Although he did not need to be back at Gringotts until the afternoon, Bill had gotten up early that morning. He wanted to go into the Muggle parts of London to see if he could find one of those Internet Cafés Katrin had told him about. After breakfast with his parents (his siblings got to lie in since they were on summer holidays), he Apparated off to Diagon Alley. Stopping first at Gringotts to get some Muggle money, he then went outside through The Leaky Cauldron and started walking up and down the streets.

It was a bit slow going as he was not quite sure what he should be looking for beyond a large sign. At least, he hoped for a large sign. Maybe some blinking lights, but as it was daylight he knew that would be a bit of a stretch. In his looking, he did find some other places that were just as interesting. There were at least twelve shoe stores, something he thought to be a bit excessive considering most of the shoes looked horribly uncomfortable anyway. There were some large bookstores that looked worth stopping at, if for no other reason than to see what Muggles thereabouts considered to be popular reads. But he managed to resist the urge and kept walking. Then there were the plethora of clothing shops, mainly catering toward women, and mainly with stranger fashion trends than those he found in the shoes. Again, some smaller places almost looked worth stopping in at, though not nearly as much as the bookstores so it was not as difficult to keep walking.

Finally, he found what he was looking for. There were computers like those he found at that library, except here there was row upon row of them. It was slightly overwhelming, but he was determined. The place was mainly empty. Bill settled himself in, then found his way to the website where he could check his email. As it signed him in, he found he was slightly nervous. Telling himself he was being irrational, he clicked on the box reading 'inbox'.

Bill grinned with an odd sense of relief. Bill, you are being a complete dork, he told himself. Though he couldn't come up with a good argument to that one, he told himself to just be quiet already and hit reply.

Since he didn't expect a response right away, Bill paid for his time and then headed back out into the city. He stopped at a little shop for lunch, then tried to find his way back to The Leaky Cauldron. There was plenty to do in Diagon Alley that would kill the few hours left until his meeting.

It ended up that he didn't need to waste quite as much time since he ended up getting lost. None of the street signs were anywhere visible and he ended up passing the road he was looking for four times. Regardless, he still managed to be a few minutes early. So, he waited in the lobby and watched the bustle of people rushing to take care of their banking needs right before closing time. Most of the Wizards and Witches he saw were blatantly business people, looking harried and uptight. Bill wondered how much of that was due to their occupations. He did get stressed with his job, but never to the point where he rushed around looking like that. He thanked his lucky stars once again for the random opportunity that landed him a job as a Curse Breaker. It had not been his life ambition, but when he happened across the advert one day shortly after he left Hogwarts, he thought it sounded like a bit of a lark. Eight years later, he had yet to grow tired of it.

"Mr. Weasley." Frank's voice interrupted Bill's reverie.

"Good afternoon, sir," he replied as he rose and shook Frank's proffered hand. "I hope things went well this morning."

"Well enough, Mr. Weasley. Come with me." Once again, Bill was led up the stairs to the second floor boardroom. This time, there was no one else waiting. On the table lay a brown leather satchel. "Please, sit down." When both were seated, Frank folded his hands on the table. "I will be brief, Mr. Weasley. The others will not be joining us today; the Delegation has not yet returned though they have been in contact with me. As for the result, though things went well for the Delegation, not everything went as expected. You see, His Majesty agreed with the necessity for an evaluation of the Wizard Quirrell's journey. However, while acknowledging the dangers of such an expedition, he has denied the request for a guide."

"So I will be on my own." Bill thought about that briefly before nodding. This king of theirs sounds really sympathetic to their cause... "I cannot say that I would prefer it this way, but I have never had a guide on previous quests so I will just have to deal with this one on my own as well."

"Well, not entirely."

"Not entirely?"

"His Majesty did grant a... travelling companion."

Something about the way Frank said that made Bill suspicious. "A 'travelling companion'? What does that mean, exactly."

"He has offered you an owl."

"An owl."

"Yes."

"... An owl?"

"Yes."

"As in the traditionally nocturnal birds of prey used to carry post?"

"Yes."

"As a 'travelling companion'?"

"Yes. And should you find yourself in dire need of assistance, you may use it to find help."

This is the aid being offered? Oh, very helpful. This king sounds like a complete nutter. From the sound of this Underground place, by the time the owl finds help and returns I'll likely be long gone. "Well, in all honesty, sir, I'm not sure how much of a help that will be. For starters, I'll have to keep tabs on this owl as well as focus on the specifics of the quest. And even if we used one of the Bank's owls there's no telling how long it would take to get help."

Frank laughed, a slightly disturbing sound to those unused to Goblins. "This would not be an ordinary owl, Mr. Weasley. His Majesty is offering the use of one of his... personal owls. Help would be much closer than you can imagine."

And this is an improvement? Right. "Well, if His Majesty is going to insist on this, I suppose it is pointless to argue. Although, and I do not mean offence, I hope there will be no need to use the owl at all. Is that everything, sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley. Ah, and this satchel is for you. It contains a copy of all the information given to the Wizard Quirrell, in addition to a briefing of the details of your departure and the things you should bring with you. I will not see you again until your return, Mr. Weasley, so have a nice journey."

I love the way he says that as though this is a pleasure trip. Just as much of a nutter as his king, I suppose. Maybe it is a Goblin thing... Bill chuckled to himself in amusement. "If I return sir, eh?" he quipped as he peeked in the satchel at a stack of papers and what looked to be a rather large but flat tome.

"Well, that is always a risk in any case. We must be optimistic." Frank grinned.

This time, Bill's chuckle was audible. "True."

They both rose and made for the door. When they got back to the lobby, the two shook hands again. Frank caught Bill's eye. "Good luck, Mr. Weasley. And I do sincerely hope all goes well."

"Thank you, sir. I will do my best to make it so."

"I am sure you will. Good day." Turning, Frank walked off down another hallway. Bill stood there watching him depart before shaking his head and making his own way out of the building.

Bill sat on the hill. Upon returning home, he realised that if he wanted to look through the things in the satchel, he should probably not do so anywhere around his family. Someone would have inadvertently started asking questions Bill would not have been able to answer. So, the next best place would be where, should anyone he know find him, he would be left alone.

This time, he opted for sitting amid the branches of his favourite tree as opposed to beneath them. Balanced on a branch with his back against the trunk, the tome lay opened in his lap. The satchel hung on the stump of a branch that had broken off, leaving the perfect hook for one's cloak or one's bag. Not that anything was in the satchel. He had read and committed to memory the items in the briefing then destroyed it as instructed. Then, for the next few hours left of daylight he sat perusing the tome, trying to make heads or tails of it.

It was full of all sorts of information, some of which did not make much sense. There were a few maps, though each seemed more vague than the previous. He studied them until he knew all the landmarks. Because they were so vague, he figured they were more like treasure maps than practical maps, giving directions in hints and clues rather than distances and directions. Most of the diagrams he could not make out at all. At least not yet. The key to understanding lay in the referencing of each to something else, which he assumed would be found on his quest. The rest were sketches and drawings scattered amid sections of text.

Most of the text added details to the sketches and drawings. From what he had skimmed through, he found that they were descriptions of creatures, plants, and things to be found in the Underground. Some bore resemblance to other magical creatures he had either encountered or studied. Most others were almost too bizarre to be believed. Had such a description not applied to this entire situation, he would have left out the 'almost'. Still, it was a bit overwhelming. Instead, he searched the pages for small bits of writing that were not part of the original book.

Scattered here and there were notes in the margins. It was as though someone had marked ways to deal with some of the dangers described and, in some cases, made corrections to the information supplied. It disturbed Bill, but not because the notes were there. In fact, he found them to have great prospect for being helpful.

What disturbed Bill was the fact that there were two different styles of handwriting. Though the distinction was not blatant, it was distinct enough. He was not sure who wrote the notes, but he had a strong suspicion one was Quirrell. The other could possibly have been helpful hints from a Goblin, or even You-Know-Who writing through Quirrell's body. The implication of the latter was more than Bill wanted to think about, yet it needed to be considered. He wondered if the Goblins had picked up on it, and whether it was worth asking about.

As the sun set and the light receded, Bill stopped looking through the tome with all his attention. Instead, he flipped haphazardly through the pages and took in the images. He could feel his eyelids growing heavy and knew he should probably go inside soon before he fell asleep and out of the tree. Vowing to dedicate more time to the puzzle tomorrow, he dropped the tome back in the satchel and, not bothering to get out of the tree, Apparated to the Burrow for the night.