was approaching the center of the maze. Just then, he turned a corner to find Ginny, holding a large snake in her arms. The snake spoke to him in Parseltongue and said "She's not your sister you know Harry." Harry held out his hand, and Ginny dropped the snake and took his hand. They walked together to the center of the maze, where he saw to his horror that Hermione was about to touch the Cup. He knew he wanted to warn her, but no matter how hard he tried to scream, no sound would come out.

He awoke with a start, sweating profusely and breathing hard. Realising that his throat was very dry, he began feeling around on his bedside table for his glasses so he could get up for some water. They didn't seem to be there. "Maybe I left them in the kitchen," he thought. He got up and made his way to the kitchen by touch and after a few moments of feeling around on the counter, he found them. But, as he put them on, he could tell at once that they didn't quite feel right.

As he looked through them, he could see his kitchen, but superimposed on the kitchen images, Harry could also see an unknown wizard, apparently pleading for his life. Startled, he reached up to take off the glasses, but before he could remove them, he heard a second wizard he couldn't see. Transfixed and wondering if he could be still dreaming, Harry watched as the unseen wizard spoke to the visible wizard, "Your acquisition rate has dropped to a rate that is most unacceptable. You seemed to hesitate during that last robbery I sent you on."

"Am I seeing through the eyes of another wizard?" Harry thought. How could he be hearing this conversation and seeing these events through these glasses?

"But the guy wasn't home -- just his wife and baby. I got the job done, didn't I?" the other wizard was now wringing his hands fervently as he knelt, presumably in front of the unseen wizard.

"Yes, but you left witnesses. I'm not going to hurt them. The muggle police rarely solve robberies, but you should have been more careful. You've become an increasing liability. Unfortunate really." And with no further warning, he muttered Avada Kedavra. Harry saw the trademark blast of green light issue from the other wizard's wand and the cowering wizard was instantly still and lifeless.

Harry whipped off the glasses and took a step back. "Those are not my glasses!"