But transporting a prisoner back would be a hassle, so he needs to find a place to keep her here.

He talks to some goblins and arranges for a room accessible only by Apparition under several hundred feet of rock. It needs plants for air. There are spells for plants. 

He observes the Queen of Portugal and her new companions.

If eavesdropped upon, the Queen of Portugal is being persuaded to adopt Elio's... secretary.

Adopt her?

Okay. 

He takes Felix again and contemplates Stunning her from behind while she's walking with her companions in the palace.

Nah, bad idea. Better to trip her, summon the thing that will fall out of her pocket, and then stun her. And also Elio. She's really good at the Imperius Curse.

Thank you, Felix. He lets it pick the moment, too.

- now.

Defense was his best class. Trip, summon, two Stunners -

Alarmed Queen!

Somebody else can explain things to her. He takes her to the place under several hundred feet of rock - Vanishes her clothes and everything in them in case there's another of whatever fell out of her pocket - snaps the wand - takes Elio back to the Ministry.

He stops by the seam in the ground where the Ways used to be. 

He goes back to Brazil and waits for her to wake.

Eventually she does, although she's bright enough not to make this obvious by opening her eyes or anything.

Felix notices. 

"Where are the Ways?"

Still pretending to be asleep.

Quidditch is not the national fixation in Brazil that it is in Britain, but it's played.

He leaves.

He comes back with a Bludger. Lets it go.

She stops pretending to be asleep after it clonks her in the shin. "Ah!"

"If they're alive somewhere I'll stop - if they're dead I'll stop - but you'll tell me -"

She scrunches up, hands over the back of her head, knees to chin. "Io non parlo inglese!"

"French works too - where are they -"

"Io non parlo francese!"

"I had an uncle who was fluent in everything but looks like you fucking murdered him."

The bludger hits her in the shoulder. "Ah -"

They're probably dead. They're probably dead and it doesn't matter and it won't bring them back and there are kinder ways to remove her from the world than letting a 12-pound hunk of iron do it one bone at a time. 

But they might still be alive. 

He waits.

She attempts to protect her head. The bludger is just as happy to break everything else.

He wonders vaguely if he gets some credit in some cosmic accounting for not enjoying it in the slightest. "Where are they?"

She jabbers in Italian.

He stands up, catches the Bludger. "You spoke French with Timothy."