Harry shook his head. "No, just that she had some errands to run and a few details
to work out before―"
Sirius paled. "What?"
Mia stood outside the door of Bard and Beetle Publishing with a smile, both
vinewood wands tucked neatly into their holsters—one on the arm of her robes and the
other against her thigh. A copy of that morning's Daily Prophet was in one hand, while a
delicately scripted list was in the other—something she had written down in haste that
morning after reading the paper.
Her eyes flickered to the list in her hand, something that she had kept in her head
for eight years and finally had written down. The top nine names were noted and then
stricken with a line through the middle just so that she could get the sense of completion
from doing so, but the bottom four names remained untouched, begging to be scratched
out:
Tom Riddle
Peter Pettigrew
Bellatrix Lestrange
Lucius Malfoy
Albus Dumbledore
Alastor Moody
Fenrir Greyback
Antonin Dolohov
Bartemius Crouch
Dolores Umbridge
Cornelius Fudge
Vernon and Petunia Dursley
Rita Skeeter"Well, well, well." The door opened and in the frame stood a sneering, heavy-jawed,
blond witch with tight curls and rhinestone studded spectacles on her face. Her thin red
lips curled viciously at Mia, and her tiny eyes narrowed. "If it isn't Little Miss Perfect. I was
wondering when I'd be seeing you again."