Divided and Entwined (Harry Potter AU) (Complete)

Chapter 4: Backlash

‘There is a controversy about the exact start of the Second Blood War. Some claim that it started with the disappearance of Umbridge, citing her as the first casualty in the war. Others claim that the fight between Hermione Granger and Aurors Brenda Brocktuckle and Radcliff Macmillan was the first action of the war, causing the Muggleborn Resistance to take up arms. In my opinion, the war started with the bombing of Malfoy Manor. This was the first action taken by any side in the Second Blood War. It was a planned, prepared and well executed action by an organised group. Something that cannot be said about the other two incidents. With one blow, almost all of the Dark Lord’s followers in the Wizengamot had been killed. As had many of their families. Cries for revenge were heard before the fires in the ruins of the manor had died down. After that night, the war was definitely on.
- Excerpt from ‘The Second Blood War’ by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

Wiltshire, Britain, July 28th, 1996

Daphne Greengrass whirled around and froze, blinking and gaping at the horrible sight. Most of the manor had collapsed, the ground floor buried under the remains of the upper floors. A huge cloud of dust had been thrown up, and as it slowly started to settle, she could make out the remains of the ballroom, covered with rubble. Someone gasped next to her, and she couldn’t tell if it was Astoria or Draco.

“Merlin! Mother and father are…” she said, noticing that something was wrong with her ears.

Right that moment, huge flames shot up from the rubble. The already terrible scene turned into an inferno.

“Fiendfyre!” she shouted, horrified. What else could burn that fiercely?

“No, no… that’s not Fiendfyre,” Draco said. She didn’t ask why he’d know. She barely heard him, and realised that her ears were ringing.

Astoria was shaking, and saying something Daphne couldn’t hear. The fire was spreading, covering the entirety of the manor. A veritable firestorm. The edge of the garden was catching fire as well. To her horror, she saw someone stumble out of the flames, their robe ablaze, and collapse on the remains of the terrace leading to the gardens.

Movement to her side caught her eye. She turned around, shielding Astoria with her own body before she saw it was one of the Obliviators. She started to relax, then tensed up. They had arrived before the explosion. Why would…

The man pointed his wand at her, and she forgot.

*****​

Hermione Granger swallowed, lowering her binoculars again. The bomb and the home-made Napalm had worked as expected. With Apparition blocked by their spells, no one would have been able to escape from Malfoy Manor. She tried to calmly, clinically observe the effects, but couldn’t. The sight of a human torch stumbling out of the fire while another figure twitched under a pillar, the flames coming closer and closer, had been too much.

She had done this. It had been her plan. No one else had thought of using Gemino-cursed bottles of Napalm right after the bomb. And no one, including her, had thought what that would mean for the people inside. What it would really mean. Next to her, Sally-Anne was mumbling “Dear Lord!” over and over again. Justin was simply swearing.

“Yes!”

She looked up. Allan and the other broom riders were coming down. The former Ravenclaw was smiling widely. “Your plan worked perfectly, Hermione! No one escaped!”

Seamus and Dean looked more shaken, but were smiling as well. They wouldn’t have seen the effect, not from above, through all the smoke and dust and fire. She nodded, numbly.

“Yes.”

“If the Dark Lord was in that mansion, then he’s dead now!” Allan jumped off his broom and hugged her.

“Let’s hope he was,” she managed to say. It would make all of this worth it. She shook her head. “Let’s go. The Aurors will arrive any second.”

They apparated several times, until they reached a prepared ambush location, then waited half an hour to check if someone was following them. By the time they reached their safehouse, now very well-furnished thanks to magic, Hermione had managed to calm down enough to hide her emotions.

She just knew she’d have nightmares again though.

*****​

Wiltshire, Britain, July 28th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle shook her head in disbelief, staring at the remains of Malfoy Manor. The entire house was just a smoking ruin. And what her spells were telling her… she didn’t want to believe them.

“Merlin’s balls! Did a dragon attack?”

She sighed at her new partner, Martin Runcorn. Another rookie. “A dragon couldn’t have done this,” she said. “Not in the time this took, at least.”

“But… what then? The Dark Lord?” The wizard looked around as if he expected Death Eaters to charge them right then.

“Why would the Dark Lord attack Malfoy Manor?” She stared at him, and his response died on his lips. Brenda didn’t know what exactly had happened here, but she knew what or who hadn’t done it. Or at least was pretty certain about that.

“Come on!”

She led Runcorn towards the terrace. To their left, the burned remains of a guest were levitated out from under the stone pillar that had killed them. It was impossible to tell if it had been a witch or wizard. She heard Runcorn choke, and hoped he’d not lose his dinner, or early breakfast, if the kid had been as dumb as to eat something before coming. Hopefully his Bubble-Head Charm would help.

Scrimgeour was there, staring grimly at the carnage. Over a dozen bodies were laid out on his side, covered by conjured blankets, from what Brenda could see, and more were being recovered.

“Sir,” she greeted him.

“Ah, Brocktuckle. And…” he looked at her partner.

“Runcorn, sir, Martin Runcorn.”

“Right,” the Head Auror said in a tone that made it clear that he didn’t care. “What do you have for me?”

Brenda took a deep breath. “One big blast took the house down. The wards couldn’t withstand it. Afterwards, the fire was set using some inflammable liquid. No sign of Fiendfyre.”

“What?”

“That’s what my spells showed, sir.” She had checked the results three time.

“But… a Blasting Curse that strong… with old wards…” Runcorn trailed off.

Brenda nodded grimly. Old wards, erected back in the day with blood sacrifices, were serious. Not even the Dark Lord had managed to power through them like that in the last war.

Scrimgeour cursed under his breath. “Who could have done this?”

Brenda shrugged. “Dumbledore might have been holding back.”

Runcorn gasped, and Brenda and Scrimgeour exchanged a suffering glance. Rookies!

“More seriously, I don’t know who had the means to do this. But there’s one group with the motive,” she said.

“Muggleborns.” The Head Auror nodded with a grim expression.

“But how?” Runcorn stammered.

Both ignored him. If the muggleborns had done this, then the situation had just grown far worse than Brenda could have imagined a day ago.

“Sir! We’ve found the entrance to the basement! It’s intact!” John Dawlish walked towards them, almost losing his footing in the rubble.

“Any survivors?” Scrimgeour asked.

Dawlish’s grimace told Brenda all that she needed to know.

*****​

Dawlish’s grimace hadn’t told Brenda all that she had needed to know, she realised a few minutes later.

“It seems ‘dear Lucius’ had his dungeons stocked,” Scrimgeour said in a cold voice. “Likely muggles or muggleborns, judging by their clothes. Suffocated by the looks of it.”

Brenda agreed with the deduction. All that fire above them, no Bubble-Head Charm… a nasty way to die.

“We’ll need to identify them quickly,” the Head Auror said.

Brenda nodded. She didn’t know what would be worse.

“Rufus! There you are!”

Brenda turned around and winced. The Minister for Magic was walking down the stairs, with Bones at his side. She suddenly was glad that after her blunder, there was no way she’d get the lead on this case.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, July 28th, 1996

“This is a catastrophe, Albus!”

Now he was ‘Albus’ again, Albus Dumbledore thought. The Minister had always been quick to adapt to ‘changing circumstances’.

“I would agree, Cornelius.” If not for the same reasons the Minister thought of.

“Three dozen members of the Wizengamot, killed! Entire families, wiped out!” Cornelius was pacing behind his desk.

"Including Lucius Malfoy himself," Albus pointed out. It was a bit petty, but Cornelius could do with a reminder of just who he had been so friendly with, even if their relationship had cooled down somewhat during the last year. Even the Minister had realised just how close the man had been to the Dark Lord.

“It’s a miracle that the Obliviators acted quickly enough to restore the anti-muggle wards and had a muggle-worthy excuse ready, or we’d be in hot water with the ICW as well!”

Albus nodded. He had visited the site himself, earlier. He hadn’t seen sights like this since the war in Europe. Which was ironic, since the excuse used had been an unexploded bomb from the Blitz going off. Which meant he knew very well who had done this. In hindsight, he should have expected it. You could only push people so far before they lashed out, and Miss Granger had been pushed far beyond the point at which others would have broken. To think the young witch would be capable of such carnage… once again, Albus told himself he shouldn’t be surprised. He probably would have done something similar, in her place, when he had been her age. Before he had learned the cost of war.

“And Rufus and Bones think the muggleborns are behind this!” The Minister whirled around, facing him. “Is that true?”

Albus slowly nodded. “It is very likely, in my opinion.”

Cornelius paled, and staggered over to his seat. “But… it can’t be true! How could they have done this?”

“You really do not know anything about muggles, do you?” Albus asked, smiling mildy. Then his expression grew hard. “I warned you, Cornelius. I warned you against taking this course of action. I fought for a year to prevent exactly this situation from happening. But you didn’t want to listen. And now Britain is reaping what you have sowed.”

It was stretching the truth, more than a bit. Albus certainly hadn’t focused on the danger muggleborns represented - that would only have played into Tom’s hands. But if Cornelius had listened to him, instead of Malfoy, then the muggleborns wouldn’t have any reason to consider the Ministry an enemy.

“But… what can we do?”

“You can repeal those cursed laws against muggleborns, Cornelius. Rein in your bigots, and hope that this will be enough to placate those who have done this.”

“We can’t do that! The rumour that this has been done by muggleborns has spread already. The heirs of the Wizengamot members killed today won’t ever accept surrendering in the face of such … such…”

“The Wizengamot had no qualms surrendering the muggleborns to the Dark Lord,” Albus said. He knew though that the Minister was very likely correct. ‘Blood called for blood’ was a saying many of the Old Families lived by.

“We didn’t surrender. We compromised to avoid a war!”

“And yet, a war is the result. A war that will be more terrible than you and I imagined.”Albus stood up. “Mark my words, Cornelius: If you do not change those laws, if you do not change your policy, then Britain will enter its darkest time, ever.”

“I can’t! You know they’ll want revenge, not appeasement!”

Albus nodded, and left the Minister’s office. If he couldn’t change the Ministry’s policy - and with the Wizengamot dominated by the families of those who had just been killed, that was very unlikely - then he could only hope that Tom’s followers had been hurt worse by this attack than it seemed, or the Order would soon be facing not just the Death Eaters, but the Ministry as well. And he didn't know what the muggleborns would do.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, July 28th, 1996

Harry Potter was in the kitchen when he heard the tapping noise. He looked up and saw an owl on the windowsill. When he let it inside, he saw that it was carrying an Evening Prophet edition and he froze for a second. The Daily Prophet only put out a second edition if something very important had happened. Had they arrested Hermione?

Afraid for his friend, he all but ripped the newspaper off the owl, ignoring its screeching protests. “Kreacher, pay the owl!” he shouted, unrolling it. When he saw the headline, and the pictures beneath it, he gasped.

‘Malfoy Manor destroyed! Dozens Dead! Dark Magic?’

He read through the article with a sick feeling in his stomach. So many dead...

“Harry?”

He looked up and saw Sirius had entered the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?”

“Malfoy Manor was destroyed,” Harry said, returning his attention to the article.

Sirius stepped up to him and started reading over his shoulder. “First ever Summer Ball at Malfoy Manor… dozens of the most prestigious families in attendance… debutantes… entire manor destroyed by a single explosion… survivors burned alive… “

Harry’s godfather whistled. “Hermione doesn’t do things by halves.”

“What? You think she did this?” Harry gaped at him. He had told her about this ball. Had shown her the records from the Auror pub… Merlin! Was this his fault?

“Hm? I know she did it. She asked me to make certain that none of our friends attended,” Sirius answered. “Oh… Draco survived. Damn! I had hoped the entire family had died.”

“Hermione did this?”

Sirius nodded. “Yes, she did.” He grinned. “And she did it well.”

“But… she killed dozens of people!”

“Dozens of Death Eaters and their ilk.” Sirius scoffed. “Malfoy… Parkinson… Nott… Selwyn… all of them voted to convict me at my trial last year, despite the evidence Dumbledore had gathered, and despite my testimony under Veritaserum! I wish I could have seen them die!”

Harry stared at the older wizard. “You… you think this is a good thing?”

“Of course it is!” Sirius said, narrowing his eyes. “What did you think this ball was, a party? It was a gathering of Death Eaters and their supporters. Murderous bastards, all of them. Do you know how many of my friends they killed in the last war?” He shook his head. “You should be glad none of those dark wizards and witches will be able to murder anyone else. Your parents would have approved of this.”

“They would have?”

“Of course! They were fighting in the war. What did you think they were doing, holding hands? Lily and James killed their share of Death Eaters, before they had to go into hiding.”

Harry blinked, trying to make sense of this all while Sirius continued reading. Would his parents really have approved of this… massacre? They weren’t at war, were they? He still couldn’t believe that Hermione, his best friend, had done this. Had murdered so many people. Even if they were Death Eaters… Then he remembered what Malfoy had done in their second year. How Cedric had been killed, on a whim. And those names in the article… he remembered those names as well. Voldemort had called them out, and they had come. Harry had killed as well. Quirrell, in his first year. Burned alive. But the wizard had been trying to kill him. To kill in cold blood, like this… to think Hermione could do this...

“Damn!” Sirius said suddenly. “According to this, ‘the bodies of two muggleborns were found at the scene of the crime’. Did you call Hermione yet?”

Harry forgot about his turmoil. Hermione might have been killed? He pulled out his mirror at once. She had to be safe!

*****​

Devon, Ottery St. Catchpole, July 28th, 1996

Ron Weasley didn’t remember ever seeing his parents like this. His dad was sitting on the couch in the Burrow’s living room, shaking his head. Ron’s mum was sitting next to him, holding his hand. She wasn’t yelling, wasn’t saying anything.

A crumpled Daily Prophet lay in front of them, on the floor. Ron had read the article. The elder Malfoys were dead. Killed with half the Wizengamot. With a single spell, according to the reporter. Dad had confirmed that - the rumours had spread like Fiendfyre through the Ministry.

“Who could have done this?” he asked.

“I don’t care,” Ginny said. “I’m glad Malfoy is dead,” she added in a whisper.

Their father stiffened, and mum exclaimed: “Ginny!”

Ron’s sister raised her chin. “What? Have you forgotten what Malfoy did to us? To me? I remember! I remember what that diary made me do! And it was all his fault!”

For a moment, Ron’s mum and sister stared at each other, then his mum looked away, tears in her eyes.

Arthur hugged his wife and shook his head. “You don’t understand. This is terrible!” He took a deep breath. “The entire Ministry is in turmoil. A lot of people have lost family. And they want revenge. Dumbledore was so close to repealing those laws, but now?” He shook his head. “I doubt people will come to their senses before the Wizengamot gathers again.”

“What?” Ron was confused. Weren’t all of those who had pushed those laws through now dead? Then he remembered that their heirs would be poured from the same cauldron.

“Some are already blaming the muggleborns for this because rumours claim that two muggleborns were found dead in the ruins.” Ron’s dad winced.

“But they say it was a single spell. How could they have done this?” Ron asked. “Only the Dark Lord, or Dumbledore could have cast such a spell.”

“Do you know what a bomb is, Ron?” Arthur Weasley asked, then started to explain.

Ron had to struggle to keep his composure while his father told him about muggle explosive devices. Not just because the thought of bombs able to destroy entire cities was terrifying. But because he had just realised who had destroyed Malfoy Manor.

And that he and Harry had helped her.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, July 29th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle scowled when she entered the ‘Thin Red Line’. Someone had torn down the wanted poster depicting the muggleborn students next to the entrance. She had felt like tearing down Granger’s face herself, a few times, but to see that someone else had done it… probably a muggleborn, thinking they were unjustly persecuted.

“Two ales, Bran,” she said while passing the bar.

Brandon Smythe, the bartender, nodded at her. Martin Runcorn wisely didn’t protest her ordering for him. It wasn’t yet noon, but still, she needed that. And the kid would drink as well. She wasn’t in the mood for anything, anyone else going against her wishes. The Auror sat down on the bench at her usual table with a huff. Fortunately, the two pints were floating towards her before Runcorn had managed to sit down himself. Brenda grabbed one, and took a mouthful.

“Ah!” She closed her eyes and sighed, and smiled. It was rather weak, and didn’t last long, but it was her first smile that day.

“Rough morning?”

She opened her eyes. Bran was there, looking concerned. He was mostly curious though, she knew that well. He had retired from the Aurors, but he craved gossip from the Corps like no one else. And, well, no one really quit being an Auror. She sighed. “The worst. Fucking politics!”

“Someone meddling with your case?”

“It’s not my case. I’m just helping.” And Brenda was damn glad it wasn’t her case.

“Half the Wizengamot got killed. Of course everyone will be meddling.” Bran snorted. He didn’t launch into one of his own war stories though, so he was really curious. Not surprisingly - Brenda had dragged her new partner to a very early lunch.

She leaned forward. “You’ve heard about the two prisoners found in Malfoy’s cells.”

He nodded.

“We identified them. Kevin Baker and Joline Chase. Former Hit-Wizards. Fired last year.”

Bran raised his eyebrows. “So, the story the Malfoy kid had been telling, about his father capturing two burglars during the Ball, and not wanting to disturb the event by calling the Aurors right away was actually true?”

“That’s what the Minister wants to be the official story. Two burglars, caught and then killed in the attack. Nothing that could rile up anyone.” Brenda snorted. “If Malfoy managed to capture those two by himself, I’m eating my robe. And I don’t think they were trying to break into Malfoy Manor the day of the Summer Ball to steal things.”

Bran’s eyes widened. “You mean… they were part of the attack?”

Brenda shrugged. “Maybe. They were captured hours before the blast.”

“Accomplices could have blown up the Manor,” Runcorn said.

“With their friends inside?” Brenda scoffed. They had had that discussion before. She knew that anyone willing to kill so many people wouldn’t balk at killing two of their own, especially if they had been captured and could look forward to execution or worse, but she had a feeling that there was more to this. And this was the only lead they had. They couldn’t bury this, and investigate the case correctly.

“We haven’t been able to contact Chase’s sister,” Runcorn added. “Unemployed enchanter, disappeared a week ago.”

Bran cleared his throat. “Used to be, that meant the Death Eaters got another one, back during the last war.”

“Well, we’re not in the last war. She could have been captured as well, just taken somewhere else. Or she could have gone underground, like so many others,” Brenda said.

Bran snorted. “We’re not in the last war, Brenda. But I fear we’ll be soon wishing we were.”

Brenda glared at him, and drank the rest of her pint.

*****​

“Blimey!”

In the basement of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, Ron Weasley was staring at the parchment in front of him, where the quill was still writing down the Aurors’ conversation. Not even his dad had known about this! He copied the scroll and hid it in the enchanted pocket on his belt. He had to inform Harry about this!

If those Hit-Wizards had blown up the manor, then that would mean that Hermione wasn’t involved. Unless she knew them. Had known them. But she would have told him and Harry, wouldn’t she?

He stood up and hesitated, looking at the boxes laid out in the room. They needed to transfer those to a safer location. Keeping them below his brothers’ shop was too dangerous. But it was the only place within range of the wireless ears. He frowned. His brothers needed to come up with a better solution, or they would be in deep trouble should the shop ever be searched.

*****​

London, Greenwich, July 29th, 1996

Hermione Granger, disillusioned, looked at the two boys standing near the Cutty Sark through her binoculars. Her Human-presence-revealing spell didn’t reveal anyone hiding nearby. Not close, at least. Of course, anyone following them would be able to observe them from outside her spell’s range. Or disguised as a tourist. Although she doubted a pureblood would fit in with the muggles. And how could have anyone followed her friends when they had disapparated from Grimmauld Place?

She shook her head. She couldn’t be careless, especially not after Malfoy Manor, but if she couldn’t trust her best friends, then who else could she trust? And she trusted them more than anyone else. Including Allan and the other Resistance members.

The young witch stepped back out of sight and ended her spell before walking towards the two. Harry spotted her and nudged Ron, who was staring at the ship’s figurehead.

“Hermione!” the two said together, but she thought they were more tense than normal.

“Harry. Ron.” She stopped two yards away from them and bit her lower lip. She wanted to hug them, but she didn’t dare. What if they stopped her? They knew she had killed dozens of people. Did they hate her?

After an awkward pause, Ron pointed to the ship. “Why do they have a witch with her boobs hanging out mounted on the bow?”

Hermione snorted. “It’s because of the name. She’s a character in the poem ‘Tam o’ Shanter’, after which the ship was named.”

“And why is she half-naked?”

“That’s because in the poem, she’s wearing a cutty-sark that’s too short for her.”

“They named a ship after a witch’s undergarments?” Ron shook his head in apparent disbelief.

“Yes,” Hermione said.

“That’s crazy!”

Harry laughed, Ron joined him, and Hermione smiled. For a moment, the awkwardness was gone. Then Harry grew serious again. “Did you, you know…” He trailed off. He hadn’t asked through the mirror either.

Hermione nodded. “We wanted to kill the Dark Lord.”

“He’s not dead though,” Harry said.

“Did you have a vision?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not a real vision. My Occlumency shields worked. But I felt his anger yesterday.”

Hermione closed her eyes, cursing under her breath. She had still held a faint hope that they had killed Voldemort. That would have made the deaths worth it. She opened her eyes again and saw that her friends were staring at her. “Do you hate me for what I have done?”

“No, no.” Harry said. Ron shook his head. She didn’t know if they were lying though. Or if they didn’t know. She didn’t know if she hated herself for what she had done, after all.

“They were Death Eaters and their friends,” Harry added. “Sirius said they deserved to be killed.”

Sirius would think so, Hermione knew. She had talked with the wizard often enough.

“Dad’s not happy. Says this will lead to more violence. And more hatred against muggleborns,” Ron said.

Hermione scoffed. “I doubt that. It might make them speed up their plans for the muggleborns though. But more hatred? They already hate us. They were already killing us, when they could get away with it.” They had tried to kill her as well.

“That’s what Sirius said as well,” Harry said.

Ron looked like he wanted to say something, but he took a deep breath instead. After a pause, he pulled out a scroll. “Anyway… our spying operation gave us more information. Sorry.”

He handed her the scroll, and she skimmed through it, then gasped. “Dear Lord…” She had killed two prisoners of Malfoy! She looked at the two.

“You didn’t know,” Harry was quick to say. “And Malfoy probably would have tortured them.” That sounded like another line from Sirius. But Hermione wouldn’t argue against it. She felt bad enough.

Ron nodded. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was my decision though. I decided that the deaths were worth it, that the chance of killing the Dark Lord and his inner circle was worth killing their families as well.”

There. She had said it. She forced herself to meet their eyes. If she was honest with herself, then she’d do it again. She didn’t say that though.

Harry nodded. “It might teach the other purebloods not to join him, or support him.”

“Or it might make them fight you. For revenge,” Ron said. “That’s what dad thinks will happen.” He must have seen her flinch, since he quickly added: “You didn’t know the Dark Lord would survive though. If he had died...”

He hadn’t, though. She still nodded. It wasn’t an absolution, but she’d settle for this… understanding by her friends. Even if she still felt a tremendous amount of guilt for her actions.

“Thank you.”

When she moved to hug them, they hugged her back.

*****​

London, East End, July 29th, 1996

“I’m sorry to bring bad news, but I just received confirmation that the Dark Lord is still alive.”

Hermione Granger watched her fellow Resistance members react to her pronouncement. Allan, Dean and Seamus showed their anger openly. Sally-Anne, Justin, Mary, Martin and Tania seemed to be shocked, sad, maybe even sick - Sally-Anne was wiping some tears from her eyes and Tania looked rather green. And John … John was mumbling something that sounded like a prayer under his breath. Or maybe Hermione was just projecting. She wasn’t socially inept, not anymore, but she wasn’t exactly an expert at reading others, and she had felt all of those emotions, ever since she had seen Malfoy Manor crumble, and burn.

“It may be a small consolation, but we took a chance, and tried our best.” She forced a smile. “I’ve also found out that there were two prisoners in the Manor. Two former muggleborn Hit-Wizards, who were allegedly captured trying to enter the manor. I think it’s very likely that they had the same goal as we had, but failed.”

“We killed muggleborns?” Sally-Anne sobbed. Mary slung an arm around her shoulders.

Before Hermione could say anything, Allan spoke up: “No. We didn’t know Malfoy and his accomplices had kidnapped them. They were going to die anyway - tortured to death by the Dark Lord and his murderers. It’s not our fault.”

Hermione thought that was a small consolation, and not a good excuse - they should have thought of that - but she nodded. They couldn’t afford to feel too guilty about this, not with everyone from the Ministry hunting them.

Allan smiled at her. “And don’t forget: We might have missed the Dark Lord, but we destroyed a lot of his followers! You all know how the purebloods treated us last year. How they tortured us. Those we killed won’t be able to do that to anyone else anymore.”

Sally-Anne flinched again. Dean and Seamus nodded though.

“Yes. We dealt the Death Eaters a blow they won’t recover from any time soon!” the Irish Gryffindor said.

Hermione nodded. “Draco Malfoy survived, and he’ll inherit his father’s gold and position. He’ll not be even nearly as skilled at using either.”

“Exactly. The Death Eaters lost their most experienced politicians,” Justin said. “Maybe Dumbledore will be able to push through his proposals now.”

Hermione shook her head. “There will be a lot of new members in the Wizengamot. Members he doesn’t know that well. I don’t think anyone can tell how they’ll react.“ She didn’t mention that Ron’s father expected the Wizengamot to be radicalised.

“Sod the lot of them! If they continue to emulate Hitler, then we’ll blow up the Ministry!” Seamus said.

Hermione wasn’t the only one who gasped. “And kill everyone inside, even our friends and allies?”

“What allies?” Allan asked. “What did they do for us while the purebloods started their campaign to sacrifice us to the Death Eaters?”

“Where do you think I got this information?” Hermione asked, then regretted it at once.

“From Harry?” Colin piped up.

Allan scoffed. “Harry Potter doesn’t have access to that kind of information. It has to be a Ministry employee.” He looked at her. “But if they’re a pureblood, they might try to manipulate you. You can’t trust them.”

“I know what I’m doing.” She stared at him until he nodded.

“In any case, we need to plan our next action,” Allan said. “While the Ministry and the Death Eaters are in disarray. We need another target, to keep them off-balance.”

“Another Death Eater manor,” Seamus said at once. “Or the Ministry if they don’t repeal those laws!”

“We’d have to find one, first. Most of the known Death Eaters were at the Malfoys’ ball. And we’re not going to attack random purebloods; we’re better than that.” She looked around to drive that point home. “Further, the Aurors will be out in force, hunting us,” Hermione pointed out. “And we’re not ready. We only struck at the Malfoys because there was a chance to kill the Dark Lord. We need more training. ”

“We did well enough,” Dean countered.

“We were lucky as well. Unlike those two muggleborns,” she said. “But you’re overlooking something: Other muggleborns are fighting as well. We need to find a way to contact them. Recruit them, or at least coordinate with them.”

Allan nodded. “Our attack on Malfoy Manor shows that we are to be taken seriously. That should help with recruiting more people.”

“They’ll be hiding though, and suspicious of anyone trying to find them,” Justin said.

“And trying to find them will be dangerous,” Seamus added. “Some of them could be plants, traps by the Ministry. Or they could think we are working for the Ministry.”

This was likely based on what his ‘relatives’ had told him about their experiences in the IRA, but it was a good point, Hermione knew. That was why their had their enchanted contract, to protect them against traitors. But how many older wizards and witches would willingly agree to sign it? “We’ll proceed with caution. Try to contact those a year or two above us, through their families.”

“Allan and Tania are two years above us!” Dean said, grinning. When he saw her frown, he held his hands up. “Just kidding!”

“In the meantime, we need to train more. We can’t count on being able to sneak up on a manor like we did before. We will be ready to fight Death Eaters,” Hermione said.

“And Aurors. Though you already did that,” Allan added.

She didn’t want to be reminded of that fight, but nodded. If the Aurors were hunting them instead of hunting Death Eaters, then they would have to defend themselves.

“We can recruit those muggleborns who are not yet hiding. There are still shops in Diagon Alley that are owned by muggleborns, or at least employ them,” Martin said.

Hermione was sceptical. “I am not certain they’d want to fight.”

“They don’t see what’s coming. We need to tell them,” Allan said. “We can tell them that the Ministry’s trying to hide the fact that Malfoy had muggleborns locked up in his dungeon and was torturing them.”

“That would mean admitting that we killed them,” Hermione said. Which was hard enough to admit to herself.

“We can claim he killed them.”

Hermione bit her lips. She didn’t like to lie, but Allan had a point. Those people needed to know that they were in danger, and that no matter how law-abiding they were, the Ministry or the Death Eaters would ultimately come after them. “The first casualty when war comes, is truth,” she quoted, nodding. “We can create a leaflet, and duplicate it. It won’t be hard to charm them to spread through Diagon Alley.”

It would be good to save people, instead of killing them. But she knew she’d have to kill again. After what they had done, all of them would have to if they wanted to survive this.

*****​

London, St. Mungo’s, July 30th, 1996

Daphne Greengrass stared at the bodies of her parents on the table in the bowels of the hospital.

“Are you certain that those are my parents?” She hated to ask, but she had to. They didn’t look like her parents. They didn’t look like humans at all. Black, shriveled up, skeletally thin. Nothing of the two things reminded her of her family.

“Yes,” the Healer answered. “They were still wearing the rings and other jewelry you’ve already received.”

Daphne closed her eyes and took a deep breath, grateful that the Healer had cast a Bubble-Head Charm on her. And that Astoria hadn’t come. She felt her uncle’s hand on her shoulder, consoling her. She could have stayed at home as well, Daphne knew that. Eric could have handled it. But she was the heir, she had to come. She owed it her parents.

“Please have them delivered to to Greengrass Manor,” Eric Greengrass said.

“Of course, sir.”

The funeral would be in three days. It wouldn’t be a big affair - too many important people had died, too many funerals would be held at the same time. She was glad. She didn’t want more people telling her how lucky she had been to survive. More people offering their condolences while looking at her, trying to guess how she’d do as the heir. And more people trying to find out who’d she name as her proxy in the Wizengamot. Courting her favour even, for their own aims. As if her parents hadn’t left a will dealing with all of that. Her uncle Eric was her and Astoria’s guardian and proxy.

She was sick of those people. Her parents had died, had been murdered. She didn’t want to think about politics, or anything. She wanted her parents back. But no one could do that for her. Not her uncle, not the Dark Lord, not anyone else.

In the lift taking her up to the hospital’s Floo connections, she leaned against her uncle and shivered, fighting to keep her composure. She wasn’t a child anymore; she couldn’t cry in public.

“You’ve been brave, Daphne. Your parents would have been proud.”

She nodded, even though she didn’t feel as if she was brave. Or lucky. She didn’t know why she had survived while so many had died. She took his hand and held it. When the doors opened and she stepped out, she didn’t show her grief.

On the way to the Floo connections they met Pansy Parkinson and her Aunt, Petra Rowle née Parkinson. Daphne realised at once that they were there for the same reason she and Eric were. She nodded at her classmate. “My condolences, Pansy.”

“Thank you. I offer you my condolences as well, Daphne.”

“Thank you.“ She felt a connection to the other girl she hadn’t felt towards anyone. Both had lost their parents. And both had only survived because Draco Malfoy had been flirting with Astoria. “When will the funerals be?” she asked, impulsively.

“Two days from now.”

“If the bodies have been identified correctly,” Pansy’s aunt said, wrinkling her nose. “If the ineptitude of the Aurors has spread to the Healers, they might well have made a mistake.”

Pansy flinched, and Daphne winced. She wouldn’t have wished that attitude on anyone. Apart from the murderers of her family, of course.

“The Auror’s ineptitude?” Eric asked. Daphne ground her teeth, She didn’t want to talk, not about that, and certainly not with this horrible witch.

“They still haven’t identified the mudbloods who committed this atrocity, much less arrested them!” The witch sneered. “Even though they found two of the mudbloods responsible!”

“I didn’t hear that,” Eric said, sounding puzzled. Daphne shared the sentiment - she certainly hadn’t heard about this.

“Of course not! The Ministry is trying to cover this up, on the orders of Dumbledore. To protect his precious mudbloods!” Rowle spat.

“They should all be killed, before they murder more of us!” Pansy said through clenched teeth.

“Dear, not here,” Pansy’s aunt said, with a forced smile. She nodded to Eric and Daphne. “We have to go now. I assume we’ll be seeing each other in the Wizengamot, next week, Eric.”

“Indeed, Petra.” Eric nodded at her.

Daphne wanted to say something to Pansy, but she couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t sound stupid, and so she simply nodded as well, then followed Eric to the Floo connections. Her thoughts, though, focused on what she had learned.

Mudbloods had killed her parents. And Dumbledore was trying to protect them!

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, July 31st, 1996

A year ago, Harry Potter had thought that the first birthday he could celebrate with his godfather would be a happy occasion. All his friends from Hogwarts would attend, they’d have a big cake, lots of presents - even though he was not as obsessed as his cousin, he did like presents - and lots of fun.

He had his big cake, made by Ron’s mum, he had lots of presents, and yet the mood was rather sombre, as Sirius had put it. Even with his godfather and the Weasley twins doing their best to outdo each other. All three were currently fixing what had happened to Ginny when she had accidentally been hit with their latest spells.

“Maybe I should have followed Neville’s example, and canceled the party,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“No,” Ron said, sitting down next to him on the couch. “We’d still be feeling the same, but we’d not have cake.” He handed one piece to Harry, smiling rather cynically. “You know, Neville would have liked to have a party, but his grandmother didn’t want him to be seen with us.”

“What?” Harry blinked.

Ron nodded. “Yes. We’re too close to Dumbledore, who is apparently protecting the muggleborns who blew up Malfoy Manor from ‘righteous retribution’.” He nodded towards Sirius. “Him refusing to attend the funeral of his cousin Narcissa didn’t help, or so dad said.”

“Damn,” Harry said, then winced, then sighed.

Ron nodded. “She should be here, nagging us about our language.” He didn’t have to say who he meant.

“And so should be Seamus and Dean,” Harry said.

“What about the Chasers?” Ron asked.

“Try-outs for Angelina and Alicia. They’re in training camp.” And since all the teams of the league were owned by purebloods who had lost family at the bombing, attending his party wouldn’t help their future careers. He had told them so. “Katie’s in France.”

Ron looked around, then leaned forward, and cast a privacy spell. “If anyone asks, we were talking about girls.” He paused for a second. “Do you regret what we did?”

“Helping Hermione?” Harry sighed. “A bit. I have to admit that the number of people killed in that blast was a shock. But then, I’d not regret it if she had managed to blow up Voldemort with them. And Sirius is really happy about the attack anyway.”

Ron nodded. “Dad’s not happy. Mum says she isn’t either. But I’ve seen her smile at the note of Malfoy’s funeral. And dad’s mostly unhappy about the consequences of the bombing, I think.” The Weasleys hadn’t forgotten or forgiven what Lucius Malfoy had done to Ginny.

“Maybe.” Harry said. “You know we’re accomplices.” If the Ministry learned of their involvement, it’d be Azkaban for them. If they were caught. And for Sirius as well. He had no intention of letting them catch him or his godfather.

“I know,” Ron said, rolling his eyes at him. “But they won’t find out. Only Hermione knows.”

“So, we’ll keep helping her.”

“Of course,” Ron said. “We’re her best friends.”

Harry nodded. He still wasn’t certain that what Hermione was doing was the right thing. But she was his friend, and he’d do anything for her. And he hadn’t known what Hermione would do. But now he knew, and he still was helping her. Even if he felt bad about it. So many people had died. But he hadn’t known most of them. And those he had known he didn’t miss. And Sirius, who had known more of them, was glad they were dead.

And he knew he’d feel worse if anything happened to her.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, August 6th, 1996

“The chair recognises Madam Rowle.”

Albus Dumbledore smiled politely when Petra Rowle née Parkinson stepped up to speak for the first time as a member of the Wizengamot. The whole morning had been spent welcoming the new members replacing those killed in Malfoy Manor, but the real session was now underway. And it wasn’t going well, in his opinion.

“Honoured members of the Wizengamot! We all know why I’m standing here, instead of my brother. I am my niece’s proxy, a niece orphaned by a cowardly attack like so many others.” Petra looked pointedly at Eric Greengrass, the proxy for young Daphne, Albus noticed. He didn’t know if that meant anything more than an attempt to curry favour.

“Three dozen members of the Wizengamot, murdered while they were enjoying a ball! And what is the Ministry doing in response? As my esteemed colleague before me already said: Nothing!” She took a - in Albus’s opinion - rather theatrical breath before continuing. “Nothing! The bodies of two suspects were found in the manor. They were identified. But has anything been done to arrest their accomplices? No!”

“They were prisoners in Malfoy’s dungeon!” Arlene Abbot shouted. “Do you think they could have blown up the manor from their cells?”

Petra glared at her. “Their accomplices did! And they did it even though they knew that they’d kill their fellow criminals as well!” She raised her chin. “That’s how mudbloods act - like rabid animals! We’ve seen that in the attacks on inspectors of their shops in Diagon Alley, and now we have seen just how far they are willing to go! And the Ministry is doing nothing to protect us!”

“Madam Rowle, your language is out of order,” Albus said. A year ago nobody would have dared to use such a slur in the Wizengamot. Times had changed.

The witch glared at him. “I apologise,” she said, with a fake smile, “I was remembering my family’s death at their hands.”

Murmuring, almost all of it approving, filled the chamber.

“When will the Ministry act? When the next manor gets destroyed? When they attack our children at Hogwarts? I say: Let the Ministry hunt down those animals, and round them up before they murder even more of our families!”

Thunderous applause, and not just from the new members of the Wizengamot, filled the chamber. Albus didn’t have to look at Cornelius to see that the Minister for Magic wouldn’t be able to oppose that proposal. Fortunately, there were others.

“The chair recognises Madam Bones.”

Amelia stepped up, her expression grim. “Madam Rowle demands and says a lot, but she certainly doesn’t know a lot. We have found the bodies of two muggleborns, yes, but there is no evidence at all that links them to this attack. Our Aurors are tracking down other suspects, but this will take some time. Too many muggleborns have gone into hiding to easily find the suspects among them.”

“That they are hiding proves their guilt!” Augustus Malfoy, a distant cousin of Lucius, and proxy for Draco, shouted.

“It proves nothing,” Amelia answered. “We’ll find the suspects, and we’ll solve this case. The entire Auror Corps is hard at work. That they haven’t found the suspects should not be a surprise to anyone - or do you expect that stupid criminals could have done this?” She scoffed. “Trying to round up the law-abiding muggleborns will not help, but hinder our efforts.”

Albus saw that Cornelius was nodding, but Eric Greengrass was already raising his wand.

“The Chair recognises Mister Greengrass.”

“Honoured members of the Wizengamot, we should not act in haste, driven by fear. But we do need to act deliberately and decisively to prevent another such attack. As we know from our past, murderers trying to sow terror in our hearts will not stop unless faced with determined force. That was the case in Grindelwald’s War, and then again in the last war.”

He didn’t call it the ‘Blood War”, Albus noticed. A bad sign, or so he feared.

“We need to be united in the face of such atrocities! We need to show those cowards that we will fight them!”

“Like we were united against the Dark Lord?” Philip Bones shouted. “Or did you already forget what he did in the last war?”

That got a bigger reaction, and supportive as well.

Eric wasn’t impressed though. “And what has he done since his return? Has he attacked us? Has he attacked anyone? Should we start a war with him while we are already at war with muggleborns who want to murder us all?” He looked at Philip. “I do not make light of your loss, but we are faced with a clear danger to us all.”

“A danger we created by trying to sacrifice the muggleborns to the Dark Lord!” Arlene yelled.

“Even that was true, it wouldn’t change the fact that they are a danger. If a werewolf threatens your family you kill it, no matter who is responsible for its curse.”

Applause interrupted Eric’s next words, and Albus knew that this session would not help Britain’s future. They were refusing to acknowledge that they had created this conflict in the first place, and would persecute the muggleborns even more. He and Amelia would be able to blunt the worst proposals, but things would get worse for the muggleborns, again. And the more radical elements of the muggleborns, such as Miss Granger and her friends, would retaliate, again.

Albus would have to try to keep them from turning this conflict into a war against the Ministry. But with each decision those frightened fools in the Wizengamot took, it would get harder to prevent an even worse escalation.

He shook his head when Eric proposed to extend the trace on the wands of minors to all muggleborns, with harsh punishments for those who failed to comply. Judging by the approving comments, it would pass into law. Sometimes he wondered if he shouldn’t simply try to protect the innocents, and let the bigoted fools reap what they had sown.

But he couldn’t. He knew just how bad a war could get. He, unlike almost everyone else in Britain, had fought in Grindelwald’s War and survived it. Compared to the horrors he had seen on the continent, the First Blood War had been a rather minor affair. More like a blood feud between a few old families and their allies. Gellert and his followers had waged total war, and the muggleborns flocking to his banner had not shied away from using anything at their disposal.

He would do anything to spare Britain such a fate. And yet he didn’t know anymore if it would be enough.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, August 8th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle didn’t like Knockturn Alley. No Auror liked it. It was a hive of thieves and other scum, and creatures like hags and werewolves. Rookies and Aurors who had messed up were those who got stuck patrolling it. Which currently fit her and her partner, Martin Runcorn. On the other hand, Knockturn Alley also offered opportunities. It was home to more than its share of muggleborns, including shop owners. Shop owners who, like most of Knockturn Alley, were more than a bit on the shady side, which gave a good Auror leverage. Especially with the new legislation the Wizengamot had passed in the last year.

Michael Beckett was one of those. He ran a potions shop near the entrance to Knockturn Alley. And he had just informed them on the Floo that one of the wanted muggleborns was in his shop. Sadly, it wasn’t Granger, but at this point, any arrest of a wanted muggleborn would help Brenda get her career back on track.

She and Martin had apparated right to the mouth of the alley, and were making haste to the shop. On the way, she saw someone had stuck more of those ‘Muggleborn Resistance’ leaflets urging muggleborns to go into hiding to the walls. “Martin, cover the shop and the surroundings in Anti-Apparition and Portkey Jinxes,” she ordered.

“Wouldn’t the shop be warded already? To dissuade thieves?” the rookie asked.

“It would be warded, but I don’t trust those wards to cover more than the shop. And I don’t want the suspect to be able to jump out of a window and apparate away, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Martin sounded hurt. Maybe she had been a bit too curt, but she didn’t want to lose another partner.

“Do we disillusion ourselves?”

“No. The door opening without anyone entering would alert him. We charge in and stun the bastard.”

She was almost at the shop now. Unfortunately, the locals had noticed her and Martin, who was casting already, and were melting away as usual when they saw red robes. If that kid was paying attention…

The window to the side alley was blown out by a Reductor Curse. Apparently, the suspect had been paying attention. Brenda sprinted forward, casting a Human-presence-revealing Spell, followed by a Repair Spell that closed the window again. A glance over her shoulder revealed that Martin was covering the front door. Good thinking. She waved at him and pointed to her, then to the back of the building. He nodded, and started for her position, where he could cover both the front and side. What a change from her last partner!

Brenda sprinted through the side alley, to the back of the building, casting a Shield Charm as she went. An Unlocking Charm opened the back door, and she disillusioned herself before entering, wand out.

Inside a dusty storage room full of old and probably useless ingredients, she heard voices.

“Hey, you can’t go through here!”

That was Beckett.

“Shut up!”

That had to be the suspect. He was trying to escape through the back. Right where she was. Brenda grinned. She heard shelves getting toppled and glass breaking. Someone was making a mess.

Then the door to the storage room was blown up. She side-stepped the splinters, and a marker appeared in the door’s place. The suspect was disillusioned as well! A quick Finite rendered him visible, but also warned him and he managed to dodge her piercing curse. Angry at herself, she charged through the doorway.

The suspect banished the ruins of a shelf at her, but her Shield Charm held. His own shattered when she hit it with a Reductor Curse, but he jumped back, into the main room of the shop, before she could follow up with a Stunning Spell.

“Depulso!” That was Beckett!

A crash followed Beckett’s spell, and Brenda rushed forward.

“Traitor!” That was the suspect!

She entered the room and saw that the suspect was lying crumpled up at the wall, on top of a shattered shelf. The vials on it had fortunately not been broken. He saw her, and pointed his wand at her, snarling.

“Reducto!”

She side-stepped the boy’s curse, and sent a Stunning Spell back. He slumped over.

“Did you see what he did to my shop?” Beckett asked almost hysterically. She glared at him, and he shut up.

After a quick sweep of the shop, she called Martin. “All clear in here.” While her partner came inside, she checked the suspect out. “That’s Cokes. Your namesake. Hufflepuff 6th year.”

“See? I told you, he was wanted!” Beckett said. “I did!”

“Yes, you did,” Brenda said, already sick of the man’s drivel.

Martin didn’t react to the comment about him sharing the same name as the suspect. He was keeping an eye on the alley outside. He was shaping up to be a decent partner. And with this arrest, the two of them would hopefully move back into the good graces of Scrimgeour. No one else had arrested a fugitive yet, after all.

*****​

“What’s your name?” Brenda asked, an hour later in an interrogation room in the Ministry of Magic.

“Martin Fitzgerald Cokes,” Cokes said, tonelessly. A dictaquill was noting down everything he said, standard procedure for Veritaserum interrogations.

“What do you know about the attack on Malfoy Manor?”

“That....” the boy shuddered suddenly, blinking. “What?”

“The attack on Malfoy Manor. What do you know about it?” Brenda repeated her question.

“I don’t know anything about an attack.”

Brenda sighed. There went that dream of a promotion. Though if she was honest with herself then she had to admit that she hadn’t really expected that kid to be involved in the massacre. Well, there were other questions to be asked.

“What do you know about Hermione Granger’s whereabouts?” It was not exactly standard procedure, but she really wanted to know right away if he knew anything important.

“She’s usually in class, or in the Gryffindor Dorms.”

What? “Where is she now?”

“I don’t know. I am not in her year.”

What was the idiot talking about? This was not making sense. “When and where did you see her the last time?”

“This morning, during breakfast in the Great Hall.”

What? Brenda stared at the boy. That was impossible… they couldn’t be hiding at Hogwarts, not without the help of the Headmaster, but… “What date is it?”

“January 13th, 1996,” Cokes said, still under the effect of Veritaserum.

*****​

“Obliviated, you say?” Scrimgeour looked doubtful.

“Yes, sir. He doesn’t remember anything past January 13th this year.” Brenda stood at attention.

The Head Auror sighed. “Someone must have obliviated him. Could it have happened in the fight?”

“No, sir. I took him down and then kept my eyes on him.” She doubted Beckett could even cast an Obliviate.

“I see. We might have a traitor in the Ministry. Probably a half-blood.”

Or one of the purebloods who loved mudbloods still, Brenda thought but didn’t say anything.

“But you saw him fight you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And he was using potentially lethal spells.”

“Yes, sir. A Reductor Curse.”

“It’s enough to take to court. Not that there will be much of a trial. A mudblood accused of trying to kill an Auror, judged by the Wizengamot? The only question is whether he gets the Kiss or the Veil.” The Head Auror snorted. “Good work, Brenda.”

She nodded. It wasn’t Granger, but it was a start.

*****​

London, East End, August 10th, 1996

“They executed Martin Cokes.”

Hermione Granger stared at the mirror. “What?” That couldn’t… Martin had been missing for two days, and they knew he had been arrested, that was why they had moved out to another safehouse, hopefully only temporarily, but...

“They executed Martin Cokes. It’s all over the front page of today’s Prophet,” Harry said. “Pushed through the Veil for the attempted murder of an Auror.”

She wiped her eyes. She couldn’t cry right now. There was too much to do.

“I’m sorry,” Harry added. He must have seen her reaction.

“It’s not your fault. How did they catch him?”

“He was caught in Beckett’s potion shop, according to what we overheard. The shop owner called the Aurors when he recognised him, and they arrested him.”

Rage replaced Hermione’s sorrow. That shop owner was a muggleborn, and had sold them out?

“Someone obliviated him though - the Auror was angry about that. Cokes didn’t remember anything that happened this year.”

Hermione was relieved. Her plan had worked - Martin must have lost all the memories since the day he had signed the scroll she had prepared. And a few days before that date, to be precise. Then she felt ashamed. One of her friends had been killed. Murdered. And she was glad her plan had worked and she was safe herself.

“I see.” They would be able to return to the old safehouse, which was in better shape than the temporary one. Which would be built up to the same standard though. They couldn’t stay in the same location forever.

“Hermione…”

“Yes?”

“They executed him for attempted murder of an Auror....” Harry trailed off. She saw he was looking more worried than she had seen him in a long time.

“... and I actually killed one. I know.” She smiled. “I expected that.” She knew that she would be executed should she get arrested. After Malfoy Manor, no other sentence was possible. “They don’t care what we did, they’ll use any pretext to kill us. Either during the arrest, or afterwards.”

“Tonks didn’t say anything about that.”

“Did you ask her?”

“No. I haven’t seen her in a while either. I think she had a falling-out with Sirius.”

That didn’t surprise Hermione either. Tonks and Sirius were family, but she was an Auror, and Harry’s godfather didn’t exactly hide his opinion of the Ministry. At least in private - he controlled himself in the Wizengamot.

“Is there anything else you found out?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, that’s all.”

“Thank you.” She forced herself to smile. “I’ll have to inform the others now…”

He nodded and his image in the mirror faded.

*****​

“Can I come in?”

Hermione looked up from her notes and saw Allan was standing in the door to her room. They had returned to their old safehouse an hour ago, and she had retreated to her room rather than facing the other members of the Resistance while they were trying to come to terms with Martin’s death.

She nodded. “Of course.”

He stepped inside and closed the door.

“How are the others doing?” she asked, feeling more than a bit ashamed for not checking on them herself.

He sighed. “Not that well. Seamus and Dean are alright I think. The others seem to just have realised what we’re doing, and what the risks are.” He frowned. “They should have known better. Didn’t they choose to join us because they knew the purebloods want to kill us all?”

“No one wants to contemplate their own mortality,” Hermione said.

“Well, they know the stakes now. We either win this war, or we die.”

She sat up on her bed and scooted over. Allan smiled and sat down next to her. “If we kill all the Death Eaters, they’ll be hopefully so scared of us that they’ll offer us peace.” She hoped so, at least. The alternative would mean that the Ministry and the Wizengamot would rather risk death and destruction than appeasing mudbloods. And with such an enemy, there wouldn’t be any peace.

“Hopefully.” Allan didn’t sound any more convinced than she felt. “But I want them to appease us. I don’t want to go back to the status quo ante. Not after what they did to us. To Martin. We deserve more!“

He had a point, Hermione thought. After what the Ministry had done, the muggleborns needed more so they could be safe. Laws to ensure that this could never, ever be repeated.

Her friend sighed. “Damn… I should have gone with Martin. But he thought he was safe. He thought he knew that traitor.” Allan rubbed his forehead.

“He said he has been buying from the shop for years. Stuff that wasn’t exactly legal,” Hermione said and out her hand on Allan’s shoulder.

“Yes. Some of our experiments in Ravenclaw needed things we couldn’t get legally.” He chuckled. “We felt like bad boys, dealing with Knockturn Alley.”

“Ah.” Hermione didn’t know what to say. She had done similar things, but she didn’t like to talk about them. That was between her, Harry and Ron. Not something to he shared with others.”

“Did you expect we’d end up in this situation when you learned you could do magic?” Allan asked, suddenly.

She shook her head. “No. I was convinced it was the best thing ever. That there was a magical world, waiting for me.” A world where she’d find others like her, make friends. A world where she could do miracles. She had done that, actually.

“It was the same for me. My parents didn’t like it - they had planned my life out already. I was to go to Harrow, then attend Cambridge.” He snorted. “All the plans they had for me went up in smoke that day McGonagall visited.”

“Theoretically, we can still attend University. We just need to study a few years to catch up,” Hermione pointed out. That was what she had told her parents, back then, so they’d accept sending her to Hogwarts. Not that they had a choice, she knew that now. Every young wizard or witch had to attend.

Allan laughed. “Would you do that, instead of studying magic?”

“Well… maybe.” She had a few ideas that required both muggle and magical knowledge. “Did you parents accept your choice?”

“Not really. They didn’t realise that this was my life. That I’m a wizard, first and foremost. They didn’t accept that my entire life changed.”

“I guess having to hide because the Ministry wants to kill us all didn’t help them accept you.” Her parents certainly hadn’t taken that well, and from what she could tell, her relationship to her parents was miles ahead of Allan’s.

He shook his head. “No, it didn’t. But to be honest - I stopped caring about what they wanted, years ago. I don’t need their acceptance anymore.”

“But it would be nice to have,” she said.

He nodded. “We’re a bit like the children of immigrants. Torn between two worlds, and not really accepted in either.”

She thought they were far more like immigrants than ‘a bit’.

He looked at her. “I’m not letting anyone take magic from me. Not my family, not all the purebloods in Britain.”

She chuckled. “They can take our wands once they pry them out of our cold dead fingers?”

He nodded, entirely serious. After a second, she nodded as well. He stood up, and seemed to want to say something, but he only smiled at her before leaving her room.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, August 12th, 1996

“Shop’s still closed,” Hermione Granger said, staring at Beckett’s Potions. She was wearing the body of a pureblood witch who had left her hairs in the Leaky Cauldron, but she still had cast a privacy spell.

“He might have cut and run,” Allan said. He was polyjuiced into a rather ugly wizard.

“The shop’s still stocked. He’s probably laying low.” Or, Hermione thought, he was in a cell for trying to cash in the bounty on Martin’s head and ‘overstepping his bounds’. It would serve the traitor well, even though their vengeance would be delayed.

Allan cursed. “Checking each day while disguised will get expensive.” Polyjuice was not cheap. And it took a lot of time to brew.

“We can buy some more supplies while we’re here. In Diagon Alley.” She tried not to show how nervous she was. What if the Aurors expected them to ‘visit’ Beckett, and were waiting for them? But wouldn’t they have made certain that Beckett was there as bait? Harry and Ron hadn’t heard anything about such a plan, but the Aurors wouldn’t discuss every operation in the Thin Red Line.

“Good idea.” Allan said.

They were halfway to Diagon Alley when they heard the screams and yells. And saw the smoke rising. They exchanged a glance, and ran towards the mouth of the alley. There they saw the mob. And the burning shops.

And they understood what the mob was yelling.

“Death to mudbloods!”

*****​

Hermione’s first impulse was to charge ahead, wand out. Allan held her back though.

“We can’t rush in!” he said through clenched teeth, “There are too many.”

People were running past them, away from Diagon Alley now. Scared, screaming people. She saw a witch clutch a child in her arms, waving her wand ineffectively - she must be trying to apparate, Hermione realised.

“We can’t just do nothing! We have to at least know what’s happening,” she retorted, even though she had a clear idea of what was happening.

It turned out she had been wrong. What they saw when they reached Diagon Alley was far worse than what she had imagined. Several shops were burning - muggleborn-owned shops, so close to Knockturn Alley. And there were bodies on the street in front of the shops. Some of them far smaller than herself. Children. Dozens of wizards and witches were cheering when the roof fell in on what had been a shoes shop. She thought she saw someone move inside the flames, but she couldn’t tell for certain,

“Burn like the people you murdered!” a wizard near her shouted. She almost killed him with a spell from behind.

More smoke was rising from further up the alley. She couldn’t recall many shops owned by muggleborns there, apart from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, but the mob looked like it was out of control anyway. Maybe they were starting early on massacring the half-bloods, she thought.

A child’s scream behind her made her whirl around. A young girl, too young even to attend Hogwarts, was dangling in the air, held up by a Levitation Spell. A man in dark-green robes was sneering at her. “Thought you could escape, you little mudblood, huh?” he said.

Hermione snarled and hit him in the head with a Pimple Jinx.

“No… what?” Allan sounded confused. He must have expected her to use a lethal spell, Hermione thought.

The man was screaming and clutching his face, which was covered with growing sores and boils now. He dropped the girl, and Hermione barely caught her with a spell of her own, after hitting the man’s robe with a Colour-Changing Charm.

Half a dozen purebloods from the mob had turned around at hearing the screams. Before anyone could act, Hermione gathered the girl in her arms and shouted: “That mudblood tried to kidnap our child!” and pointed at the wizard she had jinxed.

The mob fell on the man with curses and hexes, cutting his protestations off. Hermione turned the girl’s head away from the sight, but kept watching until she was certain the man was dead. Allan was grinning.

“We need to leave now,” she said. “The Aurors won’t be long.”

“They’ll take their time as long as it’s only mudbloods that are dying,” he said, scoffing, but then he nodded, and the two headed down Knockturn Alley until they were out of range of the Anti-Apparition Jinxes. Behind them, Diagon Alley was still burning.

 

Chapter 5: Breakout

‘The riot in Diagon Alley had profound effects on Wizarding Britain, arguably even more so than the attack on Malfoy Manor. The dead Wizengamot members were quickly replaced by their heirs. The radicalisation of the Wizengamot’s policy towards muggleborns that had resulted from that had been blunted by the still-influential faction of Albus Dumbledore. But the death of dozens of muggleborns, as well as half-bloods and the occasional pureblood caught in a targeted shop, had far greater effects. Until then, the majority of muggleborns had been obeying the law and paying their taxes despite the persecution they suffered. After the riot, that changed irrevocably.’
- Excerpt from ‘Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century’ by Albert Runcorn

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, August 12th, 1996

“A riot in Diagon Alley? Aren’t those kind of events supposed to stay in Knockturn Alley?”

“If things were as they ought to be, we’d be unemployed. Now shut up and make haste!” Brenda Brocktuckle glared at Martin Runcorn as they rushed towards the Ministry’s Floo connections. For a rookie, he was getting a bit too sassy. Though he was correct - Diagon Alley was supposed to be safe. Was that another mudblood attack?

Scrimgeour was standing on the main floor, directing the Aurors to the Floo connections. “Anti-Apparition Jinxes were spotted, so expect the worst. The Leaky Cauldron is safe to travel to, but the rest of the Floo connections are suspect. We’re gathering at the Cauldron before moving into the alley proper!”

Anti-Apparition Jinxes? That sounded far more like an attack than a riot. Brenda cursed under her breath as she entered the Floo connection. Maybe they’d better send for the Hit-Wizards as well, but that wasn’t her call to make.

She stepped out of the pub’s fireplace into a scene straight out of a nightmare. Screaming people filled the pub, some bleeding or otherwise wounded or cursed, the worst cases lying on tables, whimpering with pain. No, the worst cases were on the ground, unmoving. More people kept coming in from the alley as red-robed Aurors all but fought their way through. “Merlin’s balls!” she shouted. “Parkinson! Apparate back to the Ministry! Get some Portkeys to evacuate the wounded!”

“Why not use the Floo?” Martin asked, staring at the sight.

“We need the Floo to come in,” she muttered, already moving towards the entrance to the alley.

“Merlin’s arse, what’s happening?” her partner yelled, following her.

“I don’t know. But we’re putting a stop to it!” she yelled back, shoving an elderly witch who looked unhurt but was not moving out of the way.

“Make way!” she shouted, entering the alley. The first thing she saw was the smoke rising above the crowd of fleeing people. “They’re burning down the alley!” she shouted. After Malfoy Manor, they were now attacking the heart of Britain!

Then she saw the mob, and heard the cries. “Death to the mudbloods!”

“That’s Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour!” Martin shouted. “But he’s a muggleborn!”

“Those are not muggleborns. Those are purebloods…” Brenda said. For a moment, she was frozen. Could it be that the mudbloods had attacked, and the purebloods were driving them back? That would explain the Anti-Apparition Jinxes.

But there was no sign of a fight. Just a mob cheering at a burning shop. And, she realised with horror, a burning body. She cast an Amplifying Charm on herself and shouted. “In the name of the Ministry, stop this and disperse at once! Anyone breaking the law will be prosecuted!”

“Mudblood lover!” someone shouted.

“Traitors!” another.

“Useless!”

For a moment, it seemed as if the mob would turn on them. Brenda saw how wands were raised, how wizards and witches started to spread out. Then more red robes appeared at her side - where had the Aurors who had arrived before her been, she wondered briefly - and the mob faltered.

“Move away! Go home!” she ordered once again. “Or we will use force!”

Martin showed initiative and cast a Reductor Curse at the ground between the mob and the Auror line. The mob started to give way, a few actually running. Brenda noticed that a few wizards didn’t turn away at first though, and only retreated after a few glances to each other.

She ordered a few Aurors to start containing the blaze - there was no saving the parlour anymore - and moved forward with the rest of the Aurors. It wasn’t long until they saw the next body. She couldn’t tell if it had been a wizard or witch, dozens of curses must have hit it. Martin swallowed audibly behind her. Up ahead, more smoke was rising. Far more smoke.

She set her jaw and pushed on. They had a duty to fulfill.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, August 12th, 1996

Ron Weasley was in the basement of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, checking on the reports from the Wireless Ears, when Fred came running down the stairs and yelled: “Ron! Someone just blocked Apparition!”

For a moment, fear filled him. An Auror raid? A Death Eater attack? “We need to remove the evidence!” he said.

“Yes.” Fred was already waving his wand, and an instant later, the dictaquills were summoned into a box. “Collect the scrolls, and vanish them!”

Ron did as he was told while Fred turned the wireless receivers off. “They’ll look like normal wireless sets now,” his brother declared, summoning some boxes to store them in.

“Fred! Ron! Get up here! Diagon Alley’s burning!”

George’s shout made them stop covering up their spying operation, and run upstairs instead. Their brother was there, near the door. “It looks bad. I can see lots of smoke.”

Ron could hear screaming before he reached the door. People were running towards them. Fleeing, he realised. He heard cries, screams, from further away.

“Merlin’s arse!” Fred swore.

“Good thing we strengthened the wards last week,” George added, in a grim tone.

“It’s coming from Knockturn Alley,” Ron said.

“The Aurors should be here before it reaches us, then,” George said.

“I’m afraid that doesn’t look likely,” Fred added in a tense tone. “There’s smoke on the other side as well.”

“That’s no riot then, that’s an attack,” George said.

“It’s going to be a massacre,” Ron whispered. A few meters away, a witch was running, dragging a child along. “Get inside!” he shouted, waving at her.

The witch ran towards him, followed by more panicked people. Fred groaned, but didn’t say anything.

“Get to the back, to the back! The Floo’s there!” George shouted at the people rushing inside. Some of them were bleeding, Ron noticed, but his attention was already on the alley. The shouting was getting louder.

He finally understood what the mob was shouting.

“Death to mudbloods!”

Ron almost smiled, feeling relieved. It was one thing to attack Malfoy Manor, chock-full of Death Eaters. It was another to attack Diagon Alley, full of ordinary people shopping and doing errands. If Hermione and her friends had been behind this…

Of course, there was a downside to this as well, he thought grimly, pushing a limping young wizard wearing muggle clothes under his torn robe through the door when someone screamed: “Mudblood lover!”

Right afterwards, a few spells splashed against the wards protecting the shop. He snarled, and sent a Stunning Spell at the first caster. The man went down.

“The Floo’s not working!” George informed them.

Ron felt a chill run down his spine. A coordinated attack on the alley, and the Floo Network went down? He knew what that meant. Death Eaters. Trying to kill him and his family.

“Confringo!”

His next spell struck the ground between two wizards in long robes, blasting them off their feet. One of them, protected by a Shield Charm, stood up again, sending more curses at the shop. The other didn’t.

His brothers joined in, Fred baring his teeth as he cast several borderline dark curses. George was running to the back again. “I’ve just the thing for those blighters!”

The wards were flickering - they’d not hold out forever, Ron knew. And the attackers had ducked behind what cover they had found. At least most of the mob seemed to be looking for softer targets. For a moment he wondered if this was how his uncles had felt, when Death Eaters had come for them in the last war. And if he’d take as many with him as they had.

Then George returned, his arms full of the twins’ special products. He threw a disc at a corner behind which a wizard was hiding, and part of the street turned into a swamp. With crocodiles. One of them lunged, and a screaming wizard was dragged into the swamp.

That drove the rest of the attackers back. Ron grinned and grabbed a Screaming Skrewt. If they could keep them off-balance, they would be able to hold out until the Aurors arrived. And if the Aurors took too long… the swamp wasn’t the most dangerous product his brothers had invented.

The screaming bug sent more fleeing, and a particularly nasty curse from Fred dealt with one of the more stubborn assailants.

Yes, Ron thought, they could win this. They would win this.

*****​

Hogwarts, August 12th, 1996

“Please have a seat, Severus,” Albus Dumbledore said when his Potions Master entered his office.

“Thank you,” Severus said. He sat down stiffly, but Albus couldn’t see any sign of wounds, or curses. He might just be tired - it was close to midnight, after all.

“How did your meeting with the Dark Lord go?” he asked.

“As well as could be expected, given the circumstances,” the younger wizard said.

Albus raised an eyebrow.

The Potions Master sighed. “He was not happy to hear about the attack on Diagon Alley. And he demonstrated his displeasure using the people responsible as an example.”

Albus nodded. It had been rather obvious to anyone but the densest Wizengamot members that the ‘riot’ had been orchestrated. It had been far too coordinated, and planned out to have happened spontaneously. Blocking Apparition, and sabotaging the Floo connections of the shops owned by muggleborns and so-called blood traitors? Everyone knew the Death Eaters were behind it.

“Who was responsible?”

“Ackerly Nott was the one who had planned it.”

That was a surprise. Abus would have suspected a younger, brasher wizard than the brother of the late Quentin Nott. “Will there be a new vacancy in the Wizengamot then?”

Severus shook his head. “No. That he is holding his brother’s seat was what saved his life, or so I assume. But I doubt that he’ll dare to do anything without his Master’s permission anymore.” He snorted. “Not even breathing. The Dark Lord was most impressive.”

Albus nodded. “I presume that Tom is planning to keep waiting while the Ministry continues to do its worst to make the muggleborns raise their wands against it?”

“Yes. Though he doesn’t like it. The attack on Malfoy Manor cost him most of his Inner Circle, and the new recruits are not yet used to following his every whim, nor are they as experienced in combat as those he lost. He must be aware that without more wands, he cannot currently hope to win against the Ministry, should it oppose him.” He left unsaid what both of them knew: That this was only true as long as Albus stood with the Ministry. And that the Ministry was unlikely to oppose the Dark Lord with all its power.

Albus nodded. Tom always had had a temper. He generally could control himself, but not always. “I see.”

“I’m not privy to all of his plans, of course,” Severus added.

“Try to subtly influence him into taking more direct action. Tell him that I am confident that this incident in Diagon Alley will allow me to sway the public’s opinion again, and reverse the latest laws.”

Severus nodded. “Are you, then?”

Albus smiled ruefully. “Sadly, this tragedy will not sway that many of the Wizengamot members.” Augusta at least had realised just who the real enemy was, as her missive to him had shown. And the mood in the Auror Corps was shifting again, or so Nymphadora claimed. Although that the Aurors had been attacked by both pureblood rioters and some muggleborns defending their shops had lessened the effect by some degree. “But if Tom thinks it will, then he might do something rash that will ensure a change of policy.” It had to.

Severus nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

Albus knew he would. And he fervently hoped that the young wizard would succeed. If an overt action by the Dark Lord didn’t change the minds of the majority, then Albus wouldn’t be left with many legal options anymore. There were alternatives, of course. But he had learned, to his immense chagrin, decades ago that those kind of measures led a wizard down a very dangerous path.

A path he had turned away from far too late, once already.

*****​

London, East End, August 12th, 1996

“Mum! Mum! Where are you?”

The little girl was crying, tossing around, still affected by the nightmare that had woken her up. Hermione Granger did her best to calm her down, holding her in her arms.

“Shhh. Shhhh. It’s OK. We’ll find your mum tomorrow,” she whispered, and hoped that she wasn’t lying.

“Mum!” the girl sobbed.

Hermione held her, and gently rocked her back and forth on her lap, until the small witch had stopped crying, stopped trembling, and had finally fallen asleep again. She carefully laid her down in the bed and pulled the blankets up.

Outside, she leaned against the door and took a deep breath. That had been the second time the girl had woken up screaming that night. She hoped there wouldn’t be a third time. And she wasn’t looking forward to her own nightmares.

“We could have dropped her off in front of the Leaky Cauldron. She’s not a muggleborn, she would have been fine.”

Hermione turned her head and saw Allan was standing near the stairs. The former Ravenclaw had his arms folded, and was looking almost reproachfully at her.

She frowned. Allan had been saying that before. As soon as he had realised that the girl had to be a half-blood, since a muggleborn child her age wouldn’t have been in the Alley and wouldn’t even have known about magic yet. Not that it mattered - Hermione doubted that the wizard who had been about to kill the girl had known her ancestry.

She stared at Allan. “She was in danger from those bigots, and we saved her. That makes her our responsibility. We’re not about to dump her on the streets and hope someone takes care of her.”

He held up his hands. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.” He smiled, though it looked a bit forced in her opinion. “I’m just concerned about the risk to our security.”

“What risk to our security? We’ll find her family, and take her to her grandparents.” They were muggles, so they’d be in the phone book. “We’ll even obliviate all knowledge of us from her memory, so she can’t be used against us.”

She sighed. “Is this about the half-bloods again?”

He frowned, and she knew she was on the mark.

“I think it’s safer to focus on muggleborns. They are much less likely to betray us.”

“Like Beckett?” That traitor was the reason Hermione and Allan had been in Diagon Alley today, after all.

Allan ground his teeth, and for a moment Hermione wondered if she’d see him lose his temper for the first time. “After today, every muggleborn will know that they aren’t safe, not even if they cooperate with the Ministry.”

“The same goes for the half-bloods. Every one of them has at least one muggleborn parent,” Hermione pointed out, as she had done before. “The ‘blood traitors’ were attacked as well,” she added. Harry had told her that Ron had helped defend his brothers’ shop. If her friend had been hurt, or worse…

“The laws don’t discriminate against the half-bloods. They are not in the same position as we are. They usually have a pureblood parent as well.” Allan scoffed. “And they didn’t really show much support for us.”

“Today’s deaths will change that. That’s why we made the leaflets to distribute. Everyone, muggleborns and half-bloods and ‘blood traitors’, will know that they are not safe as long as the Ministry is controlled by bigots trying to appease the Dark Lord.” That’s why the leaflets were urging muggleborns to leave Wizarding Britain and hide in the muggle world.

Allan’s lips formed a thin line. She knew what he was about to say before he said it. “If they flee we’ll have trouble contacting them to recruit them.”

“We can contact them through their muggle families.” Some at least, Hermione thought. It would have been easier if there was a network for muggleborns - but British wizards tended to network in their Hogwarts houses, not according to blood. At least not the muggleborns.

“Not everyone. And not easily.”

“Yes. But if they stay they’ll be in danger of getting killed in the next attack.” And even if that would net them more recruits, Hermione wasn’t about to sacrifice people in such a cold-blooded manner. “We’ve been through this before. Our first priority is to protect the other muggleborns.”

“We can’t do that if we’re too weak, too few to fight the purebloods,” Allan said.

“We’ll manage. There aren’t that many Death Eaters either - not after Malfoy Manor;” Hermione said.

“There are a lot more purebloods.”

“We’re not fighting all of the purebloods. We’re fighting the Death Eaters and their supporters,” Hermione said, staring at him.

Allan stared back for a moment, then he sighed. “I’m just concerned. We need more people. And it’ll be very hard to find them if everyone is hiding by themselves.”

“I know.” She grimaced. “We should have waited longer, prepared more before we did anything. But we can’t change that now, we can only move forward.” If only they had been able to stick to her schedule, follow the plans they had. “Besides, we’re not exactly ready to recruit an army anyway - we need more training. Or any new recruits will expect to take over, instead of joining us.” Adults, at least - but they pretty much had recruited all muggleborn students already.

Allan nodded. On this, the whole group was in complete agreement: They wouldn’t let anyone order them around. Especially not those who had done nothing for them. No adult muggleborns had contacted them while they had still been at Hogwarts. Either they hadn’t realised what was coming, or they hadn’t thought of warning the students.

Hermione and the others had foreseen what would happen. They had taken steps to protect their families, and themselves. And they had bombed Malfoy Manor and had killed more Death Eaters and their supporters with one attack than anyone else had managed in the last war.

They had no need to join anyone else.

“We better get some sleep. We need to be up early to distribute the leaflets,” Hermione said.

“Dean and Seamus can do that,” Allan said.

Hermione hesitated, then nodded. She didn’t like to let others take risks instead of her, but Allan was right. And Hermione still had to prepare for the meeting with the mercenaries they had contacted.

“Good night.”

“Good night,” Hermione said. She entered her room and hoped she’d not have the same nightmares the young girl had.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, August 13th, 1996

“How could this happen? A riot, no, a massacre, in Diagon Alley?”

Cornelius was pacing again while Albus Dumbledore was calmly sitting in front of the Minister’s desk, next to Amelia.

“It happened because we have inadequate numbers for our Aurors and Hit-Wizards,” Amelia said. “I told you we needed to recruit more, and train them harder. You didn’t listen.”

“You received increased funds,” the Minister defended himself.

“Far too late. Anyone we hired is still in training. And will be in training for months still, even if we rush them through the Academy.” Amelia adjusted her monocle and glared at Cornelius.

Albus cleared his throat. “Even if you had double the number of Aurors, they would not have been able to prevent this. This was planned. Orchestrated. The Dark Lord has started his campaign, just as I predicted.”

“What?” Cornelius stared at him.

“You have read the reports. You know that this was an organised attack. Anti-Apparition Jinxes covered the entire alley. The Floo Network was sabotaged - selectively. Shops owned by muggleborns as well as by ‘Blood Traitors’ were attacked. Who else do you think was behind this but the Dark Lord?” Albus didn’t raise his voice, but Cornelius cringed under his glare. “Do you remember the last war? It is happening again. Saboteurs in the Ministry. Attacks aimed to sow terror, and make people lose their trust in the Ministry’s ability to protect them. Imperiused people forced to attack their neighbours.”

He knew he was laying it on a bit thick - he was certain a lot of the wizards and witches forming the mob had not been forced to attack muggleborns - but he had to make Cornelius see that their enemy was Voldemort, not a group of scared, desperate students.

“But… why would he do this? We haven’t attacked him!”

“He wants to rule Britain, Cornelius. I know him very well. He is not interested in compromises as anything other than a means to facilitate his goal of taking over the Ministry.”

“And he knows how weak we are. He has spies in the Ministry and sympathisers in the Wizengamot,” Amelia added.

“But why would he attack now? With our Aurors hunting the muggleborn terrorists, wouldn’t it be better for him to wait?” Cornelius asked.

The Minister was right, Albus knew. The smart thing for Voldemort was to wait until the Ministry had weakened itself further by fighting the muggleborns, which would also cause more people to join his cause. That was why Tom had been so angry with Nott. He wouldn’t admit that, of course. Instead he said: “Some of his most powerful followers have been killed in the attack on Malfoy Manor. If he does not retaliate, if he does not avenge them, then he will lose the trust of those who have joined him.” It was true, to an extent. But the Dark Lord could afford it.

“If he’s fighting the muggleborn terrorists, then we can stay back and wait until both sides are weakened.”

“That may be difficult.” Amelia handed a sheet of parchment to the Minister. “Those were found all over Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, as well as Hogsmeade.”

Cornelius read the leaflet, and his eyes widened. “This ‘Muggleborn Resistance’ is telling the muggleborns to leave Wizarding Britain? To protect themselves since the Aurors won’t lift their wands against the Death Eaters?” He looked at them. “That’s a lie! Our Aurors ended that riot!”

“They did,” Amelia said. “But by the time they had ended it, too many muggleborns had already been killed. And since the Aurors started at the upper end of the Alley, many will believe that they were mostly concerned about protecting the pureblood businesses first.”

Albus nodded. Miss Granger had a way with words. He had no doubt that the majority of the muggleborns would believe the leaflet. And act accordingly. Today’s Prophet wouldn’t help calm their fears either.

“But… would they really leave? Abandon magic?” Cornelius was shaking his head. He couldn’t fathom that idea, Albus knew.

“They will not abandon magic. They will abandon Wizarding Britain,” Albus said. “Which will leave the Dark Lord without his targets of choice.”

“But…” Cornelius was ashen-faced now. “What will we do? We can’t stop hunting the muggleborn terrorists, the Wizengamot will never tolerate that. Not after the massacre at Malfoy Manor!”

Albus wished it wasn’t so, but the Minister was correct. It would take more atrocities by the Dark Lord to sway the opinion in the Wizengamot.

“We’ll keep hunting this ‘Resistance’, and we’ll hunt those who were behind the Riot,” Amelia said. “But we need more wands.”

“I think we can persuade the Wizengamot to increase the DMLE’s budget further, after this,” Albus said, smiling politely. “How to use the increased funds would of course be up to you, Amelia.” Hopefully, she’d focus on the real threat to Britain. Amelia was devoted to upholding the law and not susceptible to bribes. It made her a very good choice as the Head of the DMLE, but it also meant that she wouldn’t be able to let the muggleborns go.

That was a problem he’d have to tackle at a later date though. For now, he had to focus on opposing Voldemort. Miss Granger and her friends would be fine for the time being.

Or so he hoped, at least - he had been wrong about her far too often lately. But there wasn’t much he could do but soldier on. Too much was at stake.

*****​

Harwich, Essex, August 13th, 1996

“That’s my grandparents’ home! I’ve been here before!” Lydia Baker said excitedly.

Hermione Granger smiled at the girl. She had to force herself to keep smiling when she heard Lydia’s next words though.

“Maybe mum’s there as well?”

“Maybe.” She didn’t think so. Today’s Daily Prophet had been quite clear about the number of deaths in the riot. Several dozens. Not quite as many as those who had died in the bombing of Malfoy Manor, she reminded herself, but enough to shock Britain. And Lydia had been in the middle of it, running for her life, and her mother had been ‘right behind me’, as she had told them.

“Let’s go ring the doorbell,” she said. She had checked the area, and she had Justin as a backup, even though it was very unlikely any Aurors would be watching a muggle house.

Lydia eagerly rang the doorbell. An elderly women opened. “Hello, can I… Lydia!”

“Gran!” Lydia hugged the woman’s legs. “Is mum here?”

“No, she isn’t… did she say she was meeting you here?”

“Good afternoon, Mrs Brown,” Hermione said, extending her hand.

Lydia’s grandmother shook it reflexively. She was looking around, probably wondering where either her daughter or son-in-law where - and why a stranger brought her granddaughter to her. “Good afternoon, Miss…?”

Hermione kept a polite smile on her face and handed a copy of the Daily Prophet over to the woman. “There was a riot in Diagon Alley. Do you have a way to contact your daughter? When I saw Lydia, she was alone in the street, and in danger. I took her home with me when I fled myself since I didn’t see her parents anywhere.”

The woman paled, obviously understanding what Hermione was hinting at.

“There was a bad man chasing me. She hexed him good!” Lydia said. The girl’s memories had been modified. She’d not remember where the Resistance was currently based, nor where exactly they had met her - it wouldn’t do to tip off an Auror that they were hunting Beckett.

“I see. I can write to her. What’s your name, Miss?”

Hermione smiled and shook her head. “I’m a muggleborn, like your daughter. You know about the troubles we’re facing?”

Mrs Brown nodded.

“We’re fighting back. We won’t let another Germany happen.”

“What happened in Germany, Gran?” Lydia wanted to know.

“Bad things, dear,” her grandmother said. “Go on and see if you can wake up your grandfather, he’s still taking a nap.”

When the little girl ran into the house, the old woman met Hermione’s eyes, and nodded. “Thank you for saving her, Miss.”

She had to have lived through the war, the witch thought. She’d understood what they were facing. Mrs Brown took a look at the Prophet, and pressed her lips together.

“They wouldn’t expect Lydia to be with you, so they will still be searching for her.” If they were still alive, Hermione silently added. “We didn’t want to let the authorities get hold of her.”

Mrs Brown nodded. “Daria told us about the Ministry’s new laws. But… she didn’t tell us that it had become like this...” She gestured at the newspaper. “You’re fighting those… purebloods?”

Hermione nodded. They were fighting the Death Eaters and bigots, not every pureblood, but, unfortunately, it was close enough.

“I wish you good luck then.”

“Thank you, Mrs Brown. Good afternoon.”

Hermione took a deep breath after turning away. The smell reminded her of the small ports at the Côte d’Azur. Where, if things were different, she’d be right now still, with her parents, enjoying the holidays. She glanced at Justin as she passed him on the street.

A short walk and an Apparition later, the two of them were back in the East End. Back in the war, she thought.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, August 13th, 1996

Harry Potter winced when he saw the burning figure on the front page of the Daily Prophet stumble and fall down on the street. Again and again. To think that the wizard who had taken the picture had watched the man die… then again, the mob had been there. Right outside the Daily Prophet’s office, if Harry had placed the background of the picture correctly. He squinted, trying to take a closer look at the figures in the mob.

“It won’t change even if you look at it a dozen times.”

The voice of his godfather interrupted him. He hadn’t noticed that Sirius had entered the drawing room.

“I was trying to see if I could recognise any of the people in that mob,” Harry said.

“Good idea.” Sirius nodded in apparent approval.

Harry shrugged. “I’m certain the DMLE did it already.” He knew from Tonks that at least some of the Aurors were competent. And a few scarily so.

“I doubt they’ll bother. The scum will claim to have been imperiused anyway, should they ever get arrested.” Sirius scoffed.

“The Prophet claims they arrested a dozen people,” Harry said, pointing at the article.

“And half of them or more will have been muggleborns who defended themselves.” His godfather sneered at the article.

“What? Why would they do that?” Harry couldn’t believe that. They only defended themselves, didn’t they?

“Because they hurt or even killed purebloods. It’s like in the last war. They only care if a pureblood gets hurt, no matter what the pureblood did.” Sirius snorted.

“Not everyone is like that,“ Harry protested. “Tonks said there are a lot of good people in the DMLE.”

“And those good people will still dutifully hunt down muggleborns like Hermione. Because the law says she’s a criminal.” The wizard sat down on the armchair next to Harry, propping his feet up on the table.

Harry couldn’t say much against that. “It’s the system that’s at fault.”

“And the system is propped up by ‘good people’ following orders. As long as scum like Fudge and the Wizengamot is obeyed, it’ll never change.” Sirius summoned a bottle with an amber liquid in it from the cabinet. “The rot goes too deep.” He summoned a glass and filled it with the firewhiskey. “They didn’t even clean up the damned bigots after you blew up the Dark Lord in 1981. Instead all the Death Eaters who had a tiny bit of cunning went free, and I was chucked into Azkaban without a trial.” He slammed the shot back. “What Britain needs is a revolution.”

“Is that why you’re supporting Hermione?” Harry asked. “Do you hope she’ll not just fight the Dark Lord, but the Ministry as well?”

Sirius stared at the window for a moment. When he spoke, his tone was flat. “She won’t have a choice. The Ministry will not let a muggleborn who has done what she did go. They can’t. It would give the rest of them ‘ideas’.” He turned his head to look at Harry. “The idea that they have the same rights as everyone else. And, more importantly, the idea that if they don’t have the same rights as everyone else, that they can do something about it.”

“But if Hermione is fighting both Voldemort and the Ministry… the Resistance are less than a dozen!” They couldn’t win that war. Harry shook his head.

“They’re less than a dozen now, but I bet that what they did already inspired more,” Sirius said. “They know they can fight now. And they don’t have much left to lose. Not after this.” He pointed at the newspaper. Then he closed his eyes, sighing. “Merlin, I wish Lily could see this. She had predicted that unless the system changed, it’d end like this.”

“Mum did?” Harry leaned forward. Sirius was the only one who told him about this side of his mother. Everyone else only talked about how talented, pretty and brave she had been.

“Oh, yes. She knew just how many traitors were in the Ministry. We all did. That was why we had joined Dumbledore, after all. To fight without worrying about being cursed in the back. Of course, no one thought Wormtail would betray us…” He closed his eyes, muttering a curse under his breath.

Harry knew that unless he distracted his godfather, Sirius would go on about Pettigrew for a while, and drink even more. He quickly said: “But Dumbledore isn’t fighting now.”

“But he will. Just like in the last war,” Sirius said. “I just hope that this time, he’ll not stop with the Death Eaters.”

Sirius’s smile reminded Harry very much of Padfoot baring his teeth.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, August 13th, 1996

“We really need to find a better place for them,” Ron Weasley said, pointing at the silence-charmed boxes that he and Harry had just returned to their old spot.

“Your brothers haven’t yet enlarged the range of their ears,” his best friend said. “At least it’s not suspicious to visit them each day.”

“Easy for you to say,” Ron said, “you’re not the one faking a part-time job.” Which, in his case, included actually working - the twins had insisted that this would help covering up his real activity. At Harry’s confused expression, he added: “I’m officially a product tester.”

“But… oh.”

Ron nodded. “That kind of tester. I had hoped to be spared this, after they moved out of the Burrow.”

Harry winced. “If it is any consolation, I’m living with Sirius.”

Ron snorted. He honestly doubted Sirius was even half as annoying to Harry as his brothers were to him. Or, since they were two, a quarter. The man loved his godson, after all.

He twirled his wand. “All done now. We just need to turn the dictaquills back on.”

Soon the scrolls of parchment were growing again, covered with - mostly useless - conversations from the Auror pub. The two stood there for a bit, watching and reading.

“How was it? Fighting the rioters, I mean,” Harry suddenly asked.

Ron jerked, then took a deep breath. “I was afraid at first, but then… I couldn’t really think much when the attack started. I just cast, and threw stuff from the shop at them, until the Aurors arrived, and the Death Eaters fled.” He didn’t mention that he had first been afraid that this was an attack by Hermione’s group.

“Did you kill anyone?”

Ron sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He remembered the wizard not getting up after he had cast a Blasting Curse at him. He hadn’t really paid attention to what happened to the man. Not with others sending curses at him, and at his brothers. But between the swamps, and the blast curses… he probably had killed people.

Harry looked like he guessed that. He didn’t say anything about that, though. “You said they were Death Eaters.”

“Well… I reckon anyone attacking muggleborns like that is a Death Eater, mask or no mask.”

“Sirius said they’ll claim to be imperiused.”

Ron snorted. “Probably.”

“Some might have been imperiused.”

Ron didn’t want to think that some he might have killed had been victims themselves. “Most didn’t look like they were under a spell. You are not exactly forced to scream ‘Death to Mudbloods!’ if you’re imperiused to attack them, right?”

Harry nodded. “I don’t think so. Remember the lesson in fourth year?”

Ron did. That had been embarrassing. Very embarrassing. “You resisted it.”

“Yes. But I still felt the effect. I was feeling really good. I had no worries at all. I was… happy even.”

Ron knew what he meant. He remembered the same. “Exactly. I doubt you can even hate anyone, under that effect.”

“So, those people screaming death threats were not forced.”

Ron shook his head. “No. They simply hate muggleborns. And blood traitors.”

“There was an awful lot of them, according to the Daily Prophet’s pictures.”

“Yes.” Ron conjured an armchair and sat down. “Bloody big mob.”

Harry joined him in an armchair of his own. “Sirius said that the Ministry was riddled with spies and Death Eaters.”

“That’s true. Dad said the same,” Ron said.

“And we know the Wizengamot is dominated by blood purists too.”

“Yes.” The laws they had passed, and had refused to repeal, had made that clear. They both knew that. Ron wondered where Harry was going with this.

“And now we saw that a lot of the normal wizards and witches share that attitude.”

Ah. Ron understood. “Well, they follow the examples of the Ministry, and the Dark Lord. If the Dark Lord dies, the Ministry and Wizengamot will follow Dumbledore again, and things will return to normal. Like after you defeated him for the first time.” Both his parents were hoping for this, Ron knew.

Harry winced, and Ron felt guilty for reminding his friend of the day his parents had died.

“But,” Harry said, “even if things go back to normal - would that be a good thing? We now know just how rotten things were. So many purebloods were ready to attack the muggleborns.”

“Don’t forget the half-bloods who joined them,” Ron added. “Too eager to forget their roots.” He couldn’t understand those people. One of their parents had to be a muggleborn. How could they go against their family like that?

“There aren’t too many of them around,” Harry said, slightly defensive in Ron’s opinion. His friend was a half-blood himself, after all.

“Enough to matter. And as long as things don’t change, their number will increase as many will want to suck up to the purebloods in charge.”

“You’re probably right,” his friend admitted. “But… I’m just wondering: Is the whole thing worth it if we’re just going back to how things were?”

“You mean…” Ron pointed at the boxes.

“The war.” Harry nodded. “Our parents fought one war already, and now we’re in another.” He scoffed. “Shouldn’t things be better at the end?”

“I hope so,” Ron said. He hadn’t really thought about that, so far. If the Death Eaters were gone and the war was won, wouldn’t things be OK again?

But then, who were the Death Eaters they needed to… defeat? The ones sworn to Voldemort, or the ones he had seen in the mob attacking him and his brothers?

Ron didn’t know. And he wasn’t certain if he wanted to know, right then.

*****​

Kent, Greengrass Manor, August 13th, 1996

Daphne Greengrass was torn. When she had first seen the headline of today’s Daily Prophet about dozens dying she had been afraid of another attack by the mudbloods. For a moment, she had been back at Malfoy Manor, seeing it burn, knowing her parents had been killed. Then she had read the article, and found out that the dead had been mudbloods. She had been relieved. And satisfied, somewhat. With so many mudbloods dead, she had thought, maybe those who had murdered her parents would now be suffering the same loss and pain as Astoria and she were suffering.

The small article about the missing girl, Lydia Baker, had changed that. That the girl had been a half-blood hadn’t mattered much, but the picture of her, and of her dead mother… Daphne had realised that yes, others were suffering the same pain as she was feeling, but they were not those who had wronged her.

And yet… the mudbloods had started this. If they hadn’t murdered her parents and their friends, there wouldn’t have been a riot. All those deaths were on their heads. Heads she hoped she would see kissed by Dementors soon.

Someone knocked on her door, and she jerked. For an instant, she thought it was her mother, coming to fetch her for dinner. Then she remembered her mother was dead. Murdered. “Yes?”

“Daphne? Can I come in?” It was her uncle.

“Yes,” she said, sitting up on her bed and smoothing her black robe out.

Eric Greengrass entered. He was wearing mourning colours as well, of course. He glanced at the Daily Prophet, then sat down on her bed, next to her. “You’ve been in your room all day.”

She looked at him. Yes, she hadn’t felt like going out, or doing anything. “I’ve been doing homework.” She hadn’t done much, actually. But it was a good excuse.

He nodded. “Astoria has been in her room as well.”

Daphne felt ashamed for having forgotten about her sister in her own grief. Astoria was two years younger, and the loss of their parents had to be hurting her even more.

“She hasn’t taken the news well,” Eric said, nodding at the newspaper.

Daphne understood. If she had been reminded of their parents’ death by this, then her sister… she stood up. “I’ll go to her!”

She didn’t know what exactly she could do, other than be with her sister, but it was better than staying in her room and doing nothing.

“Do you want me to buy your school supplies?” her uncle asked.

Daphne stopped, halfway to the door. She shook her head. “No. We’ll visit the Alley as usual.” Their parents hadn’t died there. And it would be good to see the Alley, buy some new robes, maybe get a scoop of ice cream… she remembered that Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour had been destroyed. Another thing the mudbloods who had started this war were responsible for.

“Daphne?”

Eric must have noticed her reaction, Daphne realised. She sighed. “I just remembered that my favourite Ice Cream Parlour was destroyed.”

“Yes, Fortescue’s. I remember when it opened,” her uncle smiled faintly. “Hopefully whoever takes over will continue it.”

Daphne hoped so as well. The sooner things were back to normal, the better.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, August 14th, 1996

“Good evening, Sirius,” Albus Dumbledore said as he stepped out of the Floo connection in Sirius’s home.

“Good evening, Albus,” the other wizard said. He sounded a tad suspicious, or so Albus thought. The Headmaster doubted that Sirius had completely forgiven him for his failure to ensure he had a trial. Or for placing Harry with the Dursleys. But there was nothing he could do about his past mistakes, other than strive to do better in the future.

“Are Harry and Mister Weasley here?” he asked.

“You asked to talk to them,” Sirius said. “They’re in the drawing room.”

Albus nodded and followed him. The two boys were indeed there, and a bit nervous. He smiled gently at them. “Good evening, Harry, Mister Weasley.”

“Good evening, Headmaster,” they chorused.

He sat down on a chair opposite the two boys while Sirius chose the couch, placing an arm on the backrest.

“I trust you are well?”

“Fine,” Harry said.

Mister Weasley shrugged. “I’m doing alright.”

Both seemed nervous, or maybe even a bit guilty - and they were not making eye contact. That sign of distrust hurt a bit, but it was not unexpected. It was only natural that Harry would look up to his godfather, and Sirius had always been opinionated. And Mister Weasley was Harry’s best friend.

He decided to skip further smalltalk and cleared his throat. “You might be wondering about the reason for my visit.”

They nodded.

“I need your help,” he said. That caught their attention. “I need you to pass a message to your mutual friend.”

The mood in the room grew tense at once. Albus refrained from chuckling at their reaction. He held up his hand instead. “I am not spying on you. But I do think I know you two well enough to dismiss the possibility of you cutting off your best friend. I do not need to know how you keep in contact. All I need you to do is pass a message to her.” For now, at least.

The two exchanged a glance. They hadn’t relaxed. Neither had Sirius.

“Well, should she make contact, I suppose we can tell her your message,” Harry said.

“Not that we know if she’ll contact us, or when, or how,” Mister Weasley added. Albus could see the influence of the twins there.

He smiled. “Please tell her that she should refrain from further actions until the Ministry is committed against Voldemort. It is imperative that the public realises who their real enemy is.” And having both the muggleborns and the Ministry fighting the Death Eaters would not only hurt Tom’s forces greatly, but would also pave the way to a future reconciliation. As long as no other group of muggleborns did something rash in the meantime.

“And when will that be?” Harry asked. “For a year, the Ministry has been appeasing Voldemort. Why should they suddenly turn around and attack him?”

The boy was not quite accusing him of lying, but his suspicion was evident in his expression. Albus kept smiling. “The recent riot has shown just how dangerous the blood purists are. The DMLE is well aware that it was planned and orchestrated by Voldemort’s forces. And I have good reasons to suspect that Tom will launch another attack soon. It will be enough to turn the tide in the Wizengamot.”

“Will they stop hunting her then?” Mister Weasley asked.

He shook his head. “I am afraid they will not. Not right away. But I think I will be able to exert some influence, and be able to make them suspend that particular case, provided there are no further incidents.” In time.

Once again the two boys exchanged glances, then they nodded. “We can pass that on, if she contacts us. But that’s all. How she will react…” Harry shrugged.

Albus smiled. He wasn’t worried. Miss Granger was a brilliant witch. She would understand that another attack would be counter-productive for her goals.

If she trusted him, at least.

“And what have you been doing, Albus? Other than trying to get the only ones who are actually doing something about Voldemort and his scum to stop?” Sirius said, glaring at him.

“I have been trying to prevent a war between the Ministry and the muggleborns,” Albus said.

“Doesn’t look like you had much success, does it? Or is it already a success that this Wizengamot hasn’t legalised hunting muggleborns for sport?” Sirius scoffed. “We’re already at war, Albus. Against the Death Eaters. And against anyone who helps them. And so far, the Ministry is helping them.”

“The Ministry doesn’t see this as a war. Not yet. Once they do, they might see certain actions in a different light.” At least the Minister might. Amelia… the very stubbornness and tenacity that made her such a good head of the DMLE meant she was not very inclined to let anything she saw as a crime slide.

“And if you fail? If the Ministry sides with Voldemort? What will you do then, Albus?” Sirius leaned forward, staring at him. Harry and Mister Weasley were silent, listening with rapt attention.

Albus met the man’s eyes. “If the Ministry sides with Voldemort I’ll do my best to destroy them.” Just as he had done against Gellert.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, August 15th, 1996

Hermione Granger didn’t want to be in Knockturn Alley. Even here there were too many Aurors around. And while her and Allan’s polyjuice disguises shouldn’t look suspicious - they had taken hairs from muggles this time, so there was no chance of encountering anyone who knew their current forms - there was always the risk of an Auror simply deciding to harass them, maybe even arrest them. That sort of thing was not uncommon in the kind of country Wizarding Britain had become.

Of course, any Auror trying to vent some frustration on them would be in for a surprise. Both Allan and she had trained hard every day.

“The shop’s still closed,” Allan muttered. “He might have bolted for good, after the riot.”

“Maybe.” Hermione was not quite as disappointed as she sounded. Harry had passed on Dumbledore’s message, and while catching a muggleborn traitor wasn’t quite in the same league as blowing up Malfoy Manor, it was a far cry from doing nothing. Especially since they couldn’t simply make Beckett disappear. If they wanted to scare others off betraying them, he had to be made into an example.

Hermione hadn’t been looking forward to that, even before Dumbledore’s message. To kill someone in cold blood - execute, she told herself - who was at her mercy, unable to defend himself… she knew it was needed, and she wasn’t the kind of witch to let others do her dirty work, but still. And to think Seamus had wanted to torture the man to death! She’d not let that happen! They were better than that!

Honesty compelled her to add: “I think his greed is stronger than his fear. He’ll not abandon his shop without taking everything he can carry.” That was her impression of the traitor, at least.

Allan nodded, after a moment. “We will return then.”

“We will.”

Hopefully, after the Ministry had declared war on Voldemort. If that ever happened.

*****​

Azkaban, August 24th, 1996

Azkaban was hell on earth, in the opinion of Ivor Branberry. Cold, wet, and surrounded by inhuman monsters that sucked hope and joy out of everyone in the vicinity, and their souls as well, if given the opportunity. Not that anyone asked for his opinion - he was but a half-blood rookie Hit-Wizard who had failed to make friends with the right people during his time at Hogwarts. Which was the reason he was spending his first tour guarding Azkaban, instead of Diagon Alley or the Ministry.

At least he had but four more months to go until he could apply for a transfer. And if he didn’t mess up, he’d be off this rock for good then, and another stupid rookie would take his place. Ah… guarding the Ministry would be perfect. He would be able to go back home each day, could go out to Diagon Alley in the evening whenever he wanted, and would be improving his chances to be assigned to a security detail for someone important.

Until then he had to endure this place. He shuddered, feeling both cold and sad suddenly, despite the warm fire kept going in the fireplace. A Dementor had to have been passing right outside. It happened from time to time. He stepped closer to the fire.

He shuddered again. Another Dementor? Or the same one? Why wasn’t that monster off to torture some of the prisoners? They deserved it, after all. Well, with the exception of Sirius Black, but that had been before Ivor’s time.

“Branberry! Go check what those idiot Dementors are doing, it’s getting cold here!”

That was Sergeant Shafiq, the current commander of the rock. Rumours had it that he had messed up as a Hit-Wizard so badly, not even his family had managed to save his career. But no one had been able or willing to tell Ivor what Shafiq had done. He was one hard and unpleasant man though, who knew exactly how to make a Hit-Wizard’s stay at Azkaban even worse.

“Yes, sir,” Ivor said. That was usually the best response to Shafiq, even if it meant stepping into the cold and wet night outside their tower, to see what the Dementors were up to. He checked that he was wearing his amulet that told the fiends he was off-limits, something every new guard here was taught to do without thinking, and headed towards the door.

It was close to the full moon, so he didn’t need a lantern to spot the floating monsters. His wand would do. Ivor opened the door, and quickly stepped through - rookies learned not to let the cold into the tower right after they learned to never take off their amulets.

He gasped. Dozens of Dementor were surrounding the tower. No wonder it was growing so damn cold inside - he was almost freezing where he stood. “Hey! Go away, go back to the cells!” he shouted.

They didn’t react. Cursing, he rubbed his arms, then raised his wand.

“Expecto Patronum!”

Silver mist appeared near the tip of his wand. Being able to cast a Patronus had netted him a good grade at the Academy, and was probably partially responsible for his current post as well. Usually, the Dementors retreated from the spell. Not tonight though.

They gave way, but didn’t flee. It made no sense.

“Go away! Go back to the cells! Torture the prisoners, not us!” he yelled again.

What was wrong with those monsters? He was freezing here! Snarling, he took another step forward. A flash to his side made him turn his head. Right in time to see a red curse strike him.

He fell to the ground with his arms snapped to his side and his legs pressed together. Full Body-Bind Curse, he realised. Also known as the Body Freezing Spell. Given that he was in danger of literally freezing, should the Dementors not move away and no one come for him, a rather ominous thing to think about.

He caught something moving near him. Someone was walking towards him. His attacker! He couldn’t see them yet though. But… there! Black robes… could be anyone, given how many people had died recently. And… he wanted to scream when he saw the white mask. A Death Eater!

He expected to be killed any second while the Death Eater stepped closer. When the wizard knelt down next to him and ripped his amulet off, Ivor wished he had been killed.

But he couldn’t do anything, not even cry, while the Death Eater walked away and the Dementors swarmed him.

 

Chapter 6: Recruiting

‘While Malfoy Manor was arguably an attack on Death Eaters, it’s widely acknowledged that the rioters in Diagon Alley were not targeting any Muggleborn Resistance members, but simply wanted to kill every muggleborn they could. However, despite some claims to the contrary, the attacks had not been spontaneous, but planned and coordinated, at least at the start. The fact that the mob had specifically targeted law-abiding, economically successful muggleborns, such as the widely-known Florean Fortescue, who had managed to keep his ice cream parlour prospering despite the discrimination, as well as prominent ‘blood traitors’ points to this. More telling, though, is that the entire alley had been covered by Anti-Apparition Jinxes and that the Floo connections of the targeted shops had been sabotaged, delaying a response by the Aurors as well as keeping the muggleborns from escaping. As a result of the riot, the muggleborns were driven out of Diagon Alley, and many left Wizarding Britain altogether.’
- Excerpt from ‘The Second Blood War’ by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, August 25th, 1996

“Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood, Ambrosius Mulciber, Horatio Travers, Hieronimus Yaxley, Tarquin Rosier and Crispin Flint.”

Albus Dumbledore looked up from the parchment he had been quoting. The Minister for Magic wasn’t meeting his eyes.

“Ten Death Eaters, Cornelius. Members of the Dark Lord’s inner circle. Hardened veterans of dozens of battles.” And after ten years spent in Azkaban, more than a bit unhinged and likely full of hatred towards the Ministry, if Sirius’s state was any indication.

“I know, Albus. Merlin’s Buttocks, I know!” Cornelius finally exclaimed, yelling with frustration: “I’ve read the report myself!”

“The Dark Lord has attacked Azkaban, massacred the guards there, and freed his most fervent followers. He has made his intentions clear.“ The old wizard leaned forward. “He intends to fight the Ministry.”

“He already has fought us. A dozen Hit-Wizards were killed. Kissed by Dementors in many cases, as far as the Aurors investigating the breakout can tell,” Amelia said. “As were a dozen other prisoners.”

Albus nodded at her. It was a horrible tragedy. If only those monsters had been dealt with in the past. “Indeed. We are at war with him and his forces now. He has cast the first curse.”

“First the muggleborns, and now the Dark Lord!” Cornelius rubbed his forehead. “How could this have happened?”

Albus shook his head. “You know why this has happened: Because you persecuted the muggleborns in a futile attempt to placate the Dark Lord. And now, instead of a united Britain facing a recently returned and still weak Dark Lord, we are divided among ourselves. The muggleborns have the strongest reason to fight the Death Eaters, having the most to lose, and yet they are being hunted by the Ministry and driven into hiding.”

“They are hunted because they murdered dozens of people, Albus!” Amelia exclaimed.

Cornelius nodded eagerly. Albus hid his annoyance. “I trust you mean those suspected to have been behind the attack on Malfoy Manor, and not all muggleborns. Given recent events, it is sometimes hard to tell whether or not the Ministry knows the difference.

“We’re not hunting law-abiding people, no matter their blood status!” Amelia said, clearly indignant at his accusation. “We’re hunting those who broke the law! Those who killed more people in one attack than the Dark Lord ever managed!”

“And why did they feel they had no choice but to strike at Death Eaters in that manner? Because the Wizengamot and the Ministry have been taking away their rights piece by piece for over a year while doing nothing against the Dark Lord - who has, if I might remind you, fought a war against Wizarding Britain in the past which was so bloody, people still fear to say his name.” Albus was not quite raising his voice, but he made it clear how strongly he felt about this.

“Are you proposing we pardon those criminals?” Amelia asked, her scowl showing just how little she thought of such a proposal.

He actually was planning to have them pardoned, though he knew it wouldn’t be possible yet. So he said: “I am proposing we repeal the laws that were passed on the Dark Lord’s behalf over the last year. We cannot fight both the muggleborns and the Death Eaters at the same time, and unlike the Muggleborns, the Dark Lord has directly attacked the Ministry and killed Ministry employees. Repealing those laws would be a powerful gesture, and might very well be enough to regain some trust from the muggleborns.”

“The muggleborns have killed Aurors too!” Amelia said.

“I have looked into the incident concerning Miss Granger, Amelia. The Auror she killed had been trying to kill her first.” At least that was a reasonable assumption given the results of the investigation. “And he has been known to have views of muggleborns that would not be out of place among the Dark Lord’s followers. If she had truly meant to kill them, why did she spare the other Auror?”

“Murder is murder, Albus,” Amelia said, her jaw set. Her passion to uphold the law would be admirable, if it did not extend to unjust laws as well, and if she understood and was flexible enough to accept that in times of war, politics and strategy took priority.

“And those laws won’t be repealed. Not by the Wizengamot, you know that.” Cornelius shook his head. “There are just too many members who lost family in that attack.”

“There are also families who lost members in the attack on Azkaban. Or to those the Dark Lord just freed, in the last war,” Albus pointed out. Augusta would certainly do all she could to oppose the Death Eaters.

“It won’t be enough.”

Not yet, in any case. But if Tom continued on his course of action, subtly prompted by Severus, the number of Wizengamot members who had lost family to Death Eaters could only increase.

“Leaving this matter aside, it is obvious that Britain can no longer afford to send so many Aurors after the muggleborns. Not with ten of the most dangerous criminals ever now free and ready to take up wands again, and the Dark Lord openly attacking the Ministry.” He looked at Amelia. “Not with a dozen Hit-wizards killed in the line of duty by the Dark Lord.”

“Yes, yes. Such a blatant attack cannot be ignored.” Cornelius wiped sweat from his forehead.

Amelia nodded. “The Aurors will do their best to find those fugitives, and whoever helped break them out. And the Hit-Wizards will be on alert, to respond to further attacks.”

It was less than he had hoped for, but the most important step had - finally! - been taken: The Ministry was moving against Tom. The Headmaster had considered openly defying the Ministry and Wizengamot. Declaring that Hogwarts would welcome any muggleborn, no matter their age or test results, would certainly draw a line in the sand. Alas, Cornelius was correct - the Wizengamot and Ministry were not willing to go that far. If he did this, he might even end up pushing them into the Dark Lord’s camp.

But things would not stay like this. He just had to be a bit more patient. Hopefully, the muggleborns would be as patient.

*****​

London, Bexley, August 27th, 1996

Walking through the park where they would meet the mercenaries, Hermione Granger felt slightly uncomfortable in the clothes she was wearing. They were just a bit too posh, for her taste. And she was certain that she lacked the nonchalance Justin, who was dressed in similarly expensive garb, was showing. Anyone would be able to tell that she usually didn’t dress up that much, or so she thought. At least their cover took this into account - she was supposed to be Justin’s girlfriend, of not quite as rich parents as his.

On the other hand, their cover didn’t take into account that she had not much experience as a girlfriend. She had dated, if she could call it that, Viktor Krum for a few months, and that was it. Not exactly a stellar resumé. Not that she had time for a boyfriend right now anyway. There was so much to do, so much to organise and learn and train. She had not even enough time for her friends, especially Harry and Ron. Allan was kind and understanding, and a fellow Resistance member, but he hadn’t spent the last few years at Hogwarts with her. Damn, she missed them! Far more than she had missed Viktor, when he had returned to Bulgaria. She wondered...

“Something wrong?” Justin asked.

“Just thinking about the breakout from Azkaban,” she answered. Justin didn’t need to know about her missing Harry and Ron. Or other speculation. He needed the Hermione who was on top of things and had all the answers anyone needed.

“Ah, yes. Quite a mess, that.”

“More so for the Ministry. They can’t afford to hunt us now, not with the Death Eaters finally revealing their true colours.” Hermione snorted, though without any humour. As if anyone with half a brain would have been fooled anyway.

“That’s good for us. On the other hand, the Dark Lord just replaced the Death Eaters he has lost.”

“He did, but those he freed were the most fanatical ones.” She had read the transcripts of their trials, once. “They tortured and killed as many purebloods as muggleborns. If they continue that, it’ll help turning more purebloods against them.”

Justin nodded. He didn’t comment on how cynical her statement was. Maybe he didn’t care as long as purebloods died - but then, he wasn’t as bad as Seamus and Dean. Maybe he was just too focused on their upcoming meeting.

Hermione hoped he was.

*****​

“You want to hire us to secure a ranch in Rhodesia?”

Major James Kolen sounded doubtful. Hermione resisted the urge to correct him about the name of the country. That would have been taken as a political statement they could do without. The Major - if that was his correct rank - and Sergeant Mick Boones pretty much ignored her anyway, other than briefly checking out her legs. Unlike the Magical World, The muggle world was overall still a man’s world. Especially in the mercenary scene.

“We primarily want you to train us and a few others, before any operation,” Justin said. “We’re not about to try to hold a ranch against Mugabe’s goons, but we’d like to be able to hold our own against bandits.”

“Training a bunch of kids?” Boones chuckled.

“Essentially, yes.” Justin kept his cool. Hermione had to sip from her tea to hide her frown. “We can discuss the operation once the training is done.” He took out a bag and placed it on the table. “You will be paid generously for your effort. Gold or cash, whatever you prefer.”

Kolen took the bag and opened it. The gold pieces inside made him raise his eyebrows. “We will be paid in full, even if you break off the training.”

“That is acceptable, provided you do not try to make us quit. No more than you’d try to make a recruit quit,” Justin added. Then he looked straight at the man. “We’ll know if you do.”

Boones chuckled again, clearly not taking them seriously, but Kolen shrugged. “Do you have a suitable training ground?”

Justin nodded. “Yes.”

It was an old forest area, in Northern England, owned by his family as a hunting ground. Very off the path, and hardly used anymore. A few charms, and no one would hear any shots.

“How many will we be training?” the major asked.

“About a dozen. For four weeks.”

“You’ll not be soldiers after that. You’ll be able to shoot and probably not get killed at once in the bush.”

“That’s all we want,” Justin said, smiling.

It was clear that Kolen didn’t believe, or didn’t understand what they wanted, but the way he was eyeing the bag on the table showed it wouldn’t matter.

“We want to be paid half in gold, half in dollars. Half in advance. And you’ll cover any costs for the camp.”

“Then we have a deal, Major.” Justin held out his hand, and the two shook.

Hermione had a feeling those four week would be tough. But it would also mean the Resistance wouldn’t be doing much else, other than some recruiting, and the essential training and preparation. Dumbledore should be happy about that.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, August 27th, 1996

“... and there was a task force created to hunt down the escaped Death Eaters. Dawlish leads it and Scrimgeour allocated a dozen of the most experienced Aurors to it.”

Harry Potter had already known what Tonks just told him and Sirius over dinner thanks to the Wireless Ears, but he nodded anyway. The young Auror hadn’t talked to them in a while, and not just because she was very busy. Everyone was, actually - Sirius was spending a lot of time enchanting another communication mirror, so they could keep in contact once Harry was back at Hogwarts.

“Are you in the task force?” Sirius asked, cutting his entrecôte with goblin-made silverware. “They might want a metamorphmagus despite your inexperience.”

She shook her head. “Not permanently. I’m still in the ‘assist whoever wants you’ pool of rookies.” Scowling, she added: “And since everyone can use a metamorphmagus sometimes, I’m unlikely to get assigned to a partner.”

Sirius shrugged. “It means you’ll be in a better position to spy on the Aurors.”

“Did they stop the hunt for Hermione?” Harry asked.

He saw Tonks wincing. “She’s a suspect in the attack on Malfoy Manor.”

Harry had already been aware of that, but he didn’t want to let Tonks know. “I bet that for the Death Eaters among the Aurors, all muggleborns are suspects just so they can kill them when they ‘resist arrest’.”

Tonks stiffened. “I don’t know any Death Eaters among the Aurors.”

Sirius scoffed. “Or pureblood bigots. Same difference.”

“They executed Martin Cokes for ‘resisting arrest’.” Harry stared at Tonks.

“He was executed for trying to kill an Auror,” the metamorphmagus answered, not meeting his eyes. She knew as well as he did that Hermione had killed an Auror.

“What would have happened if he had let them arrest him?” Harry sneered. “He’d probably have been sent to Azkaban for not complying with the Ministry’s Nazi laws. If they hadn’t executed him just to be seen doing something. Fudge is like that.”

Tonks ground her teeth. Since her father was a muggleborn, she’d know about the Nazis. “Dumbledore’s working on repealing those laws.”

“He’s been trying to do that for a year now,” Sirius said, a bit too casually. “But our dear Wizengamot is quite fond of those laws. Too many Death Eaters among its members.”

“The Corps doesn’t like those laws either,” Tonks said.

“And yet the Aurors still enforce them.” Sirius snorted. “With great eagerness.”

“We’re hunting criminals. Mass-murderers,” Tonks bit out.

“And muggleborns,” Harry added. “What will you do if you’re sent to arrest Hermione?”

Tonks stared at him. “I’m not part of the group hunting her.”

Harry shrugged, hiding his urge to show how angry he was with some effort. “If you ever get assigned to that group, I hope you’ll remember that hunting muggleborns is what Death Eaters are doing.”

“We’re just doing our duty. It doesn’t matter if you’re a muggleborn or a pureblood, a murderer is a murderer.” Tonks sounded as if she was quoting someone. Probably Bones, Harry thought.

“Killing Death Eaters is not murder. It’s self-defense if you’re a muggleborn or a ‘blood traitor’,” Sirius said.

“That’s a matter for the DMLE to decide.”

“The same DMLE that enforces laws taken straight from Nazi Germany?” Harry scoffed. “After the war, the Nazis tried to claim that they had just been doing their duty as well.”

“Are you saying that we’re Nazis?” Tonks glared at him.

“The laws are the same, the excuses are the same… maybe you should think a bit more about what exactly your duty is,” Harry said, standing up. “I’m full. I’ll skip dessert.”

Just before he left, he heard Sirius say: “And you should ask Dumbledore just what he thinks about enforcing laws that he spends so much time trying to repeal. And you should ask yourself just where your loyalties lie.”

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, August 28th, 1996

Ron Weasley wondered sometimes if his family was not, in their own way, as tradition-bound as the other purebloods. The annual school supply shopping trip was one such tradition. He knew the schedule by heart now. Flooing to the Leaky Cauldron, getting gold from Gringotts, buying the books - second hand, if possible - then the other supplies, and finally robes and other clothes. They were currently in Flourish and Blotts, looking for the new Defense books.

As expected, they had a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Unexpectedly, and unfortunately, it was Snape. That meant a new Potions Master too, but Ron was mostly concerned that one of his favourite subjects would be unbearable this year. Harry had been livid when he had heard that. They both hoped that the curse would get Snape. Or Sirius - Harry’s godfather had warned Albus that Snape would die should Harry come to harm.

On the other hand, they could learn Defense more easily on the side than Potions, especially with Hermione not coming back to Hogwarts. He ground his teeth. Hogwarts without Hermione was wrong. They were supposed to finish school together, all three of them. Maybe even get a flat together, after Hogwarts, until they had families of their own. Hermione had had plans...

“What’s wrong, Weasley? Realised you can’t afford new books?”

The hated voice of Malfoy interrupted his thoughts. The Slytherin was standing near the next shelf, wearing mourning robes. Silk, of course. Ron scoffed. He wanted to turn away, but he didn’t trust Malfoy at his back. Not that letting the scum get so close without realising he was there was a good thing either. He needed to be more aware of such threats. More vigilant.

Malfoy sneered at him. His hair was styled as usual, and his clothes impeccably clean, though he seemed to be a bit thinner. Almost haggard even. “Not that you should bother anyway - without the mudblood, you’ll fail all subjects anyway.”

For a moment, Ron wanted to curse the git. End him and his evil family right then and there. He controlled himself though. Malfoy wasn’t worth it. At least not when there were witnesses around. Instead of attacking the scum, he sneered back. “Shouldn’t you be worried instead? With your father finally dead, you’ll be forced to deal with your troubles by yourself.”

Malfoy flinched and went pale, trembling with rage. Ron even thought he saw some tears in the git’s eyes. “You… you…”

“Yes, me.” Ron knew that he should feel guilty about his cruel barb - Malfoy had lost his parents, after all - but he didn’t care. That foul arse had started this. “Or will you be running to your aunt? You know, the one who just escaped from Azkaban?”

Malfoy was still trembling, but he managed to talk again. “Will you be visiting your mudblood when she’s in Azkaban for murdering an Auror? Oh, wait - she’ll be executed. I’ll have my proxy in the Wizengamot vote for the Kiss, too.”

“I’d not worry about what you’ll never see happen,” Ron shot back.

He saw Malfoy was briefly confused, until he understood the threat. Before the snake could say anything, or start hexing - Ron was ready, his wand at his side - a voice interrupted them.

“Draco! What are you tarrying f… oh.”

That had to be Augustus Malfoy. Another Death Eater, marked or not. He stared at Ron, who stared right back. The older wizard sniffed. “You shouldn’t bother with blood traitors, Draco. They are beneath you.”

“Yes, Uncle.” Draco nodded, sneered at Ron, and the two walked away.

Ron didn’t relax until he had seen them leave the store. He had known Hogwarts wouldn’t be fun this year, but it might be even worse than he had feared. He almost wished he could leave and join Hermione’s group. But that would leave Harry alone at school.

And his mum would kill him for abandoning his education, if Hermione didn’t kill him first.

*****​

Cumbria, Britain, September 1st, 1996

“I’m suffering from flashbacks to ‘Full Metal Jacket,” Dean whispered. Hermione Granger knew what he meant - the whole Resistance was standing in a line, in a small clearing in the forest owned by Justin’s family, dressed in camouflaged fatigues from an Army Surplus shop. And Sergeant Boones was walking up and down, glaring and cursing at them. Verbally, that was.

“You’re the sorriest lot of recruits I’ve ever seen! A bunch of pampered students who have never done anything more strenuous than spending daddy’s money! And you want to be soldiers?”

“Yes, sergeant!” Dean and Seamus yelled, with the rest joining in. Hermione didn’t quite scream as loud as the rest, but she managed not to roll her eyes. They had expected this attitude. Hermione liked to think Major Kolen was trying to scare them off their apparent wish to become soldiers and die in Africa. Allan thought that the mercenaries simply wanted to scare them into quitting so they would be paid in full without doing the full four weeks.

Boones looked surprised for a moment, then he scoffed and glared at them again, focusing on Sally-Anne. “You, there, girlie! You think you have what it takes to learn how to fight? You think you can stand the training? Grown men have been broken by this!”

Hermione thought the act was more than a bit overdone. She didn’t show it though. After Umbridge, and after being hunted by Aurors for being muggleborns, this was not really impressive. Unsurprisingly, Sally-Anne glared right back, pushed her chin forward and yelled into the man’s face: “Yes, sarge!”

Once more taken aback, he just grunted, and turned to Hermione. “What about you? Can you stand not sleeping in a comfy bed, wearing posh clothes, or taking a bath each day?”

“Yes, Sarge!” She didn’t yell. But she didn’t flinch either. And of course, knowing that she could actually have a daily bath if she wanted to helped. A few of them would be apparating to London each day, to check if there had been any news from the families of older muggleborns they knew from Hogwarts. Hopefully, the request to respond by e-mail would be enough to convince the potential recruits that this was not an elaborate trap by the Ministry. At least, Hermione hoped, they’d be able to communicate with the muggleborns a few years above them. The rest would follow.

“What was that? I can’t hear you!”

“Yes, sarge!” she yelled. He grunted, then walked along their line again.

“Drop and give me twenty!” Dean whispered, and Hermione almost giggled. The sergeant glared at them, then bellowed: “Now run on the course I’ve prepared! Two laps! Make that three, if you can whisper you can run one more!”

Hermione did roll her eyes as soon as she was past the man. She could have done without this. All she wanted was to learn how to use modern weapons. But she knew better than to tell the experts how to do their job.

And when she ran after Justin through the forest, she couldn’t help but think of the irony that on the same day she was entering boot camp, Harry and Ron were returning to Hogwarts. Hopefully, they had a better time there than she had here.

*****​

Hogwarts Express, September 1st, 1996

“Look, I’m sorry for not attending your party. Gran said I shouldn’t be seen with you.”

Harry Potter glared at Neville, and the other Gryffindor winced.

“But you’re now in with us in the same compartment, mate,” Ron pointed out.

“Well, yes…”

“I guess after Voldemort broke out the Lestranges, your gran decided that muggleborns are the lesser evil?” Harry knew he was being unfair, but he was frustrated and angry. Hermione should be here, with them. Not out there, hiding. And he really wasn’t fond of Augusta Longbottom.

Neville pressed his lips together. He looked angry now as well, but didn’t say anything right then.

“Look, Neville,” Ron said, leaning forward, “it’s rather simple: Lucius Malfoy was a bloody Death Eater. Remember our second year? Malfoy tried to murder all the muggleborns using Slytherin’s monster. Ginny almost died.”

Harry saw that the youngest Weasley shivered and rubbed her arms, and smiled at her in an attempt to console the girl. She smiled back, if a bit weakly.

Ron didn’t seem to have noticed, focusing on Neville. “And once the Dark Lord came back - after murdering Cedric, and a few more people - who spoke for him? Who passed on his demands? Malfoy.”

“But they didn’t just blow up Death Eaters! They killed everyone who was at the ball! That’s how Death Eaters acted in the war!”

Harry ground his teeth. “Oh really?” he spat out. “You think they should have waited until Malfoy was alone?”

Neville swallowed, but nodded. “Yes!”

Harry scoffed. “You’re stupid! Everyone knew Malfoy was a Death Eater. That’s why your gran and you didn’t attend. Everyone who was at the ball was either a Death Eater, or a sympathiser.” He bared his teeth. “The kind of scum who made all those laws to persecute muggleborns!”

“Good riddance to them!” Ron added.

Neville stared at them. “But… they killed students like us!”

“So? The Ministry tried to kill Hermione, a student like us!” Ron answered.

“No, not like us, Ron. Did you forget? She’s a mudblood. And those are different - according to the Ministry,” Harry said, sneering. “That’s why they passed all those laws.”

“Hermione killed an Auror though.” Neville was trembling now.

“In self-defense,” Ron said,

“You don’t know that!”

“We know Hermione. You know her as well. Or you should. You spent five years with her,” Harry said. “And with Sally-Anne, Dean and Seamus. All of them are not here with us. All of them hunted by the Ministry, just because they are ‘mudbloods’.”

“Sod the Ministry!” Ron said.

“Your father works at the Ministry!” Neville was not giving up. He was a Gryffindor, Harry knew. It was too bad that he didn’t understand just how bad things were at the Ministry, and in Britain.

“I don’t know how much longer he will be working there,” Ron said. “The Ministry’s riddled with Death Eaters and their supporters. They still haven’t repealed the laws that caused all of this. They want to push the muggleborns until they fight back, so they have an excuse to kill all of them.”

“No, that’s not true!”

“Really?” Harry scoffed. “Just think about this: How would your gran have reacted if those laws had been aimed at purebloods? If you had to pass a rigged muggle studies exam to be allowed to return to Hogwarts? If you had been tortured for a year? Would you still smile and nod, and let them do to you what they want?”

“Fortescue did,” Ron added. “He’s dead now.”

Neville didn’t say anything for a while, looking at the floor. When he spoke, it was in a whisper.

“That’s what Gran’s afraid of.”

*****​

Daphne Greengrass, sitting in a compartment with Astoria and Tracey, looked up when the door was opened. Draco Malfoy was standing there, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

“Hello Daphne, Astoria. Davis.” He nodded at them, almost bowing. “Can I have a word?”

Daphne gestured to the free seats. “Please.”

“Thank you.” He took a seat and his two friends closed the door, remaining outside. “Are you looking forward to Hogwarts?”

Daphne almost scoffed. Why wouldn’t she be looking forward to returning to Hogwarts, to a place where she wasn’t all the time reminded of her dead parents. “Yes, we are.” At least the Greengrasses, unlike other families, hadn’t moved out of their manors to avoid a similar fate as the Malfoys. Their manor had been unplottable ever since they had fought a feud with the Bones family in the 16th century.

Astoria shot her a glare. She hated it when Daphne spoke for both of them. But with their parents gone, Daphne had to take care of her little sister.

“It’ll be good to be back in school, instead of…” Tracey waved her hand “... out there, where Death Eaters and mudbloods roam.”

If Draco was annoyed about the comment equaling Death Eaters and mudbloods, he didn’t show it. “There are mudbloods at Hogwarts still.”

“Lower years,” Tracey said. “They’re not a problem.”

Daphne nodded. They had been taught their place last year. They wouldn’t dare attack purebloods.

“But there are blood traitors too. Among the upper years as well.” Draco folded his hands in front of him.

“What about them?” Daphne asked.

“They’re protecting the mudbloods. And if they are protecting those cowards who murdered our parents, what else will they do?” Draco hissed. “Can we be safe, knowing that next to us are people who think killing us a good thing?”

Daphne gasped. She hadn’t thought about that.

Draco smiled cynically. “And the biggest blood traitor of them is the Headmaster. He’s doing all he can to support the mudbloods. He wants them back at Hogwarts, and he almost had his way.”

Astoria leaned into Daphne. She wrapped her arm around her little sister and felt her trembling.

“Snape will protect us. He always does,” Tracey said, but Daphne could tell that her best friend wasn’t that convinced.

“He’ll try. But he can’t be everywhere. We need to protect ourselves. By any means necessary.” Draco leaned forward. “I have a plan.”

*****​

Cumbria, Britain, September 1st, 1996

“This is a SG550. It’s a very precise and very expensive and quite finicky assault rifle,” Major Kolen said, presenting the rifle. “It uses what the Swiss call GP90, which is essentially a heavier 5.56 mm NATO cartridge.” The man frowned slightly. “It’s a very good weapon, but it requires quite the care.”

Hermione Granger knew this already - she had read up on the weapon when the group had decided which one to acquire. Seamus had wanted an AK-74 or even an AK-47, but the Swiss rifle was far more precise. The Resistance didn’t need an especially rugged rifle anyway - not with repair and cleaning spells available, if they didn’t simply duplicate the ‘master copy’ instead. The weapon was very precise out to 300 yards, and easy to handle.

More importantly though was the fact that it was very easy to acquire - for a wizard. Practically every second Swiss man over twenty had one at home. There was no need to risk the black market for a Russian rifle of dubious origin and quality if you could simply confound a guy you met in a Swiss disco instead, and relieve him of the rifle at his home.

They would be getting more weapons, of course. Pistols, long range rifles, Machine guns and RPGs even. Maybe SMGs and shotguns. The mercenaries could help there. But training would focus on the assault rifle, then on pistols. Seamus had plans to enchant the weapons too - or rather, he had ideas Hermione was supposed to implement.

The major hadn’t been too happy with the choice either. He had mentioned more than once that it wasn’t exactly common in Africa. That it hadn’t been tested in battle. That it had been a compromise between the Swiss military and the Swiss target shooters. Hermione couldn’t tell him that most of his concerns didn’t matter to the Resistance, but he had to suspect something.

Then the major demonstrated how the weapon was used, with all three firing modes. More tactical advice followed, which Hermione committed to memory. They were paying quite a lot for this training, and she was determined to get her - or rather, Sirius’s - gold’s worth.

Finally, after the physical training in the morning, and the theory, they were about to test the range they had created in advance. Hermione wasn’t quite as eager as others, but she was looking forward to learning how to shoot.

*****​

“What’s your game, Miss?”

Hermione stopped cleaning her rifle on a spread out shelter half and looked at the major. “Pardon?”

“With the money you have, you’d be training in the desert or the tropics if you were planning to head to Africa. You’re planning to fight in Europe. Or Britain.“

“We’re not going to do any fighting in Britain.” Not unless the Death Eaters forced them to.

“You’re too diverse as well. All kind of backgrounds - gutter rat, immigrant, upper class - but you’re a very tight group. It doesn’t make sense.”

“We’re school mates.” Hermione smiled at him.

He snorted. “There ain’t any school in Britain where you’d find all of you.”

She shrugged.

“You’re too bloody intense. This is personal, for all of you.” He shook his head. “Not my problem, in the end.”

He left, headed to his own tent. The major and the sergeant were camped a bit away from the Resistance, to give everyone some privacy. Hermione checked if either was watching, then cleaned the rifle with a spell and reassembled it.

“Isn’t that cheating?”

She frowned at the amused tone and turned her head slowly. Allan was leaning against a tree, arms folded. It looked casual, but somehow… rehearsed too. Or she was a bit too tired after all the training.

“It’s not cheating. The major said we should train as we plan to fight.”

“That he did. Even if he planned to scare us off training with them.”

Hermione snorted. “They don’t know what we already went through. He suspects something is off though.”

“Should I obliviate him?”

She shook her head. “No. He’s just wondering.”

“He could try to sell us out.”

“We’ll check for that, later.” They had some Veritaserum. Not exactly honorable, but they couldn’t really afford to get into trouble with the muggle authorities.

Allan walked over to her and sat down on the same shelter half she was kneeling on. “I wish I had done more sports,” he said, rubbing his legs.

“I did say we needed to be fitter.” And she’d worked out a nice training schedule too. Not many had taken her offer though.

“I didn’t think it’d be that bad. It’s so… un-Ravenclaw.”

Hermione giggled at that. “Don’t let your Quidditch team hear that.”

“They never trained as hard as Wood’s maniacs.” He looked at her. “You didn’t strike me as the athletic type either.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t have to be athletic, back then.” She was thinking of Hogwarts as part of her past. She didn’t like that. She didn’t want to think of her friends the same way.

“Things have really changed for all of us.”

“Yes.” And not for the better. Even if she was fitter now than she had ever been. If Harry and Ron could see her train… she wondered if they’d notice, next time they met. Which wouldn’t happen for some time, sadly. They had to settle in at Hogwarts first.

“Thinking of Potter and Weasley? You’ve got that look in your eyes again.”

“What look?” She frowned slightly. She didn’t like to be easy to read.

“Nostalgia. Regret.”

Her frown deepened. That wasn’t what she was feeling. Not really.

He sighed. “They’re at Hogwarts now. Safe. While we’re being hunted by purebloods and learning how to fight. We’re living in different worlds.”

“For now. The war won’t last forever.”

“And once the war is over? Do you think that we’ll be able to simply forget what we did, and return to our former classmates? Do you think that they’ll be able to forget what we did?” He shook his head. “I’m not saying our friends will stop being our friends, but we’ll never be as close as we were before all this. That’s just the way it is.”

She shook her head. “I know my friends.” They had gone through so much together...

She noticed that Allan was frowning, but before she could say anything, he sighed and smiled. “I’m jealous, you know. I’d not trust my pureblood friends like you do. They’re just too different.”

“Well, Harry and Ron are special.” She smiled, looking into the dark forest surrounding the camp. “They’re the best.”

Allan nodded and headed back to his tent. She sighed, then checked her watch. It was close to ‘mirror time’, as Ron called it. She entered her tent with a smile on her face.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 1st, 1996

Harry Potter stood next to Ron in the Gryffindor common room. It was shortly before curfew, but none of the students, not even the first years, seemed to be heading to bed yet. Perfect.

“Everyone, listen up!”

They did. He cleared his throat. “We’re back for another year - or here for the first time,” he added. “You all know who’s missing. And why.”

Mumbling and whispering rose briefly among the assembled Gryffindors.

“You know what happened over the summer. The Dark Lord has finally shown his true face and broke his Death Eaters out of prison.”

“And the Death Eaters were blown up!” Basil, a sixth-year half-blood, yelled. He had lost his mother in the last war.

“As were a lot of innocents!” McLaggen yelled back. As most of the room stared at him, he hunched his shoulders, then stood straight. “What? It’s true! The mu...ggleborns blew up a ball! My cousin was there as well, and he wasn’t a Death Eater!”

“Shut up, McLaggen!” Ron yelled. “We all know what you think about muggleborns. You showed it last year!”

“Yes. Have you forgotten your lesson already?” Katie Bell scoffed.

McLaggen had probably hoped that with more than half of the Quidditch team gone, and most muggleborns not returning, he could spread his filthy views again. They had to nip that in the bud, Harry knew. He stared at the other Gryffindor. “If your cousin attended a ball thrown by Malfoy, then he wasn’t an innocent. Have you forgotten what Malfoy did? He was a Death Eater! He followed the Dark Lord! In my second year, he tried to get us all killed by the basilisk!” Several of the older students shuddered. “You don’t go to balls or parties of such scum! Not unless you share their views.”

He stepped closer to McLaggen, until he was standing right in front of him. “Is that what you want, McLaggen? Join the Dark Lord? Kill muggleborns?” Harry looked at a frightened first year, a muggleborn. “Do you want to kill her? Hm?”

McLaggen swallowed, then cringed when the little girl began to cry. Lavender quickly hugged her to calm her down. “I don’t want to kill anyone!” he said.

“Then don’t support the Dark Lord.” Harry stared at him until the other student looked away.

Ron nodded. “We’re at war now, mates. You know the Slytherins. You know Malfoy. He never hid his views. He supports the Dark Lord. I’d not be surprised if he was marked already - he always followed his father, after all. He’ll try to hurt us. Or worse. Don’t go out alone. Don’t leave anyone alone. Keep an eye out for Slytherins at all times.”

“Not just Slytherins,” Harry added. “There are Death Eater sympathisers in the other houses too. Stay together, protect each other. We need to work together.”

They had failed the muggleborns last year. They’d not fail them this year, Harry vowed. Trying to obey the rules hadn’t worked. This year, they’d do what they needed to keep everyone safe.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 1st, 1996

Like any other student in her house, Daphne Greengrass stopped what she was doing - reading in her case - and paid attention when Potions Master, no, Professor Snape now, entered. He was their Defense teacher this year, she reminded herself.

The wizard didn’t bother with a greeting. He simply stood there, staring at the common room, until everyone was quiet and paying attention. Which took just a moment.

“My condolences to those among you who have lost family members this summer,” he said. Daphne didn’t know if he meant it - he didn’t let any emotion show. She nodded anyway in response. Too many others did the same. The mudbloods had caused so much pain to so many families…

“I know some of you desire vengeance.”

Daphne felt as if the teacher was addressing her personally. Did he know about her talk with Malfoy? She glanced at her fellow student, but Malfoy was staring at the professor.

“Some of you might even blame fellow students for your loss, or think hurting them will make the murderers suffer.”

Daphne was now certain that their talk had been overheard. Or someone had told the teacher. But who? Who would betray them?

“Should you act on this foolish notion, you will regret it. The Headmaster has been quite clear that he will not let Hogwarts become a battleground.” He glanced at Malfoy. “Some might have dismissed his words. Some might think that things will continue as they have in the past. That they can strike at other students with clever pranks and carefully cast hexes.”

More than a few students exchanged glances. Daphne saw some smirk even.

“They are wrong. Things have changed. The staff has been informed that such antics will no longer be treated as students fooling around, no matter who started it.”

He let his gaze wander. “And I do not have to remind you that the Headmaster has made his political views very clear. The Wizengamot’s influence on Hogwarts is not what it was last year either.”

Daphne had realised that when she had seen the new teacher for Wizarding Customs. Claudius Abbot was from an Old Family, but he had let his son marry a muggleborn. She slowly nodded. She had understood the warning. Snape wouldn’t risk his position to keep them out of trouble. Not against the Headmaster.

She glanced over at Draco, who was frowning, and wondered if he had understood the warning as well.

*****​

Cumbria, Britain, September 4th, 1996

When she heard the cracking noise, Hermione Granger dropped to the muddy ground and rolled to the side, under the closest bush. She didn’t stay there, of course, but crawled away at once, under a fallen tree, until she was behind a rock. Trees didn’t offer cover. Not against heavy weapons. And a Blasting Curse would turn a tree into a cloud of deadly splinters.

No one had shot at her, but she couldn’t be certain that no one was there. The two mercenaries were tricky and wily. Bruises on her body proved that. They knew how to hide, and how to move through the woods. If she cast a Human-presence-revealing Spell, she’d be able to spot them, but… that would defeat the goal of the training. And make the major ask more questions.

And she really wanted to beat them at their own game. It was a matter of pride now. She gripped her paintball marker and peered around the rock. Nothing. Licking her lips, she adjusted her protective goggles - she was already planning to enchant those, when they’d fight for real - and crawled forward. The ‘enemy camp’ was somewhere ahead, and as long as she was careful, and didn’t expose herself…

She heard the dull thuds right before she was hit, painfully, in the back and the leg by two paintballs.

“Gotcha, girlie.”

Looking up, she spotted the Sergeant in the tree above her.

“You need to remember to look up, girlie. Snipers like to hide in the canopies.” The mercenary raised his marker in a mocking salute, and started to climb down.

Hermione got up, rubbing her aching kidney, and made her way back to the camp. The rest of her group was already there. Dean smirked at her when he saw her limping. “Letting us draw their fire so you could sneak up on them didn’t work, hm?”

“I almost had them,” she muttered, before sitting down at the fire and grabbing the teapot.

“Of course,” Seamus said, grinning.

“How did they get you?” Justin asked.

“Sergeant was up in the tree.”

“Death from above!” Dean chuckled.

Allan nodded. “It’s a good tactic. Purebloods wouldn’t expect that.”

“But they can blow up trees easily, and they’re used to brooms,” Hermione mentioned. “Though they’d not use brooms in a forest, I think.”

“They might try it - they haven’t seen Return of the Jedi,” Dean said.

“And some of them might even pull it off. Harry could do it,” Colin chimed in.

Hermione took a sip of tea and winced when the movement made her back hurt again. She’d need more ointment in the evening. Even if the major had already commented that the group was quite quick to recover from a beatdown. But even if they were willing to suffer without magical help, they had four weeks, and would have to make the most of it.

When Sally-Anne stepped out of her tent, everyone turned to look at her. She had gone to London an hour ago. The girl was smiling widely.

“You look like you have good news,” Justin said.

Sally-Anne nodded happily. “We’ve got a response from Clifton.”

“Louise Clifton, the former Hit-Wizard?” Hermione asked.

Sally-Anne nodded. “That’s the one.”

“Or someone using her name. E-mail?” Allan said.

Sally-Anne’s face fell. “Yes… but what pureblood could use e-mail?”

“A pureblood imperiusing someone,” Hermione pointed out. “But it’s unlikely. We still have to be careful.”

“I just mailed her our prepared message.”

“Good.” They would need to mail back and forth a bit, sound her out and let her build up trust. And then check thoroughly if she was compromised, before meeting her. But if they could recruit her, a former Hit-Wizard, then the Resistance would gain a very valuable member.

The arrival of the major and the sergeant interrupted further talk about recruiting.

“Alright, lads and ladies! Gather up for the debriefing. Let’s take a look at why you were killed today!”

Most of the Resistance stood up groaning, but Hermione was smiling and grabbed her notebook. While embarrassing and sometimes humiliating, those debriefings were always informative. And the lessons learned would help keep them alive.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, September 5th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle rolled up the report she had just finished and tossed it into the ‘out’ basket in her office. Just in time for the daily meeting, or, as she liked to call it, the daily waste of time. “Come on, Martin. Time for a break.”

“Already?” Her partner looked, up, then grimaced. “Oh.”

The two went to Scrimgeour’s office. On the way, Elmar Parkinson joined them. “Hey, Brenda. Still didn’t catch that mudblood bitch?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Still didn’t catch those fugitives?”

“I’m hunting veteran Death Eaters hiding with the Dark Lord, not some mudblood youths,” he said.

Brenda doubted that he was doing much to hunt the escaped prisoners. Why the Head Auror had assigned Parkinson to that case was a mystery to her. The other Auror would be much more motivated to hunt down muggleborns. “You’re not the only one doing that though,” she retorted, “while our task force has been gutted.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Parkinson said, right before he opened the door to Scrimgeour’s office.

“Jerk,” she muttered under her breath.

They were among the last to arrive, but the loud talk among the assembled Aurors told Brenda that Scrimgeour wasn’t there yet. “Pointless assembly,” she scoffed. “What are we, Hit-Wizards?”

Martin chuckled.

Even Parkinson snorted. “Some of the rookies don’t amount to anything more but guard duty. Could send them to the Hit-Wizards, they’d still be better than most of the grey robes.”

“Shut up, Parkinson,” Tonks said. “They lost a dozen in Azkaban.”

“So?” Parkinson sneered at the young witch. “The Wizengamot lost dozens to the mudbloods. We should focus on them, not on the Dark Lord. If those twelve dumb Hit-Wizards had fled or opened the cells, they’d not have been killed. They should have known they can’t fight the Dark Lord and live.”

Brenda saw a number of Aurors nod at those words. She wasn’t quite certain how to react to that.

“That’s what you would like, huh?” Tonks stared at the veteran Auror. “You want everyone to roll over for the Dark Lord, so he can take over, hm? Are you actually doing anything to find the escaped Death Eaters?”

“I’m doing my duty, rookie!” Parkinson spat out.

“Your duty to whom?” Tonks wasn’t giving any ground. The rookie had guts, but not much sense, Brenda thought. It was hard to believe that she had been in Hufflepuff instead of Gryffindor.

“To Britain of course!” He hadn’t drawn his wand, yet.

“And whose Britain?” Tonks snarled.

“Scrimgeour’s coming,” Martin suddenly said, and the room fell silent. At least one of them had the sense to keep an eye out, Brenda thought as Parkinson and Tonks stepped away from each other.

The Head Auror entered his office. “I was delayed by Bones,” he said, then looked at the group of Aurors, narrowing his eyes. “Did anything happen I should know about?”

All shook their heads and Scrimgeour didn’t pry further. Brenda was relieved - the Aurors still took care of each other, first.

“Alright. Now, what’s the status of your cases? Dawlish?”

While Dawlish took five minutes to say that he had made no progress in the hunt for the escaped Death Eaters, Brenda silently sighed. Such a waste of time!

*****​

Hogwarts, September 7th, 1996

The mood in the Great Hall was tense. Ron Weasley had thought the welcoming feast had been bad, but things had grown worse since. Not only was there almost no talk between the house tables, something not too unusual, but the tables themselves were divided.

Ravenclaw was split into three groups doing their best to ignore each other. Parvati had told them that the house had pretty much fragmented into those who supported the Dark Lord, those who hated the Dark Lord, and those who wanted to avoid the whole conflict and focus on studying. He saw Luna Lovegood sitting by herself, and wondered what was up with her.

Meanwhile, Hufflepuff was pretty much split into two parts, and from what Ron had heard, they were ready to go at each other, to the point that Professor Sprout had taken to sleeping in the dorm. When he had told that to Hermione over the mirror she had said that it was understandable - loyalty like a Hufflepuff’s, betrayed, made for the worst enmity.

Slytherin presented a united front, but Ron and Harry had noticed that they had internal divisions as well. Malfoy was in the thick of it though, which was bad news, but expected. They were not quite as visible though since the house had lost almost no students, unlike the other three.

Like Gryffindor. Too many seats were empty where muggleborns should have been sitting. Especially the one next to him. Hermione’s. And the numerous empty seats allowed their trouble cases to gain some distance from the rest of the house as well, to some degree. McLaggen was sitting with Berley and Mickle, all three purebloods, of rich families.

A murmur went through the hall, and he noticed that Dumbledore was standing. The Headmaster cleared his throat, the sound amplified so everyone could hear him clearly.

“I have an announcement to make. Due to the urgent concerns about your safety, there will be no Hogsmeade weekends until further notice.”

What? Ron stared at the old wizard. No Hogsmeade weekends? But… he had been counting on meeting Hermione with Harry during those! Sneak away and apparate to London. While everyone seemed to voice their outrage, he leaned towards Harry, lowering his voice. “Does he expect an attack by the Death Eaters on Hogsmeade?”

His friend frowned. “Maybe. Or he fears that Malfoy might try something in Hogsmeade, away from the teachers.”

Ron scoffed. “If he tries something we’ll end him.” He blinked. “Do you think Dumbledore fears that?”

“Could be. We’ll need to reschedule our plans though.” Harry winced. Ron knew Hermione didn’t like it when schedules had to be adjusted.

“Not necessarily,” Ron said. They could still sneak out, and apparate away. But they’d need a way to be warned if the teachers went looking for them.

Harry nodded. “I doubt the Headmaster would be against it.”

Ron agreed - Dumbledore wanted them to stay in contact with Hermione. Maybe he’d even cover for them. If not… they had done worse than sneaking out, and could always claim they had wanted to go shopping or such. It was a good excuse. Just two boys out for a stroll, instead of two boys meeting with a wanted witch.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 7th, 1996

“No Hogsmeade weekends? Is this a prison instead of a school now?”

Daphne Greengrass shook her head when she heard Zabini complain loudly in the Slytherin common room. She didn’t care enough to correct him though. Tracey on the other hand rolled her eyes and spoke up. “Merlin’s beard, Zabini! Are you so eager to leave Hogwarts and risk getting killed by mudbloods or blood traitors?”

“There are Aurors stationed there. And the mudbloods wouldn’t blow up their own,” the boy retorted.

“Do you think so?” Malfoy cut in. “They killed their own just to murder my parents.”

And mine, Daphne silently added. And many others. Tracey must have noticed what she was thinking, since she squeezed her hand.

“Not that Aurors in Hogsmeade matter much when we have dozens of blood traitors at Hogwarts, ready to attack us!” Malfoy’s voice had grown louder, and more students were listening. And many of them were nodding in agreement. “We need to be on our guard at all times, outside our dorm!”

“Snape has warned us,” a younger Slytherin said.

“He said he wouldn’t tolerate us starting anything. He never forbade us from protecting ourselves.” Malfoy sneered. “Do you honestly think we’d be punished for defending ourselves? Not even the mudblood-loving Headmaster will go that far!”

“And even if we’re punished, I’d rather be in detention than dead!” Nott added.

Daphne agreed with that sentiment. She didn’t care much about hurting the blood traitors at school - they were not the ones who had killed her parents. She wanted the mudbloods to suffer. But she didn’t want to get hurt either. And if any of the blood traitors dared to harm Astoria…

Malfoy let his gaze wander through the room. “I’ve spoken to you before, I’ll tell you again: We need to protect ourselves from those blood traitors. They’ve been emboldened by the mudbloods murdering our parents, and if we’re not ready to defend ourselves, we’ll suffer.”

“Big words.” Zabini scoffed. “But what do you plan to do? Hex a few Gryffindors and make their teeth grow?”

“Of course not. The time for such pranks is past. If they attack us, we’ll use real spells against them. They’ll need to learn that attacking their betters will not be tolerated!” He raised his chin. “We need to train together!”

Daphne had heard that proposal before. It sounded good, but she knew that Malfoy had planned to provoke the blood traitors so they’d attack first. He had done that numerous times in the past, after all, and it had usually worked.

But that had been in the past. Before people had been murdered. Things were different now. She had hoped that with the older mudbloods gone, Hogwarts would be safe, but it wasn’t. The blood traitors were almost as bad.

And yet, if they were not ready, then the mudblood lovers would hurt them, instead of getting hurt. They didn’t care about who they hurt either. If she wanted to protect her sister and herself, then she had no choice than to go along with Malfoy’s proposal. At least as far as the training went. If Malfoy hadn’t given up on his former plan, even after Snape’s warning, then she wanted no part in it.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 8th, 1996

“And I’m certain that Parkinson is not lifting a finger, much less his wand, to catch Death Eaters. If he’s not a Death Eater, he’ll soon be one.”

Albus Dumbledore nodded as Nymphadora finished her report. “Thank you.” He rubbed his chin. “So the influence of the Dark Lord among the Aurors hasn’t been reduced so far.”

Nymphadora shook her head. “He has killed a dozen Hit-Wizards, but the muggleborns have killed far more people.” She grimaced. “Many of the older Aurors are firmly set against the Death Eaters though.”

“They would be, having survived the last war.” Albus knew though that even among their ranks traitors could and would lurk.

“Headmaster?” Nymphadora sounded hesitant.

“Yes?” He looked at her over his reading glasses.

“Bones says that a murderer is a murderer, no matter their blood.” The young Auror fidgeted on her seat.

Ah. Albus nodded. “She would say that. An admirable stance, in theory.”

“In theory?” Nymphadora looked puzzled.

“Amelia is very rigid. She feels that upholding the law is her duty, but she doesn’t question the law itself.” Albus sighed. “She also does not understand that we’re at war now. She still tries to treat this conflict as a criminal case.”

“Did the Wizengamot really take the laws from Nazi Germany?” Nymphadora looked younger than she was when she asked this. Insecure and worried.

“I do not think any of the Wizengamot members paid enough attention to the muggles to even know of those laws. Many of them do not even know anything about the Second World War. They think the ‘Troubles of the Muggles’ in the first half of the 40s were the result of the war against Grindelwald spilling into the muggle world.” Albus snorted. “Their ignorance would be amusing, if not for its consequences.”

“What?” Nymphadora was gaping. “They don’t…”

“Indeed. But while they did not know about those laws, the actual laws the Wizengamot passed are quite close.” He smiled gently. “I think you already were aware of that though.”

She nodded. “I looked it up, after Harry and Sirius… told me off.” She paused for a moment. “They said that if I helped hunt muggleborns, then I’d be no better than a Death Eater. But I swore an oath to uphold the law.”

“But when you joined, the law was different.” Albus smiled. “Would you still uphold the law if Voldemort had taken over the Ministry by force and passed new laws?”

“Of course not!” she said at once.

“Then does it matter if he is trying to do so through the Wizengamot?”

“But it’s the Wizengamot’s place to set laws, as well as judge people, and ours to enforce their laws and sentences. What if we start to ignore any law we don’t like? If everyone does it, then the entire system would collapse and there would be no justice anymore!”

He could almost hear Amelia’s voice. Albus shook his head. “But there already is no justice anymore. The muggleborns did not deserve to be excluded and persecuted. The system you worry about has already failed.” He would remind her that her father, muggleborn himself, was being spared so far because she was an Auror, but that might drive her to feel pressured to obey Amelia’s orders even more, to protect him.

“But if that’s so, why are you still working within it?” She wasn’t quite crying, but the young metamorphmagus was very upset.

He smiled. “I am doing that because I am trying to prevent the Ministry from committing even worse mistakes and crimes. If they continue to hound the muggleborns, far more people will be killed on all sides than if they focus on Voldemort. In politics, as in war, one often has to choose the lesser evil, and make compromises. But there are lines I will not cross. If I am forced to choose between my conscience and the law, then I will choose my conscience, even if it means I will be forced to fight the Ministry.” Though he had been hard-pressed not to act when that poor boy had been executed. If he had seen any chance to prevent that… but he hadn’t. He nodded slowly. “But there are more ways to fight something than with your wand. You know this, or you would not be spying for the Order.”

“The Order hasn’t blown up dozens of people,” she muttered

“Not in this war at least. Or rather, not yet.”

Nymphadora stared at him with wide eyes. He almost chuckled at the sight. “If I knew where the Dark Lord is hiding, or the bulk of his followers, I would arrange such a bombing myself.”

*****​

London, Greenwich, September 9th, 1996

Hermione Granger finished typing her answer to Clifton’s latest mail, then sent it and left the Internet Café. Things were progressing nicely, in her opinion, if slowly. But Clifton was in contact with Chadwick, another former Hit-Wizard, so that meant two potential recruits.

She bought a few newspapers at the newsstand, then turned into a side alley and apparated to the safehouse. Allan was already waiting for her. He was smiling widely, but coldly, and before she could ask what had happened, he spoke.

“Beckett’s shop has reopened!”

*****​

 

Chapter 7: Training

‘Opinions differ whether or not the attack on Azkaban ultimately helped the Dark Lord. He did gain the services of ten utterly loyal Death Eaters, most of them very skilled fighters, veterans of the last war. On the other hand, after spending over ten years in the worst prison of the Western World they required a lot of care to recover until they could fight. More importantly, this open aggression against the Ministry convinced the Minister that Voldemort was an enemy who could not be appeased. After Azkaban, the Ministry, however reluctantly in some parts, was at war with the Dark Lord.
Many have speculated how the war would have turned out, had the Ministry abandoned its hunt for the Muggleborn Resistance at the same time, but as has been said before, after the bombing of Malfoy Manor, that was simply impossible.’
- Excerpt from ‘Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century’ by Albert Runcorn

*****​

London, East End, September 9th, 1996

Beckett’s Potions was open again. The traitor was back. Hermione Granger had expected the man to run, but now he was reopening his shop? Did he honestly expect no retaliation? It was possible, but she didn’t think so.

“It’s probably a trap,” she said.

“Probably,” Allan agreed. “Unless Beckett’s a bigger fool than we thought, he’d not have reopened his shop without some form of protection.”

“Odds are that the Aurors are using him as bait, but he might have struck a deal with some of the other residents in the Alley.” Some gangs might offer protection. Some might even try to deliver. She didn’t know enough to know what was going on in Wizarding Britain’s underworld. “We don’t know yet if it’s really him running the shop.”

“It doesn’t really matter. Anyone who helps him is an enemy. When we blow up his shop, they’ll die as well.” Allan was smiling.

“You’d have to destroy the entire building to be certain that he dies, instead of just the shop,” Hermione said. “That would cause far too much collateral damage, and anyone planning to ambush us could be hiding in another building anyway.” She’d do that, in their place. “And we don’t know if there are innocents in the house either. What if he has rented out the upper floors? Some of the families who had lost their homes in the riots would be glad for such accommodations.”

“We told them to leave Wizarding Britain.”

“Not everyone will listen. And some will be half-bloods, who don’t want to move to the muggle world.” She saw him sneer for an instant, then he was smiling thinly again.
“If we investigate too much, we’ll be at risk from getting ambushed.” Allan shook his head. “We should simply blow the shop up. If we calculate the explosives correctly, nothing else will be destroyed.”

That wouldn’t be easy, Hermione knew. Though they knew how much space the shop filled, and the walls were plaster and wood… She stopped herself. No one knew what kind of potions and ingredients were in the shop, and how they would react to an explosion. “And what if it’s not a trap? Just someone who took the shop over?” Hermione shook her head, the ponytail she had her hair in whipping around.

“They would have changed the name, at least.” He sighed. “We can’t let this betrayal go unpunished. Martin died because of Beckett!”

“We need to know more, first.” She put her hand on his shoulder and forced herself to smile. “I’ll check with my sources.”

Allan didn’t look like he expected much to come from that, but he nodded, although rather reluctantly. She couldn’t blame him. He just knew that she was in contact with Harry and Ron, but not what they were doing. Had been doing, now that they couldn’t check with their spying operation each day anymore, although Ron’s brothers had stepped in. Ultimately, Sirius was supposed to take over monitoring.

Not that a trap laid by the Ministry was likely to be discussed in a pub, even among Aurors. But Sirius had other sources. Then again, if he had heard about this, he’d have already informed Harry, and her friend would have warned her at once.

She looked at Allan, who was frowning, no, scowling. He didn’t seem to take well to training and preparing, she thought. It couldn’t be helped though - the Resistance was not ready for a war.

“Let’s head back to camp.”

*****​

Cumbria, Britain, September 9th, 1996

“Sorry, Sirius didn’t hear anything about an ambush being planned by the Aurors,” Harry said. Hermione Granger could see that he was very worried.

She smiled. “We’re not going to go near the shop until we know more.”

Ron pushed his head into view, shoving Harry’s to the side. “Just be careful. Very careful. Dad told me they haven’t given up on hunting you, they just reduced the number of Aurors on it. More Aurors are hunting the Death Eaters though.”

“Don’t worry,” she said again. “We’re not about to do anything foolish.” She hoped so, at least. “How is Hogwarts?” She couldn’t hide the longing in her voice. For years, the school had been the place she had been the happiest. She had found her best friends there, and her calling. Not even the year suffering under Umbridge had been able to change that.

Harry grimaced. “It’s tense. Very tense. Everyone is ready to hex the others. So far, nothing has happened, but… it won’t take much.”

“Parvati said that the Ravenclaws almost started a fight among themselves over a book from the library. If Flitwick had not been present…” Ron winced.

She could understand that. Books very important. Even more so now. She hated not being able to check with the Hogwarts library. She felt crippled.

“We’ve started training too. Defense. Snape is training the Slytherins, so we need to keep up,” Harry said. Ron mumbled something about ‘training Death Eaters’. “And his lessons… he’s not a good teacher, as you know.”

She knew that. Snape was a very good source of information, but he wasn’t a good teacher. Hermione hadn’t had trouble learning potions, but most students needed more help.

“Potions is great though. The new professor, Slughorn, is good,” Ron said, smiling. “I got an EE in the first lesson!”

Hermione suppressed the jealousy welling up inside her. She wanted to be back at Hogwarts, learning magic, instead of learning how to wage a war and piecing together magic lessons from what books she had managed to acquire. “That’s great,” she said. “We’re training too, of course.”

“Oh, Sirius said he’ll have your second mirror ready sooner than expected. Remus is helping him now.” Harry smiled.

“Good!” Hermione smiled widely. That would help a lot. Communicating through Harry was cumbersome and prone to losing important details. She felt guilty at thinking so at once - it would also mean less contact with Harry and Ron. “So, how are the others in the house doing?” she asked, more to keep talking, than because she really wanted to know.

Harry and Ron soon had her up to date about the latest house news, though mostly focused on the Quidditch team tryouts. Ginny was a Chaser now, together with Demelza Robins - Hermione barely remembered that girl - and of course Katie Bell. Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote were the Beaters, and Ron had stayed Keeper.

“McLaggen tried out for Keeper, but the berk couldn’t do much.” He grinned, then his face fell. “But we’re at a disadvantage. We’ve lost most of our best players.”

Hermione hadn’t expected ever to like talking about Quidditch, but right then, she loved hearing about normal, carefree things. Even though it tore her heart hearing about Hogwarts while she was a hunted fugitive who, she had come to realise, wouldn’t ever return to school.

*****​

When she stepped out of her tent after chatting with her friends, she found the others sitting around the campfire. They fell silent when she approached, and Allan addressed her: “Did you find out if the shop’s reopening is a trap?”

She grabbed a sandwich from the tray next to the fire and shook her head. “No. If it’s a new development, I might hear about it in the next few days though.”

“We should just blow the damn shop up. Teach them to betray us!” Seamus said. Hermione refrained from asking who the Irish wizard meant with ‘they’.

“Yes!” Dean nodded emphatically. He wasn’t the only one.

Hermione glanced at Allan. The older former Ravenclaw was smiling. She sighed, closed her eyes for a moment to gather her thoughts, then started to speak. “We can’t just blow up a building without better information.”

“We did it to Malfoy!” Seamus said, grinning.

“Malfoy Manor was a free-standing, isolated building full of Death Eaters.” And some idiots who supported them, she added to herself, as well as two poor captured muggleborns. “Beckett’s Potions is in the middle of a street, with many other houses nearby. A poor section of the Alley, where muggleborns and poorer half-bloods live.” And the kind of creatures not tolerated in Diagon Alley. “If we hurt them, we harm ourselves.”

“Bollocks!” Seamus said.

She glared at him. “It’s not bollocks! We need the support of the population, of the muggleborns and half-bloods. Killing them will drive them into the arms of the Ministry. It’s one thing to kill a traitor who sold Martin out, it’s another to hurt and kill people who simply have the misfortune to live in a house nearby, or pass through at the wrong time.” She sniffed. “And you can bet that the relatives of those we killed will be more willing to sell us out next time.”

She saw Justin and Sally-Anne nod. Colin and Dennis looked like they understood that as well. Tania and Mary looked at least torn. Allan was frowning. Couldn’t he see that killing the traitor no matter the cost was wrong, not just morally, but strategically as well?

“We will need to find out if Beckett is in the shop. If he is, we’ll find a way to kidnap him or kill him that won’t alienate half the Alley. But we need to be cautious above all - if this is a trap, which is likely, then they’ll be waiting for us. We have to be smarter than them.”

She saw Dean and Seamus look at Allan, who slowly nodded. Hermione didn’t let out a relieved sigh, but she felt like it.

In a way the situation reminded her of trying to keep Harry and Ron from getting into trouble. But the stakes were now much higher, and her friends were not with her. She ate her sandwich while Justin started to talk about today’s training, and tried not to feel too lonely.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, September 12th, 1996

“I’m telling you, the Grim was in the alley! Beckett’s marked by death himself!”

Zacharias Fawley was shaking his head wildly in the small flat across ‘Beckett’s Potions’. Brenda Brocktuckle ground her teeth so she wouldn’t lose her temper. She closed her eyes, and listed the ingredients for a Calming Draught in her head, then addressed her fellow Auror: “The Grim does not exist!”

Martin Runcorn coughed, which she hoped was masking his laughter, and not an attempt to correct her. Her rookie partner had grown quite cheeky lately.

“But I saw it! A giant dog, black as the darkest night, with teeth of moonlight, and red glowing eyes!” Fawley looked to his partner, Irina Selwyn, who avoided meeting his eyes - and everyone else’s. So, she hadn’t seen anything, probably because she hadn’t been awake. Sloppy, but they only needed one Auror awake and paying attention to call in the ready team. One Auror covering the front and side, and another covering the back of the building.

“You saw a stray mutt looking for food, that’s what you saw! If you had taken Care of Magical Creatures, you’d know that the Grim doesn’t exist.” Brenda shook her head.

“If a Grim existed, Hagrid would have had one as a pet,” Martin added, grinning. Cheeky indeed.

“I wasn’t the only one who saw it!” Fawley was insisting. “Two hags fled screaming, and the Grim was laughing at them.”

Brenda rolled her eyes. “It was the middle of the night, and they made the same mistake as you did. There is no Grim.”

“There is! Mark my words: Beckett is doomed, and anyone who stays around is doomed as well!” Fawley raised his chin.

“Wouldn’t you be doomed too then? You saw it, didn’t you?” Martin asked.

Fawley gaped at him, and started to shake like a leaf. Brenda glared at her partner. “Nice work,” she whispered, “that’s one less Auror we can use on the night shift.”

The rookie had the grace to wince. He’d still take Fawley’s place this night, Brenda decided. She glared at the other Auror. “Go home, Fawley. And take Selwyn with you.”

The two apparated away, and Brenda sighed. “Merlin’s arse! How are we supposed to catch those mudbloods if we have to work with such idiots?”

“Because the task force hunting down the Death Eaters received priority?” Martin asked.

“I bet they could do with expendable curse fodder too,” Brenda muttered. When she saw his reaction, she sighed. “I’m kidding.” Lose one partner and they never let you forget it…

“Well, I have to check up on our bait. If Fawley is in such a state, then Beckett must be close to dying from fear.” She pulled out a vial of polyjuice to disguise herself as the witch who lived in the flat, and was currently enjoying a stay in a Ministry-owned cottage up north.

“He’s a mudblood,” Martin pointed out. “He might not even know about the Grim.”

“That would be great. This operation has been too much of a pain already.” Brenda grimaced, then took a sip from the vial. She closed her eyes while her body changed.

*****​

Beckett was nervous, Brenda saw that at once. But no more than he had been yesterday, when she had visited. Playing her role, she slowly walked over to the counter. “Hello, Mister. I need the usual.”

He recognised her disguise, and nodded. “One mild Pepper-Up Potion, right?”

“Yes, please.” Her changed voice sounded alien to her. She knew some people had no issues with using polyjuice, and of course there was Tonks, but Brenda hated wearing another’s body. At least it was a witch’s body - she hadn’t asked Martin how he felt changing forms.

Beckett went to the shelf and grabbed a vial. “Here.”

“Thank you.” She coughed. “How are you doing? Your mother’s doing well?”

“Ah, yes. Yes,” Beckett quickly said, answering her coded question. Nothing unusual had happened then, and no suspicious people had been seen.

Brenda decided not to ask if he had seen a big dog - no need to spread rumours. She paid him for the potion and walked out. While she made her way back to the flat, she thought there were fewer of the scum around than usual. She smiled. The criminals might be scared of the Grim as well, and if they avoided the area, it would make spotting the mudbloods easier. Maybe she should put out some food, to keep the dog coming back.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, September 12th, 1996

Hermione Granger had her wand ready and was wearing a wig and oversized glasses as well as a rather daring robe - for purebloods - when she apparated to Sirius’s and Harry’s home. Sirius was expecting her, and he wouldn’t be having guests over, but it was better to be prepared.

“Hello, darling. You look irresistible tonight!” Sirius greeted her with a leer. “I must say I’ve good taste in mistresses!”

She rolled her eyes at the older wizard greeting her. “You don’t need to keep my cover if no one else is around.”

He grinned. “But wouldn’t it be safer if I did? Just to get into the habit?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “I can guarantee you that it’s far more dangerous to try and treat me as you treat your real mistresses. For you, that is.”

He winced, though quite theatrically. “You’re scary if you try, do you know?”

She smiled. “So I’ve been told.” Several times, by Ron.

“Ah.” He grinned at her, wriggling his eyebrows even.

She didn’t take the bait. “So… you told Harry you had something for me?”

“Right!” He pulled out a small package. “Here, a way for two lovers to keep in contact even when life and circumstances cruelly keep them apart.”

“The mirror! Finally!” She opened the package to check.

“I knew you had fallen for me!” Sirius grinned and pulled out his own. “Lover,” he said, and the mirror in her hands buzzed softly.

“Lover?” She asked, and her mirror activated. She almost added ‘Seriously?’, but controlled herself.

He grinned. “It’s a good cover.”

Hermione blinked. “That’s actually true.” At least for him. “Did you charm the mirror to show a disguise for me?”

He nodded. “The new and improved Marauder’s Mirror!”

“Do I want to know how I’ll be appearing in your mirror?” She raised her eyebrow.

“Err… no?” His grin slipped a bit.

“I see.”

“In other news, I confirmed that your traitor is back in his shop. At least someone looking like him - it could be polyjuice,” he said, suddenly serious.

She nodded. “Thank you. That helped us a great deal.”

“I don’t have to tell you that this is likely a trap by the Aurors, do I?” he asked, pulling out a stack of parchment from his pocket. “There’s been talk about some boring assignment for the Auror leading the hunt for you, some Brocktuckle. No details though.”

“We suspect a trap,” she said, taking the parchment.

“But you’ll kill him anyway.”

“We can’t let that kind of betrayal go.” She looked at him, her expression grim.

Sirius nodded. “I understand.” His lips moved into a smile that looked more like his animagus form baring his teeth. “Are you going to torture him to death?”

His expression reminded her that Sirius had been living for two years with a Kiss on Sight order hanging over him, and of his family’s reputation. And the dungeons she had seen when she had visited Harry and Ron. She shook her head. “He has to die, but I don’t think we’ll go that far.” There was a line she didn’t want to cross. And didn’t want to see her friends cross.

He nodded. “As long as he pays.”

“That he will.”

“I guess I should not visit the place again, should I?”

She shook her head. “We won’t go overboard, but the shop’s likely to be destroyed.” She sighed. “I think it’s too dangerous to try to kidnap him.”

“Good.” He smiled at her. “Just be careful.”

She snorted. “First Harry and Ron, now you. Has everyone forgotten who the reckless wizards are, and who’s the responsible witch?”

“Who’s the Most Wanted of Wizarding Britain?” He grinned. “I have some experience with that position, as you might recall.”

She chuckled. “Point taken. But trust me, I will be as cautious as possible.”

“You better be. If something happens to you…” he trailed off.

“I know.”

Harry and Ron’s reaction wouldn’t be pretty. But then, neither would hers, should anything happen to her friends.

As Beckett would soon find out.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, September 13th, 1996

“Are you out of your mind, Cornelius?” Albus Dumbledore asked in a clipped tone. The Minister flinched at his question - it didn’t happen often that the Headmaster grew angry, but when he did, it was impressive as those who’d earned his ire could attest to.

“Albus…” The man swallowed. “We have to do something to protect the Ministry! The Department of Mysteries has informed me that should we be attacked with the same thing that destroyed Malfoy Manor, not even our wards would protect us!”

“It’s a bomb, Cornelius. A muggle device.” Amelia narrowed her eyes at Albus. “Some of my Aurors informed me of that a while ago, but I wanted to have it confirmed by experts.”

Meaning, Albus thought, she wanted to have a source the Wizengamot would trust confirm it. The Unspeakables had taken their time to confirm this, though - he had to thank Saul Croaker later.

“Although I believe you realised what had been used there as soon as you saw the devastation, Albus.” Amelia stared at him.

He met her eyes. “I had my suspicions, but I did not want to speculate.” He knew that she didn’t believe him, but he didn’t care. He was not about to play stupid games when faced with such a travesty as he had just been told of. He turned to Cornelius. “And you want to protect yourself by taking hostages? Children?”

The Minister for Magic paled and wiped some sweat from his forehead. “We’re not taking hostages. With the Dark Lord obviously not interested in keeping the peace, the muggleborns are in danger. You know how many were murdered in their muggle homes in the last war! Moving them to the Ministry for the duration of this… crisis… is just fulfilling our responsibility towards the future of Wizarding Britain.”

Albus glared at the man and the weak smile that had grown during the explanation disappeared at once. “Do you think I am a fool, Cornelius?” He leaned forward. “Who proposed this plan? Petra Rowle? Augustus Malfoy?” Cornelius flinched. Albus had to control himself. “You intend to follow a plan proposed by a cousin of Lucius?”

“The Ministry has to abide by the decisions of the Wizengamot, Albus. That is the law,” Amelia said.

He turned his head towards the Head of the DMLE. “This was not decided by the Wizengamot. Unless someone broke the law and held a session without the Chief Warlock.”

“It’s a proposal that will be submitted in the next session. Out of courtesy, Mister Malfoy has informed the Minister in advance, so he will be prepared, should the Wizengamot accept it.” Amelia’s mouth formed a thin line.

“And you both expect it to pass.” Albus scoffed. They had good reasons to think so - the proposal was, on the surface, offering to protect muggleborn children from Death Eaters. A number of the Wizengamot members opposing Voldemort would vote for it just for that reason. And those sympathetic to the Death Eaters’ cause would know its real purpose. Of course, he could work on the members, persuade them of the folly of this proposal. But to convince a majority, he would have to threaten to withhold his support against the Dark Lord. And if he did that, he risked to push the Wizengamot and with it, the Ministry into Voldemort’s camp.

“It’s a sensible proposal, Albus!” Cornelius exclaimed.

“It is hostage-taking! You are planning to take muggleborn children hostage, so the older children you are hunting will not lash out at you! Not even Grindelwald went that far!”

“Do you want the Ministry to be destroyed by murderous muggleborns, Albus?” Amelia had stood up. “While we are talking, they are preparing another attack. And we are the most vulnerable target. You’ve been saying for months that we need to focus on the Dark Lord; we cannot do so if we have to expect a muggleborn bomb!”

“I have been saying for a year that persecuting the muggleborns is wrong!” Albus said. He didn’t raise his voice, but he came close. “I have been telling you to stop hunting them for months. Did you listen?” He shook his head. “And yet, instead of listening now, you propose to antagonise them even further by taking them hostage!”

“We are not hunting children, Albus, but murderers. Mass-murderers!” Amelia was not giving an inch. “Do you wish to see a repeat of Malfoy Manor? Our wards will not protect us. We cannot defend against those bombs. We are exposed, in the middle of muggle London. We cannot hide. How can we do nothing, faced with such a threat?” She glared at him. “Or do you know something we do not? Do you have any reason to believe they will not attack the Ministry?”

“Are you insinuating that I would know and influence whoever destroyed Malfoy Manor?” Albus asked, tensing up. If Amelia accused him of this - which was, technically, true - and enough people believed it…

“You said that. I’m just wondering why you do not seem to care about the safety of the Wizengamot and the Ministry.”

“I believe that as long as there are good people in both the Wizengamot and the Ministry who strive to mend fences and end this pointless persecution of the muggleborn, they will not strike at us.” Miss Granger was smart; she would know that attacking them would be counter-productive. And she would not want to kill Harry’s and Mister Weasley’s family.

“You put a lot of faith in murderers, Albus,” Amelia spat.

“Murderers we created, Amelia. The Ministry has spent a year pushing them, hurting them, hunting them, until, finally, they pushed back. And yet they have not struck against the Wizengamot, which passed those unjust laws, nor against the Ministry, which enforced them. No, they struck at those responsible for the persecution instead, when they gathered at Malfoy Manor.” He looked at the two. “Yes, I do think that such people will not attack the Ministry.”

“Then there shouldn’t be any problem with protecting the muggleborn children in the Ministry,” Cornelius quickly said.

“If you believe that, then you are a fool, Cornelius.” He stood up, glaring at the Minister for Magic. “If you pursue this plan, you will ultimately doom yourself, Cornelius.” And he would deserve his fate. “Good day.”

Before he reached the door, Amelia spoke up again. “You cannot protect murderers forever, Albus.”

He turned to look at her. “Fiat iustitia, et pereat mundus, eh, Amelia?” Albus scoffed. She would see ‘justice’ done, even if it doomed everyone. “There are higher laws than the Wizengamot’s, Amelia. And a higher court as well.”

He left without a further word. It took more effort than usual to smile politely at the people he met on his way to the Floo connection, but he managed it. Once back in his office at Hogwarts, he dropped his facade though, and sank in his seat, wearier than he had felt in years while Fawkes flew over to land on his shoulder, butting his head against Albus’s.

The Wizengamot would pass this insane law. It might even achieve its goal, and keep the Muggleborn Resistance from bombing the Ministry.

If they managed to ‘secure’ the children. The Ministry had the log of every incident involving accidental magic. They could find the muggleborn children with that. But they were not the only ones with this information. Hogwarts’ vaults held the book of future students, and their addresses.

He stood up. He had to inform Sirius.

*****​

London, Docklands, September 13th, 1996

Harry Potter looked at One Canada Square, the tallest building in the United Kingdom. The massive skyscraper was a very impressive sight.

“Blimey!”

Harry glanced at his best friend, Ron. The redhead wasn’t quite gaping, but he came close. “You know… each time I think I know them, the muggles pull something else. What do they need such a huge tower for? You could probably fit all of Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade and the Ministry in there, and still have room left over!” Ron said, shaking his head.

“I believe that the building was meant to house offices, mostly, not residents, though as far as I know, the owner had some difficulty finding enough tenants,” Dumbledore said. “Although I confess I did not pay much attention to muggle economics; it was mostly the reports about a navigational obstacle for brooms and some concern about the tower disturbing post owls that made me remember it.”

“Ah.” Harry looked around their small group. Where was she?

“I believe Miss Granger is being cautious, Harry. She trusts you with her life, but you two could be under the control of another wizard, and we could be polyjuiced impostors,” Dumbledore said, sounding as if he was at complete peace.

Which was quite a feat, in Harry’s opinion. The Headmaster had sounded very urgent in the note Fawkes dropped on Harry - literally - earlier today, telling them to see him at once. He had taken them to London, after asking them to contact Hermione as soon as possible. The Headmaster had even made the rest of the school think they had a long talk with him, or detention while they traveled to London. And yet he now sounded as if he was just taking a stroll without any care.

“I still can’t believe they’d do that,” Harry muttered. The depths the Ministry would plunge to...

“I can,” Ron said. “It’s just logical.” He shrugged. “They don’t know what destroyed Malfoy Manor, not really. And they can’t defend well against what they don’t know. So, what else would they come up with? Hostages are a traditional means to deter an enemy from attacking you. And the Ministry’s full of people who just love tradition.”

Harry blinked. That sounded very unusual for Ron.

His friend rolled his eyes at his reaction. “Hey, I have been training too. And not just spellcasting.”

Harry grinned. “Sorry… if Hermione could hear that…”

Ron smirked. “She’d think I’m an imposter?”

“Well…” Harry chuckled. Or she’d be very happy that Ron was studying seriously. Harry wondered if he should broaden his training as well.

“I believe you will be able to ask her yourself,” Dumbledore said. “She has just arrived, unless I am mistaken.” He flicked his wand, briefly, and Harry heard the sound from the city change some.

He looked at who the Headmaster was nodding at, but all he saw was a blonde girl in tight, stone-washed jeans and a leather jacket wearing oversized mirror shades.

“Hello. I’m Jean.”

Her disguise was very good. The voice gave her away though. Harry coughed. “Hello.”

Ron stared, then nodded. “Wow, I mean, hi.”

Hermione grinned, though only for a moment. Then she grew serious again. “You requested an urgent meeting?”

“Indeed, Miss Jean,” Dumbledore said. “Were you informed about the latest proposal to the Wizengamot?”

“The despicable plan to abuse children as hostages?”

“Yes.” Dumbledore sighed. “I tried to dissuade the Minister from this foolish course of action, and I will do my utmost to sway the Wizengamot into not committing such a crime, but given its current composition, I do not expect to convince enough of the members. Hence my intention to provide them with a fait accompli, and deprive them at least of the youngest hostages.”

“What about those at Hogwarts?” Hermione asked.

The Headmaster chuckled, but Harry didn’t think there was any real mirth behind it. “Since the pretext is to protect the muggleborn children from attacks by Death Eaters, I do not think anyone will be as foolish as to claim Hogwarts is not safe enough. Should things escalate to that point though…” he sighed. “I will not let them drag children from my school.”

“But you let them execute Martin Cokes.” Hermione stared at the old wizard.

“To my eternal regret. They rushed the trial, and I was left with no legal recourse, nor time enough to plan a clandestine rescue. I would have had to openly raise my wand against the Ministry, a course of action that would have driven it into Voldemort’s waiting arms.” Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment. “I am deeply sorry for your loss.”

“And how many more will you sacrifice, in the vain hope that the Ministry will stop turning Britain over to Voldemort?”

“I have taken measures to prepare for a similar occurrence now.”

Hermione met his eyes, then nodded.

The Headmaster pulled out a roll of parchment. “I copied the addresses for the future muggleborn students from our records. There are 91 in total. Do you have the facilities to provide them and their families with new homes, temporary ones at least?”

Hermione nodded. “We can have them live in hotels, until we find enough safehouses. For those who don’t have alternatives, at least.”

“Merlin’s beard, that must be expensive!” Ron exclaimed.

“Sirius has deep pockets,” Harry said. His godfather was rich, after all.

“The Ministry lacks our records, but they have records of accidental magic. While not very likely, they might already be observing at least some of them. I would think it best if I and my colleagues contact the families, under the pretext of informing them about Hogwarts. Should you be seen, the consequences could be fatal,” Dumbledore said. “They can contact you for further help and advice, I hope?”

Hermione blinked. “That is possible. But…” she bit her lower lip. “As far as I know, the Ministry cannot detect magic, outside the trace?”

“That is true. But the Obliviators monitor all threats to the Statute of Secrecy, which a child’s accidental magic falls under,” Dumbledore explained.

“But how can they do that, without being able to detect magic?” Hermione asked, and for a moment, she sounded as if she was back in Hogwarts, at least to Harry.

“While I am not privy to their exact methods, I do know that they employ most of Britain’s seers.”

“Oh.” Hermione gasped.

“But do not worry - the Obliviators answer only to the ICW. In conflicts between wizards, they stay neutral, unless someone threatens the Statute of Secrecy.” Dumbledore looked at Hermione over his reading glasses. “I trust no one you know will be as foolish as to contemplate doing that?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, sir.”

Harry winced. Going up against seers… he was no fan of Trelawney, but her prophecies had come true, so far.

“Do you have a phone number for us to pass out?”

Hermione nodded, and handed a note to the Headmaster. “It’s a mobile phone, we can be reached during the times I noted.”

“Thank you, Miss Jean.” Dumbledore smiled. “I’ll take my leave now. I assume you’d like to pass a bit more time together, so you can return to my office through Sirius’s Floo connection.”

Of course he knew about their Apparition training, Harry thought. But he appreciated the gesture - they hadn’t seen Hermione for too long.

Judging by her smile, she shared that opinion.

*****​

London, Docklands, September 13th, 1996

The Headmaster disapparated with a small popping sound. Ron Weasley looked around, then at Hermione. “Wow. You look really different like that.”

“That’s the idea of a disguise,” Hermione answered, but she looked pleased, or so he thought.

“You look good as well though!” He blinked, realising just how that could be taken, then added hastily: “Not that you didn’t look good before…” He trailed off, wincing.

Fortunately, his best female friend chuckled, then hugged him. “I missed you.”

He closed his eyes, enjoying the closeness. “I missed you too. The mirror’s just not the same.”

“The school’s not the same without you,” Harry added.

“And without the rest of the muggleborns.” Hermione released Ron and hugged Harry. Ron felt a little bit of annoyance at his moment with her having been cut short. Then he was ashamed for being so petty.

“Yes.” Harry sighed.

“How long can you stay?” Hermione asked, after separating from Harry.

“The Headmaster told McGonagall that we might be away for the entire afternoon,” Harry answered. “So… I guess we will be.” He smiled. “If you can stay that long.”

She nodded, then bit her lower lip. Ron had to smile at that familiar sight. “I can, but… I’m not alone here. I’ll have to tell my backup,” she said.

“Backup?” Ron asked. He didn’t like that; he and Harry hadn’t seen - the mirror didn’t count - their friend for weeks, and he didn’t feel like sharing her with the ones who could see her each day.

“Justin and Allan. Allan Baker.” Hermione looked around. “Let’s head over to that small park. We can meet them there.”

Ron didn’t really want to meet them - though Justin was an alright bloke for protecting Hermione, Ron didn’t know Allan at all - and a glance to Harry told him his friend felt the same. Both nodded though, and followed their friend.

Hermione walked straight up to one man standing beneath a tree. Another man joined them from the edge of a small pond. Ron recognised the bloke as Justin, which meant the other had to be Baker.

Hermione introduced them to Baker. They already knew Justin, of course, though Ron hadn’t seen him in those kind of muggle clothes. He didn’t know why, but the Hufflepuff reminded him a bit of Malfoy. And his smile was just a bit too friendly. Even for a Hufflepuff. Baker though… that bloke was too old, Ron thought, and too cold. At least to Harry and himself.

“The Headmaster and a few other teachers will contact the parents of the children at risk, and have them contact us. They’ll move to hotels first, then we can set them up with safehouses or flats,” Hermione explained - or rather, told her two muggleborn friends. She hadn’t lost her bossy ways in her exile, Ron was glad to notice.

Baker frowned. “We don’t have that many safehouses.” The wizard glanced at Ron and Harry as if he didn’t want to talk with them there. Too bad for him, Ron thought. “And we might need them for us,” Baker said.

“We can prepare more for us. Those people need help now. We can’t let the Ministry take hostages. Especially not children!”

Hermione would have raised her voice, Ron knew, if not for them being in public. Baker should have known better, he noticed with some glee, than to suggest that they’d need the houses more than children. That had to be worse than ordering elves around in her presence.

Baker pressed his lips together and didn’t say anything anymore. Justin nodded. “Let’s go then.”

“Ah…” Hermione hesitated. For a moment, Ron feared she’d leave them. He’d understand, and yet… surely, her friends could prepare this without her? “I’ll join you later. I have a few more things to talk about with my friends.”

Baker suddenly smiled. “Of course. We’ll handle it.” Justin grinned. “We still get out of doing pushups.”

Hermione nodded. “Thank you.”

The two muggleborns walked away, and she turned back to Ron and Harry. “So…”

“So. Can we get up on that building?” Ron pointed at the tower near them.

She shook her head. “No. It has a public area, but in the basement. There’s no viewing area on top.”

“Damn.” Ron sighed. When she didn’t call him on his language he blinked.

She must have noticed, since she chuckled. “Ah… I’ve gotten somewhat used to coarse language.”

Ron exchanged a glance with Harry. If they found out who was corrupting their best female friend… it couldn’t be Justin. The guy talked far too posh or whatever.

*****​

Harry Potter sipped from his soda in the café Ron, Hermione and he had gone to and smiled contentedly. Coca Cola was something he missed at Hogwarts. He looked at Hermione. He missed her more, of course.

“I can’t believe the Ministry would do this,” Ron said, after staring at his own Cola. “Dad would never go for that. At least Dumbledore is on the ball.”

“This time,” Harry said. The Headmaster hadn’t managed to achieve much good at the Ministry, in his opinion. “And he doesn’t think he can stop this in the Wizengamot either, or we’d not be doing this.”

Hermione nodded. “I think he still hopes he can turn the Ministry against Voldemort.”

“You don’t think he can do it?” Ron asked.

She shook her head. “Not with the current Wizengamot. There are too many bigots among its members.”

“Well, that could change,” Harry said.

His friends knew what he meant, and for a moment, no one said anything. Then Ron spoke up. “Even if the current members leave, their replacements will not be any different.”

“That’s a consequence of a parliament that’s made up of inherited seats,” Hermione said. “And it influences the Ministry, of course.”

“Not everyone at the Ministry is sharing the Wizengamot’s views,” Ron said. “Dad has a number of friends who think like him.”

“Enough enforce the Wizengamot’s laws though - blindly, or eagerly.” Hermione shook her head.

“At least the Headmaster is doing something,” Ron said. He sounded a bit peeved. Harry hoped the two wouldn’t get into a row.

“I know he’s doing something. I just fear it won’t be enough.” Hermione looked down, and Harry wanted to hug her. He knew Sirius shared that view. If anything, his godfather was even more pessimistic.

He didn’t say that though. “At least every Auror and Wizengamot member he reaches is one less bent on hunting you.”

“There’s that.” Hermione smiled. “Still…”

“Just give us time to get the good people out before you blow the Ministry up,” Ron said. He laughed, but Harry didn’t think he was entirely joking.

Hermione winced. “We’re not blowing up the Ministry. That would kill too many innocents, and alienate too many people who might support us.”

Namely Dumbledore, Harry thought. He noted though that she had said ‘too many innocents’, not simply ‘innocents’. He didn’t pursue the thought.

“Well, the Ministry’s newest folly will be foiled,” Ron said. “Do they serve food here too?” He rubbed his stomach. “We kind of skipped lunch. Not that meeting you wasn’t worth it, but…”

Harry laughed, quickly joined by Hermione and Ron.

The Café served sandwiches, but not much more. They ordered some, and Hermione sighed. “I’ve been eating too many of those, lately.”

“Oh?” Ron looked at her.

“We’ve been camping, mostly muggle style. We can’t exactly cook well there. And the rations…” she grimaced.

“Boot camp?” Harry asked.

Hermione nodded, and then both had to explain what that was to their friend.

“Blimey!” Ron commented. “Do you really think it’ll be worth it?”

Hermione nodded. “We’ll have to adapt it, of course, but it’s teaching us a lot.”

“We might have to do something like it at Hogwarts then, mate,” Ron said. “That might give us an edge once the Slytherins do something.”

“Is it that bad?” Hermione asked. She sounded concerned.

Harry shrugged. “The teachers are keeping a close eye on everyone. Even Snape.” He sighed. “But… it can’t last. You know Malfoy. Sooner or later he’ll do something stupid.”

“Too bad he survived the bomb,” Ron said.

Hermione winced.

Harry didn’t know if she felt bad about blowing up the manor, or missing Malfoy. And he didn’t know if he wanted Malfoy dead, or not.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, September 17th, 1996

“The chair recognises Augustus Malfoy.”

Albus Dumbledore watched closely as the proxy for Draco Malfoy stood up. Malfoy was dressed in the finest robes, and cut a dashing figure, even if he was not quite as handsome as Lucius had been.

“Honoured members of the Wizengamot! Three weeks ago, ten of the most dangerous prisoners escaped from Azkaban. None of them have been caught since. Our Aurors have been unable to find even a trace of them.” The wizard paused dramatically for a glance at Amelia, who frowned at the theatrics. “But while some efforts have been made to find them, no efforts have been made to protect those in danger from them. The weakest, most vulnerable victims they could choose: The muggleborn children.”

That sent some of the more gullible members murmuring. Albus paid particular attention to those who were not surprised - they would have been informed in advance. He didn’t spot anyone he not already suspected of supporting Voldemort.

“Their parents are ignorant, they do not know about magic, and they certainly could not protect the children, should a wizard attack them. And we cannot station an Auror next to them, much less give them a way to call for help in an emergency, the risk to the Statute of Secrecy would be too great. And yet what country would we be if we left children in danger?”

Malfoy paused once again. Albus shook his head at the hypocrisy.

“For this reason I have prepared a bill: the “‘Muggleborn Infant Protection Bill.’ It will mandate the Ministry to evacuate the muggleborn children who are not yet attending Hogwarts from their unsafe muggle homes, and place them in safe quarters in the Ministry itself.”

“You just want to have hostages at the Ministry because you fear an attack!” Amos shouted. “Shame on you!”

Albus smiled, though with some regret. Amos had grown very bold and radical in the last two years. Sadly, it was because he didn’t think he had anything left to lose after his son had been murdered.

Malfoy sneered. “I reject this accusation. The Ministry does not need hostages, it is among the safest places in Britain. Or do you know of a planned attack on this building? A traitor among our ranks would endanger us, of course.”

Amos gasped at that accusation. “You are accusing me of betraying the Ministry? While you work for the Dark Lord?”

“This is a ridiculous accusation. If I was working for the Dark Lord, would I wish to see the escaped prisoners caught and the muggleborn children protected?”

Albus shook his head as more members shouted accusations back and forth. Decorum had suffered since so many old members had been replaced. Before things degenerated further, he raised his wand.

“The chair recognises the Chief Warlock.”

He stood up, and nodded at the Wizengamot. “Mister Malfoy claims that there are muggleborn children at risk. This is not true.”

He patiently waited for the murmuring that caused to die down. Malfoy was staring at him, surprise slowly giving way to anger.

“Their parents have been warned of the danger they are in, and they have taken steps to protect themselves. I can confidently state that the youngest muggleborn children are as safe as they can be, given the circumstances.” Safer than if the Ministry knew where they were.

“What? That’s impossible!” Cornelius exclaimed. Amelia glared at Albus.

The Chief Warlock smiled. “Trust me. I have personally checked if there are any muggleborn children who are not yet attending Hogwarts in danger. There are none. The proposed bill is therefore unnecessary.”

“We only have your claim that they are safe,” Malfoy said.

Albus glared at him. “Do you suggest that I would be lying about this?”

“There will be more muggleborn children born. Many more. The bill is still needed for them!”

“There is no need for that. The existing structures can handle them as well.” Albus let his gaze sweep over the assembly. He wasn’t certain it would be enough to defeat the proposal. But at least the Ministry wouldn’t be able to kidnap any children. His staff had worked hard to visit every family, and convince them to leave. A few times with questionable methods, maybe - but needs must. He’d rather scare the parents into leaving their home than have them lose their child to the Ministry’s thugs.

“Existing structures? What are those?” Cornelius asked.

Albus smiled at the Minister. “Elaborating on them would endanger them.”

The man huffed as if he had been insulted. “Do you suggest that there are traitors among our ranks?”

“I think that would be an astute observation,” Albus said.

That caused the whole assembly to start talking and even shouting. He shook his head. Not for the first time he wondered if playing these games was worth it. His influence had waned, and Tom’s had grown. He could delay it, curb excesses, but he couldn’t turn the tide. It was tempting to stop playing by the rules that favored the Dark Lord’s sycophants. To cut loose, cut down Voldemort’s allies in this chamber.

But such an act would paint him as a Dark Lord himself, and alienate a lot of his support. He wouldn’t be able to control the Ministry, not with so many Death Eaters among the employees. He would be forced to either leave Hogwarts, or turn it into a fortress. Either choice would endanger the students too much.

And yet, he thought as the ruckus died down, he might have to do it anyway, if his plans failed.

*****​

Cumbria, Britain, September 18th, 1996

An enemy appeared to her right, behind a bush, his weapon aimed. Hermione dropped into a crouch and shot him, twice, then rolled to the side, tucking her assault rifle in to keep the muzzle from slamming into the soft soil and getting clogged. The target flipped down, signaling at least one hit.

Next to her, Justin was crawling to the trunk of a tree that had fallen years ago. Her partner for this live-fire exercise was covered in mud head to two, only his weapon was clean. She didn’t look any better - that trip through the muddy creek had left her soaking wet. She told herself that it improved her camouflage. If only she could clean herself- or at least dry herself - with magic without exposing herself to their instructors!

She followed Justin to the trunk. Up ahead she spotted two more targets behind a tree and another bush. He looked at her. “I’ll cover you.”

Hermione nodded, and moved forward to the end of the trunk. When Justin stood up and started firing, she dashed to a boulder about ten yards ahead and to the side. She slammed into the rock, wincing, then rose to shoot at the targets. Target - Justin had hit one. She nailed the other with her second or third shot and changed her magazine while Justin moved forward.

Both were breathing heavily now. That would make them less precise when shooting. After exchanging a glance, they continued forward until they were in a creek at the edge of a clearing. In the middle of the clearing was a foxhole, as the Major had called it. Inside was another target.

“Grenade,” Justin said next to her, pulling out an egg-shaped hand-grenade from his web pouch.

“I’ll cover you,” she answered, moving up so she could start firing. Rapid semi-automatic fire, she reminded herself as she started shooting, sending round after round at the foxhole. She might have hit the target even, but that wasn’t the point of the exercise.

Next to her, Justin rose and threw the grenade. “Fire in the hole!” he shouted, ducking back. Hermione slid down as well, a second before the grenade went off.

Mud rained down on the two of them, and Hermione ground her teeth when she realised that the foxhole had been filled with muddy water. At this point, the instructors were no longer trying to push some teenagers playing soldiers into abandoning the exercise with such ‘pranks’, she knew that, but it had become a sort of tradition. Which she hated.

“That looked almost like a soldier’s exercise, if you squint and glare and are drunk.”

Hermione exchanged a glance with Justin, and both jumped up and turned to face the Sergeant behind them. “Yes, Sarge!” they yelled together, grinning widely.

The mercenary glared at them. “Collect the targets and head back to base. We’ve got a debriefing to start!”

“Yes, Sarge!” They were still grinning, not letting him see how exhausted they were.

That had become a tradition as well. One Hermione rather liked.

*****​

“He has to die. We can’t let him live. Not after his betrayal of Martin.”

Allan folded his arms and stared at her. Hermione Granger suppressed the urge to sigh. They had gone over this before, and she was really tired of it. “I agree. I’m not arguing to let him live. I’m arguing not to be hasty. We don’t know if it’s a trap, although we have to assume that. If Aurors are waiting for us then we can’t just charge in.” She had wanted to say something nastier, but controlled herself. Even if Allan was testing her patience, she had to keep a lid on her temper. Her standing in the group would suffer otherwise.

“Who said anything about charging in? We don’t need to. We can just blow the shop up,” Allan said. Dean and Seamus were nodding. Hermione had expected that.

“We don’t know what potions are in that shop, and how they would react to an explosion.” She had said that already. Several times. “Imagine if he had an Erumpent Horn there?”

“He’d be a fool to store that kind of ingredient without some safety measures,” Allan countered. “Besides, they are very rare.”

“The fluid is a rather common ingredient of a few potions,” Hermione said. “And the explosion would need to be powerful enough to overcome such protections anyway, or he might survive.” She shook her head. Before he could mention sniping, she said: “Shooting him would reveal what our guns can do the Ministry, and through their spies to the Death Eaters. We’ve gone over this before. Why are you bringing this up again?”

She knew some of them were eager to ‘go back into action’, as Dean had put it. They had been training for almost three weeks now, and were at the point where they were getting a bit too confident, in her opinion. She looked at Justin and Sally-Anne, and and at Mary and Tania. She needed their support. “I’m simply saying that we shouldn’t act in haste. We’re still training here for another week. We don’t need to rush off half-cocked.”

Dean chuckled at the expression and she rolled her eyes.

“If we don’t do anything we’ll have trouble recruiting more people. Especially older people.” Allan shook his head. “They’ll not take us seriously.”

“We blew up Malfoy Manor,” Justin cut in. “If people won’t take us seriously after that, then they are hopeless.”

“They might not believe us.” Allan stared at Justin now. Hermione felt slightly irked. Allan could be so considerate, so smart, and yet sometimes he seemed obsessed with killing Aurors and Death Eaters, and looked at anyone who disagreed as if they were the enemy.

“That’s another reason to wait and prepare this thoroughly. That way, we can demonstrate what we can do to a new recruit,” she said.

“We have to have a new recruit first,” Seamus muttered.

“We’re in contact with Clifton,” Mary pointed out. “But we can’t exactly rush that either. There’s always the possibility of a trap.”

“What we need is patience. Rushing into things when we don’t have to is not a good idea. We had to scramble to help the children, but we don’t need to kill Beckett right now.” Hermione wondered what her parents would say, hearing her discuss when, not if she’d kill a man.

She saw that Allan was nodding, if grudgingly. He was a tad impatient, she knew now. Dean shrugged, and Seamus sighed. Hermione smiled, though she tried not to show her relief. She wished she could simply order people around. Having to convince them was getting tedious, and they would not always be able to afford the time for a discussion.

But at least she would have some peace for a week or so. Time to work and prepare. And train.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, September 19th, 1996

“Merlin’s arse!”

Brenda Brocktuckle jumped up from the cot she had been resting on when she heard Martin Runcorn curse. “What did you see?” she asked as she stepped up next to him at the window.

“More of those leaflets,” he said, pointing at half a dozen sheets of parchment littering the street below.

“Damn mudbloods,” she muttered. “That’ll stir up trouble again.” She grabbed the vial of Polyjuice. “I’ll grab one so we know what it’s about.”

“I can summon one,” Martin offered.

Brenda shook her head. “Too risky. We need to play this by the book.” She grinned. “But thanks for the offer. If you really want to be nice, you can take a sip and fetch it.”

Martin shook his head. “No, no. It’s your turn.”

Brenda snorted, and drank the potion, grimacing while she changed.

A few minutes later, she was back with the leaflet. As she had expected, it was another work from the so-called ‘Muggleborn Resistance’. They were the main suspects for the Malfoy Manor attack, mainly because they were the only muggleborn group known that was opposing the Ministry.

“Check this out: ‘The Ministry is trying to take hostages. They tried to kidnap children, to take them from their muggle parents and imprison them in the Ministry. They failed, but they are looking for other hostages now. Muggleborns, don’t let them catch you!’.” She shook her head. “Bunch of bubotuber pus!”

Martin looked the leaflet over as well. “But they’ll believe it. It fits what they think the Ministry is doing.”

“Well, of course. But it’s a lie. Hostages wouldn’t work. Malfoy Manor proved that - they killed two of their own.” Brenda shook her head. “Bloody mudbloods try to paint us as worse than Death Eaters.”

Martin shrugged. “I just hope those who believe that propaganda leave Britain, instead of attacking us.”

Brenda snorted. “You think we’ll be that lucky?” She shook her head. “We’ll be lucky if the Ministry won’t get blown up in this war. That’s why we need to find those mudbloods. We can deal with the Death Eaters, we know what they can do. But we haven’t yet found a way to deal with whatever the mudbloods are using.”

She looked down at the street.

“And the longer they do nothing, the worse it’ll be once they finally do something again.”

*****​

Hogwarts, September 21st, 1996

Daphne Greengrass sighed. If Hogsmeade weekends had not been canceled, she’d be shopping, instead of watching the Slytherin Quidditch team practise. But it beat staying in the dorms. And it let her keep an eye on Astoria. Her little sister seemed to have a crush on Draco, still. She was doing better, she didn’t cry every night anymore, but she was far from well, and Daphne would not let her by herself, especially not near a boy. That’s why she was sitting with her on the stands.

And, if she was honest, watching the practise was kind of entertaining - Urquhart had a temper and a loud voice. He was currently reaming the team out in very colorful language. Tracey, sitting on the other side of her, giggled at a particularly rude string of words. Daphne would have laughed as well, if not for the need to serve as an example for Astoria. Who was laughing.

She sighed. It was better if her sister was laughing rather than crying, so she’d have to let that slide. On the pitch, the team was mounting their brooms and lifting off. They were working on their individual parts - the Seeker and the Beaters practised together, and the Chasers tested the Keeper. Draco almost got hit by a bludger a few times, when Crabbe and Goyle missed their mark, but his new broom - a Firebolt, of course - was fast enough to easily outpace a training bludger.

We have the Quidditch Cup in the bag!” Astoria grinned. “The Gryffs lost most of their team.”

“I’d not be so certain,” Tracey said. “We had to replace two players as well.”

“Not as many as the Gryffs!” Astoria insisted.

“Experience isn’t every… Did you hear that?” Daphne blinked. That had sounded like some wood breaking. Not a noise you wanted to hear on a stand propped up by wood.

Tracey blinked. “Something broke?” She looked up. “The brooms look fine.”

“Not the brooms… it came from behind us. And below.” Daphne heard another crack. Louder this time.

Astoria jerked. “I heard it too.” She looked nervous now, even afraid.

“I think we better get down,” Tracey said.

Daphne nodded and stood up.

Right then the stands collapsed.

*****​