Chapter 51: Inspections
'At first glance, it seems difficult to understand why the Wizengamot, a bastion of pureblood traditions and values, would bestow seats on three young people from such atypical backgrounds - a pureblood from a family well-known for its abandonment of the customs of the Old Families, a half-blood and a muggleborn. Some of my colleagues claim that the Wizengamot acted out of fear, or in an attempt to placate the muggleborns, who were demanding more rights. This view fails to take into account that the Wizengamot was deeply split over the issue, and there was no one decisive reason, but rather a multitude of contributory reasons.
There were those who, afraid for their very lives, truly voted in an attempt to placate, by any means possible, the muggleborns. Next to them were those who simply followed tradition as those who had received the highest honour of Wizarding Britain, an Order of Merlin, First Class, were regarded as having proven themselves as both able and worthy to also lead Britain - a view more suited to a time when Order of Merlins were not awarded for political reasons, of course. Then there were those who followed the lead of Sirius Black - members of the Order of the Phoenix and old allies of Albus Dumbledore. They either simply voted as they were told, or came to the conclusion that three more seats for their faction were a good thing no matter who held them. Another group was those who naively thought that, as a member of the Wizengamot, the leader of the Muggleborn Resistance could be controlled or at least prevented from attacking that very institution. Others acted for more selfish reasons - they expected the Ministry and Wizengamot to fall, and hoped to attach themselves to the upcoming rulers in advance. And finally, there were those who were forced, through blackmail and other means, to support the proposal - Sirius Black was, in that aspect at least, a true scion of his family.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn
*****
London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, March 11th, 1997
"Did Jamaica really just threaten us with war?"
Harry sounded as if he couldn't believe it, Ron Weasley thought. That sort of thing reminded him that his friend had grown up among muggles, and not in Wizarding Britain.
"Well… a diplomat would call it 'voicing their concern about a possible conflict'," Sirius said, "but, yes, they did."
"Why would they go that far over a theft?" Hermione sounded doubtful too, in Ron's opinion. But her expression - lips pressed together, eyes narrowed, a few wrinkles on her forehead - told him that she was already considering the implications.
Sirius snorted. "Given the relations between Jamaica and us, it doesn't take much to start a war. We've had half a dozen wars with that island, not counting the war that won them their independence in 1752. It took a while for our ancestors to accept that the houngans hadn't just beaten the British garrison there because most of our forces were tied up in a Goblin Rebellion at the time, and Jamaica hasn't ever forgotten our attempts to reconquer it. It wasn't until Dumbledore taught the houngans a lesson in the early 60s that relations with Jamaica improved somewhat. They knew that Britain could beat them thanks to Dumbledore, and so they played nice with the rest of the Magical World. And with him gone…" The animagus shrugged.
"Wouldn't the fact that Britain could have beaten them with Dumbledore, yet didn't start a war, have shown the houngans that Britain has no intention of attacking them again?" Harry asked.
"Not really," Sirius answered. "They probably assumed that this was all Dumbledore's doing."
"They wouldn't be that wrong," Ron cut in. Houngans were evil, everyone knew that. "If not for the Headmaster, they'd have continued kidnapping and enslaving people. Which they might pick up again."
Sirius nodded. "While I'd not go as far as to claim that all houngans are evil - unlike Slytherins - there are more than a few reasons why they are pariahs in the Magical World. Well, in the parts of the Magical World that don't support slavery."
"But… the houngans are descendants of the Maroons, escaped slaves," Hermione said. "Did they go and become slavers themselves after they won their independence?"
"Yes," Sirius replied.
Ron nodded. "They went after muggles and muggleborns, mainly. Or so Dad said. Of course, that ended after Dumbledore became the Supreme Mugwump."
Hermione muttered something about 'bloody hypocrites'. Ron pondered if he should call her on her language, but thought better of it.
"Let's focus on the threat, please," Harry said. "The delegate mentioned a 'Library of Souls', from which something was stolen."
"Careful with that name," Sirius said. "The houngans killed to keep that a secret."
"What?" Ron, Harry and Hermione asked in unison.
"Dumbledore left me some information. The Library of Souls is considered the houngans' most sacred secret. It contains the secrets of their ancestors and predecessors - spells, rituals, dark knowledge of all kinds." Sirius looked grim. "Do not tell anyone about this. Don't even mention the name."
Ron hissed through his teeth. That sounded very serious. "Why did he tell us the name then?"
Sirius cleared his throat. "I fear that our attempt to portray Harry - and by extension you two as well - as Dumbledore's heir has had some unintended consequences. Since Dumbledore knew about their secret, they probably assume that he told you as well."
"Great." Harry rubbed his forehead. "I'd like to get it on record that I wasn't the one who proposed that plan."
"Well, since they already think we know about it… what exactly is it, and what was stolen?" Ron asked. He saw Hermione perk up as well.
"According to Dumbledore, it's a cave in the middle of Jamaica, where the skulls of dead houngans, containing all their knowledge, are stored."
Ron winced. That sounded like the Dark Arts. Necromancy. But then - what else could you expect from wizards who created zombies?
"Do you mean their minds, like ghosts, or are their souls literally bound there?"
Trust Hermione to think of an even worse possibility, Ron thought.
"I don't know," Sirius said. "Since the houngans apparently choose this, I wouldn't think they allowed their souls to be bound for eternity, but…" he shrugged.
"I've heard that a rumour that they sacrifice their souls for power," Ron said. "And we know that some dark wizards risk spending eternity between life and the afterlife when they create a Horcrux." He blinked. What if...
"Dear Lord!" Hermione gasped. "What if it is literally a library of souls, able to possess people? We know Horcruxes can do that, and voodoo has a tradition of the faithful letting themselves be possessed…"
Ron felt like vomiting. If that was true…
"We shouldn't get too far ahead of ourselves," Sirius said - though he looked queasy as well, Ron noticed. "But I think it's very clear that we cannot treat this lightly. It doesn't matter if there's a Horcrux with the soul of a houngan missing, or just a skull containing their dark knowledge; either way, it is not something we can leave in the hands of a Death Eater - especially not someone like Rookwood."
"We don't know if it's in his hands," Harry pointed out.
"We can assume that it was in Voldemort's hands, and that he used it to either learn or create his Withering Curse," Hermione cut in. She looked at Harry and seemed to hesitate a moment. "You didn't notice any sign of possession when you fought him, did you?"
Ron's best friend shook his head. "No. That was just Voldemort."
Ron was relieved - until he had another worrying thought. "We don't know where the skull is. But will the houngans believe us?"
Sirius drew a hissing breath. "They won't. I think the best course of action is for us to help them search for that skull." He sighed. "Which might be exactly what they want, since it'll give them ample opportunity to find out just what we can do without Dumbledore."
"Great. And I thought working with the Ministry was bad." Harry sighed. "Do you think the houngans have the counter-curse for the Withering Curse?"
Hermione frowned. "Wouldn't they have mentioned that and offered it in exchange for our help instead of threatening us?"
Sirius shook his head. "They might simply prefer to see if they can force us to help them first, before offering us something in return."
"And we still plan to help them?" Harry sounded like he would prefer a fight right then, Ron thought.
Sirius shrugged. "We're not in a good position to refuse them. Not with the ICW's inspection hanging over us." He bared his teeth, and Ron thought he heard him growl. "We'll just have to be subtle, then, to turn the tables on them."
"LIke Slytherins," Harry said.
Sirius nodded. "Exact... what? No!"
Harry's comment wasn't that funny, but Ron chuckled anyway, if only to mask his fear. He glanced at Hermione, who was biting her lower lip so hard, he feared she'd draw blood soon. Reaching out, he gripped her hand and smiled at her. "We'll get through this," he whispered. "We beat the Dark Lord, after all."
Her own smile was weak, but she nodded.
*****
London, Ministry of Magic, March 12th, 1997
"What went wrong at the Daily Prophet?" Amelia Bones asked as soon as Pius had closed the door to her office behind him. She banished the latest issue of the newspaper towards him. "They were supposed to cover yesterday's awards and the reception, not stab the country in the back by promoting rumours about Potter, Granger and Weasley."
"I assume you mean this line: 'According to sources at Hogwarts, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley left the school to spend time with Hermione Granger in their love nest'." Pius acted as if he hadn't read the article before he arrived in her office.
She glared at him. "How exactly can anyone think that speculation about a ménage à trois between those three is acceptable right now?" She stood up. "I hate how we had to treat those three, especially Granger, as the greatest heroes of Britain since Dumbledore, but it was the price for presenting a united front to the ICW. Now, who is pulling strings to sabotage us?"
"I don't know," Pius said, "but I will find out."
"You better," Amelia snapped. There weren't too many people who could influence the Prophet, and even fewer of those had any motive to betray the Ministry. "Now, what are the delegates doing?"
"The Aurors and Hit-Wizards providing security for our guests haven't observed any meetings so far," Pius answered. "Although given our forces' current lack of experience…" He trailed off and spread his hands.
Amelia shook her head. "Get some competent Aurors on that. If whoever is behind this article meets Beaumont or Steiner, it could be a disaster." Those two could influence the ICW, and were backed by powerful countries.
"Reid spoke with Potter and his friends at the reception," Pius said, his expression bland.
"I expect that you have competent Aurors on his detail," Amelia said. Leaving a houngan on his own in Britain was out of the question, after all.
"The best I could spare."
Who might not be good enough, Amelia knew. She would have to ask Black to find out if the houngan had said anything important. And that article wouldn't help.
*****
An hour later, Amelia was walking with Beaumont and Steiner through the offices of the Obliviators. Arlene Abbott, the head of the Obliviators, was all smiles and confidence.
"As you can see, we are ready to deal with any threats to the Statute of Secrecy," she said, pointing at a group of wizards and witches in their distinctive robes. "Our Seers are under constant surveillance, and we are poised to react at once to their visions."
The French delegate smiled politely. "I see. It does look in order - though, please, tell me: How did you deal with the additional strain that the recent war put on your department?"
Abbott wasn't fazed. "Ah, it wasn't actually much of a strain, was it, Oliver?" She turned to a middle-aged wizard sitting at a massive desk and sorting scrolls.
The man shook his head. "Not at all. In fact, we had less work during the war, since so many wizards were hiding, and children were much better supervised than usual. There were a few major events, but those were easily contained - all the factions took care to avoid bothering the muggles too much."
"So, do you expect things to grow worse then, with the war being over?" Beaumont quickly said.
Abbott raised her hand and made a dismissive gesture. "Oh, no! Compared to the end of the last war, this was easy to handle. It was all in the report I sent to the ICW, too," she added. "You've read it, I trust?"
"Of course." Beaumont's smile slipped a tiny bit, Amelia thought. "But the ICW was worried that the report might have been a bit too optimistic, given the wide-spread devastation that the Ministry suffered during the war."
"Are you accusing me of falsifying a report for political reasons?" Amelia refrained from smiling when Abbott suddenly glared at the French witch. She didn't know Abbott well - the witch wasn't that closely related to Susan's best friend at Hogwarts - but she knew her reputation. "We only answer to the ICW!"
"I am aware of that, of course," Beaumont said, smiling sweetly. "But you are still British witches and wizards, are you not? It must be horrible to see all that devastation, while not being able to help your country."
Abbott sniffed. "We know our duty."
"Of course." The French witch's tone belied her words.
Steiner stepped in. "Well, it seems you have things well in hand here. But how are you set for replacements? Just from looking at all the young Aurors and Hit-Wizards, it's obvious that many experienced wizards perished." He sighed. "It reminds me of the aftermath of Grindelwald's War."
"None of us are about to retire for a few years yet. More than enough time to recruit and train our replacements," Abbott said. "And while it might appear cynical, as a neutral department not answering to the Minister, we have an advantage when it comes to recruiting. There are a number of skilled and experienced muggleborns who left the Ministry's employ prior to or during the war. Not all of them will be willing to return to their old posts to work next to those who let them go."
Amelia pressed her lips together when she saw Steiner stare at the witch and Beaumont smile. Abbott was correct, but hiring muggleborns for the Obliviator Corps wasn't something those two delegates would consider a good thing. A view Amelia thought she could understand, after the last war.
Nevertheless, the damage was done. All she could do now was mitigate it. She felt as if she were back as the Head of the DMLE and faced with some rather outspoken Aurors talking to the Minister about things Cornelius shouldn't have been told. "Until replacements are needed, this is a merely academic question." She glared at Abbott, and the witch fortunately took the hint. This was not the place to talk about on-the-job training and planning ahead. "Now, how about we take a look at the Seers' offices?"
*****
Cumbria, Britain, March 12th, 1997
"Mate, those firearms might be useful, but they're heavy!"
Harry Potter mumbled his agreement while the two were walking back from the range to the camp. The Sergeant had been drilling them for hours, to 'make up for the time missed yesterday', before it had been their turn at the range with the Major.
"We'll be late for dinner, too," Ron went on.
"Hermione will have kept some food for us," Harry said.
His friend perked up. "Right! And we'll have a bit more privacy with everyone else already done." He stepped over a root that had sent a number of the recruits into the mud in the last few days. "Should we take guns with us, tomorrow?"
Harry knew what he meant. "I don't think we'll be able to use them that well against Reid. Should things come to that," he added after a second. He patted the thigh pocket of his uniform, enchanted with an extension charm courtesy of Hermione, which held the Elder Wand. "You know what Hermione said about rifles being best used from far away."
"Dunno. He'll be ready for curses. Bullets might surprise him."
"A Shield Charm will stop them well enough," Harry said.
"That'll stop curses as well," Ron retorted.
"Most curses." Harry looked ahead. They were close to the camp now. Ron glanced at him, but didn't say anything else until they reached the perimeter.
*****
As it turned out, Hermione had kept their dinner. Unfortunately, she didn't just have dinner waiting for them, but also the latest issue of the Daily Prophet. "It's the talk of the camp," she said with a frown while putting the newspaper down on the table inside her tent - and Ron's, Harry thought, given that his friend hadn't slept in the tent he shared with Harry for days now. "The Prophet's again claiming that we're in a sordid ménage à trois." She scoffed. "Nothing about our speeches, but a whole column about our supposed love life! I'd have expected that from Teen Witch Weekly!"
Ron frowned. "That's not a good sign. I would have thought that with the Ministry playing nice, the Prophet would follow suit."
Harry craned his neck, then turned the newspaper around, sending a few of the Wizengamot members scattering when a bit of his meal landed close to their picture. There was a big picture of the three of them, on the front page, smiling with their Orders of Merlin. "We might be overreacting," he said after skimming through the article. "It might simply be some journalist trying to spice up their article."
"And the Prophet printed it?" Hermione looked doubtful.
"Maybe they've decided to demonstrate their independence? And took the muggle tabloids as their example?" Harry shrugged. "Just an idea," he added when he saw the sceptical expressions of his friends. "We have bigger things to worry about, anyway."
"Reid," Ron said, finishing his meal. Harry's friend 'ate like a veteran', the Sergeant had told them. They weren't certain if it had been a compliment or not.
Hermione nodded. "I don't think he'll try anything tomorrow, but…"
"... you can't trust houngans," Ron said.
That earned him a glare from the witch, Harry noted. She went on: "I meant, Magical Jamaica might be planning to both take out 'Dumbledore's Heir' and manufacture a pretext for war at the same time."
Harry grimaced - the latest title for him that the Prophet had come up with was the worst so far, in his opinion. "I'm no Dumbledore," he said through clenched teeth.
"But you'll have to act the part," Hermione told him. "We need to win the purebloods and half-bloods over so the Wizengamot will peacefully step down."
He knew that. But he had thought that being the Boy-Who-Lived would be enough. "I can't really act the part either. I'm no prodigy. I don't have his knowledge or experience." He glanced at Hermione. She had all the knowledge. And she had the experience as a leader.
"You're a prodigy in Defence," Hermione said.
He shrugged. He hadn't been good enough to match Voldemort in a duel.
"You have Dumbledore's wand," Ron pointed out. "And you can wield it easily. That's quite close to being his heir. Or would be, if it wasn't the, you know." He made a gesture with his hand towards Harry.
Harry put his hand on the pocket containing the Elder Wand. "And if I flash it around, people might realise which wand it is."
"They didn't notice it when Dumbledore carried it." Ron shrugged.
"Dumbledore used his own, his other wand, in public, I think," Hermione said. "I haven't looked into that, though."
"In any case, I don't want to risk using it," Harry said. "Unless there's no choice. There are still people seeking the wand. And we can't afford for everyone to come after me. Trying to win it."
His friends winced. "Well, we can't do much but play along with Reid, and be ready for trouble," Ron said. "Or as ready as we can be, given that we don't know what he is planning."
"In other words, we're back at square one." Harry sighed and pushed his tray away. "I'll take a walk. Good night." He stood up and left the tent, ignoring the glances his friends exchanged. He doubted that Ron would leave the tent until morning.
Outside, the recruits and Resistance members were still gathered around the campfire. "Hey, Harry!" he heard Seamus yell. "Come sit with us!"
He hesitated for a second, then started to walk over to the campfire. It was better than walking around the forest and trying not to think about what his best friends were doing inside their tent.
Seamus scooted away from Tania and patted the free space on the log there. "Sit down here!"
Harry nodded at the others and sat down. When he saw that they had been reading the Prophet, he almost stood up right away. "You better not believe that rag," he said, grabbing the lone can of Coca-Cola from the cooler filled with beer next to Seamus.
Slightly nervous laughter answered him, though Seamus and Tania were chuckling. "Left the lovebirds in their tent?"
"Yes," Harry said, a bit sharper than he wanted, and opened the can.
"So… when's your first session in the Wizengamot?" Another recruit, Matthew something, asked.
"I'll only be able to actually vote myself once I'm seventeen," Harry said. "I'll have a proxy vote for me until then." With a grin, he added: "Of course, I hope that by then, we'll have general elections, so I can skip that."
Seamus scoffed. "Fat chance of that! The pureblood idiots are too stupid to realise that they have lost. We'll have to kick them out."
Harry glanced at the former fellow Gryffindor. "It's not the purebloods, it's just the Old Families. The majority of the purebloods, like Ron's family, haven't had any say in Wizarding Britain's government for centuries."
Seamus snorted, but the other muggleborns seemed to be listening - he saw a number of them nod. Harry continued: "And even among the Old Families, things are changing. Sirius, my godfather, has a lot of allies who follow his lead in the Wizengamot. And there were a number of others who were starting to switch sides."
"We still have to be ready for trouble," Tania cut in. "Especially with the ICW's inspection."
"Of course," Harry nodded at her. "But we're close to our goals. Once we have the Wizengamot, the Ministry follows."
"That's what Hermione keeps saying," Seamus muttered. But once again, the rest of the Resistance members and recruits nodded.
"Will you be running for a seat once there are elections?" Mary-Jane wanted to know.
"Probably," Harry said. He wasn't too keen on it, but Hermione was convinced that they needed him in the Wizengamot even after the reforms.
"You should," someone else said. "You'll do fine!"
"Better than the current members for sure," another added.
"We'll see. Hermione and Ron will sit in the next session," Harry said.
"That'll be a scene!" Tania chuckled, and even Seamus grinned.
Harry knew that Hermione would not make too many waves while the ICW's inspectors were still in Britain, but he didn't tell the others that while they were speculating about the Wizengamot's reaction. He simply sipped his Coca-Cola, and enjoyed the evening.
Tomorrow would come soon enough.
*****
Kent, Greengrass Manor, March 13th, 1997
Daphne Greengrass was struggling to remain polite and composed. There was a werewolf in her home! She was standing next to a dark creature, a cursed beast! And it was all Black's fault!
"Do you usually receive your guests, including Nott, in the living room?" Lupin asked.
Daphne wanted to ask where else she'd receive guests, but refrained from doing so, and nodded instead. "Yes."
"Well, sometimes we gathered in the garden," Tracey cut in, smiling at him. "We haven't done that in a while, though. Theo won't suspect anything if we meet him in the living room. And we'll be able to wait comfortably."
Her friend was far too friendly with the werewolf, Daphne thought. She didn't know if Tracey was simply putting on an act, or if that crush she'd had on their third year Defence teacher had survived the revelation that he was a werewolf.
"Remus won't be in the living room, though," their other guest spoke up. "Just me, and you two." Nymphadora Tonks - 'Auror Tonks', as she told them to call her - smiled a bit too sweetly. The witch was a metamorphmagus, and would be posing as Astoria during Theo's visit. She currently looked like a tall and rather curvy blonde witch. Daphne would have been jealous, if she didn't know that it wasn't Tonks's natural body.
"Well, Theo's not here yet," Tracey said. "There's no need to split up." She cocked her head at Tonks. "Although… don't you need to spend some time with Astoria, to copy her manners?"
"Nott hasn't even called yet," Tonks said. "It's better to get the lay of the land, first. Just in case there's trouble coming, I'd rather not get lost in the mansion during a fight."
"Of course." Daphne once again forced herself to smile. It was a reasonable request - if one didn't realise that the two would learn far too much about Daphne's home and its defences as well. Black had planned this well - every step of his plan was making Daphne more vulnerable. And some people claimed he was but a rash Gryffindor!
She led them to the living room of the manor. "Cosy," Tonks said as she looked around.
"Thank you," Daphne answered automatically.
Lupin was studying the walls and windows attentively. Probing for weaknesses, probably. The man was a good actor, keeping his beastly nature hidden behind a polite, quiet facade. If she didn't know better, Daphne would have never suspected that he was a werewolf.
"I think this is secure enough," Lupin said. "Provided he doesn't bring friends."
Tonks shrugged. "We're not about to fight them here anyway. That would give the game away, and warn Runcorn and Malfoy."
Which wouldn't be a bad thing, in Daphne's opinion. Laying a trap for Theo was far less dangerous than trying to spy on those two, and their co-conspirators. Which was what Black expected of her and Tracey. "Theo needs to visit, first. He might consider us a lost cause."
"I think that is unlikely," Lupin said. "His proxy must have noticed how yours voted. He is probably simply being cautious."
That sounded like Theo, Daphne had to admit. He had a tendency to hesitate, which he might mistake for being cautious. Not that she was currently acting very cautiously either.
"Well, if he is not visiting we can meet him at the equinox ceremony on the twentieth," Tracey said.
Daphne glared at her friend. Bringing a spy to that ceremony… they'd be excluded if that came out. But Black had probably already thought of that.
"Mum told me about the ceremony, but I've never seen one," Tonks said.
For a moment, no one said anything. Daphne knew very well why Tonks had never attended an equinox or solstice ceremony - her mother had been cast out by her family for marrying a muggle. "It's a simple ceremony," she said. "It's easy to learn the rites."
"Ah." Tonks nodded.
"Astoria can probably teach you," Tracey said, smiling like she did when she had been needling Pansy, back at Hogwarts. Before the war.
"Anyway, let me show you your rooms," Daphne said, gesturing at the door.
"We just need one room," Tonks said. "For safety."
"With two beds," Lupin added.
Daphne saw Tonks frown briefly at that. She wasn't about to pry, though. "Of course. Please follow me."
A few minutes later, with Lupin and Tonks in the guest room, conjuring furniture - a not so subtle sign that they didn't trust her, Daphne thought - she was finally free of the werewolf's presence. At least for the moment. She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed.
"We're in quite a pickle," Tracey said, her friendly smile replaced by a cynical expression.
"Yes, we are. We can but hope that Theo will visit soon, so we can get this done." She knew it would likely mean Theo's death, but she didn't care. Not about him, not any more. All she wanted was to protect her family.
"That still leaves Runcorn and Malfoy."
Daphne glared at Tracey. Trust her friend to ruin any silver lining Daphne might see!
*****
London, Ministry of Magic, March 13th, 1997
"So, who's pulling the strings of the Prophet?" Amelia Bones snapped as soon as Pius had closed the door behind him.
The Head of the DMLE stiffened very slightly before answering in his usual calm manner. "I don't exactly know. The author of the article was struck with a Confundus Charm, as was the editor." With a sigh, he added: "The rest of the staff didn't notice anything - or they didn't question the article's wording."
"Were the two victims struck at the same time and location?" She had been an Auror for too long to have lost the mindset.
He shook his head, the edges of his mouth briefly turning down. "Not as far as we can tell. Someone manipulated their memories as well."
Amelia pressed her lips together. She had expected to find a short-sighted member of an Old Family, not something like this. "So, either they're playing it safe, or they lack the gold or influence to handle this the 'traditional way'." Which meant bribes or threats. "Or this is the work of our guests."
Pius had already considered that as well, of course. "The journalist was talking to the delegates, asking for an interview. It would have been easy for them to arrange an opportunity to meet her privately."
"Exactly. Can we exclude Reid from the suspect list?"
Pius hesitated a fraction of a second. That told Amelia enough, and she shook her head before he could start to explain the failures of his Aurors to keep an eye on their most dangerous guest. "I know we can't prevent them from apparating." She tapped her chin with the index of her left hand - as Alastor had taught her, so long ago, she always kept her wand hand free if possible. "He was talking to Black's group."
"Do you wish to track Black?"
She looked at him. As if she would suggest such a futile thing. Black and his group had evaded the Dark Lord's assassins during the war. What was left of the Ministry's Aurors wouldn't be able to track them, if they could find them in the first place. Not least because he had moles inside their force. "Potter and Weasley have left Hogwarts; that much at least was correct in that article." Susan had told her that the two boys were 'excused from school for personal reasons' according to the Hogwarts rumour mill.
"Do you think they are with Granger?" Pius asked. She couldn't tell if he was amused or appalled by their attempt to use the Prophet as a source of information.
"Yes. Though not for the reasons stated in the article. They're preparing something." Amelia was certain of that. They were close, but not
that close, as their behaviour had shown at the award ceremony and the reception. At least unless all of them were far better actors than their history at Hogwarts would suggest.
"The Resistance hasn't been making that many appearances during the last few days," Pius said. "That is helpful with regards to the current international situation, but it means we don't know what they are doing. And we lack the Aurors to find out more."
"We couldn't find them back when we had the Aurors," Amelia said.
"Which means they have the initiative," Pius said. "Should it come to a fight."
"I am well aware of that," Amelia said, controlling her temper. "Unlike some of our esteemed members of the Wizengamot, I am not ignorant of just how weak the Ministry is." It galled her to admit this; she had been working for the Ministry since her graduation from Hogwarts, and to see it reduced like this… She shook her head. "Our duty doesn't change, though."
"Until the Wizengamot changes," Pius said. "We just enforce the laws, after all, we do not make them." He didn't bother to hide his sarcasm when he quoted her own words back at her. She glared at him, and his expression softened a little. "You know it's coming, Amelia. The muggleborns have grown too powerful, the half-bloods have been alienated by the muggleborn laws, and the Old Families are losing their grip on the purebloods. Arthur's busy building his power base in the Ministry, and Black's influence in the Wizengamot is growing. You can't stop this unless you invite the Europeans to occupy Britain, and even that might not work."
"It would also be treason," she said.
"Yes." He kept looking at her impassively.
She closed her eyes and slowly let out her breath, then looked at him. "I know that. I'm no fool."
"Then why don't you join Black?"
"Join Black? Compromise my integrity and abandon my principles? And for what?" She scoffed. "For whatever bribe he will offer?"
"Influence. Power," Pius said. "You could even keep your position."
She snorted. "I'm not
you."
"I know."
She almost cursed him for the pity she noticed in his tone. But he was wrong. Whatever power he imagined he could gather he'd lose. For all his political experience, Pius didn't understand Black - or Granger. They were not interested in power for power's sake; they wanted power to change things.
And they didn't care how much they had to destroy to reach their goals.
*****
An hour later, she had another irksome visitor in her office. "Good afternoon, Madam Beaumont."
"Good afternoon, Madam Minister." The French witch inclined her head.
"I thought you would be accompanying an Obliviator squad in the field today," Amelia said. That had been scheduled, at least.
"Ah, Herbert is with them. He is in his element - I guess Obliviators come close enough for a man who misses his past as a Feldjäger so much."
Amelia wasn't certain if that was a barb aimed at her as well, but she wasn't about to discuss the Prussian delegate with the French one. "How can I help you? As far as I am aware, the goal of your visit is to judge Britain's ability to preserve the Statute of Secrecy, which is handled by the Obliviator Corps." And she wouldn't find any fault with them. The Obliviators were about the only department of the Ministry who had come through the war unscathed.
"Oh, the British Obliviators certainly seem to be capable of fulfilling their duties," Beaumont said with the sort of polite, empty smile Amelia had come to quickly hate after rising in the Ministry. "But we would be neglecting our duty if we were simply to inspect the current Obliviators, and not consider future developments."
"Madam Abbott did explain the future plans and contingencies of her department quite clearly yesterday," Amelia said. "Do you doubt her claims?"
"I am certain her proposed policies will be adequate - provided the situation in Britain does not undergo more changes. A renewal of hostilities, for example, could endanger the Statute of Secrecy. Especially if muggleborns were recruited as Obliviators. They might have reservations about obliviating muggles, after all, being so close to them."
The French witch hadn't answered her question, Amelia noted. She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Madam Abbott mentioned that muggleborns might be able to be more effective in protecting the Statute since they are so familiar with muggles."
"I don't think that has ever been tried. At least not in France." Beaumont dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand. "There's also the concern about possible future changes in Britain. A new administration might not understand the importance of the Obliviators."
Amelia stared at her. "That's rather vague."
She thought she saw the French witch's eyes twitch for a moment. "I assume you are aware of the developments in the Wizengamot. The balance of power is shifting, is it not?"
"You might not be used to it, coming from a country ruled by hereditary ruler," Amelia said, "but that's not uncommon for the Wizengamot."
Beaumont wrinkled her nose. "I do not think that muggleborns and low-borns taking over has ever happened before, not even in Britain."
If any purebloods overheard the witch talk like this about them, Black's support would grow faster than a newly-hatched dragon left in a butcher's shop, Amelia thought. She raised her eyebrows. "I can assure you that there is no danger of a coup." Even if only because Granger and Black knew that they were winning anyway.
Beaumont snorted. "You're rather more evasive than your reputation claims. So, I will be more direct myself: Sirius Black and his muggleborn allies are taking over. That is a cause of concern for the ICW. Their extremist views are well-known."
She had a source in the Wizengamot or the Ministry, Amelia thought. She sounded too certain to be trusting an outside source. "There's no reason for concern. They didn't endanger the Statute during the war, after all."
"That may be so, but things and views change. It has been decided that in order to fulfill our mandate, we will have to meet with them."
"You already did," Amelia said. "Mister Reid spoke with Black and his allies at the reception."
"That was simply a courtesy call," Beaumont said.
"You would know, of course." Amelia was certain that the French witch didn't know what they had been talking about either. She didn't think either Steiner or Beaumont talked to Reid much, if at all. "I can inform them that you wish a meeting."
"Thank you." Beaumont smiled again, and once more nodded politely, if slightly condescendingly, at Amelia.
Beaumont could arrange a meeting herself, maybe even more easily than Amelia, given that Black had apparently taken a French Veela as a mistress. Unless, of course, there were French politics at work.
Amelia was already soured on British and international politics; she really didn't want to deal with the domestic policy of foreign nations. And she could only hope that both Black and Granger would show some restraint when meeting with a foreign diplomat.
*****
London, East End, March 13th, 1997
Meeting a Jamaican houngan in a muggle safe house in a rather deserted part of London's East End - not too close to the home of the Resistance - might not have seemed the best choice at first glance, Hermione Granger thought while looking out through the window on the empty street below. But meeting Reid in Grimmauld Place had been deemed too dangerous by everyone. Despite the claims of traditionalists, the laws of hospitality were, in reality, more in the nature of guidelines. She wouldn't put it past a houngan to exploit the opportunity for his own purposes. Hogwarts and the Hog's Head Inn had been dismissed for the same reasons, and no one wanted to meet Reid in a clearing in a forest at night.
So, they had settled for one of the safe houses the Resistance had prepared. That gave them the advantage of having plans to secure it already - Tania and Seamus were providing backup outside, with John. They wouldn't be listening in since some of the things they might end up talking about were too dangerous even for her friends in the Resistance to know, but they were ready to act if given a signal.
Hermione felt guilty about excluding them while they were helping her and her friends, but there were more secrets than her own at stake. And it wasn't as if she hadn't kept important things from them before. Like Allan's fate.
She glanced back at the others in the living room of the safe house. Sirius was twirling his wand between his fingers and kept shifting around on the couch. Remus was studying the books on the small shelf - Hermione had stacked it with several useful reference books and a variety of novels meant to provide some entertainment for the Resistance, should they have to use the safe house. Harry was sitting in an armchair, tapping his foot on the floor, and Ron was flipping through the channels of the TV.
"Should have cast some wards," she heard Sirius mutter.
Remus paused in his skimming through a copy of Jane Austen, and turned his head towards the animagus. "Since the intention is to invite Mister Reid, wards wouldn't do us any good."
"They'd stop his zombies."
"I sincerely doubt that he has had the opportunity to create any zombies - of any type - in Britain. And even if he had, the diplomatic backlash would make it unlikely that he would do so." Remus smiled faintly.
Sirius scoffed. "He's a houngan; he doesn't need zombies to attack us."
"In which case the wards wouldn't be of any use, as I have pointed out already."
Sirius bared his teeth - Hermione told herself to research whether animagi took on aspects of their animal form - and hissed. "But we'd be doing something other than waiting!"
"You could watch the telly with me," Ron said.
"We could - if you'd ever stop switching channels," Harry said.
"Hey - I don't want to miss anything!" Ron said.
"And that's why you're missing everything." Harry shook his head. "Give me the remote."
"Get your own!" Ron said.
Hermione's radio chirped just when it looked as if the two boys would start to wrestle. "A cab's driving up the street," she heard Tania say while everyone stopped what they were doing, and looked at her. "They're getting out… it's Reid. And two others."
"Or someone using polyjuice," Hermione muttered. She tapped her radio. "Keep them in your sights." Looking at the others, she added: "They're coming."
"Cab's leaving," Tania informed her. Hermione wondered if they had hired the cab, or simply mind-controlled the driver, then berated herself silently for assuming the worst of the houngan. Even though Sirius insisted that doing so was just being prudent.
Then the doorbell rang, and Hermione glanced at Ron, who turned the TV off while Sirius and Remus went downstairs to open the door. A minute later, the houngan, in a white suit, stepped into the room, followed by two of his assistants, and Sirius and Remus.
"Good evening, Mister Potter, Mister Weasley, Miss Granger."
"Good evening," Harry and Hermione said while Ron nodded. They had spread out a bit - just in case, with Ron and Hermione flanking Harry.
Reid took a seat in an armchair while his two assistants - two men who might be zombies, Hermione thought, given their lack of expressions - took up positions behind and to the side of him.
Sirius sat down on the couch himself, and Remus leaned against the wall behind him.
For a moment, no one said anything, then Sirius leaned forward - he wasn't holding his wand any more, she noticed - and nodded. "So, you wanted to meet us. Here we are," he said in a tone that made Hermione wonder how he managed not to alienate everyone in the Wizengamot.
Reid seemed to be more amused than offended, though. "Here you are, indeed - the ones who have defeated Voldemort and are about to take Britain."
Hermione bit her lower lip to avoid correcting the houngan that it was Wizarding Britain and that they would be reforming it, not taking it.
Sirius shrugged. "Voldemort thought that he had won when Dumbledore died. He was wrong."
"Ah, yes, Dumbledore's death. We have talked about it, haven't we?" Reid had a faint accent, Hermione realised, but it was hard to notice given how raspy his voice sounded - and far less of an accent than she'd have expected from a Jamaican native.
"You claimed that he had stolen something from your island." Sirius crossed his arms.
"Indeed, I did." Reid smiled, and as at their first meeting at the reception, Hermione fought not to shudder at the state of his yellowed teeth. This time, though, he must have noticed her reaction since he turned to look at her, and smiled even more widely. "Do I make you uncomfortable, Miss Granger? Age is not always kind, and rarely pretty."
"I was just reminded of my parents' work, Mister Reid," she said, smiling tightly.
Harry suddenly coughed in his fist, followed a second later by Ron snorting.
"And what do your parents do?" Reid's smile had grown thin.
"They're dentists," Hermione said. She didn't elaborate, and while he nodded, she wasn't certain that he had understood. But he was not smiling at her anymore.
"Let us return to the matter at hand," Sirius said. "You mentioned something that was stolen from you, which you want returned."
"Yes, I did indeed." Reid nodded slowly.
"What exactly are you trying to recover?" Sirius still had his arms crossed.
"I think you know what I'm talking about."
"I certainly do not."
For the first time, the houngan seemed to frown. "An enchanted skull containing lore from my country. Stolen from our most sacred place - a crime we will not let pass."
"And you suspect Dumbledore. Who is already dead, though. And we didn't find any skull among his belongings. No human skull, at least."
"Ah." Reid's smile was back. "You know about it."
Denying that they knew more about the Library of Souls wouldn't serve any purpose, Hermione thought. Sirius shrugged anyway. "What else could it be? I doubt you'd use animal skulls for your most sacred place."
"You would be surprised, indeed."
"But as I told you - there was no skull with Dumbledore."
"As a well-known master of Transfiguration, he could have changed it into anything," Reid said. "I know a spell to find it, though, no matter its shape."
"I'd have thought that such skulls were protected against spells," Sirius said. "But if you know such a spell, then it should be easy for you to find the skull, wouldn't it?"
"The range of the spell is somewhat limited," Reid admitted. "I will require entrance to Hogwarts, to verify your claims."
Sirius snorted. "Hogwarts' wards are rather particular about some visitors."
Hermione hadn't read about that in Hogwarts: A History, but the Marauders would have had to study the wards quite closely to create their map, so she couldn't tell if Sirius was lying or not.
"A guest would be admitted, though. Didn't Karkaroff visit during the tournament?"
"He wasn't a houngan. And we don't control Hogwarts." Sirius spread his hands apart.
"You have a lot of influence there, though."
"Not really. McGonagall still hasn't forgiven me for all the rule-breaking we did in our time." Sirius grinned.
Reid obviously didn't appreciate the levity. He scoffed. "I told you how important this is to my country. You persist in such antics at your own - and others' - peril." His assistants didn't move an inch, nor show any reaction despite the tension in the room skyrocketing. The houngan glanced at Harry. "Many sing your praises, boy, but no one could tell how you did it. Dumbledore was feared for his power. You ain't."
"I don't want to be feared," Harry said. "I don't like threats, though."
Hermione's finger hovered over the button for her radio. If this was just a ploy by Reid to create an excuse to attack them…
Reid didn't relax, but he didn't seem to press the threat. "If you refuse to let me check Hogwarts as a guest, then I will be forced to use other means to find the skull. Means Britain wouldn't like, indeed." He cocked his head. "And a refusal to let us search for our stolen treasure would make you appear quite suspicious."
"What assurances can you give that you won't use such a visit to cause us or anyone else harm?" Remus cut in.
"I would expect the Vanquishers of Voldemort to be able to tell if I did anything out of bounds while under their eyes." Reid was smiling again. As if they'd let him enter the school without iron-clad safeguards in place!
"Hogwarts is our Library of Souls," Sirius said, growling again. "In a manner of speaking."
"Then you should understand our grievances, indeed."
It was a closer analogy than Sirius might have realised, Hermione thought. Hogwarts was the heart of Wizarding Britain. Each British wizard or witch learned magic there, and its library contained the country's knowledge.
And woe to whoever harmed it.
*****
North of Magical Port Royal, Jamaica, March 13th, 1997
Augustus Rookwood hated posing as a muggle. He might have taken muggle studies as a student, mostly out of morbid curiosity, but that had been decades ago, and if he had learned anything, then it was that muggle customs changed all the time. And he hadn't kept up with muggle customs since graduating.
But acting like a muggle was the safest way for a British wizard to travel to and around Jamaica. Especially a British wizard with a skull stolen from the Library of Souls - if the houngans caught him, he would be facing a fate worse than death. Far worse.
Posing as a muggle had one drawback, though, Augustus thought while studying the muggle town near Magical Port Royal through a telescope - he had no way to easily enter Jamaica's capital. Port Royal had been one of Britain's greatest accomplishments in recent times. Right after the Statute of Secrecy had gone into effect, they had hidden the entire town from the muggles by making them think it was destroyed in an earthquake in 1692. The pearl of the Caribbean, freed of the muggle filth in one elegant move.
And then the mongrels had taken it from Britain, together with the entire island, when they had revolted right in the middle of a goblin rebellion. Augustus pressed his lips together. The houngans had a lot to answer for.
He sighed. They would, in time, but he had to focus on his immediate needs first. He needed the knowledge contained in that skull, but without the help of a houngan, he couldn't access it - the Dark Lord's notes hadn't covered that secret.
Fortunately, he didn't actually have to enter the town. He collapsed the telescope and stood up.
*****
An hour later, his patience and self-control were severely taxed. He was surrounded by muggles, half-naked muggles even, gathered on a filthy beach. Loud, noisy children were playing in the sand and the surf while their parents tried their best to get sunburn. Fools, the lot of them! If only he could curse them all, and cleanse the beach.
But Augustus needed the brats for his plan. He raised his wand, hidden behind one of the nonsensical muggle newspapers, and looked at the father of a particularly obnoxious brat. "Excuse me, sir."
"Yes?"
"Legilimens!" Augustus whispered when the muggle looked up and their eyes met. A minute later, he knew where the family was staying. Now he just needed to vanish and then wait until the spoiled boy threw his next tantrum.
It took longer than Augustus had expected, and, even with magic, standing while disillusioned in the middle of a packed beach was wearing. But when the overweight sprog was refused another ice cream, he finally started to wail. Augustus smiled and moved his wand, and a miniature sandstorm sprang up around the brat, hiding him from sight and scaring the muggles nearby. He almost chuckled at the sight of the fools staring at something incomprehensible to their limited minds when the local Obliviators appeared.
Soon, the sandstorm was dispersed and the muggles taken care of. And, as Augustus had hoped, one of the Obliviators noted the name and address of the family whose boy had apparently had a bout of accidental magic.
He smiled. Dumbledore had forced the houngans to stop their disgusting practice of kidnapping mudblood children to raise as houngans. But with him gone, Augustus was certain that the mongrels would start up again. And the spell on the muggle boy would lead him right to the hideout of whoever wanted to pollute their bloodline.
And he would acquire the knowledge he needed.
*****
London, Diagon Alley, March 13th, 1997
The side alley looked like any other alley, no matter how long Bess Cox stared at it. It should look different, she thought. Teddy had died there, killed by an Auror while 'resisting arrest'. She clenched her teeth - Teddy had been the first of her friends to die. Now only she was left of their group. Mark and Ricky had been killed in Hogsmeade, and Felix had been captured and then executed by the Ministry. Bess had been the only one to escape that day, three months ago.
She turned away, pushing her hands into the pockets of her jacket - it was still rather cold, especially in the evening - as she walked down Diagon Alley. She had thought a lot about their disastrous attack on the Death Eaters in Hogsmeade while she had been hiding in muggle London. Dumbledore was at fault - if he and his French friends hadn't attacked them, Bess's friends would still be alive. The old wizard had even called them criminals, just for fighting the Dark Lord's followers!
But now Dumbledore was dead, and the Ministry was collapsing. The muggleborns had returned to Wizarding Britain, too powerful for the Aurors to persecute. She smiled when she remembered how the purebloods who had profited from the expulsion and persecution of the muggleborns had run. The same Aurors who had persecuted muggleborns before hadn't been able to do anything!
She slowed down when she heard music - muggle music - from the reopened muggle-style bar 'Winston's' ahead, and her smile grew wider. It looked as if Toby, the owner, had bought a few new records! Bess was about twenty metres away from the entrance when the half a dozen people arguing with the bouncer there vanished in an explosion.
For a moment, she stood there, frozen with shock and horror as stone fragments fell down around her and a cloud of dust obscured the scene. She heard people screaming and saw spells flashing, followed by more explosions.
She was fumbling for her wand when a figure stepped out of the thinning cloud of dust, walking slowly towards her. His face was slack, his eyes seemed to lack focus - but his wand rose, and before Bess could react, the man next to her was struck by a curse that threw him back several metres.
She screamed and jumped to the side, towards the closest side alley. Behind her, another, smaller explosion threw up cobblestones, one of them clipping her shoulder and sending her sprawling. Shaking her head, panting, she cried out when pain lanced through her and clutched her shoulder.
Glancing back, she saw her attacker was still walking slowly in her direction, expressionless eyes staring at her, waving his wand.
"Protego!"
Just pushing her own wand out to cast a Shield Charm made her shoulder flare up with more pain, but it stopped the man's curse and saved her life. She tried to scramble away, but the pain that caused was too much, and she fell down, screaming when her wounded shoulder hit the ground. Her shield had vanished, and she clutched her shoulder, trying to recast it, but failing.
Tears streamed down her cheeks when she saw the man was still advancing, with slow, measured steps.
"ReductAHH!"
She fumbled the wand movement, and the pain made her mess up the incantation, and what should have blown the man's chest open did nothing except push him back a step. His wand was rising, its tip glowing, but his expression didn't change at all.
She screamed, and didn't stop screaming even when the man's head blew up, blood and bone fragments splashing against the wall.
*****
