Cursing, Harry rushed around the room throwing his few possessions into his pack, franticly hoping to be ready and on the road before either of his friends could find him. Shouldering his pack, Harry cautiously peeked out the door to ensure that the hall was clear before walking down to the front desk.

"May I help you?" The desk clerk smiled at Harry's approach.

"Checking out," Harry fought to keep his voice even. "Finished my business sooner than I expected, so there really isn't any point in staying much longer."

"I understand sir," the desk clerk nodded. "The cost of your stay has already been taken care of, so if you'll just sign here . . . thank you, sir. Have a pleasant trip."

"I will," Harry nodded. "Goodbye."

Harry forced himself not to run as he returned to the magical shop where he had purchased the portkey to the Dragon Breeding grounds.

"h.e.l.lo again," the woman behind the counter smiled. "Need another portkey to visit the dragons?"

"This time I need a portkey out of the country if you can swing it," Harry smiled. "And I'm in a bit of a hurry I'm afraid."

"I'm afraid that I can't get you an international portkey," the woman frowned. "But I can get you to my uncle's shop in Halas, I know he can arrange something."

"Thank you," Harry started to relax. "How soon can you get me to Halas?"

"Right now," the woman flipped the sign on her shop to closed. "I was planning to visit him when you showed up. Unless you'd rather not share a portkey?"

"A shared portkey is fine," Harry smiled. "Thank you."

"Not a problem," the woman returned his smile. "Just touch the rope, and we're going in three, two, . . ."

"Welcome," an older man greeted them on their arrival. "I didn't expect to see you for a few days yet, I guess you were able to wrap things up faster than I expected."

"You'd guess right," the woman smiled. "He needs an international portkey to . . ."

"Crimea"

"Excellent," the old man nodded. "I can get one that will take you to my cousin's shop in Yalta, it won't take but a few hours for me to make the arrangements."

"Thank you," Harry nodded. "And sorry to interrupt your visit with your niece."

"My fault for not expecting you here sooner," the old man shrugged. "While you're waiting, feel free to look over what I have for sale or . . ."

"Or?"

"Or you could visit the Lace Museum," the old man smiled. "It really is something you have to do if you're visiting Halas."

"How far is it from her?"

"Just down the street," the old man waved to the door. "You can't miss it."

"Sounds nice," Harry nodded. "I think I'll do that."

"And be sure to pick up some lace while you're here," the old man called out as Harry retreated. "It may be expensive, but it's well worth the price."

"Good afternoon," a woman greeted Harry upon his entrance to the lace museum.

"Is this the lace museum?" Harry asked with a shy smile.

"Yes, it is," the woman nodded. "You might wish to come back at another time, there is currently a school field trip wandering around the museum so . . ."

"It's fine," Harry shrugged. "I don't have the time to come back anyway."

"Then have a pleasant visit."

"Thank you," Harry nodded. "I will."

Harry spent a few minutes wandering around the museum and was examining one of the exhibits when a young girl walked up.

"If you look close, you can see the fish."

"What?" Harry turned to look at the young girl.

"I said, that if you look closely you can see the fish." The young girl smiled. "Three superimposed fish is the symbol of Halas, and if you look close you can find them around the border. My Nagypapi taught me that."

"Thank you," Harry smiled. "I'm Black, what's your name."

"I'm Ághnesh Német," the girl smiled. "Do you see the fish?"

"Not yet," Harry squinted. "Ah, there they are, thank you."

"Don't mention it," the girl smiled. "Can you see the fish on this one?"

IIIIIIIIII

"Well?"

"Black says that he's on his way out of the country," Marosiné Varga Katalin replied with a neutral look, "he told the hotel desk clerk that his business has been completed."

"I see," the other figure nodded. "Did he fix the problem we were having with the dragons?"

"He cast several diagnostic charms and looked at them under mage sight," Katlin replied, "nothing has been solved but we have called in two outside experts that he recommended."

"Is there any indication that he didn't know that we were having problems? Any indication that his visit was a coincidence?"

"I talked to the people that watched the dragons," Katlin smiled. "They tell me that he had with him a rather large collection of books about the Hungarian Horntail, many of which are so rare that the caretakers have never even heard of them. Not the sort of thing that a person just happens to have with them."

"I see," the other figure paused. "Do we have any idea how he knew that we needed help?"

"We have one theory, Mr. Black was seen talking to Béla Kapus's granddaughter." Katlin smiled, "he may be retired but . . ."

"That doesn't mean that he's out of the game," the other figure laughed. "I suppose those old-timers do stick together, have you looked for a connection?"

"There were several people that helped us during the nineteen fifty-six revolution," Katlin smiled. "And many of them don't have a name to go with them, "Black could be any one of them."

"I see," the other figure nodded. "Keep looking, and tell me if you find anything."

"I will sir," Katlin nodded. "How close do you want us to watch the outsiders that Black recommended?"

"They're here already?" The figure considered the question for a moment, "don't be obvious about it. They are hereby our invitation after all."

"As you say," Katlin agreed.

IIIIIIIIII

"Great ta be 'ere." Hagrid greeted the Hungarian Dragon Keepers a bit too enthusiastically. "Now where're the Dragons?"

"Right through there sir," the Dragon Keeper smiled nervously. "Be careful, they're dangerous."

"I'm sure they wouldn't 'hurt ah fly," Hagrid disagreed as he walked towards the cute cuddly . . . dragons.

"Can you tell me why the two of us were contacted?" Charlie asked after Hagrid had gone.

"You were recommended by Mr. Black," the Dragon Keeper smiled. "He told me that he couldn't do much, then he wrote out forty pages of notes and observations and told me that he was going to contact you and Mr. Hagrid."

"I . . . see," Charlie frowned. "Is it possible for me to speak with Mr. Black? I'd like to get his input on a few things if I could."

"I'm afraid not," the Dragon Keeper shrugged. "I spoke to his hotel and they informed me that he had left the country."

"Pity," Charlie shrugged. The Order would have to wait. "Could you show me those notes?"

"Right here sir," the man pulled out a thick stack of paper. "Mr. Black was kind enough to provide an English translation so that you would have a reference."

"How thoughtful of him." Charlie took the papers, "let's get to work.

IIIIIIIIII

"h.e.l.lo?" Harry returned to the store, "Is anyone here?"

"Just a moment," the shopkeeper replied. "The portkey isn't ready yet, but it will be in a few moments. Feel free to browse the store while you wait."

"Ok," Harry chuckled silently. These shopkeepers were always trying to get him to buy souvenirs.

"Did you find anything?" The shopkeeper walked to the counter with a smile.

"A few things," Harry placed a few items on the counter. "I like these gla.s.s things."

"Hand-cut G.o.da lead crystal." The shopkeeper nodded, "very good choice. I've also set aside some magical lace if you'd like."

"I already bought quite a bit of non-magical lace, but why not. " Harry shrugged, "add it to the rest of my things."

"I also have your porkey ready." The man bagged Harry's purchases, "have a good trip."

"Thank you," Harry paid for his purchases. "I only wish that I could have stayed longer."

"Come back and visit us again someday," the shopkeeper smiled. "And get a chance to look at what you missed."

"I'm not sure that I'll live that long." Harry smiled sadly and disappeared.

"h.e.l.lo," an older man greeted Harry upon his appearance. "How are you today?"

"Very good." Harry yawned. "Can I arrange an internal portkey here?"

"Yes," the man nodded. "Where would you like to go?"

"Half a league, half a league, half a league onward." Harry smiled.

"All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred," the old shopkeeper nodded.

"The Charge of the Light Brigade," Harry shrugged. "Tennyson."

"I'll have it ready as soon as I can," the shopkeeper nodded. "If you're here to see the valley of Death, then I might have something you'd be interested in."

"What's that?" Harry's eyebrows shot up in interest.

"There was a rather old soldier that served in the campaign," the shopkeeper pulled out a long wrapped bundle from under the table. "Story goes that he was a squib from one of the . . . less tolerant family's and he left home and bought a commission. He distinguished himself in his first campaign and his father heard that the son that had only brought shame to the family name was now bringing glory."

"Glory in the muggle world?" Harry asked mildly.

"Glory killing muggles," the old shopkeeper shrugged. "He wasn't a very nice person but he did have his moments, he decided that if his son was going to do the family proud by killing muggles then the family was going to help. He went to the finest makers and commissioned a sword, then he charmed it with all the knowledge of his family."

"What could it do?"

"It had several effects, most of them were fairly standard. Increase damage, ever sharpness, and in certain circ.u.mstances, it would emit a faint green glow." The old shopkeeper smiled, "it's a most interesting feature though was the fact that it could change into a scythe."

"Why did they charm it to do that?" Harry frowned, "and how did it get its power. I doubt that they would bother to waist enough energy on a squib to keep it going forever."

"It would drain ambient energy to keep itself going," the shopkeeper shuddered. "Very dark magic, plants would wither and animals would get nervous when it was out of its sheath."

"Let me look at it," Harry requested.

"Alright," the old man unwrapped the sword. "Don't see that it could cause much harm if we put it back quickly."

Harry pulled out the sword and spent several minutes checking the blade and its charms under mage sight, finally, he resheathed it and glanced down at the name on the handle.

"How much?" Harry's voice came in a whisper.

"Seeing as how it belongs to your family," the old man grinned. "I don't think I should charge."

"What happened to the soldier?"

"Major Black?" The shopkeeper shrugged, "no one knows. He disappeared, might have been killed, might have resigned, and might have been taken, prisoner. No one knows all that was ever found was his sword."

"When will you have the portkey ready?"

"Shouldn't be too long," the shopkeeper smiled. "Where do you want it to take you after your visit?"

"Romania," Harry was still a bit shaken. "Close to the dragon sanctuary."

"For a bit more I can put in another destination if you'd like," the old man gave a wide grin.

"Transylvania after that," Harry tore his eyes off his new sword. "Will that be a problem?"

"Not at all," the old man shook his head. "One piece of advice though."

"What?"

"When you're traveling in Transylvania . . . be sure to be armed, won't hurt to have that new sword of yours on your hip." The old man waved in the direction of Harry's new blade, "sometimes being visibly armed is enough to solve the problem . . . other times, it helps to have things hidden. Don't matter what you chose to do, just don't be without a weapon in Transylvania."

"Why?" Harry frowned. "Should I avoid going?"

"One thing having visible arms does is it shows that you have the money to buy them, shows that you're too important to be a food source." The shopkeeper shrugged, "Transylvania is a good place to visit. But it's also not a safe place to visit if you have any magical blood."

"So I should skip it then?" Harry sighed in disappointment. "Ah well, one more place I'll never see."

"I never said that," the shopkeeper shook his head. "I said that it was dangerous. So long as you're careful, then I don't see any reason to skip it. Read that guide book of yours and talk to the locals."

"I will," Harry nodded. "How long until the portkey is ready."

"Right now," the old man handed over a small steel ball on a chain. "Once you're tired of seeing the valley of Death, say two, when you're tired of that say three, and when you're tired of that buy a new portkey."

"Thank you," Harry nodded. "How much do I owe you, and when it set to go off?"

"Nothing and right now," the shopkeeper grinned at his customer's shocked expression as he disappeared. It was only right to give him a bit of a break knowing what he was about to face.

IIIIIIIIII

"Those notes that Charlie brought in?" Moody glanced down at the stack of paper. "I looked over them, looks like they've got some sort of pattern."

"Could it be chance?" Albus asked with a thoughtful smile, "or your 'Constant Vigilance' getting the best of you?"

"The chances of it being natural are slim to none," Moody gave the notes another look. "I'd like to take some time to look over them."

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded. "Then unless someone has something else to add? I call this meeting of the Order of the Phoenix to an end, we'll meet again in twelve hours to discuss how our a.s.signments went."

Twelve Hours Later

"Well Albus I did it," Moody yawned. "After eight hours I finally managed to figure out the message that Mr. Black encoded in his notes, can't say I have any idea what it means though."

"What are they?" Albus asked with a smile.

"Just a few numbers," Moody shrugged. "36-23-33."

"Now why would Black have taken the time to code the measurements to this month's 'Playwizard' centerfold?" Dumbledore mused aloud.

The Order froze and several members began pinching themselves nervously to check if they were in the land of dreams.

"Albus?" McGonagall.

"Um," Dumbledore chuckled nervously, "they have good articles?"

"Like the one on barbecuing in last month's issue," Tonks nodded. "That was a good one."

"Barbecuing?" Dumbledore asked dumbly.

The Order members s.h.i.+fted their frozen stare to the young Auror.

"Like he said," Tonks shrugged. "It has good articles, also helps me s.h.i.+ft into different body types to see them without any clothes. Good practice."

"Moving back to the Subject," the Headmaster smiled nervously. "Does anyone have any idea why Mr. Black would put that in the notes?"

"Maybe he thinks Charlie should get out more," Tonks shrugged. "Who knows."

"He's playing with us," Moody frowned. "Wanted to see if we would take the time to go over what he left."

"I concur," Dumbledore nodded. "It looks like Mr. Black is pulling some sort of Prank on us."