Ron had developed quite a bad habit over the years of tapping his fingers onto any hard surface whenever he was truly antsy about something; at times, even running his hand through his hair was not quite sufficient to distract him, and unfortunately, this qualified as one of those unbearably tense moments. Hermione was usually the first to grab hold of his hand to still it (a great number of their now legendary rows at Hogwarts--and even some particularly memorable showdowns long after they'd left school--had followed as a result), but she must have known that he just needed some way of getting this anxiety out of his system at that moment, because she didn't say anything this time.

This time, he stopped doing it on his own, after the dull monotony of that drumming sound had begun to irritate even himself, so he straightened and found yet another outlet for his nervous energy: pacing.

And after a few minutes of this, even the others in the room had to notice his restlessness.

"Relax, would you?" Harry said. "She'll be here soon."

Ron nodded absently, not particularly registering Harry's words, but did not stop pacing.

"Don't you think you ought to ease up on the rug, mate?"

"Wha'?"

Harry grinned at him. "The rug," he said, nodding towards Ron's feet. "I reckon you'll wear a hole through it if you don't stop that soon."

Laughter bubbled up to the surface, despite Ron's best intentions to stifle it. With a half-hearted glare, he muttered, "Shut up, Harry."

But his reluctant smile betrayed his words, and he had to chuckle in spite of himself. Much as he hated to admit it, it did feel bloody good to be able to release some of this tension, even if part of him--a big part--felt terribly guilty for doing so.

Hermione sighed beside him. Ron turned and saw her staring at the walls, perfectly still and silent, her breath barely even making a sound. He knew her thoughts had nothing to do with the sheer beauty of this room; they were with their son, and those other children who had been taken--and this girl who might be able to lead the way to where they were.

Madam Maxime's office was certainly a sight to behold, though. Everything gleamed in this room: from the tall, gilded double-doors with ornate patterns carved onto the bronzed surface, to the walls themselves which shone with the rich amber glow of the setting sun outside, to the cathedral ceilings with their murals of ancient wizards and witches who milled about and chatted amongst themselves. The desk that sat just in front of the window was made of heavy, smooth marble, and the chairs behind it and surrounding it were fashioned from finely-aged mahogany.

Ron felt as if he were inside one of those delicately-crafted porcelain eggs that his mother-in-law owned and proudly displayed on the mantle in their sitting room (Hermione had called them Faberge eggs, if he remembered correctly). This was, without a doubt, a far cry from the spartan, dreary look of Durmstrang (which he suspected would be depressing enough, even for the most well-adjusted wizard); it even rivaled the grandeur and majesty of Hogwarts, though there was still something about it, something he just could not put his finger on, that made Ron feel as if he were treading on unwelcome ground.

Perhaps it had something to do with Madam Maxime's cool reception of them when they had arrived. Ron had been told that the French Ministry had personally requested that he help lead the investigation into the girl's near-disappearance, but he also knew that the they had had to fight hard to get Madam Maxime to agree, and to even let him speak to the girl. In the end she had conceded, but she was clearly surprised--and not pleased at all, if Ron had to guess--to see that he had brought Hermione, Harry, and Ginny with him.

Harry, apparently, was not exactly her favorite wizard in the world. It seemed the wound brought on by his victory in the Tri-Wizard Tournament all those years ago (tragic though the victory had been) was still as fresh and raw twenty years later. From the moment he entered the room, the daggers shooting out of her eyes were evidence enough of her displeasure at having Harry Potter in her presence.

"All right there, Ron?" Ginny said at last.

"Yeah," Ron said. "As all right as I'm going to be at this point, I s'pose. I just wish... I wish there were some other way of getting this information we need other than talking to this girl. After all she's been through, she shouldn't have to relive this..."

He caught Hermione's eye; she turned away from the walls finally, but didn't say anything to Ron. The weary look she wore on her face said enough, though. He brought his hand up to her face, pulling her closer to him, and kissed the top of her head.

"It'll be over soon, love," he whispered. "We'll get him back, and he'll be safe, I promise... Before you know it, you'll be scolding him for sneaking his broom to school."

She raised her head to look at him, tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, then she laughed softly. "I thought we had agreed not to let him take it to Hogwarts."

"Well, technically I never agreed-"

"Ron!"

She swatted him on the arm, but it was the sound of the doors opening that commanded his attention. Ron immediately swiveled his head in its direction, watching Madam Maxime enter with a young girl, who seemed to be older than the typical first year. She was too tall to be merely eleven years old, with pale skin and dark hair cropped right at her jawline. As Madam Maxime guided her in, she stared hard at Ron, her dark blue eyes fixed on his, as if not quite knowing how to regard him.

"Monsieur Weasley," Madam Maxime said, "zis is Helene Gelinas. She was ze girl who..."

She paused, perhaps not wanting to upset the girl any further, then nodded at Ron.

"She has agreed to speak wiz you, Monsieur Weasley."

"Thank you," Ron said, giving Helene a smile. "That's very brave of you, Helene." He looked up at Madam Maxime. "Can she speak English?"

"Yes. I shall leave you to speak wiz 'er alone, if you wish."

Ron nodded, then pulled Hermione, Harry, and Ginny aside.

"Look, maybe it would be best if... I did this alone," he said. "I don't want to overwhelm her-"

"Of course, we understand," Harry said. "We'll be right outside."

Ron met Hermione's gaze. "You okay?"

She squeezed his hand; he knew she would be.

"Yeah," she said. "I'm no delicate flower, or have you forgotten?"

Ron couldn't help but smile. "No, never... My wife's as strong as they come."

"Bloody right."

She kissed him on the cheek, then he watched her follow Madam Maxime, Harry, and Ginny out the door. He could feel Helene's stare on his back, could sense her fear and uneasiness with him. The truth was, he had no idea how to approach this in a way that would not traumatize her; he just hoped his fatherly instincts would kick in and he would be able to do his job without sacrificing her in the process.

Perhaps starting off with small talk would do the trick.

"Your parents must be very proud of you, Helene," he said, "for being at such a prestigious school of witchcraft and wizardry."

"Zey do not know much about magic, Monsieur Weasley... Zey were very worried when I first got my letter two years ago, but zey have come to understand..."

"You're... not a first year, then?"

"No," she said. "Zis is my third year. And nothing like zis had ever 'appened to me. My parents thought I would be safe... But now, zey are worried again... Now zey wonder whezer zey should 'ave sent me 'ere..."

She trailed off; it was clear she was still not comfortable enough to say any more.

Softly, Ron said, "It's all right... I promise, no one will hurt you anymore..."

She looked up at him. "No more nightmares, Monsieur Weasley?"

Ron's throat went dry, making his voice break slightly when he answered her. "No," he said. "No more nightmares, Helene."

This seemed to bring some comfort to her--not much, but some--for she gave him a small smile. Gently, he probed further.

"Tell me... had you been sleepwalking? Before all of this happened?"

Again, she nodded, and the smile faded as fear fell on her face once more.

"Was it because of the nightmares?"

"Someone 'ad been speaking to me in my dreams," she said.

"Someone? Someone you know?"

She shook her head. "No, I 'ad never 'eard zat voice before... I could not even see a face..."

"Can you tell me what the voice said in your nightmares?"

"It said... you are powerful, Mudblood... more powerful zan you... Monsieur Weasley, I forgot ze word..."

More powerful than you... than you...

"Deserve?" Ron said. "Did the voice tell you that you were more powerful than you... deserved to be?"

She scrunched up her face in concentration. "I think so, but... I am not sure..."

"Helene, I know this will be very difficult, but I need you to do something more for me, all right? Can you... tell me what happened? Out there, in the forest?"

"I will try," she said.

He gave her a smile to encourage her.

"I 'eard ze voice again last night," she said. "It was... calling me... I thought I was dreaming again, just walking in my sleep, but it was real... I was out in ze forest, and I do not know how I got zere, Monsieur Weasley... and zen I 'eard 'er... I 'eard 'er say, I knew you would come..."

Ron didn't even register it at first. And then it hit him, like a thousand bludgers to the head.

"Wait a minute," he said, "did you just say... her? It was... a woman, who tried to take you?"

"Oui," she said. "It was a woman, but I 'ad never seen 'er before... Why would she try to take me, Monsieur Weasley?"

Ron had no answer for her, though. He could not even conjure up the power to keep his head from spinning. So, he had been right. It wasn't Malfoy after all. But who the hell was it? And how in the world was he going to find her and bring the children back?

"What happened next, Helene?"

"She tried to grab me... She was so strong, but I kept fighting and fighting... Zere was something she wanted me to touch--I think it was a necklace?"

"A necklace?"

"Oui, she kept trying to bring my 'and to 'er neck... It must 'ave been a portkey, Monsieur."

"That's how she's been disappearing with them," he whispered. "And what was she saying all this time, Helene? Did she say anything else to you?"

"Not much," she said. "Only zat she knew I would come to see 'er..."

"Did she tell you her name? Did she tell you who she was?"

"She... kept saying the name Drucilla, Monsieur... But I do not think zat was 'er name, zo. She just said it over and over... She said Drucilla failed, but she would not..."

The air had stopped circulating in the room, or else Ron had forgotten to breathe it in. Whatever this was they were dealing with here, it was unlike anything he had ever encountered in his career. And he knew he would have to pull out all the stops to get to the bottom of this mystery--before this monster struck again.

After a long time, when he noticed that Helene had been staring at him, waiting for his cue, he said, "Thank you very much. That was incredibly brave of you, Helene. And helpful."

"You will find zem, zen?"

He smiled. "Yes, I will find them. And I will make sure she can never do this to anyone else again."

She nodded, then turned and headed for the door. Ron watched her walk out, and saw Hermione, Harry, and Ginny standing just outside the door when it opened. There were no words spoken when they walked in, but Ron knew there were none needed at that moment; he knew the time for that would be later, when he had had the chance to put his plan into action.

Because he knew exactly what he needed to do now.