Wand-Leader & The Spy

2- The Return

London, Diagon Alley, August 3rd, 1999, 12.43 hours

Ron Weasley scratched his beard as he waited in line at the checkpoint for international portkey arrivals in Diagon Alley. He still wasn't really used to the beard, the result of a Hair-Growth Potion, nor was he used to having black hair, but Antoine Dupont, visiting from Magical Québec, would be looking a bit too much like Ron Weasley, brother of the famous seeker Charlie Weasley without it. It would be a rather pathetic end for him if he was caught by Malfoy's thugs because he had been too much of a Quidditch fan in his teenage years. There still was a chance that he'd be spotted, even though he had avoided appearing in public for a year, but since he had used muggle means to dye his hair and beard, the British purebloods were very unlikely to see through his disguise.

While a corpulent wizard from the Salem Enclave debated the validity of his papers with the Auror on duty, Ron studied the guards at the back, next to the exit. A wizard and a witch, both wearing the brown robes of the Wands of Britain, they looked like they were barely out of school. But despite their age they were alert and kept their wands ready, casting spells on each arrival. And, Ron noted with a bit of surprise, one of them was keeping an eye on the Auror as well. Dumbledore had been correct then - Malfoy's pureblood regime relied on muggleborn enforcers.

The Wizard from Salem finally managed to get the Auror to accept his papers, and left the checkpoint. Now it was Ron's turn.

"Papers please," the Auror said in a voice still tinged with annoyance.

Ron handed his papers over. Those would pass muster - they were official ones, issued by the Ministry of Québec. Or what was left of it, after their latest disastrous war with the Free Republic of Maine and Vermont. A little gold went a long way in that country these days.

The Auror, a pureblood or he'd not be wearing the red robes, didn't seem to care about that - if he was even aware of it. But Ron caught the muggleborn wizard cast a spell, and grow tense. He forced himself to look bored and tired. His papers were genuine, and his disguise was magic-proof.

"You've imbibed a Calming Draught," the Wand stated. The Auror frowned, but didn't say anything.

"Yes," Ron answered, letting his faint accent show a bit. "I don't take well to magical travel. Unless it's on a broom. But I'm no Jocunda Sykes, so I had to take a portkey to cross the Atlantic."

The wizard nodded stiffly. The Auror rolled his eyes and handed Ron's papers back. "Enjoy your stay in Britain, Mister Dupont."

"Thank you." Ron smiled at the pureblood, then at the two Wands. They didn't smile back, but the witch nodded slightly. Ron had seen friendlier goblins, and the young wizard was quite glad when he passed through the door between them, and entered Diagon Alley proper.

Outside, on the cobblestones of Wizarding Britain's most famous shopping mile, he took a deep breath. He was back in his home country. Back in Britain. The country his family had lived in for hundreds of years, until that day in 1981. Contrary to his older brothers, he didn't remember their home, the Burrow. Not without a pensieve, at least. But he had grown up knowing they'd return, and take back what was theirs.

Though he had to find a place to stay first. According to his brothers, the Leaky Cauldron was the best choice - the owner was said to respect the privacy of his guests. With his traveling trunk floating behind him, Ron started walking. The passersby looked different from the ones he was used to in Paris or Marseille. The robes were more old-fashioned, and of course no muggle clothes were visible at all, but that he had expected. Though the nervous atmosphere was unexpected. He saw several Aurors, their red robes standing out easily among the crowd, but no Wands out on the street.