riaantheunissen
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- Apr 27, 2014
- Messages
- 526
I prefer how Nanny said it, 'When you break rules, break 'em good and hard".
-
An addendum to Rule 3 regarding fan-translated works of things such as Web Novels has been made. Please see here for details.
-
RIP @Silver Swallow
-
We've issued a clarification on our policy on AI-generated work.
-
QuestionableQuesting has new Moderator positions. To submit your application, please see this thread.
-
Due to issues with external spam filters, QQ is currently unable to send any mail to Microsoft E-mail addresses. This includes any account at live.com, hotmail.com or msn.com. Signing up to the forum with one of these addresses will result in your verification E-mail never arriving. For best results, please use a different E-mail provider for your QQ address.
-
The rules regarding NSFW links have been updated. See here for details.
Divided and Entwined (Harry Potter AU) (Complete)
- Thread starter Starfox5
- Start date
I prefer how Nanny said it, 'When you break rules, break 'em good and hard".
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2015
- Messages
- 6,215
puts a whole now spin on "i am the law" doesn't it?
Beyogi
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2014
- Messages
- 953
Allan is the type of fanatic that is most useful with an explosive belt and a target decided by someone else.
Sadly he sees himself as some sort of guerilla mastermind and behaves like a first person multiplayer shooter player. Honestly his behavior reminds me of mine on Battlefield public servers. Who cares if you win or lose as long as your kill to death ratio is superior.
Well, he can be proud of himself. He's got a "good" ratio.
Anyway, I'm more curious how Hermione is going to sell this to her troops. Just let him vanish? Or "find" his corpse with Death Eater robes?
While that problem seems to be resolved the Death Eaters/Purebloods are trying to inflitrate Hermione's cell. Considering Sirius has put bugs in all the Auror's haunts there's a good chance they'll learn of it in time though. But I figure that'll be about the time when the Aurors figure out that they're being listened in on.
Sadly he sees himself as some sort of guerilla mastermind and behaves like a first person multiplayer shooter player. Honestly his behavior reminds me of mine on Battlefield public servers. Who cares if you win or lose as long as your kill to death ratio is superior.
Well, he can be proud of himself. He's got a "good" ratio.
Anyway, I'm more curious how Hermione is going to sell this to her troops. Just let him vanish? Or "find" his corpse with Death Eater robes?
While that problem seems to be resolved the Death Eaters/Purebloods are trying to inflitrate Hermione's cell. Considering Sirius has put bugs in all the Auror's haunts there's a good chance they'll learn of it in time though. But I figure that'll be about the time when the Aurors figure out that they're being listened in on.
Starfox5
Experienced.
- Joined
- Feb 5, 2015
- Messages
- 4,010
Good analysis. And yes, Allan's likely to think that each death advances his cause. Hermione's solution will be shown next chapter.
The Aurors are also likely to not talk that much anymore, with everyone aware that there are both Dumbledore's men and Death Eater moles on the force.
Chapter 15: Changing Plans
Starfox5
Experienced.
- Joined
- Feb 5, 2015
- Messages
- 4,010
Chapter 15: Changing Plans
'Many forces in the Second Blood War suffered from internal troubles. The Dark Lord mainly had to deal with overeager followers acting of their own volition, and subordinates plotting against each other. He dealt with those problems in his typical way - through swift and lethal punishment, although opinions on how fairly and accurately said punishment was applied differ. The Ministry of Magic, on the other hand, suffered mostly from traitors and spies. The Head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones, could never be certain of any employee's loyalty, even among the Aurors and Hit-Wizards, which unsurprisingly made dealing with the problem that much harder. Due to the direct intervention of the Wizengamot, the easiest means to find traitors - regular interrogations with Veritaserum - was limited to those cases where there was a prior suspicion, which pretty much doomed her efforts. Consequently, the Ministry was never as effective in the war as it could have been, and many operations suffered due to the lack of trusted personnel. Meanwhile, the Muggleborn Resistance was, at the start, just one among several groups opposing the Death Eaters and the Ministry, and a small one at that, which meant most internal troubles were personal issues rather than anything more serious. Due to the lack of coordination though, the Resistance's plans occasionally suffered when they clashed with operations of other muggleborn groups.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn
London, November 5th, 1996
Hermione Granger stared at Allan, whose eyes showed the vacant stare of the drugged. "Did anyone but you know about the murders you committed?" she asked.
"No one. No one ever suspected." Allan droned, without the smug sense of satisfaction she knew he'd show normally.
"Who did you kill first?" Hermione knew about the first time Aurors went missing, but those could have been the victims of someone else.
"Umbridge."
Or Allan could have killed long before that. She ground her teeth while Justin gasped. The Ravenclaw had been responsible for wrecking her carefully-planned schedule. He had caused the Aurors to come after her. She cursed under her breath. She should have expected this. It fit Allan, fit him so well.
"Why did you kill her?"
"She deserved to die. She tortured muggleborns for so long, unpunished… no one else was doing anything. And I had the perfect plan."
"How did you kill her?"
"I sneaked into her office, ambushed her while disillusioned. I used a Full Body-Bind Curse on her, then beat her to death with her own blood quill, transfigured into a golf club. Before the death blow, I obliviated her, so even if she became a ghost she'd not be able to reveal me. Then I vanished the body."
Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine. Extended answers under Veritaserum were very uncommon, as far as she knew. Allan must have wanted to tell this story. But he spoke of a 'death blow', as if… "How often did you hit her before you killed her?"
"I don't remember."
She winced. "What did you do to her before the death blow?"
"I smashed her limbs, broke every bone in them, crippled her. Then I broke her hips and ribs, crushed her shoulders. I spared her spine, so she would live longer."
"Bloody hell!" Justin spat next to her.
Hermione briefly closed her eyes. She had a terrible suspicion. "Did you enjoy killing her?"
"Yes."
"Do you enjoy killing?"
"Yes."
Hermione hissed. Justin had gone rigid. It was as she had suspected. And feared. "Did you kill Auror patrols as well?"
"Yes."
"How many?"
"Two. Four Aurors."
"Did you kill them like you killed Umbridge?"
"Only half of them."
Hermione bit her lower lip. "Did you beat the female Aurors to death?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"It felt better."
"Bloody monster!" She could hear Justin take a few deep breaths after that outburst.
"Did you want to kill me as well?" She had to ask. Had to know if those talks, those moments, meant anything. Or had been part of a murder plot.
"No."
She was surprised, but not yet relieved. "Why not?"
"You are too useful. Too many contacts and resources."
Of course. She swallowed. "Would you have killed me if you had had those contacts?"
"Yes."
Hermione closed her eyes for a second. "Why?"
"I thought you were too soft, too weak to fight this war."
She felt Justin's hand on her arm, heard him hiss "Stop!", but she asked anyway: "Would you have liked killing me?"
"Yes."
She turned away, towards Justin, and nodded to the door behind them. He followed her.
Outside, she leaned against the wall, shivering. "He's a monster. A smart, cunning monster, but a monster nevertheless." She bit her lip again. On one hand, this made what she knew she had to do easier. Justified. On the other hand… if she hadn't been able to see what Allan was, how would she be able to see if anyone else was going down the same path?
Like her?
"Do you want me to deal with him?" Aberforth Dumbledore's question made Justin jump - he must have missed his presence. Sloppy, Hermione thought, even though the old wizard had almost disappeared into the soft armchair he had conjured. He didn't ask what they had heard, she noticed.
She shook her head. "No. We'll do it." He was a Resistance member, and dealing with him was their obligation.
Aberforth nodded, and she thought there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "Good."
"You don't want to know what he did?" Justin asked.
The old wizard shrugged. "He's a muggleborn wearing Death Eater garb, caught trying to burn down a shop. That's enough for me."
Justin apparently felt the need to justify their decision some more. "He likes killing. If he can find any justification, he'll kill. He's a monster."
Dumbledore's brother nodded, but didn't comment.
Hermione put her hand on Justin's shoulder. "I'll continue the interrogation. We'll need to know what else he has done behind our backs."
Justin shook his head, refusing her implied offer. "Yes, we do. Let's get this over with."
"Stupefy! Obliviate!"
Hermione felt bad for using Allan's own idea, even though it was somewhat poetic justice. But it was a smart idea, and she couldn't take the risk of him remaining as a ghost, and turning on them. She doubted that the enchanted contract she had created to protect the Resistance would have any effect on a ghost, and even if Allan was bound to the place of his death, if the Resistance needed this safe house…
And, she told herself, she hadn't erased all his memories. In case whatever afterlife there was didn't restore memories.
She took a deep breath and steeled herself. She had killed before, and had helped kill so many more, but this was the first time she would be killing a helpless, defenceless … no, Allan was no victim! He was a monster. Like the Death Eaters they had captured. He had even been glad about Martin's death, since that had made the Resistance members more bloodthirsty. She pointed her wand at his neck.
"Diffindo!"
She didn't look away while his head dropped into his lap, then fell down on the floor and blood splattered on the ground.
"Evanesco. Evanesco. Evanesco. Scourgify."
She left the room as empty as she felt, but far less stained.
London, Ministry of Magic, November 6th, 1996
Brenda Brocktuckle was a veteran Auror. So she wasn't surprised about the Ministry's reaction to the revelation of Rowle's Dark Mark. Her partner on the other hand…
Martin scowled. "Does anyone actually believe that the Dark Mark was put on her by mudbloods to frame her?"
Brenda shrugged. "It's a convenient excuse. Like the 'Imperius defence' fifteen years ago." She leaned back in her chair, letting her gaze wander over the scarce decorations on her desk. One picture of her and her parents after her graduation from Hogwarts - Dragon Pox had killed them before Brenda graduated as an Auror. A stone splinter a suspect had banished into her chest once, now serving as a paperweight. She had killed the man despite the wound. Nothing else.
Martin huffed. "I can't believe Bones is going along with this!"
She shrugged once more. "Who says she is? Dawlish might be investigating the affair more discreetly than he usually acts." Martin snorted, and she grinned. "Alright… maybe Bones is working with Dumbledore. He certainly has no love for the Death Eaters." And he had a number of 'concerned friends', as was shown during that incident in the Department of Mysteries. Discreet friends, who had left before the Aurors had shown up. But according to rumour, Dumbledore hadn't visited Bones or the Minister since he had chased them out of Hogwarts. Of course, that could just be a ploy to make people think they were not working together…
Martin looked doubtful. "I can't see Bones using such underhanded means."
She nodded. "I don't really believe it myself. But Bones is not the kind of witch to let anything slide."
The door to their office was opened, and Parkinson walked in. "Morning," the Auror grunted more than said, conjured a chair for himself and sat down.
"Morning." Brenda nodded at him.
"Good morning," Martin said, his tone carefully neutral.
Parkinson looked from Brenda to Martin and back, then snorted. "Yes, my aunt was a Death Eater. That doesn't make me one." He pulled his left sleeve back, to show his bare arm.
"We never said you were." Brenda looked straight at him. He didn't have to be marked to work for the Dark Lord. Not that she really believed that the mark couldn't be hidden.
Parkinson shrugged. "You were thinking it." His tone was rather casual, but then, the majority of the Wizengamot didn't seem to frown on Death Eaters that much.
"We're hunting mudbloods, not Death Eaters," Brenda said. "Dawlish is the one who hunts the Dark Lord's followers." And she didn't envy him that assignment. Not at all.
"Well, he doesn't want to hunt them anymore. Rumour is, he's trying to take over this case." Parkinson scoffed. "He doesn't want to oppose the Dark Lord anymore, or so it seems."
Martin frowned. "Is he afraid of them, or of the Wizengamot?"
"Cursed if I know, kid," Parkinson said. "But he has to convince both Scrimgeour and Bones, and Bones at least won't look kindly on such a move." He looked at Brenda. "Unless you screw up."
He didn't say 'again', but Brenda was certain he was thinking it. And he was correct - she knew that her next setback would be her last as a leader of anything in the department. "Thanks for telling me."
"Your plan better work."
"It'll give us a way to infiltrate the mudbloods." And the mudbloods in hiding had to have some contact with the Resistance. You couldn't operate like the mudblood scum did without support from others.
"You need to produce results soon though. The Wizengamot is getting impatient."
Brenda nodded, then blinked. "Well… maybe Dawlish should take over the task force, as long as we get to run our operation."
Parkinson's eyes widened. "You want him to shoulder the blame for the things your fake mudblood group will do to gain the mudbloods' trust!"
Brenda grinned. "Sacrifices have to be made." It would certainly help if she was seen to be demoted to some meaningless case while she was actually running the undercover mission.
The other veteran Auror chuckled. "You have to get this past Bones, but if it works… Dawlish will be setting himself up for failure."
"But if he takes over the hunt for the mudbloods, who's taking over the hunt for the Death Eaters?" Martin asked.
Parkinson snorted. "Someone stupid, I bet. They'd be outing themselves as a blood traitor."
Or someone working for the Dark Lord, planning to sabotage the efforts, Brenda mentally added. She stood up.
"I'll have to talk to Bones."
Hogwarts, November 6th, 1996
Albus Dumbledore noticed that his brother was in a bad mood right away - Aberforth's scowl was even more pronounced than usual when he entered the Headmaster's office.
"Did something go wrong last night?" he asked. He was fairly certain he would have been informed at once, but sometimes Aberforth could be very unreasonable…
"No. Everything went according to plan," his brother said. "But I found out a few things that don't sit well with me."
Albus raised his eyebrows. "Please elaborate."
"Those are kids you're using, Albus. Kids who are turning into killers, and worse," his brother spat.
"They founded the Resistance without any help from me," he defended himself. "They do not answer to me either."
"Are you claiming you didn't know about them?"
Arguing about what he had known, and what he had suspected, would be pointless. Too much bad blood persisted between him and Aberforth. He took a deep breath. "They would fight no matter what. Would you rather I ignore them, instead of helping them?"
"Helping and guiding them?" Aberforth scoffed. "Turning them into your personal tool against the Dark Lord?"
"Miss Granger knows as well as I do who the true enemy is." And she also knew that fighting an enemy who'd surrender as soon as the Dark Lord was dead was a waste of time and often lives. "And she knows that coordinating with your allies is needed in a war."
Aberforth seemed to concede that point. At least he changed the topic. "We caught a muggleborn in Death Eater garb trying to burn down a half-blood shop."
Albus nodded. He had expected that.
His brother glared at him. "That fool can't have been the only one thinking that this was a clever way to discredit the enemy."
"It is quite a risky, and distasteful, ploy." Miss Granger had had good reasons to dismiss such plans.
"Right up your alley then?"
Albus glared at him. Even counting his past failures, this was a low blow. "I'm not having innocents killed." Not if he could help it.
"What about those who are not innocent anymore? Those who have fought, and killed?"
Any commander knew that sometimes, soldiers had to be sacrificed to achieve a victory. Albus knew that as well. "Not like this."
Aberforth stared at him and for a few moments, neither of the brothers spoke a word. Then the old wizard nodded at Albus. "If I ever discover anything like this…"
"You won't," the Headmaster said with as much conviction he could muster.
Aberforth nodded. His brother knew that Albus hadn't promised he wouldn't do such a thing. Just that Aberforth wouldn't know.
After a glance at Fawkes, his brother said: "Your little witch didn't go overboard. No torture, no revenge. Clean interrogation, clean kill."
Albus didn't let his relief show. He had not thought that Miss Granger would cross certain lines, but he hadn't been absolutely sure.
"She didn't want me to kill him for her either. She took the responsibility." Aberforth's expression implied that he thought that Albus didn't, and hadn't.
The Headmaster ignored the barb. "That sounds like Miss Granger," he commented mildly.
His brother huffed. "She didn't need my help to capture him either. And you knew that. You wanted me there to get to know them, and to make them trust me."
"Not entirely. If there had been complications, your presence would have saved the day. Although yes, this will make future co-operation easier."
"If you say so. Is there anything else?"
"Not for the moment. But I expect the Dark Lord to strike at our friends soon."
"I hope this bunch of your friends is not as unprepared as the last one were." Aberforth snorted and stood up. "I heard your pet Auror finally got over what Crouch Junior did to him. Keep him away from me or I'll make that look like a tickling hex from a first year."
Albus nodded. Compared to the bad blood between Alastor and Aberforth, the relationship between the last two Dumbledores was positively cordial. He sincerely hoped the two would never have to fight side by side.
He leaned back in his seat, petting Fawkes until long after his brother had left. Unfortunately, with the way the Ministry was turning to Voldemort, he feared that hope would be dashed.
London, East End, November 6th, 1996
Hermione Granger sat on her bed, staring at the wall. She had returned to the Resistance's safe house, with no one the wiser. Late enough so her curt manner would have been attributed to being tired. Hopefully, at least. Justin had returned separately sometime before. As Mary had told her with a grin, he was with Sally-Anne right now.
And Hermione was alone. She sighed. Allan hadn't cared for her, or liked her. He had just wanted to manipulate her. Use her for his own, sick plans. She should have known that. Viktor hadn't liked her either. At least not the way she had wanted. He hadn't known her either. He liked that she didn't care for Quidditch. That wasn't exactly something to base a relationship on.
Harry and Ron though, they knew her. They had seen her at her best and at her worst. Or had known her - she wondered what they'd think of her now, after she had killed Allan. They hadn't liked him, but they wouldn't have suspected what he had been doing. A sudden thought made her freeze for a moment. Would Allan have gone after them, if she had been in a relationship? He had asked, hadn't he? And he had been going on about how purebloods and half-bloods couldn't be trusted...
She bared her teeth. Another reason why killing him had been the right thing to do. She'd not let anyone threaten her friends.
Her friends. Who wanted more than friendship. She didn't have time for a relationship. It was the simple truth. She was leading the Muggleborn Resistance in a war against the Dark Lord and the Ministry. She was already not getting enough sleep, and she would have to deal with the results of Allan's sudden absence as well as keeping the offensive going.
But, damn it, she wanted to feel loved and desired! Not just liked and appreciated. She took a deep breath. She was a smart girl, and she'd handle this rationally. Think the matter through carefully and thoroughly. Weigh the pros and cons of a … relationship. With either Ron or Harry. That was the plan, she told herself, pulling out a notepad and pen.
Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. Orphan. Not the best childhood. Brave. Almost stupidly so. Always willing to help anyone who needed it. Not always willing to let others help him, though she had cured him of that, or so she thought. Wore his heart on his sleeve, sometimes acted without thinking, and had a temper. And a tendency to brood as well. Utterly loyal, though loathe to take sides when friends had a row. More fragile than he appeared, and naive when it came to relationships - she remembered his crush on Cho. Very charming. Striking eyes. Quidditch mad.
Ron Weasley. Sixth son of seven children. Brave. Stupidly so - she remembered his sacrifice in first year. Sometimes didn't think things through before speaking. Or acting. Had a temper as well. And felt inadequate compared to his older brothers, and probably Harry. Jealous, though that had lessened a lot after fourth year. Not very experienced with girls - she remembered his attempt to ask Fleur for a date. Developing a very nice body, and cute freckles. Quidditch mad.
Listing those points hadn't helped. Her two best friends had more in common that she had thought, and it didn't seem that she'd be able to make a rational decision about whether or not to enter a relationship, and with whom. Drat.
It was just hormones, she told herself. Hers, and Ron's and Harry's. Perfectly natural, and it would pass as they all grew up and became adults. On the other hand, if it was just hormones, why hadn't they gone for prettier girls? She wasn't exactly stringing them along, was she?
Damn, she probably was. Odds were, the boys felt obligated to wait for her decision. Even if they might be interested in other girls now. Girls they could see each day, and meet in cupboards.
She frowned at that thought. She was jealous as well, she realised. Though she didn't know of whom. She could imagine herself with either of the two boys. Had done so, actually, in some lurid dreams at least.
Unbidden and unwanted she thought of Sirius's proposal again. A ménage à trois. It would avoid a number of problems. No favouring one boy over the other. No splitting up their group. Not seeing her best friends get heartbroken by some stupid witch who didn't appreciate them… she frowned again and shook her head. It wouldn't really work though. All of them were too young, too inexperienced. Too insecure. Too needy. Jealousy would crop up no matter what they did.
Hermione ground her teeth. She was a Gryffindor, she was supposed to be brave! And she was supposed to be smart. There was but one way to solve this mess. She'd have to go on a date with each of her friends, and see how that went!
Then she hunched her shoulders and rubbed her forehead. She was being silly. Emotions didn't work like that. But it was the best solution she could think of that wasn't running away from facing her feelings, and her friends.
It would have to be good enough.
Hogwarts, November 7th, 1996
"Ron? Do you have a minute?"
Ron Weasley stopped writing his Potions essay and looked at his sister, who was standing next to his table in the Gryffindor common room. "Of course. What's up?"
"It's private," the witch said, in a lower voice.
Ron frowned, wondering what this was about, and drew his wand. She shook her head. "Let's talk somewhere else."
"Alright."
They moved to an empty classroom, and he cast several privacy spells while Ginny summoned two chairs and a desk.
"Thank you." His little sister sat down. She didn't speak up right away though. Another reason for concern. Had someone hurt her? He knew she could take care of herself - she had been training with the rest of them, after all - but what if some boy had broken her heart? Hadn't Zabini complimented her last week? If that slimeball...
"Ron?"
His thoughts of brutal revenge interrupted, he smiled apologetically at his sister. "Sorry. Go on."
Ginny huffed, but didn't comment on his absent-mindedness. "What's going on between you and Hermione?"
"What?"
Ginny glared at him. "Don't play dumb. I know you're meeting her regularly. You and Harry have been sneaking out of Hogwarts several times."
How did she… the map! Ron sighed. "That doesn't mean we're meeting with her."
His sister rolled her eyes. "Please! If you weren't meeting her, you'd be much more vocal about missing her." She made a dismissive gesture with her left hand. "I know you and Harry very well."
"Did you learn Occlumency?" Ron shot back.
"What? No. Why?" Ginny frowned when she understood what he meant and mumbled a few words mum would scourgify her mouth for under her breath.
"Language, Ginny," Ron said. He wasn't trying that hard to imitate Hermione, but judging by her glare, he managed well enough. He held up his hand in a placatory gesture. "Look… why are you interested in this hypothetical question anyway?" Did she want to help them? She was too young for that sort of thing!
"I've heard you turned Lavender down when she asked you out."
"Yes, I did." That had taken longer to spread than he had expected. Apparently, Lavender and Parvati were not quite as quick to spread gossip when it concerned them.
"And I haven't heard about you going out with any other witches." Ginny stared at him.
"So?" Ron asked, feeling slightly irked. She was his sister, not his mum.
"So, why would you turn Lavender down, unless you were already in a relationship? With a witch who's not at Hogwarts." She rolled her eyes before he could answer. "Yes, no Occlumency."
"There are a number of reasons. I might not like her." He ignored her snort and mumbled comment about Lavender's looks. "I might not have the time for a relationship." And that hit a bit too close to home.
"Or you might be pining for a witch who turned you down."
He ground his teeth. "What do you really want to know?"
For a moment, Ginny had that mulish expression he knew so well, then she sighed. "I want to know if Harry's with a witch who's not at Hogwarts."
That sounded like a nickname Hermione would hate even more than Harry hated the 'Boy-Who-Lived'-name, Ron thought. Then he focused on the question, and what it meant. "I thought you were over your crush."
"I am." Ginny raised her chin at his dubious expression. "That doesn't mean I'm not interested in him. He's a great guy. Much better than anyone else at Hogwarts."
Ron had to wince at hearing that.
Unfortunately, Ginny didn't miss his slip. She gasped. "You're… he's with her!"
"He's with no one," Ron said, before he could stop himself.
His sister looked confused. "What? Is she… are you both pining for a witch who's taken?"
"She's not taken." Ron closed his eyes, angry at his lapse. "The hypothetical witch, I mean."
"Merlin's balls!" Ginny shook her head. "So, what's going on between you three?"
"Nothing." Ron stared at her.
"Nothing?"
"Nothing." He almost spat that.
"So… Harry's single?"
"Was that what you wanted to ask me? Whether or not Harry was with… someone?" Why couldn't she simply have asked that? Or asked Harry?
"Not entirely. I also wanted to know if you were involved with 'someone'."
"Because if I am, he's not."
Ginny nodded. "So… do you think this is a good moment to ask him out? I don't want to, you know, catch him at a bad time."
"It's not a good time," Ron said. "We're kind of… waiting."
"Waiting? For what?"
"An answer."
"Oh." Ginny's mouth remained open for a moment. Then she blinked, and huffed. "Well, I hope she picks you."
"Even though Harry's much better than anyone else at Hogwarts?" Ron tried not to sound too sarcastic.
Ginny smiled a bit sheepishly. "You're my brother, I don't count you."
Ron snorted. He knew where he ranked. But he still hoped. He might be stupid, but he wouldn't give up. It was Hermione's decision, after all.
"Let's go back to the dorm," Ginny said. "Please tell me when, you know?"
"OK."
London, East End, November 7th, 1996
Dinner at the Resistance's safe house was about to start when Seamus all but yelled: "Allan still hasn't returned!" He continued a bit more calmly. "I can't reach his phone either. Something must have happened to him!"
Hermione frowned. "Where did he go? And when?"
Seamus grimaced. "He went to see his girlfriend. Yesterday evening."
"You haven't seen him since then?" She didn't have to fake her anger. Not much at least. Seamus should have mentioned that earlier.
The Irish muggleborn had the grace to look ashamed. "I thought he had overslept, you know. With his bird."
"Let's call her then."
Seamus winced again. "Err…"
"You don't have her number?"
He shook his head.
"Her name?" She sighed at his expression. "He shacked up with a girl and didn't tell her name to anyone?"
Everyone denied it.
"Great." She took a deep breath. "Seamus, call his parents from somewhere other than London. If he's had a traffic accident, the police might have informed them. If he was carrying any form of ID."
Judging by the expressions on the other Resistance members' faces, the thought that Allan could have been in an accident hadn't occurred to them. Hermione hoped that this didn't mean they were careless on the street.
"What if he has been captured?" Dean asked.
"We'll move to a second safe house, at least temporarily. I trust our curse to protect us, but better safe than sorry." Almost too late she added. "If he's been arrested, we'll know. And we'll get him out."
"How?" John asked. "We didn't save Martin."
"We weren't ready back then. Things have changed. We have a good chance of springing someone from the Ministry," Hermione said.
"You mean, your friends have." Dean stared at her.
"Yes." She didn't deny it. As Allan had proved, it was better if the Resistance knew how much they needed her.
"What if Death Eaters got him?"
"There's not much we can do about that, other than avenge him. And hope they didn't take him alive," Hermione said, in the most serious tone she could manage.
"If that slut was a trap…" Seamus mumbled.
"Was that the first time he went to visit her?" Justin asked.
"No… he has been visiting her for some time, when we were out…" the other wizard cringed slightly.
Hermione would have muttered something nasty about not sticking with each other, but since she was often out by herself, she would have felt like a hypocrite. "It's unlikely that the girl was a trap then. Neither Death Eaters nor muggle criminals would have let him visit her several times before attacking him."
"They might have waited until he was letting down his guard," Dean cut in.
Hermione raised her eyebrow. "Do you think he was keeping his wand in hand and an eye on the door while he was shagging her?"
"He could have cast spells to protect himself," Dean stubbornly defended his idea.
"And suddenly stop casting them?" Hermione shook her head. "Doesn't sound like him."
"Love can make a bloke do stupid things," Seamus added.
Not just a bloke, Hermione thought, but she nodded. "Maybe. But still unlikely. Now let's eat quickly and prepare to move. Seamus, you're on lookout duty now."
The Irish muggleborn didn't argue - he must still be feeling guilty about covering for Allan, she thought, since he went up at once.
As she wolfed down her dinner, she felt quite annoyed that even after his death, Allan was still causing trouble for her.
London, Diagon Alley, November 8th, 1996
Daphne Greengrass felt like she was walking into a cursed tomb as she made her way to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes past several mudholes. Tracey, walking at her side, wasn't looking that happy or confident either. Taking revenge for their murdered parents had seemed like a fine idea back then, but now…
"I don't like this," she whispered.
Tracey glanced at her. "We just have to act scared and let the twins console us. Make them think we need protection, and feel threatened."
"I don't have to act as if I'm scared," Daphne said. "I am scared." The mudholes were the best proof that the mudbloods could roam Diagon Alley as they wanted. Who knew when they'd hide a bomb, rather than create mudholes?
"All the better for our mission then," Tracey said. She ignored Daphne's glare.
They arrived at the shop. Daphne wasn't certain, but she thought the tingling sensation she felt when entering was stronger than last time. She ducked out of habit, but no item or spell tried to hit her.
"Mary! Cassandra!" One of the twins - Fred, since he was smiling widely - greeted them.
George, the other twin, nodded at them from the counter. He wasn't crafting items in the back room then.
"Have you seen our latest invention? Weirding Water!" Fred squeezed what looked like a globe in his hand, and a jet of water shot at Daphne, drenching her. Before she could do anything more than splutter in growing outrage, she was dry again.
"Instant dryness. Perfect to tease people," he added with a grin, handing her another globe. "It comes in a multitude of colours!"
Daphne smiled, took the globe, and used it on Fred. "I see," she said, with a smirk.
That even made George the Grump laugh. Or George the Gay, as Tracey liked to call him when they talked about the twins - she was certain he simply wasn't interested in witches to remain so … guarded ... towards them.
Another new product. Daphne wondered, not for the first time, how the twins found the time to create all those products. Maybe they were not involved in the war? Even so, they were blood traitors.
Which reminded her of her mission. Fred must have noticed her sudden mood change, since he asked: "What's wrong? Are there side effects? We did test them thoroughly, but…"
She shook her head. "No, no. I'm just… all this news about war and bombs scares me." That, and the knowledge of what the Dark Lord did to those who failed him. Even if technically, they had never joined him, but Draco instead.
"Oh!" Fred smiled. "You're safe here. Best wards you can buy. Or bother your brother into doing for you."
"Why would you be scared? Would anyone want to attack you?" George had stepped closer, and seemed a bit tense.
"We're half-bloods," Daphne said. "Raised completely in Wizarding Britain, but…" she sighed. "... that doesn't mean much these days."
Tracey nodded. "Yes."
"Oh." George nodded.
Fred slipped his arms around their shoulders. "The Death Eaters will get theirs, don't worry."
Daphne had to force herself to smile at that. Hopefully, he'd think she was so tense because she was afraid of the Death Eaters. And not of blood traitors.
Hogwarts, November 8th, 1996
Harry Potter was sitting on his bed, looking at the communication mirror propped up by his pillow. Hermione would call soon. Ron, sitting next to him, snorted. "People will start talking if we're sharing a bed so often."
Harry raised his eyebrows at him. "They haven't so far."
"Well… still feels a bit weird. We're not twelve anymore." Ron shrugged.
"Nostalgia is a thing," Harry said.
"Pining for when you were a first year?" His friend shook his head.
"Life was simpler back then," Harry said, as seriously as he could, before chuckling.
Ron was about to retort when the mirror vibrated. Harry touched it, and Hermione's face appeared. "Harry, Ron."
"Hermione," the two chorused.
"How are you doing?" Hermione asked a bit too casually, Harry thought. She was twisting a lock of her hair, though as short as it was now, she lost her grip on it.
"We're training hard," Ron said. "And we've helped the Headmaster."
Their friend narrowed her eyes. "Oh?"
"We haven't left Hogwarts," Harry said quickly. "We searched the Chamber of Secrets." He didn't have to say what they had been searching.
"No need to ask what you've been doing," Ron said. "The Prophet was full of it."
Hermione nodded. She seemed a bit off, so Harry asked: "Did some of your friends get hurt?"
"One was knocked unconscious. He recovered though." She bit her lip. "I'll tell you more when we meet in person."
That sounded important to Harry. "When will that be?"
Hermione took a deep breath. "Well… you know…"
Harry exchanged a glance with Ron. When their best friend was stalling, then something was wrong. And Harry feared he knew what this was about.
"... I've been thinking about what you two said." She looked to the side, then stared at them. "And… " she sighed. "Alright. I want to go on a date with you. With each of you."
Harry blinked, surprised. He hadn't expected that.
"Blimey. Did you talk with Sirius?" Ron asked.
"What?" Hermione frowned. "Not like that! I mean… honestly, I thought about this, and I think the best way to find out if there is a potential for a relationship between us - between me and you, or me and you - is to go on a date. A romantic date. See how we do."
Harry exchanged a glance with Ron again. He wouldn't have expected that. And they had been talking about this situation, hadn't they?
Apparently, Hermione thought they were waiting for her to elaborate. "It's not as if the potential isn't there - I can imagine both of you, you know…" she trailed off, biting her lower lip again, "so, I do find you attractive, it's just… it would be unfair to pick one of you without at least having gone on a date with both of you."
"Alright," Harry said. "So… when would you like to go on those dates?"
"Next Friday and Saturday."
Of course she would have a schedule already. Harry smiled. "So, what have you planned for the dates?"
"Ah… nothing, actually. You can decide what we do."
Harry managed to not wince. That sounded like a test. A rather difficult test. He hadn't been on a real date so far, not a successful at least. "Great," he pressed out.
"Yes," Ron chimed in. "Great." He sounded, in Harry's opinion, about as sincere as Harry himself.
Hermione, though, looked relieved. "Good. So… tell me who goes Friday and who goes Saturday, and what I'll have to wear by Wednesday, alright?"
"Of course."
"Sure."
The witch smiled, and bid them good night. Once her image had vanished from the mirror, Harry turned to Ron. "You don't have any idea what you'll do either, do you?"
Ron shook his head.
"Great."
"Yes."
Hogwarts, November 9th, 1996
"That was pathetic! I thought Black and Lupin trained you, did they teach you how to be a stationary target, or did you forget everything since then?"
Trying to train with a paranoid veteran Auror while worrying about a date a week from now wasn't a good idea. Ron Weasley was discovering that in a rather painful way as he slowly stood up after having been thrown a few yards into a wall by Moody's latest spell.
"I can dodge better than that, and without my peg leg, boy!"
Ron bent over, holding his stomach, and glanced at Harry, who was sitting next to the back wall, still recovering from his own 'training'. His friend hadn't fared any better.
"Preparing to double-team me? Nice thought, boy, but you'd need to be more subtle! I do have an eye covering my back!" Moody cackled, flicked his wrist, and a red spell shot at Ron.
He almost dodged it, and almost managed to cast a Shield Charm in time. The Stinging Hex hurt more than it should, Ron was certain. He didn't cry out though, but finished his Shield Charm.
It didn't help him that much, as it turned out, since he caught one of two Bludgeoning Curses next, which shattered his shield and pushed him back, stumbling. When a few more colorful hexes flew at him, Ron simply stopped trying to keep his balance and dropped, avoiding the volley.
That's when he discovered that someone had coated the stone below him with glue. Or transfigured it into glue. He was trying to get his wand arm free so he could finite it when the next Stinging Hex hit his forehead.
"And dead!" Moody shook his head. "Potter, you're up! Try to last long enough so your friend has enough time to free himself! And try to keep me busy enough that I can't hex him!" That was followed by another Stinging Hex.
Harry did his best, from what Ron could tell, but he still caught a few more hexes while he ripped his robe open and dispelled the glue. Which left him covered with dust. He was about to scourgify himself when Harry was hit by a series of spells and ended up upside and trussed up in conjured ropes.
This time, Ron was quick enough to dodge two spells, but got hit with a Full Body-Bind Curse when he tried to get Harry free.
"I should leave you two like this until you figure out how to dispel that without moving your wand, but Albus wouldn't like that." Moody shook his head. "I see that we've got a long way to go." He grinned, which was a rather frightful sight with his mutilated nose and spinning eye, in Ron's opinion. "But don't worry, I'll be behind you, hexing you all the way to motivate you."
Ron groaned while Harry muttered a few curses, and the old Auror cackled again, before freeing them. "At least you're trying to work together," Moody added almost as an afterthought. "That's a good thing - too many Hit-Wizards, and even Aurors, try to duel enemies as if this was a match." He left the room Dumbledore had provided for them.
Ron rolled on his back, and turned his head towards Harry. "We'll have to get him next time."
Harry, still on his stomach, nodded. "I'll ask Sirius for help."
That reminded Ron that he needed to write to Bill. A wizard who had a Veela girlfriend would know how to treat a witch on a date, wouldn't he?
Hogwarts, November 10th, 1996
Albus Dumbledore frowned as he read the latest report from Severus. He had to replenish quite a few ingredients - all of them needed for quite a specific potion. All of them listed prominently together. Delivered with a remark that 'even out of school, some students continue to cause trouble' for the Potions master.
He shook his head. Severus could have simply told him directly that Mister Malfoy was demanding, and therefore using, Polyjuice extensively. It wasn't exactly subtle either, and he would only be able deny such a report in the most basic Veritaserum interrogation. Which told Albus that Severus had other reasons for being so oblique. Reasons to be found in his character.
His spy was a very complex man. Ridden with guilt, filled with hatred, his cruelty barely held in check by his cunning and pride, he was brave - or suicidal - enough to serve as a spy against Voldemort, knowing that one misstep would doom him. All because he hated Tom more than anyone else in the world.
Albus had no illusions - Severus wouldn't really mind if most of the Order died, as long as Voldemort and his followers shared their fate. But he was smart enough, even without being aware of how the rest of the Order was doing, to know that at this point, Albus couldn't afford to lose any allies. Which meant Mister Malfoy was either acting directly on Tom's orders, or the young Death Eater had a dangerous plan.
The Headmaster sighed. He had hoped he wouldn't have to do this. Wouldn't have to risk the goblins' ire at such a critical moment. No matter how misplaced their ire would be - Nicolas and Albus had been trying to reverse-engineer the Thief's Downfall, back in the day, but they had never managed to completely duplicate it. Hadn't really tried that much either - working with dragon blood had proven to be more interesting, offering new discoveries instead of copying the work of others.
What they had come up with was able to strip people of disillusionment spells and other magical disguises. Useful, but given alternatives at least to counter disillusioned enemies, not worth risking more trouble with the goblins.
Now though, circumstances had changed. Both regarding the need to use this discovery, as well as the opportunity to disguise its origin, should it become public.
Messrs Weasley had developed quite the reputation as very creative potioneers, after all. It would not be that unusual if one of their products might briefly affect a target with some harmless effect, and accidentally counter the effect of Polyjuice…
Albus summoned one of his old notebooks, copied a few pages, and then went to his fireplace to arrange a meeting.
London, East End, November 10th, 1996
"I've done it!" John announced, standing in the door to Hermione Granger's room in the Resistance's temporary headquarters. His smile was unusual - after Allan's disappearance, and continuing absence, the mood had been more than a bit sombre. Seamus and Dean had been particularly different. Hermione Granger had even started to miss their - often loud - talks and boasts.
She shifted in her seat and turned to the former Ravenclaw. There was one major thing he had been working on, for a month now. "Did you manage to duplicate the charms used to broadcast on the Wizarding Wireless?"
John nodded. "I did! We can broadcast now!"
"How portable is the setup?" Hermione had been looking into pirate radios for a bit. The Resistance couldn't set up permanently on abandoned platforms in the North Sea or the Channel, but they could use other tactics.
John shrugged. "The broadcasting crystal and the other parts are not that big. Takes a bit to set up properly, but it all can be shrunk."
"Can it be tracked when broadcasting?" When they had interrogated him, Cory Briston hadn't known if that was possible - apparently, it hadn't been tried or needed so far. But they couldn't afford to ignore that possibility.
"I have a few ideas that could work, but I haven't focused on tracking the signal," John said.
She nodded. "We'll have to assume the Ministry will track us then. Maybe turn the broadcasting crystal into a trap. Or use expendable ones." She saw him wince. "Too expensive?"
"Enchanting the crystal is hard and takes a long time."
Hermione nodded. "Well, I think we should install it in a van then."
John blinked. "That will make tracking it harder, but who among us can drive? And if we're found, getting away will be hard while limited to the streets."
Hermione grinned. "It'll be a flying invisible van." She knew two people who managed that feat. One of them even made an invisible flying car.
"Oh!" John smiled widely. "Cool!"
"We'll have to prepare our first broadcast. Advertise it too. Leaflets. Maybe the Prophet will pick it up."
"Or The Quibbler," John added.
"The Quibbler?" Hermione dimly recalled having heard of a magazine with that name, at the Weasleys. Mrs Weasley had not been fond of it.
"It's a magazine dealing with, well, mythical animals. Undiscovered magical animals. Made up for the biggest part." John shrugged. "And stories about how Fudge turns goblins into meat pies. The daughter of the editor is in Ravenclaw. Luna Lovegood, a strange girl. But I've heard that a number of people like the magazine because it's funny."
"Ah." Hermione Granger wasn't quite ready to dismiss any mythical animal as pure myth - until she had turned 11, she had 'known' unicorns and dragons didn't exist, after all - but the story about Fudge eating goblins sounded like something out of a satire magazine. Her eyes widened. If that was satire, then that would be a good way to distribute propaganda disguised as satire! "Thank you. I'll look into it." She stood up. "Let's get busy with the broadcast."
It would also be a good way to occupy the Resistance until they had another target.
Devon, Ottery St. Catchpole, November 10th, 1996
Albus Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace in the Burrow with a smile on his face. He was very fond of the Weasleys. They were a big family, not rich, but always generous, and all of them very brave. Ideal Gryffindors, in short, if Albus permitted himself to think so fondly of his own house.
"Albus! You're early! Have you eaten yet? We're just about to start!" Molly exclaimed.
The witch was already waving him to join her and Arthur in the kitchen before the Headmaster could answer. He hadn't exactly been early, but Molly didn't think anyone but her cooked proper meals, and this gave her an excuse to feed him. Not that he minded - he didn't know many cooks that measured up to her, and none of them were found in Wizarding Britain.
Arthur as well as young William and Charlie rose to greet him warmly. "Fred and George claim they are too busy at work," Molly explained, with a frown and a glance at Albus.
He nodded slightly. They were busy because of him, after all. Molly sighed - she understood the need for secrecy, but didn't like it. Understandable, given her past.
The meal was delicious, and Albus enjoyed the small-talk, mostly centered on William's relationship with Miss Delacour, and the young man's refusal to 'set a date', even though it also made him sad - his own family had, for all intents and purposes, been gone for decades. But to show that would have been both impolite and thoughtless. In these trying times, everyone needed to enjoy what happiness they could find, and not have it ruined by an old man's regrets.
After dessert though, Albus addressed the reason he had visited. He didn't like it, but he had to do it. He cleared his throat, and the others at the table fell silent. Molly even flinched.
"I've some unfortunate news," he began. "The Dark Lord is finishing his preparations, and going on the offensive. I expect that he will be targeting those who oppose him in the Wizengamot and the Ministry first, since he has trouble finding the muggleborns."
Arthur nodded. He would know what was coming - the man had fought in the last war, after all. And had repaired the Burrow afterwards. William and Charlie looked serious, but confused since Molly was already sniffling.
"I fear that staying in your home will be too dangerous, given your prominent position on certain policies of the Ministry, and your past history with the late Mister Malfoy."
As expected, the two young men wanted to fight, unwilling to abandon their home. William made a passionate plea to trust his wards. Charlie supported him. But Molly wouldn't let them risk their lives. Not for a house that could be rebuilt.
While she dealt with her children's opposition, Albus exchanged a look with Arthur, and excused himself. He had other Order members to visit still.
London, Ministry of Magic, November 11th, 1996
Brenda Brocktuckle, standing with her arms crossed, studied the two Aurors that had entered Amelia Bones's office, Daniel Rickett and Doris Purvis. Both Hufflepuffs, both half-bloods. Both rather young. Both fit what she was looking for. Brenda hadn't found any sign that they were disloyal to the Ministry, but she hadn't been able to use Veritaserum.
"Please have a seat, Aurors." Bones pointed at two chairs in front of her desk.
Rickett and Purvis sat down, the witch glancing at Brenda, Martin and Parkinson, who were standing to the side.
"You've been called to my office because there's an important undercover mission that you qualify for. If you accept the mission, you will be discharged from the Auror Corps for harbouring sympathies for muggleborns. Death Eaters will consider you blood traitors, and may come after you. Your friends, your families will believe you are traitors. They cannot be told the truth, or all of you would be at risk. Your goal will be to gain the trust of the Muggleborn Resistance, and in order to achieve that, you will support muggleborn criminals, going as far as saving them from Ministry. You will even have to fight Aurors and Hit-Wizards, but you will not kill them." Bones stared at the two. "You've been chosen for this mission because you are familiar with muggleborns, and therefore not unlikely to be sympathetic, even if you're not too familiar with the muggle world."
Brenda knew that the not-killing part was a risk, but even mudbloods should understand that the two would not want to kill former colleagues, so it was just a slight one.
Rickett glanced at Purvis, then spoke up: "Can we think about this?"
Bones shook her head. "Once you leave this office, you will either be on the mission, or you'll have been obliviated."
The two Aurors glanced around, and Brenda grinned and lifted her left arm, showing that her wand was already drawn. She had obliviated two groups thus far, after all.
Purvis leaned over to Rickett and whispered in his ear. He nodded, and then whispered back.
Brenda tensed. If they tried something...
The two younger Aurors kept whispering for a few minutes. Martin was fidgeting, and Parkinson was scowling. Only Bones seemed unaffected, studying some reports on her desk. Brenda studied the expressions of the two Aurors. They seemed to be arguing with each other, with Purvis winning.
Finally, the couple stopped whispering, and Rickett addressed the Head of the DMLE: "Ma'am, we're volunteering." His partner nodded.
Bones smiled. "I'm glad to see that Hufflepuffs do not shirk away from dangerous work." Then she fixed them with a glare and pulled out a vial. "I don't like to do this, but we have to be certain of your loyalty."
Neither Purvis nor Rickett glanced back at the wands that were now aimed at them. Brenda hoped that meant they were aware of that, and had enough self-control not to check. If they were oblivious then this would not end well.
But, she told herself, they knew the risks.
Kent, Sevenoaks, November 11th, 1996
Albus Dumbledore spotted Kingsley as soon as the man entered the small pub. He even saw the Auror's eyes widen when he noticed Albus. His friend grabbed a pint at the bar, and then made his way past the evening crowd to the table.
"I don't think I have ever seen you in a muggle suit," Kingsley said, once inside the area of Albus's privacy spells.
The Headmaster smiled. "While I like colorful robes, I do know how to dress to fit into the muggle world."
"Barely. That kind of style went out of fashion in the 40s."
Albus made a mental note that he had to update his muggle clothes - again. If only it was still the 70s… "Thank you for coming, Kingsley."
"If you want to meet me in such a place, it must be important."
"It is." Albus took a sip from his own ale. "You're aware of how the Ministry and especially the Wizengamot is shifting towards the Dark Lord."
"Even on my posting, I'm not entirely out of the loop," the Auror confirmed. "No matter what the muggle press may write about No. 10 Downing Street."
Albus chuckled, but quickly lost his mirth again. "Things are bad. If they continue unchecked, I expect the Ministry to be under the Dark Lord's control in a month or two."
Kingsley stared at him. "I didn't think it was that grave."
"It is." Albus took another sip from his pint.
"You need me in the Ministry then," the Auror stated.
"Yes. Though it'll be very dangerous."
Kingsley simply nodded.
Albus hadn't expected another reaction. "I need you to lead the task force hunting the Death Eaters. John Dawlish took over the hunt for the Muggleborn Resistance, leaving his former group leaderless. His second in command is not exactly suited to lead it." And was afraid of the Death Eaters.
The other wizard snorted. Dawlish was quite well-known in the Corps. "What exactly do you want me to do?"
"I need you to antagonise the Death Eaters. I need them to lash out at the Ministry, and show their true colours before more of our esteemed members of the Wizengamot fall for the Dark Lord's lies." Albus put his glass down.
"They would focus on my team first and foremost. And we'll have to expect sabotage from within the Ministry as well."
The Headmaster nodded. "It is a very dangerous task I am asking you to undertake."
"Who will be my replacement?" Kingsley emptied his glass and put it down a touch too hard.
"Percival Weasley."
Again the man's eyes widened. "I would have thought he'd be more useful in the Ministry."
"We need a trusted liaison to the Prime Minister. Mister Weasley has done what he could to build his reputation as a man who has broken with his family for his career, but many of the more conservative Ministry employees still see him as his father's son." And Molly had asked Albus quite forcefully to keep her wayward son safe.
"You've been playing a long game then." Kingsley sounded impressed.
Albus nodded. There was no need to tell his friend exactly when Percival had joined the Order. "So, will you do it?"
His friend nodded. "Better me than someone else. I'll need some support in getting competent people. And some expendable curse fodder, maybe."
"I'll do what I can, though my influence on Amelia has waned lately."
Kingsley snorted. "I wonder why."
Albus ordered two more pints. "She has not changed since the last war."
The Auror shook his head. "I'd almost admire her for her principles. If they were not about to lose us the war."
"If she had a bit more of Cornelius's character, and Cornelius a bit more of hers…" Albus trailed off as the waitress approached with their order.
"Imagine if they had kids together," Kingsley said, grinning.
Albus chuckled, but as he raised his glass to his friend, he hoped that he had not just sent the Auror to his death.
'Many forces in the Second Blood War suffered from internal troubles. The Dark Lord mainly had to deal with overeager followers acting of their own volition, and subordinates plotting against each other. He dealt with those problems in his typical way - through swift and lethal punishment, although opinions on how fairly and accurately said punishment was applied differ. The Ministry of Magic, on the other hand, suffered mostly from traitors and spies. The Head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones, could never be certain of any employee's loyalty, even among the Aurors and Hit-Wizards, which unsurprisingly made dealing with the problem that much harder. Due to the direct intervention of the Wizengamot, the easiest means to find traitors - regular interrogations with Veritaserum - was limited to those cases where there was a prior suspicion, which pretty much doomed her efforts. Consequently, the Ministry was never as effective in the war as it could have been, and many operations suffered due to the lack of trusted personnel. Meanwhile, the Muggleborn Resistance was, at the start, just one among several groups opposing the Death Eaters and the Ministry, and a small one at that, which meant most internal troubles were personal issues rather than anything more serious. Due to the lack of coordination though, the Resistance's plans occasionally suffered when they clashed with operations of other muggleborn groups.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn
*****
London, November 5th, 1996
Hermione Granger stared at Allan, whose eyes showed the vacant stare of the drugged. "Did anyone but you know about the murders you committed?" she asked.
"No one. No one ever suspected." Allan droned, without the smug sense of satisfaction she knew he'd show normally.
"Who did you kill first?" Hermione knew about the first time Aurors went missing, but those could have been the victims of someone else.
"Umbridge."
Or Allan could have killed long before that. She ground her teeth while Justin gasped. The Ravenclaw had been responsible for wrecking her carefully-planned schedule. He had caused the Aurors to come after her. She cursed under her breath. She should have expected this. It fit Allan, fit him so well.
"Why did you kill her?"
"She deserved to die. She tortured muggleborns for so long, unpunished… no one else was doing anything. And I had the perfect plan."
"How did you kill her?"
"I sneaked into her office, ambushed her while disillusioned. I used a Full Body-Bind Curse on her, then beat her to death with her own blood quill, transfigured into a golf club. Before the death blow, I obliviated her, so even if she became a ghost she'd not be able to reveal me. Then I vanished the body."
Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine. Extended answers under Veritaserum were very uncommon, as far as she knew. Allan must have wanted to tell this story. But he spoke of a 'death blow', as if… "How often did you hit her before you killed her?"
"I don't remember."
She winced. "What did you do to her before the death blow?"
"I smashed her limbs, broke every bone in them, crippled her. Then I broke her hips and ribs, crushed her shoulders. I spared her spine, so she would live longer."
"Bloody hell!" Justin spat next to her.
Hermione briefly closed her eyes. She had a terrible suspicion. "Did you enjoy killing her?"
"Yes."
"Do you enjoy killing?"
"Yes."
Hermione hissed. Justin had gone rigid. It was as she had suspected. And feared. "Did you kill Auror patrols as well?"
"Yes."
"How many?"
"Two. Four Aurors."
"Did you kill them like you killed Umbridge?"
"Only half of them."
Hermione bit her lower lip. "Did you beat the female Aurors to death?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"It felt better."
"Bloody monster!" She could hear Justin take a few deep breaths after that outburst.
"Did you want to kill me as well?" She had to ask. Had to know if those talks, those moments, meant anything. Or had been part of a murder plot.
"No."
She was surprised, but not yet relieved. "Why not?"
"You are too useful. Too many contacts and resources."
Of course. She swallowed. "Would you have killed me if you had had those contacts?"
"Yes."
Hermione closed her eyes for a second. "Why?"
"I thought you were too soft, too weak to fight this war."
She felt Justin's hand on her arm, heard him hiss "Stop!", but she asked anyway: "Would you have liked killing me?"
"Yes."
She turned away, towards Justin, and nodded to the door behind them. He followed her.
Outside, she leaned against the wall, shivering. "He's a monster. A smart, cunning monster, but a monster nevertheless." She bit her lip again. On one hand, this made what she knew she had to do easier. Justified. On the other hand… if she hadn't been able to see what Allan was, how would she be able to see if anyone else was going down the same path?
Like her?
"Do you want me to deal with him?" Aberforth Dumbledore's question made Justin jump - he must have missed his presence. Sloppy, Hermione thought, even though the old wizard had almost disappeared into the soft armchair he had conjured. He didn't ask what they had heard, she noticed.
She shook her head. "No. We'll do it." He was a Resistance member, and dealing with him was their obligation.
Aberforth nodded, and she thought there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "Good."
"You don't want to know what he did?" Justin asked.
The old wizard shrugged. "He's a muggleborn wearing Death Eater garb, caught trying to burn down a shop. That's enough for me."
Justin apparently felt the need to justify their decision some more. "He likes killing. If he can find any justification, he'll kill. He's a monster."
Dumbledore's brother nodded, but didn't comment.
Hermione put her hand on Justin's shoulder. "I'll continue the interrogation. We'll need to know what else he has done behind our backs."
Justin shook his head, refusing her implied offer. "Yes, we do. Let's get this over with."
*****
"Stupefy! Obliviate!"
Hermione felt bad for using Allan's own idea, even though it was somewhat poetic justice. But it was a smart idea, and she couldn't take the risk of him remaining as a ghost, and turning on them. She doubted that the enchanted contract she had created to protect the Resistance would have any effect on a ghost, and even if Allan was bound to the place of his death, if the Resistance needed this safe house…
And, she told herself, she hadn't erased all his memories. In case whatever afterlife there was didn't restore memories.
She took a deep breath and steeled herself. She had killed before, and had helped kill so many more, but this was the first time she would be killing a helpless, defenceless … no, Allan was no victim! He was a monster. Like the Death Eaters they had captured. He had even been glad about Martin's death, since that had made the Resistance members more bloodthirsty. She pointed her wand at his neck.
"Diffindo!"
She didn't look away while his head dropped into his lap, then fell down on the floor and blood splattered on the ground.
"Evanesco. Evanesco. Evanesco. Scourgify."
She left the room as empty as she felt, but far less stained.
*****
London, Ministry of Magic, November 6th, 1996
Brenda Brocktuckle was a veteran Auror. So she wasn't surprised about the Ministry's reaction to the revelation of Rowle's Dark Mark. Her partner on the other hand…
Martin scowled. "Does anyone actually believe that the Dark Mark was put on her by mudbloods to frame her?"
Brenda shrugged. "It's a convenient excuse. Like the 'Imperius defence' fifteen years ago." She leaned back in her chair, letting her gaze wander over the scarce decorations on her desk. One picture of her and her parents after her graduation from Hogwarts - Dragon Pox had killed them before Brenda graduated as an Auror. A stone splinter a suspect had banished into her chest once, now serving as a paperweight. She had killed the man despite the wound. Nothing else.
Martin huffed. "I can't believe Bones is going along with this!"
She shrugged once more. "Who says she is? Dawlish might be investigating the affair more discreetly than he usually acts." Martin snorted, and she grinned. "Alright… maybe Bones is working with Dumbledore. He certainly has no love for the Death Eaters." And he had a number of 'concerned friends', as was shown during that incident in the Department of Mysteries. Discreet friends, who had left before the Aurors had shown up. But according to rumour, Dumbledore hadn't visited Bones or the Minister since he had chased them out of Hogwarts. Of course, that could just be a ploy to make people think they were not working together…
Martin looked doubtful. "I can't see Bones using such underhanded means."
She nodded. "I don't really believe it myself. But Bones is not the kind of witch to let anything slide."
The door to their office was opened, and Parkinson walked in. "Morning," the Auror grunted more than said, conjured a chair for himself and sat down.
"Morning." Brenda nodded at him.
"Good morning," Martin said, his tone carefully neutral.
Parkinson looked from Brenda to Martin and back, then snorted. "Yes, my aunt was a Death Eater. That doesn't make me one." He pulled his left sleeve back, to show his bare arm.
"We never said you were." Brenda looked straight at him. He didn't have to be marked to work for the Dark Lord. Not that she really believed that the mark couldn't be hidden.
Parkinson shrugged. "You were thinking it." His tone was rather casual, but then, the majority of the Wizengamot didn't seem to frown on Death Eaters that much.
"We're hunting mudbloods, not Death Eaters," Brenda said. "Dawlish is the one who hunts the Dark Lord's followers." And she didn't envy him that assignment. Not at all.
"Well, he doesn't want to hunt them anymore. Rumour is, he's trying to take over this case." Parkinson scoffed. "He doesn't want to oppose the Dark Lord anymore, or so it seems."
Martin frowned. "Is he afraid of them, or of the Wizengamot?"
"Cursed if I know, kid," Parkinson said. "But he has to convince both Scrimgeour and Bones, and Bones at least won't look kindly on such a move." He looked at Brenda. "Unless you screw up."
He didn't say 'again', but Brenda was certain he was thinking it. And he was correct - she knew that her next setback would be her last as a leader of anything in the department. "Thanks for telling me."
"Your plan better work."
"It'll give us a way to infiltrate the mudbloods." And the mudbloods in hiding had to have some contact with the Resistance. You couldn't operate like the mudblood scum did without support from others.
"You need to produce results soon though. The Wizengamot is getting impatient."
Brenda nodded, then blinked. "Well… maybe Dawlish should take over the task force, as long as we get to run our operation."
Parkinson's eyes widened. "You want him to shoulder the blame for the things your fake mudblood group will do to gain the mudbloods' trust!"
Brenda grinned. "Sacrifices have to be made." It would certainly help if she was seen to be demoted to some meaningless case while she was actually running the undercover mission.
The other veteran Auror chuckled. "You have to get this past Bones, but if it works… Dawlish will be setting himself up for failure."
"But if he takes over the hunt for the mudbloods, who's taking over the hunt for the Death Eaters?" Martin asked.
Parkinson snorted. "Someone stupid, I bet. They'd be outing themselves as a blood traitor."
Or someone working for the Dark Lord, planning to sabotage the efforts, Brenda mentally added. She stood up.
"I'll have to talk to Bones."
*****
Hogwarts, November 6th, 1996
Albus Dumbledore noticed that his brother was in a bad mood right away - Aberforth's scowl was even more pronounced than usual when he entered the Headmaster's office.
"Did something go wrong last night?" he asked. He was fairly certain he would have been informed at once, but sometimes Aberforth could be very unreasonable…
"No. Everything went according to plan," his brother said. "But I found out a few things that don't sit well with me."
Albus raised his eyebrows. "Please elaborate."
"Those are kids you're using, Albus. Kids who are turning into killers, and worse," his brother spat.
"They founded the Resistance without any help from me," he defended himself. "They do not answer to me either."
"Are you claiming you didn't know about them?"
Arguing about what he had known, and what he had suspected, would be pointless. Too much bad blood persisted between him and Aberforth. He took a deep breath. "They would fight no matter what. Would you rather I ignore them, instead of helping them?"
"Helping and guiding them?" Aberforth scoffed. "Turning them into your personal tool against the Dark Lord?"
"Miss Granger knows as well as I do who the true enemy is." And she also knew that fighting an enemy who'd surrender as soon as the Dark Lord was dead was a waste of time and often lives. "And she knows that coordinating with your allies is needed in a war."
Aberforth seemed to concede that point. At least he changed the topic. "We caught a muggleborn in Death Eater garb trying to burn down a half-blood shop."
Albus nodded. He had expected that.
His brother glared at him. "That fool can't have been the only one thinking that this was a clever way to discredit the enemy."
"It is quite a risky, and distasteful, ploy." Miss Granger had had good reasons to dismiss such plans.
"Right up your alley then?"
Albus glared at him. Even counting his past failures, this was a low blow. "I'm not having innocents killed." Not if he could help it.
"What about those who are not innocent anymore? Those who have fought, and killed?"
Any commander knew that sometimes, soldiers had to be sacrificed to achieve a victory. Albus knew that as well. "Not like this."
Aberforth stared at him and for a few moments, neither of the brothers spoke a word. Then the old wizard nodded at Albus. "If I ever discover anything like this…"
"You won't," the Headmaster said with as much conviction he could muster.
Aberforth nodded. His brother knew that Albus hadn't promised he wouldn't do such a thing. Just that Aberforth wouldn't know.
After a glance at Fawkes, his brother said: "Your little witch didn't go overboard. No torture, no revenge. Clean interrogation, clean kill."
Albus didn't let his relief show. He had not thought that Miss Granger would cross certain lines, but he hadn't been absolutely sure.
"She didn't want me to kill him for her either. She took the responsibility." Aberforth's expression implied that he thought that Albus didn't, and hadn't.
The Headmaster ignored the barb. "That sounds like Miss Granger," he commented mildly.
His brother huffed. "She didn't need my help to capture him either. And you knew that. You wanted me there to get to know them, and to make them trust me."
"Not entirely. If there had been complications, your presence would have saved the day. Although yes, this will make future co-operation easier."
"If you say so. Is there anything else?"
"Not for the moment. But I expect the Dark Lord to strike at our friends soon."
"I hope this bunch of your friends is not as unprepared as the last one were." Aberforth snorted and stood up. "I heard your pet Auror finally got over what Crouch Junior did to him. Keep him away from me or I'll make that look like a tickling hex from a first year."
Albus nodded. Compared to the bad blood between Alastor and Aberforth, the relationship between the last two Dumbledores was positively cordial. He sincerely hoped the two would never have to fight side by side.
He leaned back in his seat, petting Fawkes until long after his brother had left. Unfortunately, with the way the Ministry was turning to Voldemort, he feared that hope would be dashed.
*****
London, East End, November 6th, 1996
Hermione Granger sat on her bed, staring at the wall. She had returned to the Resistance's safe house, with no one the wiser. Late enough so her curt manner would have been attributed to being tired. Hopefully, at least. Justin had returned separately sometime before. As Mary had told her with a grin, he was with Sally-Anne right now.
And Hermione was alone. She sighed. Allan hadn't cared for her, or liked her. He had just wanted to manipulate her. Use her for his own, sick plans. She should have known that. Viktor hadn't liked her either. At least not the way she had wanted. He hadn't known her either. He liked that she didn't care for Quidditch. That wasn't exactly something to base a relationship on.
Harry and Ron though, they knew her. They had seen her at her best and at her worst. Or had known her - she wondered what they'd think of her now, after she had killed Allan. They hadn't liked him, but they wouldn't have suspected what he had been doing. A sudden thought made her freeze for a moment. Would Allan have gone after them, if she had been in a relationship? He had asked, hadn't he? And he had been going on about how purebloods and half-bloods couldn't be trusted...
She bared her teeth. Another reason why killing him had been the right thing to do. She'd not let anyone threaten her friends.
Her friends. Who wanted more than friendship. She didn't have time for a relationship. It was the simple truth. She was leading the Muggleborn Resistance in a war against the Dark Lord and the Ministry. She was already not getting enough sleep, and she would have to deal with the results of Allan's sudden absence as well as keeping the offensive going.
But, damn it, she wanted to feel loved and desired! Not just liked and appreciated. She took a deep breath. She was a smart girl, and she'd handle this rationally. Think the matter through carefully and thoroughly. Weigh the pros and cons of a … relationship. With either Ron or Harry. That was the plan, she told herself, pulling out a notepad and pen.
Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. Orphan. Not the best childhood. Brave. Almost stupidly so. Always willing to help anyone who needed it. Not always willing to let others help him, though she had cured him of that, or so she thought. Wore his heart on his sleeve, sometimes acted without thinking, and had a temper. And a tendency to brood as well. Utterly loyal, though loathe to take sides when friends had a row. More fragile than he appeared, and naive when it came to relationships - she remembered his crush on Cho. Very charming. Striking eyes. Quidditch mad.
Ron Weasley. Sixth son of seven children. Brave. Stupidly so - she remembered his sacrifice in first year. Sometimes didn't think things through before speaking. Or acting. Had a temper as well. And felt inadequate compared to his older brothers, and probably Harry. Jealous, though that had lessened a lot after fourth year. Not very experienced with girls - she remembered his attempt to ask Fleur for a date. Developing a very nice body, and cute freckles. Quidditch mad.
Listing those points hadn't helped. Her two best friends had more in common that she had thought, and it didn't seem that she'd be able to make a rational decision about whether or not to enter a relationship, and with whom. Drat.
It was just hormones, she told herself. Hers, and Ron's and Harry's. Perfectly natural, and it would pass as they all grew up and became adults. On the other hand, if it was just hormones, why hadn't they gone for prettier girls? She wasn't exactly stringing them along, was she?
Damn, she probably was. Odds were, the boys felt obligated to wait for her decision. Even if they might be interested in other girls now. Girls they could see each day, and meet in cupboards.
She frowned at that thought. She was jealous as well, she realised. Though she didn't know of whom. She could imagine herself with either of the two boys. Had done so, actually, in some lurid dreams at least.
Unbidden and unwanted she thought of Sirius's proposal again. A ménage à trois. It would avoid a number of problems. No favouring one boy over the other. No splitting up their group. Not seeing her best friends get heartbroken by some stupid witch who didn't appreciate them… she frowned again and shook her head. It wouldn't really work though. All of them were too young, too inexperienced. Too insecure. Too needy. Jealousy would crop up no matter what they did.
Hermione ground her teeth. She was a Gryffindor, she was supposed to be brave! And she was supposed to be smart. There was but one way to solve this mess. She'd have to go on a date with each of her friends, and see how that went!
Then she hunched her shoulders and rubbed her forehead. She was being silly. Emotions didn't work like that. But it was the best solution she could think of that wasn't running away from facing her feelings, and her friends.
It would have to be good enough.
*****
Hogwarts, November 7th, 1996
"Ron? Do you have a minute?"
Ron Weasley stopped writing his Potions essay and looked at his sister, who was standing next to his table in the Gryffindor common room. "Of course. What's up?"
"It's private," the witch said, in a lower voice.
Ron frowned, wondering what this was about, and drew his wand. She shook her head. "Let's talk somewhere else."
"Alright."
They moved to an empty classroom, and he cast several privacy spells while Ginny summoned two chairs and a desk.
"Thank you." His little sister sat down. She didn't speak up right away though. Another reason for concern. Had someone hurt her? He knew she could take care of herself - she had been training with the rest of them, after all - but what if some boy had broken her heart? Hadn't Zabini complimented her last week? If that slimeball...
"Ron?"
His thoughts of brutal revenge interrupted, he smiled apologetically at his sister. "Sorry. Go on."
Ginny huffed, but didn't comment on his absent-mindedness. "What's going on between you and Hermione?"
"What?"
Ginny glared at him. "Don't play dumb. I know you're meeting her regularly. You and Harry have been sneaking out of Hogwarts several times."
How did she… the map! Ron sighed. "That doesn't mean we're meeting with her."
His sister rolled her eyes. "Please! If you weren't meeting her, you'd be much more vocal about missing her." She made a dismissive gesture with her left hand. "I know you and Harry very well."
"Did you learn Occlumency?" Ron shot back.
"What? No. Why?" Ginny frowned when she understood what he meant and mumbled a few words mum would scourgify her mouth for under her breath.
"Language, Ginny," Ron said. He wasn't trying that hard to imitate Hermione, but judging by her glare, he managed well enough. He held up his hand in a placatory gesture. "Look… why are you interested in this hypothetical question anyway?" Did she want to help them? She was too young for that sort of thing!
"I've heard you turned Lavender down when she asked you out."
"Yes, I did." That had taken longer to spread than he had expected. Apparently, Lavender and Parvati were not quite as quick to spread gossip when it concerned them.
"And I haven't heard about you going out with any other witches." Ginny stared at him.
"So?" Ron asked, feeling slightly irked. She was his sister, not his mum.
"So, why would you turn Lavender down, unless you were already in a relationship? With a witch who's not at Hogwarts." She rolled her eyes before he could answer. "Yes, no Occlumency."
"There are a number of reasons. I might not like her." He ignored her snort and mumbled comment about Lavender's looks. "I might not have the time for a relationship." And that hit a bit too close to home.
"Or you might be pining for a witch who turned you down."
He ground his teeth. "What do you really want to know?"
For a moment, Ginny had that mulish expression he knew so well, then she sighed. "I want to know if Harry's with a witch who's not at Hogwarts."
That sounded like a nickname Hermione would hate even more than Harry hated the 'Boy-Who-Lived'-name, Ron thought. Then he focused on the question, and what it meant. "I thought you were over your crush."
"I am." Ginny raised her chin at his dubious expression. "That doesn't mean I'm not interested in him. He's a great guy. Much better than anyone else at Hogwarts."
Ron had to wince at hearing that.
Unfortunately, Ginny didn't miss his slip. She gasped. "You're… he's with her!"
"He's with no one," Ron said, before he could stop himself.
His sister looked confused. "What? Is she… are you both pining for a witch who's taken?"
"She's not taken." Ron closed his eyes, angry at his lapse. "The hypothetical witch, I mean."
"Merlin's balls!" Ginny shook her head. "So, what's going on between you three?"
"Nothing." Ron stared at her.
"Nothing?"
"Nothing." He almost spat that.
"So… Harry's single?"
"Was that what you wanted to ask me? Whether or not Harry was with… someone?" Why couldn't she simply have asked that? Or asked Harry?
"Not entirely. I also wanted to know if you were involved with 'someone'."
"Because if I am, he's not."
Ginny nodded. "So… do you think this is a good moment to ask him out? I don't want to, you know, catch him at a bad time."
"It's not a good time," Ron said. "We're kind of… waiting."
"Waiting? For what?"
"An answer."
"Oh." Ginny's mouth remained open for a moment. Then she blinked, and huffed. "Well, I hope she picks you."
"Even though Harry's much better than anyone else at Hogwarts?" Ron tried not to sound too sarcastic.
Ginny smiled a bit sheepishly. "You're my brother, I don't count you."
Ron snorted. He knew where he ranked. But he still hoped. He might be stupid, but he wouldn't give up. It was Hermione's decision, after all.
"Let's go back to the dorm," Ginny said. "Please tell me when, you know?"
"OK."
*****
London, East End, November 7th, 1996
Dinner at the Resistance's safe house was about to start when Seamus all but yelled: "Allan still hasn't returned!" He continued a bit more calmly. "I can't reach his phone either. Something must have happened to him!"
Hermione frowned. "Where did he go? And when?"
Seamus grimaced. "He went to see his girlfriend. Yesterday evening."
"You haven't seen him since then?" She didn't have to fake her anger. Not much at least. Seamus should have mentioned that earlier.
The Irish muggleborn had the grace to look ashamed. "I thought he had overslept, you know. With his bird."
"Let's call her then."
Seamus winced again. "Err…"
"You don't have her number?"
He shook his head.
"Her name?" She sighed at his expression. "He shacked up with a girl and didn't tell her name to anyone?"
Everyone denied it.
"Great." She took a deep breath. "Seamus, call his parents from somewhere other than London. If he's had a traffic accident, the police might have informed them. If he was carrying any form of ID."
Judging by the expressions on the other Resistance members' faces, the thought that Allan could have been in an accident hadn't occurred to them. Hermione hoped that this didn't mean they were careless on the street.
"What if he has been captured?" Dean asked.
"We'll move to a second safe house, at least temporarily. I trust our curse to protect us, but better safe than sorry." Almost too late she added. "If he's been arrested, we'll know. And we'll get him out."
"How?" John asked. "We didn't save Martin."
"We weren't ready back then. Things have changed. We have a good chance of springing someone from the Ministry," Hermione said.
"You mean, your friends have." Dean stared at her.
"Yes." She didn't deny it. As Allan had proved, it was better if the Resistance knew how much they needed her.
"What if Death Eaters got him?"
"There's not much we can do about that, other than avenge him. And hope they didn't take him alive," Hermione said, in the most serious tone she could manage.
"If that slut was a trap…" Seamus mumbled.
"Was that the first time he went to visit her?" Justin asked.
"No… he has been visiting her for some time, when we were out…" the other wizard cringed slightly.
Hermione would have muttered something nasty about not sticking with each other, but since she was often out by herself, she would have felt like a hypocrite. "It's unlikely that the girl was a trap then. Neither Death Eaters nor muggle criminals would have let him visit her several times before attacking him."
"They might have waited until he was letting down his guard," Dean cut in.
Hermione raised her eyebrow. "Do you think he was keeping his wand in hand and an eye on the door while he was shagging her?"
"He could have cast spells to protect himself," Dean stubbornly defended his idea.
"And suddenly stop casting them?" Hermione shook her head. "Doesn't sound like him."
"Love can make a bloke do stupid things," Seamus added.
Not just a bloke, Hermione thought, but she nodded. "Maybe. But still unlikely. Now let's eat quickly and prepare to move. Seamus, you're on lookout duty now."
The Irish muggleborn didn't argue - he must still be feeling guilty about covering for Allan, she thought, since he went up at once.
As she wolfed down her dinner, she felt quite annoyed that even after his death, Allan was still causing trouble for her.
*****
London, Diagon Alley, November 8th, 1996
Daphne Greengrass felt like she was walking into a cursed tomb as she made her way to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes past several mudholes. Tracey, walking at her side, wasn't looking that happy or confident either. Taking revenge for their murdered parents had seemed like a fine idea back then, but now…
"I don't like this," she whispered.
Tracey glanced at her. "We just have to act scared and let the twins console us. Make them think we need protection, and feel threatened."
"I don't have to act as if I'm scared," Daphne said. "I am scared." The mudholes were the best proof that the mudbloods could roam Diagon Alley as they wanted. Who knew when they'd hide a bomb, rather than create mudholes?
"All the better for our mission then," Tracey said. She ignored Daphne's glare.
They arrived at the shop. Daphne wasn't certain, but she thought the tingling sensation she felt when entering was stronger than last time. She ducked out of habit, but no item or spell tried to hit her.
"Mary! Cassandra!" One of the twins - Fred, since he was smiling widely - greeted them.
George, the other twin, nodded at them from the counter. He wasn't crafting items in the back room then.
"Have you seen our latest invention? Weirding Water!" Fred squeezed what looked like a globe in his hand, and a jet of water shot at Daphne, drenching her. Before she could do anything more than splutter in growing outrage, she was dry again.
"Instant dryness. Perfect to tease people," he added with a grin, handing her another globe. "It comes in a multitude of colours!"
Daphne smiled, took the globe, and used it on Fred. "I see," she said, with a smirk.
That even made George the Grump laugh. Or George the Gay, as Tracey liked to call him when they talked about the twins - she was certain he simply wasn't interested in witches to remain so … guarded ... towards them.
Another new product. Daphne wondered, not for the first time, how the twins found the time to create all those products. Maybe they were not involved in the war? Even so, they were blood traitors.
Which reminded her of her mission. Fred must have noticed her sudden mood change, since he asked: "What's wrong? Are there side effects? We did test them thoroughly, but…"
She shook her head. "No, no. I'm just… all this news about war and bombs scares me." That, and the knowledge of what the Dark Lord did to those who failed him. Even if technically, they had never joined him, but Draco instead.
"Oh!" Fred smiled. "You're safe here. Best wards you can buy. Or bother your brother into doing for you."
"Why would you be scared? Would anyone want to attack you?" George had stepped closer, and seemed a bit tense.
"We're half-bloods," Daphne said. "Raised completely in Wizarding Britain, but…" she sighed. "... that doesn't mean much these days."
Tracey nodded. "Yes."
"Oh." George nodded.
Fred slipped his arms around their shoulders. "The Death Eaters will get theirs, don't worry."
Daphne had to force herself to smile at that. Hopefully, he'd think she was so tense because she was afraid of the Death Eaters. And not of blood traitors.
*****
Hogwarts, November 8th, 1996
Harry Potter was sitting on his bed, looking at the communication mirror propped up by his pillow. Hermione would call soon. Ron, sitting next to him, snorted. "People will start talking if we're sharing a bed so often."
Harry raised his eyebrows at him. "They haven't so far."
"Well… still feels a bit weird. We're not twelve anymore." Ron shrugged.
"Nostalgia is a thing," Harry said.
"Pining for when you were a first year?" His friend shook his head.
"Life was simpler back then," Harry said, as seriously as he could, before chuckling.
Ron was about to retort when the mirror vibrated. Harry touched it, and Hermione's face appeared. "Harry, Ron."
"Hermione," the two chorused.
"How are you doing?" Hermione asked a bit too casually, Harry thought. She was twisting a lock of her hair, though as short as it was now, she lost her grip on it.
"We're training hard," Ron said. "And we've helped the Headmaster."
Their friend narrowed her eyes. "Oh?"
"We haven't left Hogwarts," Harry said quickly. "We searched the Chamber of Secrets." He didn't have to say what they had been searching.
"No need to ask what you've been doing," Ron said. "The Prophet was full of it."
Hermione nodded. She seemed a bit off, so Harry asked: "Did some of your friends get hurt?"
"One was knocked unconscious. He recovered though." She bit her lip. "I'll tell you more when we meet in person."
That sounded important to Harry. "When will that be?"
Hermione took a deep breath. "Well… you know…"
Harry exchanged a glance with Ron. When their best friend was stalling, then something was wrong. And Harry feared he knew what this was about.
"... I've been thinking about what you two said." She looked to the side, then stared at them. "And… " she sighed. "Alright. I want to go on a date with you. With each of you."
Harry blinked, surprised. He hadn't expected that.
"Blimey. Did you talk with Sirius?" Ron asked.
"What?" Hermione frowned. "Not like that! I mean… honestly, I thought about this, and I think the best way to find out if there is a potential for a relationship between us - between me and you, or me and you - is to go on a date. A romantic date. See how we do."
Harry exchanged a glance with Ron again. He wouldn't have expected that. And they had been talking about this situation, hadn't they?
Apparently, Hermione thought they were waiting for her to elaborate. "It's not as if the potential isn't there - I can imagine both of you, you know…" she trailed off, biting her lower lip again, "so, I do find you attractive, it's just… it would be unfair to pick one of you without at least having gone on a date with both of you."
"Alright," Harry said. "So… when would you like to go on those dates?"
"Next Friday and Saturday."
Of course she would have a schedule already. Harry smiled. "So, what have you planned for the dates?"
"Ah… nothing, actually. You can decide what we do."
Harry managed to not wince. That sounded like a test. A rather difficult test. He hadn't been on a real date so far, not a successful at least. "Great," he pressed out.
"Yes," Ron chimed in. "Great." He sounded, in Harry's opinion, about as sincere as Harry himself.
Hermione, though, looked relieved. "Good. So… tell me who goes Friday and who goes Saturday, and what I'll have to wear by Wednesday, alright?"
"Of course."
"Sure."
The witch smiled, and bid them good night. Once her image had vanished from the mirror, Harry turned to Ron. "You don't have any idea what you'll do either, do you?"
Ron shook his head.
"Great."
"Yes."
*****
Hogwarts, November 9th, 1996
"That was pathetic! I thought Black and Lupin trained you, did they teach you how to be a stationary target, or did you forget everything since then?"
Trying to train with a paranoid veteran Auror while worrying about a date a week from now wasn't a good idea. Ron Weasley was discovering that in a rather painful way as he slowly stood up after having been thrown a few yards into a wall by Moody's latest spell.
"I can dodge better than that, and without my peg leg, boy!"
Ron bent over, holding his stomach, and glanced at Harry, who was sitting next to the back wall, still recovering from his own 'training'. His friend hadn't fared any better.
"Preparing to double-team me? Nice thought, boy, but you'd need to be more subtle! I do have an eye covering my back!" Moody cackled, flicked his wrist, and a red spell shot at Ron.
He almost dodged it, and almost managed to cast a Shield Charm in time. The Stinging Hex hurt more than it should, Ron was certain. He didn't cry out though, but finished his Shield Charm.
It didn't help him that much, as it turned out, since he caught one of two Bludgeoning Curses next, which shattered his shield and pushed him back, stumbling. When a few more colorful hexes flew at him, Ron simply stopped trying to keep his balance and dropped, avoiding the volley.
That's when he discovered that someone had coated the stone below him with glue. Or transfigured it into glue. He was trying to get his wand arm free so he could finite it when the next Stinging Hex hit his forehead.
"And dead!" Moody shook his head. "Potter, you're up! Try to last long enough so your friend has enough time to free himself! And try to keep me busy enough that I can't hex him!" That was followed by another Stinging Hex.
Harry did his best, from what Ron could tell, but he still caught a few more hexes while he ripped his robe open and dispelled the glue. Which left him covered with dust. He was about to scourgify himself when Harry was hit by a series of spells and ended up upside and trussed up in conjured ropes.
This time, Ron was quick enough to dodge two spells, but got hit with a Full Body-Bind Curse when he tried to get Harry free.
"I should leave you two like this until you figure out how to dispel that without moving your wand, but Albus wouldn't like that." Moody shook his head. "I see that we've got a long way to go." He grinned, which was a rather frightful sight with his mutilated nose and spinning eye, in Ron's opinion. "But don't worry, I'll be behind you, hexing you all the way to motivate you."
Ron groaned while Harry muttered a few curses, and the old Auror cackled again, before freeing them. "At least you're trying to work together," Moody added almost as an afterthought. "That's a good thing - too many Hit-Wizards, and even Aurors, try to duel enemies as if this was a match." He left the room Dumbledore had provided for them.
Ron rolled on his back, and turned his head towards Harry. "We'll have to get him next time."
Harry, still on his stomach, nodded. "I'll ask Sirius for help."
That reminded Ron that he needed to write to Bill. A wizard who had a Veela girlfriend would know how to treat a witch on a date, wouldn't he?
*****
Hogwarts, November 10th, 1996
Albus Dumbledore frowned as he read the latest report from Severus. He had to replenish quite a few ingredients - all of them needed for quite a specific potion. All of them listed prominently together. Delivered with a remark that 'even out of school, some students continue to cause trouble' for the Potions master.
He shook his head. Severus could have simply told him directly that Mister Malfoy was demanding, and therefore using, Polyjuice extensively. It wasn't exactly subtle either, and he would only be able deny such a report in the most basic Veritaserum interrogation. Which told Albus that Severus had other reasons for being so oblique. Reasons to be found in his character.
His spy was a very complex man. Ridden with guilt, filled with hatred, his cruelty barely held in check by his cunning and pride, he was brave - or suicidal - enough to serve as a spy against Voldemort, knowing that one misstep would doom him. All because he hated Tom more than anyone else in the world.
Albus had no illusions - Severus wouldn't really mind if most of the Order died, as long as Voldemort and his followers shared their fate. But he was smart enough, even without being aware of how the rest of the Order was doing, to know that at this point, Albus couldn't afford to lose any allies. Which meant Mister Malfoy was either acting directly on Tom's orders, or the young Death Eater had a dangerous plan.
The Headmaster sighed. He had hoped he wouldn't have to do this. Wouldn't have to risk the goblins' ire at such a critical moment. No matter how misplaced their ire would be - Nicolas and Albus had been trying to reverse-engineer the Thief's Downfall, back in the day, but they had never managed to completely duplicate it. Hadn't really tried that much either - working with dragon blood had proven to be more interesting, offering new discoveries instead of copying the work of others.
What they had come up with was able to strip people of disillusionment spells and other magical disguises. Useful, but given alternatives at least to counter disillusioned enemies, not worth risking more trouble with the goblins.
Now though, circumstances had changed. Both regarding the need to use this discovery, as well as the opportunity to disguise its origin, should it become public.
Messrs Weasley had developed quite the reputation as very creative potioneers, after all. It would not be that unusual if one of their products might briefly affect a target with some harmless effect, and accidentally counter the effect of Polyjuice…
Albus summoned one of his old notebooks, copied a few pages, and then went to his fireplace to arrange a meeting.
*****
London, East End, November 10th, 1996
"I've done it!" John announced, standing in the door to Hermione Granger's room in the Resistance's temporary headquarters. His smile was unusual - after Allan's disappearance, and continuing absence, the mood had been more than a bit sombre. Seamus and Dean had been particularly different. Hermione Granger had even started to miss their - often loud - talks and boasts.
She shifted in her seat and turned to the former Ravenclaw. There was one major thing he had been working on, for a month now. "Did you manage to duplicate the charms used to broadcast on the Wizarding Wireless?"
John nodded. "I did! We can broadcast now!"
"How portable is the setup?" Hermione had been looking into pirate radios for a bit. The Resistance couldn't set up permanently on abandoned platforms in the North Sea or the Channel, but they could use other tactics.
John shrugged. "The broadcasting crystal and the other parts are not that big. Takes a bit to set up properly, but it all can be shrunk."
"Can it be tracked when broadcasting?" When they had interrogated him, Cory Briston hadn't known if that was possible - apparently, it hadn't been tried or needed so far. But they couldn't afford to ignore that possibility.
"I have a few ideas that could work, but I haven't focused on tracking the signal," John said.
She nodded. "We'll have to assume the Ministry will track us then. Maybe turn the broadcasting crystal into a trap. Or use expendable ones." She saw him wince. "Too expensive?"
"Enchanting the crystal is hard and takes a long time."
Hermione nodded. "Well, I think we should install it in a van then."
John blinked. "That will make tracking it harder, but who among us can drive? And if we're found, getting away will be hard while limited to the streets."
Hermione grinned. "It'll be a flying invisible van." She knew two people who managed that feat. One of them even made an invisible flying car.
"Oh!" John smiled widely. "Cool!"
"We'll have to prepare our first broadcast. Advertise it too. Leaflets. Maybe the Prophet will pick it up."
"Or The Quibbler," John added.
"The Quibbler?" Hermione dimly recalled having heard of a magazine with that name, at the Weasleys. Mrs Weasley had not been fond of it.
"It's a magazine dealing with, well, mythical animals. Undiscovered magical animals. Made up for the biggest part." John shrugged. "And stories about how Fudge turns goblins into meat pies. The daughter of the editor is in Ravenclaw. Luna Lovegood, a strange girl. But I've heard that a number of people like the magazine because it's funny."
"Ah." Hermione Granger wasn't quite ready to dismiss any mythical animal as pure myth - until she had turned 11, she had 'known' unicorns and dragons didn't exist, after all - but the story about Fudge eating goblins sounded like something out of a satire magazine. Her eyes widened. If that was satire, then that would be a good way to distribute propaganda disguised as satire! "Thank you. I'll look into it." She stood up. "Let's get busy with the broadcast."
It would also be a good way to occupy the Resistance until they had another target.
*****
Devon, Ottery St. Catchpole, November 10th, 1996
Albus Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace in the Burrow with a smile on his face. He was very fond of the Weasleys. They were a big family, not rich, but always generous, and all of them very brave. Ideal Gryffindors, in short, if Albus permitted himself to think so fondly of his own house.
"Albus! You're early! Have you eaten yet? We're just about to start!" Molly exclaimed.
The witch was already waving him to join her and Arthur in the kitchen before the Headmaster could answer. He hadn't exactly been early, but Molly didn't think anyone but her cooked proper meals, and this gave her an excuse to feed him. Not that he minded - he didn't know many cooks that measured up to her, and none of them were found in Wizarding Britain.
Arthur as well as young William and Charlie rose to greet him warmly. "Fred and George claim they are too busy at work," Molly explained, with a frown and a glance at Albus.
He nodded slightly. They were busy because of him, after all. Molly sighed - she understood the need for secrecy, but didn't like it. Understandable, given her past.
The meal was delicious, and Albus enjoyed the small-talk, mostly centered on William's relationship with Miss Delacour, and the young man's refusal to 'set a date', even though it also made him sad - his own family had, for all intents and purposes, been gone for decades. But to show that would have been both impolite and thoughtless. In these trying times, everyone needed to enjoy what happiness they could find, and not have it ruined by an old man's regrets.
After dessert though, Albus addressed the reason he had visited. He didn't like it, but he had to do it. He cleared his throat, and the others at the table fell silent. Molly even flinched.
"I've some unfortunate news," he began. "The Dark Lord is finishing his preparations, and going on the offensive. I expect that he will be targeting those who oppose him in the Wizengamot and the Ministry first, since he has trouble finding the muggleborns."
Arthur nodded. He would know what was coming - the man had fought in the last war, after all. And had repaired the Burrow afterwards. William and Charlie looked serious, but confused since Molly was already sniffling.
"I fear that staying in your home will be too dangerous, given your prominent position on certain policies of the Ministry, and your past history with the late Mister Malfoy."
As expected, the two young men wanted to fight, unwilling to abandon their home. William made a passionate plea to trust his wards. Charlie supported him. But Molly wouldn't let them risk their lives. Not for a house that could be rebuilt.
While she dealt with her children's opposition, Albus exchanged a look with Arthur, and excused himself. He had other Order members to visit still.
*****
London, Ministry of Magic, November 11th, 1996
Brenda Brocktuckle, standing with her arms crossed, studied the two Aurors that had entered Amelia Bones's office, Daniel Rickett and Doris Purvis. Both Hufflepuffs, both half-bloods. Both rather young. Both fit what she was looking for. Brenda hadn't found any sign that they were disloyal to the Ministry, but she hadn't been able to use Veritaserum.
"Please have a seat, Aurors." Bones pointed at two chairs in front of her desk.
Rickett and Purvis sat down, the witch glancing at Brenda, Martin and Parkinson, who were standing to the side.
"You've been called to my office because there's an important undercover mission that you qualify for. If you accept the mission, you will be discharged from the Auror Corps for harbouring sympathies for muggleborns. Death Eaters will consider you blood traitors, and may come after you. Your friends, your families will believe you are traitors. They cannot be told the truth, or all of you would be at risk. Your goal will be to gain the trust of the Muggleborn Resistance, and in order to achieve that, you will support muggleborn criminals, going as far as saving them from Ministry. You will even have to fight Aurors and Hit-Wizards, but you will not kill them." Bones stared at the two. "You've been chosen for this mission because you are familiar with muggleborns, and therefore not unlikely to be sympathetic, even if you're not too familiar with the muggle world."
Brenda knew that the not-killing part was a risk, but even mudbloods should understand that the two would not want to kill former colleagues, so it was just a slight one.
Rickett glanced at Purvis, then spoke up: "Can we think about this?"
Bones shook her head. "Once you leave this office, you will either be on the mission, or you'll have been obliviated."
The two Aurors glanced around, and Brenda grinned and lifted her left arm, showing that her wand was already drawn. She had obliviated two groups thus far, after all.
Purvis leaned over to Rickett and whispered in his ear. He nodded, and then whispered back.
Brenda tensed. If they tried something...
The two younger Aurors kept whispering for a few minutes. Martin was fidgeting, and Parkinson was scowling. Only Bones seemed unaffected, studying some reports on her desk. Brenda studied the expressions of the two Aurors. They seemed to be arguing with each other, with Purvis winning.
Finally, the couple stopped whispering, and Rickett addressed the Head of the DMLE: "Ma'am, we're volunteering." His partner nodded.
Bones smiled. "I'm glad to see that Hufflepuffs do not shirk away from dangerous work." Then she fixed them with a glare and pulled out a vial. "I don't like to do this, but we have to be certain of your loyalty."
Neither Purvis nor Rickett glanced back at the wands that were now aimed at them. Brenda hoped that meant they were aware of that, and had enough self-control not to check. If they were oblivious then this would not end well.
But, she told herself, they knew the risks.
*****
Kent, Sevenoaks, November 11th, 1996
Albus Dumbledore spotted Kingsley as soon as the man entered the small pub. He even saw the Auror's eyes widen when he noticed Albus. His friend grabbed a pint at the bar, and then made his way past the evening crowd to the table.
"I don't think I have ever seen you in a muggle suit," Kingsley said, once inside the area of Albus's privacy spells.
The Headmaster smiled. "While I like colorful robes, I do know how to dress to fit into the muggle world."
"Barely. That kind of style went out of fashion in the 40s."
Albus made a mental note that he had to update his muggle clothes - again. If only it was still the 70s… "Thank you for coming, Kingsley."
"If you want to meet me in such a place, it must be important."
"It is." Albus took a sip from his own ale. "You're aware of how the Ministry and especially the Wizengamot is shifting towards the Dark Lord."
"Even on my posting, I'm not entirely out of the loop," the Auror confirmed. "No matter what the muggle press may write about No. 10 Downing Street."
Albus chuckled, but quickly lost his mirth again. "Things are bad. If they continue unchecked, I expect the Ministry to be under the Dark Lord's control in a month or two."
Kingsley stared at him. "I didn't think it was that grave."
"It is." Albus took another sip from his pint.
"You need me in the Ministry then," the Auror stated.
"Yes. Though it'll be very dangerous."
Kingsley simply nodded.
Albus hadn't expected another reaction. "I need you to lead the task force hunting the Death Eaters. John Dawlish took over the hunt for the Muggleborn Resistance, leaving his former group leaderless. His second in command is not exactly suited to lead it." And was afraid of the Death Eaters.
The other wizard snorted. Dawlish was quite well-known in the Corps. "What exactly do you want me to do?"
"I need you to antagonise the Death Eaters. I need them to lash out at the Ministry, and show their true colours before more of our esteemed members of the Wizengamot fall for the Dark Lord's lies." Albus put his glass down.
"They would focus on my team first and foremost. And we'll have to expect sabotage from within the Ministry as well."
The Headmaster nodded. "It is a very dangerous task I am asking you to undertake."
"Who will be my replacement?" Kingsley emptied his glass and put it down a touch too hard.
"Percival Weasley."
Again the man's eyes widened. "I would have thought he'd be more useful in the Ministry."
"We need a trusted liaison to the Prime Minister. Mister Weasley has done what he could to build his reputation as a man who has broken with his family for his career, but many of the more conservative Ministry employees still see him as his father's son." And Molly had asked Albus quite forcefully to keep her wayward son safe.
"You've been playing a long game then." Kingsley sounded impressed.
Albus nodded. There was no need to tell his friend exactly when Percival had joined the Order. "So, will you do it?"
His friend nodded. "Better me than someone else. I'll need some support in getting competent people. And some expendable curse fodder, maybe."
"I'll do what I can, though my influence on Amelia has waned lately."
Kingsley snorted. "I wonder why."
Albus ordered two more pints. "She has not changed since the last war."
The Auror shook his head. "I'd almost admire her for her principles. If they were not about to lose us the war."
"If she had a bit more of Cornelius's character, and Cornelius a bit more of hers…" Albus trailed off as the waitress approached with their order.
"Imagine if they had kids together," Kingsley said, grinning.
Albus chuckled, but as he raised his glass to his friend, he hoped that he had not just sent the Auror to his death.
*****
Last edited:
Beyogi
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2014
- Messages
- 953
Pff... I'd say we've got a 90% chance of Kingsley being AK'ed. And Dumbledore knows as well.
So the plan to subvert the Muggleborn resistance is a go. Dumbledore has learned of the polyjuice and wants the twins to discover a counter. I just hope they'll finish it in time to figure out that they're being set up. But they might end up dead. Malfoy's plan to kill them is a good one.
Meanwhile Hermione got her cell back under her control and is setting up Propaganda operations.
And Dumbledore estimates there's only a month until the civil war breaks out for real. The undercover aurors might very well be forced to join the Muggleborn resistance for real when Voldemort takes over the ministry and puts a price on their heads.
Not sure how I feel about the relationship drama. I mean it's kinda interesting in theory, but I honestly care more about the blood war.
Wolfman217
Getting sticky.
- Joined
- Jul 26, 2015
- Messages
- 57
I agree, I like it, and a love triangle between Ron, Hermione, and Harry is surprisingly rare in fanfiction, but considering this is a far more serious approach to the Blood War it's very out of place. Yes they're teenagers but at least Hermione should be mature enough to realize that relationship drama can have a very negative effect on a war effort.
Plus, like Beyogi said, the War is just a lot more interesting than relationship angst.
turbinicarpus
Formerly 'Pahan'
- Joined
- Mar 22, 2015
- Messages
- 200
Wait, wait, don't tell me! Human cloning?
It's easy:
- Murder someone to split soul, but make a homunculus into a horcrux.
- Perform the Bone of the Mother (an early hip replacement) / Blood of the Enemy (Allan?) / Flesh of a Servant (thanks, Justin!) ritual on the homunculus.
Ron has low self-esteem.
Sure, he fit right in clothes-wise, but people kept trying to get high on his lemon drops.
Beyogi
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2014
- Messages
- 953
I think Hermione will be able to do this without splitting her soul. I mean probably not during the war, but there should be ways to link up a soul with more bodies than one.
turbinicarpus
Formerly 'Pahan'
- Joined
- Mar 22, 2015
- Messages
- 200
Perhaps; I'm just trying to get it done with the known methodology.
Beyogi
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2014
- Messages
- 953
The issue here is that thte known methodology has complications that are quite frankly not worth it. Horcruxes are also not really connected to the original, so there's a good chance they wouldn't even get a soul bond of sorts. Just two seperate instances of Hermione. I mean Voldy-wraith had no idea of what happened to Voldy-diary. And Voldy-homunculus didn't realize they had offed his Horcruxes to the very end.
I always got the impression the only reason that horcruxes worked in the first place was that only a full soul could enter the afterlife. A wraith couldn't because half or more of its soul was missing. There's actually a chance that Voldemort's soul just recombined after his horcruxes got destroyed.
Either way a horcrux is not a phylactery and if I was Hermione I wouldn't even consider this kind of thing before I put a lot of research into what souls are, how they work and what they actually do for you.
Sorain
Know what you're doing yet?
- Joined
- Aug 18, 2015
- Messages
- 123
I suspect their relationship issues will end up shoved into the background by the war effort for a while.
That said, I think it makes a nice bit of small scale intrapersonal drama to provide some flavor along with our main course of delicious sociopolitical and military drama. Starfox5 clearly has the scale of plot threads in hand here, so it's not likely to become a romantic plot tumor. I look forward to seeing more of this as it goes along, very glad I found it.
Chapter 16: First Forays
Starfox5
Experienced.
- Joined
- Feb 5, 2015
- Messages
- 4,010
Chapter 16: First Forays
'Even in hindsight, it is easy to assume that the kidnapping and killing of Petra Rowle and her husband on November 1st, 1996 was the event that caused the, up to then, most violent Death Eater attacks in the Second Blood War. I do not share this assumption. Careful analysis of the conflict shows that it wasn't the death of Rowle, who was revealed as a marked Death Eater at the same time, but the actions of the Ministry following that event that caused the Dark Lord to launch his attacks.
At that point he had already completed the build-up of his forces and could take the offensive. Some historians even maintain that he was forced to send his followers out, because he was running the danger of them acting of their own volition. I once more disagree. The Dark Lord was known to maintain iron discipline among his followers; the notion that he would be in danger of losing control of his forces is not very plausible.'
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn
Hogwarts, November 12th, 1996
"Sir?" Harry Potter asked, standing at the door to Dumbledore's office. The gargoyle had let him pass, but it was just polite to ask in person before actually entering the office of the Headmaster.
"Come in, Harry." The old wizard waved at him. "I've informed Minerva that you're receiving another special lesson."
"Thank you, sir." Harry did feel a bit guilty about skipping lessons. Not even telling himself that he would make it up later helped much. The Headmaster was covering for his absences so he could help Hermione and prepare for the search for Voldemort's Horcruxes. Harry just wasn't certain his current trip would be covered by either reason. Even though technically, it was to help Hermione.
"Please send Sirius my regards. And enjoy your visit. Family is important."
Harry nodded and headed to the Floo connection. Judging by the smile on the Headmaster's face, Dumbledore had seen through Harry's excuse, but condoned his trip anyway. Even though Harry didn't know exactly why.
A minute later he set foot into No. 12 Grimmauld Place. So to speak - both of his feet touched the floor. Sadly, so did his buttocks. And Sirius was chuckling while that nasty little creature in the corner was mumbling something about clumsy half-bloods. One of these days he had to get Hermione to tell him how she had managed to make Kreacher behave; neither his friend nor his godfather had told him.
"And hello to you, Sirius," he mumbled, getting up and dusting himself off.
"Hello, Harry. Once we have the time, we'll need to teach you how to use the Floo without falling down." Sirius chuckled, then rubbed his chin. "On the other hand, you'll have a better chance at avoiding an ambush that way." His grin showed clearly that he wasn't talking seriously.
"Says the wizard who could probably travel through the Floo network before he could walk."
"Technically, you travelled through the Floo network before you could walk as well," Sirius said. And winced right afterwards.
Harry nodded. Talking about his parents and early childhood was a touchy subject. Neither Sirius nor he knew what would set the other off.
"So… come, sit down. You said you needed my help, and Dumbledore let you skip classes, so it must be something serious." His godfather opened the door to the living room and gestured at the couch. "Kreacher! Get us some tea!"
Harry sat down, again feeling guilty. His godfather probably had more important things to do, things to support the Order, than listen to him.
"So, Harry… spill!" Sirius sat down on the seat opposite Harry and leaned forward. "How can I help you?"
Harry took a deep breath. "I need some advice."
"Oh? About girls, I hope?" Sirius grinned widely.
"I've got a date this weekend." Harry noticed Sirius looked briefly surprised, before his grin widened further. "And I've no idea how to…"
"... show a girl a good time?" Sirius cut in. "You've come to the right person! I will gladly share my vast experience with you!"
"It's Hermione. She's dating me on Friday, then Ron on Saturday. And she expects us to plan the dates." Harry quickly said.
"Hm." Sirius rubbed his chin again. "I have underestimated the girl. It seems she has taken my advice to heart, if in an unexpected way."
"What?" Hermione had asked Sirius for advice?
"Ah… I told her to consider a ménage-à-trois. It seems she has decided to give it a try." Sirius beamed. "A girl after my own heart."
Harry blinked. "Ron and I think this is a test for us so she can pick the better, more compatible man."
"Oh." Sirius frowned. "I guess that could be possible as well. Seems rather cold though."
Harry had second thoughts about asking Sirius for advice, but he couldn't back out right then. "So… I need to plan a date. For Hermione."
"Well, you can't go wrong with the classics. Dinner, a movie, some dancing, and then you take her home for a shag." Sirius blinked before Harry could yell at him. "Wait. It's Hermione. Scratch the movie, she'd prefer a play I think. Brainy birds usually do."
"I think it's the 'shagging' I should scratch," Harry said through clenched teeth. He was no expert - far from it - but he was very, very certain that Hermione wasn't the kind of girl to have sex on a first date. And he was also certain that his own lack of experience wouldn't help even if she was that kind of girl.
"No shagging? What happened to 'make love, not war'?" Sirius asked.
"The 80s." Harry was so not asking why Sirius thought the Hippie movement was still in fashion.
"Oh." His godfather didn't seem to be impressed by his mistake. "Anyway, since she's Wizarding Britain's most wanted witch, you'll have to stay in muggle Britain for the date. Though since she's a muggleborn girl, that won't be a drawback for you. You have to look your best. Dress smartly. Pick an expensive restaurant for dinner. Not one of those muggle things were you fetch your own food. Hire one of those long black cars to drive you around. Pick the most famous club in London. Bribe the club bouncer so he'll let you cut the line. Be generous, show you've got the gold. Birds like a wealthy man."
"Hermione isn't like that!" Harry glared at his godfather. "She doesn't care about gold!" Or she'd have picked him right away - he certainly had more money than Ron.
"She's a practical girl, thinking ahead. Having money makes for a better life than lacking money." Sirius nodded at his own words.
Harry closed his eyes for a moment. "She already knows that I have money. I don't need to show her that."
"But you need to show her that you think she is worth it. That you'll make an effort to impress her," Sirius said. "All girls like to feel wanted, desired, and hate to be taken for granted. Save that for after the marriage."
Harry dug his fingers into his thighs. "She wouldn't be impressed by me flashing gold around. She would be impressed if I show that I understand her. Know what she likes, and…" he blinked. "I need The Times."
Sirius pulled out his watch.
"No, the muggle newspaper," Harry corrected him. "I need to find out if there's a good play in a theatre in London!"
Hogsmeade, November 12th, 1996
Ron Weasley was certain his brothers, especially the twins, would be proud of him. Here he was, cutting classes and sneaking out of school, for a witch. Well, to prepare for a date with a witch. Which, he was rather certain, added up to the same. There was not much of a chance of meeting another student, and he doubted the teachers visited this part of Hogsmeade, but he was still carefully looking around while he made his way through the outskirts of the village. He wished he had asked Harry for the invisibility cloak, but it would have been a tad… well, asking Harry to help so Ron could impress Hermione on his date felt wrong. Both of them should probably learn the Disillusionment Charm soon though - they couldn't rely on that cloak forever. Hell, he had just sounded like Hermione in his head.
He was still grinning at that when he entered the Hog's Head Inn. He had been there before, on a Hogsmeade weekend, on a dare. The most ill-reputed inn in the village. Maybe Britain, outside Knockturn Alley. Just about every student from Gryffindor visited it once in their third year. It was, as Hermione had called it once, a rite of passage.
The owner was the brother of the Headmaster, and as gruff as they came. More importantly though, he didn't care who he served, as long as they didn't annoy the other guests. Which made it perfect for a meeting.
"Hey!"
He turned his head. There he was. Bill. Former headboy. Former Quidditch House Team player. Curse-Breaker. And fiancé to a French witch who also happened to be a Veela and a champion of the Triwizard Tournament. If anyone knew about girls and how to treat them well, it was Ron's oldest brother.
He walked to the table in the corner Bill was sitting at - in a very cool pose, one boot propped up on the bench - and sat down. "Hi, Bill."
"Hi, Ron." Bill pushed a butterbeer towards him.
"Thanks." Ron didn't know if that was Bill being nice, or a subtle way of showing him that real beer and stronger stuff was not going to happen on his watch. He didn't care either - he was here for help, not alcohol. And the butterbeer was probably the safest drink in the inn, seeing as it came in unopened bottles. He cast a privacy spell, ignoring the way Bill smirked at seeing it. Ron wasn't just concerned about being embarrassed.
"So… you asked to meet me so I could give you advice," Bill said. He sounded amused, but in that friendly way. Unlike Percy or the twins if they had been in his place.
Ron took a deep breath. "Yes. This Saturday, I have a date." He wished Bill wouldn't look quite that surprised.
Ron's expression must have betrayed his thoughts, since Bill held one hand up. "Sorry… I was expecting you to need advice in how to ask a witch out. But I see you're already past that." Ron's brother grinned. "Gryffindor courage, right?"
Ron pondered how much he could tell Bill. He couldn't tell him it was Hermione. She was still a wanted witch - the most wanted, apart from Bellatrix Lestrange. Or, judging by what dad had said, even counting Bellatrix. But Bill had to know a bit more to understand Ron's situation. He sighed. "She asked me on a date." Well, Hermione had told him she'd date him, but given the situation, and for Hermione, that was asking.
"Ah!" Bill grinned. "She must really like you then, for her to ask you out."
Ron coughed. "She wants to go on a date to see if she should go out with me, or this other bloke. We're both interested in her."
"Oh." Bill frowned. "That sounds… "
"Yes?"
"Don't take this wrong, Ron, but that doesn't sound like a nice witch." Bill shook his head.
"What?" Ron glared at him. "She's the nicest witch I know!"
"Calm down! I just meant…" Bill frowned. "Look, what would you do if Ginny wanted to date a wizard, and he said he'll date her and another witch, to find out who he likes more?"
"Ginny would hex him into a puddle!" Ron said at once. When he saw Bill nod, he groaned. "It's not like that. Look - we both asked her out. Sort of."
Bill blinked. "Who's we?"
Ron ground his teeth. Another lapse. In for a knut, in for a galleon - at least he could trust Bill. "Harry and I told her that we like her."
"Not together I hope!" Bill grinned, but he looked a bit incredulous.
Ron didn't say anything.
"Wow. Alright, that is original." Bill was still shaking his head.
"How those dates were arranged doesn't really matter. What matters is that I need to make the best impression I can." Ron grimaced. "You know Harry. He attracts witches without trying." He almost mentioned Ginny, but she would hex him into a puddle if he blabbed to Bill about her love life.
"Yes. That bloke has all the charm and luck," Bill said.
Ron didn't quite glare at him - he knew that as well, but there was no point in saying it that directly. "So, what can I do?"
Bill took a sip from his own beer - not a butterbeer, Ron noticed - before answering. "Well, you have to consider your own qualities. Don't try to copy Harry."
"I can't. We're not telling each other what we're planning," Ron cut in.
"I didn't mean it like that. I mean, don't try to act like Harry. Play to your strengths." Bill took another sip.
"Are you telling me to just be myself?" Ron asked, with narrowed eyes.
Bill grinned. "Basically, yes. I know you're feeling a bit overshadowed at times, but you're doing good. And the witches will be seeing that as well."
Ron thought of Lavender. He didn't want to mention her, but she had asked him out, hadn't she? Not Harry. "I guess so."
"Hey, witches don't all care about fame or money. The good ones don't. If you have confidence in yourself, then you'll be attractive to witches too."
Ron wasn't exactly feeling that confident right now, but he nodded. He could fake it.
"But don't try to play a role. That only works if you love them and leave them, before they realise you're not what you appeared to be. And even so, you'll have a reputation after a while. Not a good one."
So he couldn't fake it, Ron thought.
"Witches like if you care about them. If you make an effort. Find out what she likes, so you know what you can talk about. But try to find things you both like to talk about."
That would be a problem, Ron thought. He and Hermione didn't share that many interests.
"And, make sure you're having fun on the date. If it's not fun for you, it won't last. Did you think where you'll go? Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley?"
Ron shook his head. "Muggle London. Safer."
"Oh! Nice idea. You can impress her with your knowledge then. Maybe ask Dad for some advice about muggle dates."
Ron winced.
Bill frowned. "I know what people say about dad, but he deals with muggles a lot in his work. He does know his stuff."
"It's not that," Ron said. "I just don't think I know more about muggles than she does." Bill's eyes widened, and Ron knew he had made another mistake. "Don't tell anyone," he growled.
"I won't. Promise." Bill looked serious, to Ron's relief.
"But I can only tell you this then: Be yourself. Make an effort, but don't put on an act. She knows you, after all. And witches hate being lied to. Almost more than anything else."
Ron sighed, and leaned back. "I had hoped for something more concrete." Not quite 'Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches' - Hermione would kill him if he tried such a stunt - but… something.
"Well… she's been to France, hasn't she?"
Ron nodded. Hermione spoke French.
Bill grinned. "There's this restaurant Fleur swears has the best cook this side of the Channel. And there's this club with live bands."
Now this was why Ron had asked Bill for advice!
Knockturn Alley, November 14th, 1996
"Should we be here?"
Brenda Brocktuckle glanced at her partner. Martin had asked that question twice so far. "It's an important operation. I owe it to them to at least be ready to intervene if things go wrong." And it was her important operation. And woe betide them if Rickett and Purvis blew it.
"Dawlish couldn't mess this up if he tried. If there's one thing he's good at, it's failing," Parkinson said.
All three of them were standing in the upper part of Knockturn Alley, near the exit to Diagon Alley, polyjuiced. Brenda had handed over her case, including the leverage on Mills, and Bones had put the pressure on Dawlish to arrest suspects. A little hint about the muggleborns hiding in that alley being behind the mudholes, and Dawlish was off to arrest them. Or to try to arrest them and fail, if Rickett and Puvis did what they were supposed to do. Which they had better do, if they knew what was good for them.
Martin didn't look too convinced. "It's time," he said, checking his watch.
As expected, Dawlish did things by the book. A book written for places that weren't Knockturn Alley. Six Aurors entered the alley with Dawlish in the center of their formation. The regulars of the alley knew what that meant, and started to react at once. Those who had reasons to fear the law more than others disappeared - Brenda even heard the popping sounds of Apparition - while others moved out of the way. The three disguised Aurors did the same, moving to the entrance of a side alley. Brenda spotted a reporter for the Daily Prophet hiding in the alley opposite them, and grinned. Tipping the newspaper off had ensured that everyone would hear about this.
Brenda spotted something moving in the dark shadows behind them. "Watch our backs," she whispered to Martin while she watched the Aurors walk past. Those who had experience in the alley looked nervous or angry, but Dawlish was smiling. The fool hadn't done any patrols here in years, and had apparently forgotten what things were like here. All the better for her operation, Brenda thought with a smile.
She knew the names and addresses Dawlish was going after, and if he was doing it by the book, he'd go after the one closest to the entrance to the Alley first. Bertram Bennington. Mills had told her that the old muggleborn had no family left, and hadn't left Wizarding Britain for decades, which explained why he hadn't fled yet. The fool had needed to be persuaded to leave even when told that the Aurors were coming for him. Brenda shook her head at the stupidity of mudbloods who wanted to follow the law exactly when they shouldn't.
At least Dawlish was acting according to the plan, even if he didn't know about it. He sent two Aurors, Meryn and Fleawater, up the small stairway next to a second-hand clothing shop that led to Bennington's room. They pounded on the door. "DMLE! Open the door!"
Brenda winced. She knew what was coming, and didn't like it, even if it was needed. Everyone knew the mudbloods showed no mercy, and wouldn't trust someone who was too soft.
The door exploded outward, blowing the two Aurors off the stairs and into the wall opposite it. They hit it, and then fell down the three yards into the alley. Neither screamed, so hopefully they were unconscious already.
Dawlish froze for a moment, as did two of his remaining Aurors. The other two were already casting Shield Charms before aiming their wands up the stairs and moving to take cover.
Unfortunately, Rickett and Purvis knew how Aurors trained and worked. They were going out through the windows, disillusioned and on their brooms. Bludgeoning Curses hit Dawlish and one of the other Aurors, bowling them over before they managed to finish casting Shield Charms of their own. Dawlish struggled to get up, and was hit by a stunner while a Reductor Curse drove the three Aurors who were still standing into cover.
They would be casting Human-presence-revealing spells now, which they should have cast before entering the Alley even. But with Dawlish out, and three others of their number down, they'd be thinking about escaping, not retaliating. As planned.
A few more Reductor Curses hit the ground, blowing small craters into the pavement. Close enough to shower the Aurors with splinters, but not close enough to seriously threaten them behind their Shield Charms.
Suddenly, a loud voice rang out through the entire Alley: "The Ministry has betrayed the people for the last time! We, the Avengers, will not let you kidnap Bennington or anyone else! Muggleborns, half-bloods, purebloods! Unite and throw off the yoke of the Ministry! Flee and hide!"
Purvis was getting into this, Brenda noted. It sounded very convincing.
"We'll return when we are needed anew!" the undercover Auror shouted.
A few curses flew through the air, but hit no one - Rickett and Purvis would have flown away already. On the ground, Brenda saw flashes, and almost drew her wand - but it was just a man taking pictures of Dawlish, down and stunned.
That just made Brenda's smile grow wider. Everything was going according to plan.
Ministry of Magic, November 15th, 1996
Albus Dumbledore acted surprised when he left the chamber of the Wizengamot and saw Kingsley leading a squad of Aurors through the hallway outside, even though he had known about this in advance. The wizards and witches milling around outside the chamber parted to let the group pass, and more than a few looked more worried than puzzled. Albus took note of those.
"Terrance Avery!" Kingsley stated, pointing his wand at a younger wizard who was talking to the esteemed member of the Wizengamot Bilius Runcorn. "You're under arrest!"
The rest of Kingsley's squad had their wands out as well, probably not needed here, but better safe than sorry. Not that Albus would stay out of any fight, should one happen.
While Avery blinked, looking more surprised than shocked, Runcorn was already stepping in front of Kingsley. "What is this? What are you doing? This is the Wizengamot!"
KIngsley faced the old wizard while two of his Aurors - Nymphadora among them, Albus saw - moved to the side and covered Avery with their wands.
"We've found proof that Mister Avery has been working for the Dark Lord," Kingsley said in a calm tone.
"This is ridiculous!" Runcorn gasped. "I vouch for him!"
"Of course you will vouch for him, Mister Runcorn," the Auror responded, and his tone and expression left no doubt that he would have arrested the Wizengamot member as well, if he could. "But our duty is clear; the evidence incriminating Mister Avery is too convincing, as the Head of the DMLE has agreed."
He gestured with his free hand, and Nymphadora and the other Auror - Leslie Barnockle, Albus recognised him now - stepped forward to disarm and secure Avery. For a moment, the young wizard looked like he was about to resist, but then he scoffed. "I have done nothing wrong!"
"The Wizengamot will clear him!" Runcorn said, far louder than needed. "This is an outrage!" He turned to Avery. "Don't worry, Terrance. I'll talk with the Minister and have this sorted out in no time!"
Albus shook his head. How predictable. But then, that was why Kingsley was arresting Avery in such a public location, instead of more discreetly, like the others the information from Miss Granger had incriminated.
He turned to Cornelius, who had been staring at the scene. "Maybe this should be discussed in the privacy of your office, Cornelius? Instead of in the hallway?"
The Minister for Magic nodded. "Yes, of course," he said, almost automatically, before he glanced at Albus and narrowed his eyes.
"Since this seems to involve the Wizengamot, I think it would be best if I was present as well, to provide information about the rules and regulation governing our esteemed body." Albus smiled politely, but stared at Cornelius until the wizard nodded.
A few minutes later Cornelius, Runcorn, Amelia, Kingsley and Albus himself were in the Minister's office.
"This is an outrage! To arrest an upstanding young Ministry worker, on hearsay and slander!" Runcorn yelled and turned towards Kingsley. "How dare you!"
"The proof presented to me was more than sufficient for an arrest," Amelia said, in that clipped tone Albus knew meant she would have liked to hex the man.
"What proof? I demand to see it!" Runcorn wheeled around.
"It's part of a criminal investigation, and therefore not open to the public." Amelia said with more than a hint of contempt.
"I'm a member of the Wizengamot, not the public!" Runcorn snarled.
"The Wizengamot has no special rights with regards to such investigations," Albus remarked, doing his best to sound as if this was a purely academic question. "In fact, they cannot see such evidence, or they would prejudice themselves for a possible trial."
Runcorn gaped at him. Everyone present knew that this was a rule not too many Wizengamot members followed to the letter. Something Amelia hated, even though Albus knew a number of cases where only his own intervention had prevented a travesty of justice.
"Exactly," Cornelius said, smiling weakly. "We wouldn't want to break the law ourselves, would we?"
"Of course not," Albus said.
"This is not about the law! This is about politics!" Runcorn wasn't giving up. "This is a ploy to weaken those among us who stand for tradition and a proper society!"
"Are you accusing me of faking evidence for political reasons?" Amelia glared at the older wizard.
"What? No, no!" Runcorn shook his head. "This is his work!" He pointed at Albus. "He is in league with the mudbloods trying to topple our society!"
"Really, my dear Bilius," Albus said, "that is quite the accusation. How would I have managed to fool Amelia?"
"Yes. Please explain," Amelia said through clenched teeth.
"I cannot explain without seeing the evidence, of course," Runcorn said.
"So, you have no basis for your accusations, it is just wild speculation. Or, in other words, you are slandering Amelia and myself while you attempt to break the law yourself?" Albus shook his head as if scolding a student.
Runcorn reacted as he had hoped. The man snarled. "I see. Mark my words, once those who care about the country take over, there will be changes! Drastic changes!" He scoffed. "Your plot will be stopped in the Wizengamot! My colleagues will not be fooled with fake evidence!"
After Runcorn had stormed out, Albus sighed. "He was always a very passionate student. Although I do fear that the Wizengamot in its current state will not be too concerned about proof."
"We will do our duty," Amelia said, though her expression told Albus she was well aware of this. She wouldn't let that stop her though - which he was counting on. A glance to Cornelius also told him that the Minister had understood what Runcorn had threatened. Hopefully, he would realise soon that Voldemort wouldn't let him stay Minister, should the Dark Lord manage to take over the Ministry. Amelia would already be aware that she wouldn't be kept in office. Or alive.
If not, then Albus would have to engineer a few more incidents. Fortunately, the information from Miss Granger implicated more than just Avery, though procuring admissible evidence about the others that Amelia would act upon would take a bit more effort.
It would be worth it though, if it would keep the Ministry from falling to Voldemort.
London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, November 15th, 1996
Harry Potter checked his appearance in the mirror once again. The non-magical mirror in his room in Grimmauld Place - the magical mirror kept trying to convince him to put on a robe instead of the suit he was wearing. He muttered a curse while he adjusted his tie.
"You're looking fine, Harry. You don't want to look too perfect, or your roguish charm will suffer."
Harry turned and rolled his eyes at his godfather. "Hermione is a perfectionist and she doesn't like rogues."
"All girls have a weakness for the bad boys, Harry. Especially those who appear to loathe them. Trust me, I've dated my share of Ravenclaws in Hogwarts." Sirius grinned. "You'll be fine, trust me."
Harry sighed. He couldn't help feeling nervous. This was worse than the O.W.L.s, in a way. Which was a thought he wouldn't tell Hermione, of course. Among other topics that Harry and Sirius had deemed unsafe or unsuitable.
"Do you have the muggle money?" Sirius sneered, as he normally did when talking about 'paper money'.
"Yes." Harry patted his jacket. "I have also the emergency galleons, the emergency portkey, the communication mirror and the shrunken Firebolt."
"And you studied my notes!"
Harry blushed and rolled his eyes. "Your notes are in my pocket as well." And there they'd be staying, he knew. The kind of things Sirius had taken notes about weren't the kind of things he'd be doing with Hermione on this date.
"Perfect!" Sirius nodded. "By the way, she's waiting in the entrance hall."
"What?" Harry all but shrieked. "And you didn't tell me?" He quickly checked his appearance again. "You left her waiting?"
Sirius smirked. "She's early. You can blame me."
Harry glared at his godfather while he rushed out of his room, and down to the ground floor.
Hermione Granger didn't fidget while she waited for Sirius to fetch Harry. She was just stretching her legs a bit, walking around in the entrance hall. She was early anyway. She wondered what Harry had planned for their date - he had told her to pick a formal dress. Her black evening gown certainly qualified, even though it had taken her several tries to adjust the dress so it both looked good and quite a bit more expensive than the original cocktail dress she had transfigured.
"Hermione!"
She turned around and saw Harry descend the stairs, first taking two steps at a time, then slowing down. He was wearing a suit, she noted with relief - she wasn't overdressed.
"Good evening, Harry."
He stopped, and smiled at her. "You look great!"
"Thank you." Hermione thought the compliment had been honest - Harry hadn't sounded as if he had prepared it, or even thought about it. Certainly not as smooth as Sirius's comment when he had greeted her.
"Sirius didn't tell me right away that you had already arrived," he added, with a frown, "or I'd have come down at once."
She chuckled. That sounded like Harry's godfather. "I'm early. I didn't expect you to be ready."
"Well, I am now." Harry checked his watch - a new one, Hermione noticed - and added: "But the limousine will not be ready for another fifteen minutes."
"You've rented a limousine?" She raised her eyebrows.
For a moment, Harry looked insecure, then he nodded. "Yes. It's a date, after all."
"You haven't made reservations at the most expensive restaurant you managed to find, have you?" Hermione asked, smiling slightly.
"No," Harry shook his head, grinning. "That would have been tacky."
Half an hour later, they were getting seated in the restaurant, and Harry Potter had to assure Hermione again that this wasn't the most expensive restaurant he had been able to find. Just one of the most recommended. He kept smiling while he mentally cursed Sirius's advice - 'wants to see you make an effort', indeed! Neither the limousine nor the restaurant seemed to have met with her approval.
He was looking around while Hermione was studying the menu. He coughed. "Just pick what you like. And don't try to work out how much it'll cost." Which she had already, of course.
She looked at him. "Are you eating here often?"
Harry shook his head. "No. I didn't get to eat out much, with the Dursleys." He saw her wince, and hastily added: "But I've been to a few places with Sirius. He recommended this place."
She snorted. "Figures."
He wasn't certain if that was a good thing. Fortunately, the waiter came by and they ordered. Then the drinks were served, and that served as another distraction. Harry wasn't quite nervous, but usually, he felt much more at ease with Hermione. They had eaten together hundreds of times. Thousands even. He chuckled.
"Hm?" She looked at him, tugging on one of her still very short locks.
"Nothing. Just thinking that we've eaten together so often, and yet here we are, being awkward." He snorted.
"We haven't eaten in such an ambience," she pointed out.
"True." If she was blaming the restaurant, then he was fine with that. Better than blaming the occasion.
"Did you sneak out of Hogwarts?"
He shook his head. "Well… technically. But Dumbledore is aware of my absence. So, I have at least unofficial permission."
She pursed her lips. Probably annoyed at the rule-breaking, or the favouritism. Before she could say anything though, the first course was served. "Oh… that's good." She even closed her eyes for an instant. "I take back what I thought about the restaurant. If all the dishes are as good as this, then it's worth whatever money you are paying."
Harry smiled, enjoying his own meal. "I might try to find this recipe myself," he said. "I can cook, at least a bit."
"Really?"
"Yes. I'm also handy around the house, though there's spells for that." Harry laughed, and regaled her with a few stories about some of his culinary experiments that hadn't been unqualified successes.
When he ran out of those stories, the main course had been served, and he felt far more confident. She'd been laughing a lot, and they hadn't touched any awkward topics. That was how a good date should go, Sirius had said.
Hermione looked around, and grew serious again. He saw her slip her wand out and move it under the table, then heard her mumble before the slight noise of a privacy spell told him what she had done. She took a deep breath, then stared straight at him. "I have to tell you something."
He froze for a second. That wasn't sounding good. "Yes?"
"You remember Allan Baker?"
Of course he did! Arrogant Ravenclaw. Jealous too. He nodded, not liking where this was going.
"I found out that he's been… killing people on his own."
Harry's eyes widened. Was she saying…
"He's been going out, in Death Eater garb, and setting fire to half-blood shops and homes. Killed an entire family." She scoffed. "Just so people would think it was on the Dark Lord's orders."
He gasped. That was sick.
"He's also killed Umbridge. He really likes killing."
Harry shook his head. That had led to the Aurors attacking Hermione. "We have to do something about that!"
She snorted. "I've killed him. Captured him, interrogated him, then cut his head off." She was looking directly into his eyes.
He nodded, slowly. "Good."
"Good?" She narrowed her eyes a bit.
He wasn't certain what she wanted to hear, so he stuck to the truth. "It's not good what he did, but it's good that he isn't murdering people anymore."
"It had to be done." She nodded and took a sip from her glass.
They remained silent for a while, finishing the main course.
"I've been wondering…" Hermione spoke up again.
"Yes?"
"Why didn't you ask me to the Yule Ball, when Cho was going with Cedric?" She was staring at him again.
He took a deep breath. "It's embarrassing." It was. That hadn't been his finest hour. He hadn't been as bad as Ron though. 'Hermione, you're a girl!' indeed.
"Yes?"
"I hadn't really thought of you as a girl, back then." He took a sip from his own glass while she looked at him with an unreadable expression. "You've always been with me and Ron, almost always at least. I've always seen you as a friend, like Ron, not as a girl. Girls for me were Parvati and Lavender, chatting about clothes and makeup and hairstyles." She winced at that, a tiny bit. He went on. "Aunt Petunia had clear opinions of what girls and boys did."
She snorted. "And I didn't match her criteria."
Harry shook his head. "You even hit Draco right in the face. That's something boys do, not girls. At least I thought so. Unconsciously."
"So, you never saw me as a girl, until Ron noticed?"
"Well, to be honest… I knew you were a girl then, but didn't really realise just how much until the Yule Ball."
"How much?" She had her eyebrows raised again.
"How pretty. Beautiful." He smiled, a bit weakly. "I told you, it's embarrassing."
"Maybe I should have used makeup and hairstyling charms earlier then," she said.
"I'm not certain I'd have noticed." He forced a chuckle. "I didn't really pay that much attention to my friends' appearances. Still don't."
"That's not always a bad thing. People who focus on appearances are often rather shallow." Hermione sniffed.
Harry agreed eagerly.
"It was a wonderful date," Hermione Granger told Harry when the two of them were back in the entrance hall of Grimmauld Place. She wasn't lying - the meal had been to die for, and the play Harry had taken her to had been interesting and well deserving of the good reviews. Though she hadn't missed that Harry hadn't enjoyed it as much as she had. She also didn't miss how his face lit up at her words.
"So, you had fun." His tone turned it into half a question.
"Yes." She ran her tongue over her lips, and took a step closer to him. Close enough so if they wanted to dance, all he would have to do was to put his arms around her. He had grown a bit more, she noted - and he had been taller than her for a while.
He swallowed, looking more than a bit nervous. His shoulders twitched, for an instant, as if his arms had moved just a bit.
Smiling, she leaned forward, and kissed him. She was frowning when she pulled away. It hadn't exactly been a chaste kiss, but… She grabbed his head and pulled him down for another kiss. A French kiss. When she pulled back after that, both of them were breathing heavily, and her hair was mussed. That had been a real kiss!
Part of her wanted to go on. Go further even. Test just how 'compatible' they were. Find out if and how those dreams she had had stood up to reality. She wouldn't though. That wouldn't have been fair to Ron. Who had featured in her steamy dreams as well.
"Thank you for a wonderful date." She smiled at Harry.
"Thank you," he said. Then he looked around. "I expected Sirius to appear, and tell us to get a room."
She laughed. "He'd only do that if he didn't want us to get a room."
Harry blinked, before he laughed as well.
Five minutes later she was in a currently unused safe house of the Resistance, stripping off her dress. Another five minutes later, she was back in their headquarters.
Back in the war.
Dorset, Britain, November 16th, 1996
"Ah, there you are! Come, everyone else is waiting!"
Draco was excited, Daphne Greengrass noticed that at once when he welcomed her and Tracey into his home. She glanced at her friend, and the two witches followed their host to his living room. Which had been expanded a bit more, as far as she could tell, and there were now paintings on the walls. No portraits, but that didn't have to mean anything.
Pansy was there, Crabbe and Goyle, of course, as well as Nott, and Vaisey and Warrington, former Chasers of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Daphne and Tracey took up their usual spots, seated on a small couch in the corner with Pansy. The other witch in the room was looking better. Or at least, she was not crying anymore.
"Alright! Now that everyone is here, I can finally share the great news I received!" Draco stood in the centre of the room, smiling widely. "Tonight, many blood traitors and mudbloods will receive their just punishment! The Dark Lord himself has called upon us to fight for him!"
Daphne was about to whisper to Tracey that she had thought they were already doing that, when Draco summoned a large bag to his feet. He opened it and pulled out a white mask. A Death Eater mask, Daphne realised.
"He has granted us the honour of wearing his robes and masks!" Draco declared. "He is acknowledging us as his!"
Daphne exchanged a glance with Tracey. She wasn't quite certain what to think of this, and her friend didn't look like she knew how to react herself.
"If we perform well, we might even earn the honour of receiving his mark!" Draco continued. Crabbe and Goyle nodded eagerly. The others smiled. Even Pansy was smiling, so Daphne forced herself to join in. She was rubbing her left arm though - and asking herself if she truly wanted to be marked like that.
But, she thought as she took one of the robes and masks Draco was handing out to everyone, refusing such an 'honour' was not exactly a decision conducive to a long life. No one insulted the Dark Lord and managed to get away with it.
That Draco was unlikely to share the glory of whatever they were about to do today with anyone was but a small consolation. More than ever she felt trapped.
London, November 16th, 1996
At the bus stop closest to the restaurant he had made reservations at, Ron Weasley tugged on his new jacket. It wasn't a leather jacket. Despite Bill's advice, he had opted for a less… Bill-ish jacket. He wasn't his oldest brother. He had wanted to get a coat, a long coat. Something that would feel closer to a robe. But that wouldn't have been fashionable or appropriate for muggle London. Or so his father had told him. So, a jacket it was. Matching his trousers.
He checked his new watch - a cheap muggle one which wouldn't work at Hogwarts, or anywhere else with too much magic. He preferred his own watch, but this was supposed to be fashionable for muggles. Though why they called it 'Swatch' he couldn't fathom. Ten minutes left until Hermione would arrive. If she wasn't late or early.
He noticed that the girl next to him was looking at him. He smiled at her, politely. She was waiting for the bus - muggle buses didn't stop wherever you held out your wand.
She smiled back. "Big night out planned?"
He nodded. "First date."
"Oh." She looked him over. "Good luck then."
"Thank you." He paused for a moment. "You?"
"I'm going dancing," she said.
"Have fun."
"Thanks."
He was about to ask which club the girl was going to when he spotted Hermione walking towards the bus stop. The girl was saying something, but he didn't listen. His date was wearing a short black dress, just reaching her knees, and a black jacket over it. And matching ankle boots.
"Hi, Hermione!"
"Hi, Ron!"
He moved to hug her. She looked briefly surprised, but she returned the hug. "You look great!"
That made her smile. "You look good as well. I haven't seen you in those clothes since the Cup."
"Ah, yes. Fashion changed since then." And he had grown older. She giggled at that. He hoped that was a good sign. He offered her his arm. "Let's go. The restaurant is around the corner."
"Oh? I thought we'd be taking the bus." She sounded surprised.
"No, I just wanted it to be a surprise." He wasn't his father. He didn't jump at the chance to do something muggle-style.
"Ah. I should have thought of that."
"Did I really outsmart you?" He grinned at her, inclining his head.
She scoffed in response, but she was smiling. He had a feeling that the date was off to a good start.
Hermione Granger was surprised by the restaurant Ron had chosen. It was a small, cozy one. French cuisine, and apparently with French staff. A family business, as far as she could tell. Not the kind of restaurant you'd find by browsing the yellow pages. Or the guides.
"Have you been here before?" she asked.
Ron shook his head. "No, but Fleur said this is one of the best French restaurants in London."
"Ah!" That explained it. "Do you like French food?" She didn't remember eating any at the Weasleys.
"Well… it might sound a bit weird, but Mum's cooking is so good, not even Hogwarts' elves match her, and the few times Dad took us to a muggle restaurant, I was a bit disappointed. But she doesn't do French dishes." Ron smiled.
She nodded. Neither of her parents could cook that well - or rather, took the time to cook well - so she usually associated eating out, or Hogwarts, with better meals. She frowned a bit. If not for the damn Ministry and the Death Eaters, she would be enjoying Hogwarts' meals.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned the school," Ron said, after they had ordered.
"No, no. It's not your fault." She knew whose fault it was. And they'd pay. She changed the topic anyway. "How are Bill and Fleur doing?"
"Oh, they're doing well, though they are a tad stressed. Wedding preparations, and, you know…" he trailed off.
She nodded. Dumbledore's Order. She had no doubt that the whole Weasley family were members, with the possible exception of Ginny. "Will they marry in England or France?"
"France. Mum's not happy about it, but she knows it's safer. Still, I'm glad I'm not involved in all that." He shook his head. "Even Bill is more stressed about the wedding than his work."
And the war, of course.
He told a few more tales about Bill and Fleur, and their extended families, while they ate. Fleur had been right, she found out - the food tasted like it did in one of the small restaurants on the Côte d'Azur. One of the small, excellent restaurants. She wondered what had made the family - her guess had been confirmed by a quick question to the waiter - come to London. But she would pass the address on to her parents. After the war.
Ron Weasley was growing more and more confident as the meal continued. They were talking, they were laughing, they were having fun. It was just like a good date should be going. Of course, that was when Hermione changed the topic from light-hearted to what Bill would have called "curse-trapped."
Ron had just finished his main course - Bill hadn't steered him wrong with his advice there either - when Hermione took a deep breath and cast a privacy spell, before asking: "Do you remember Allan Baker?"
He nodded. Of course he did. Git. Probably had been jealous of their friendship with Hermione.
She bit her lower lip. Which meant she was worried. Or distressed. "I found out that he's been murdering people."
"What?"
"He's been disguising himself as a Death Eater and attacking half-blood shops. Killed an entire family to frame the Death Eaters."
"Merlin's balls!" Ron was shocked. That was… he would have expected that from Death Eaters! Killing your own people, innocents… he shook his head.
"He's also killed Umbridge and several Aurors."
Ron felt torn about that. Umbridge certainly had deserved to die, she had been a cruel monster. Aurors… well, they were hunting muggleborns. And Hermione. Some were also hunting Death Eaters though. "What did you do?" If Hermione had found out what he had been doing, she'd have done something about it.
She looked at him. "I've killed him. Captured him, interrogated him with Veritaserum, then cut his head off."
Ron nodded, slowly. That was what he had expected. "He won't be a threat to anyone else then."
"No, he won't."
"Good."
She looked a bit surprised. "That's all?"
He shrugged. "People who act like Death Eaters should get treated like Death Eaters." And killing them was the best option. Malfoy had shown what happened when you let them live - they tried again.
Hermione nodded, smiling slightly.
Dessert was served, and Ron enjoyed a truly divine cake. Sadly, the portions were not as generous as they would have been at Hogwarts. But he guessed that was a question of quality before quantity. Even though he was really tempted to cast a Doubling Charm on the cake.
Afterwards, Hermione broke the silence - if her appreciative noises during dessert didn't count: "Ron… when you asked me to go to Yule Ball with you..." She was staring at him.
He winced. That had been almost as bad as getting mad at Harry for being thrown into the Tournament. "Yes?"
"Did you really not think of me as a girl before that?"
He took a deep breath. "No, I didn't. I was an idiot back then." He shrugged. "I was focused on appearances. You know how I acted around Fleur. And I was too shy to ask any of the other pretty girls."
She had narrowed her eyes a bit. "And then you noticed that I could be a pretty girl as well, at the ball."
Ron nodded. He wasn't about to lie to her. "Yes. That was a shock."
"A shock?"
"Yes. I mean… I had known you for years. You and Harry were my two best friends. Both of you kept getting into trouble. Usually with me coming along. I didn't think of us as two boys and a girl, we were just three friends. Two of them with wild, untameable hair." He grinned, and she chuckled. "And then I realised you were a girl. A girl I knew. And was friends with. I was such an egotistical git, I didn't want to believe that anyone other than Harry or me would have even thought of inviting you to the ball. Because why would anyone else realise you were a girl when we didn't? You didn't exactly act like Lavender or Parvati."
Hermione had a rather wry expression now, he noticed. "Why, indeed? I was a bushy-haired nightmare."
"Hey, now!" he protested. "That was in our first year! You can't bring that up. I didn't remind you of your skewed priorities, did I? 'Killed, or worse, expelled'."
"True," she admitted, blushing slightly.
He quickly continued with his explanation. "So, at the ball I saw you were a pretty girl. Which was a shock."
"You mentioned that already."
"Yes, I did. Anyway, it took me some time, but I realised I like you." He smiled.
She didn't smile. "Because I could be pretty?"
"Because you are a great girl, friend, person." He would be lying if he denied that it hadn't hurt that she was pretty.
"That's why you turned Lavender down?"
"Yes. I've grown up. I want you."
That seemed to please her. He reached over the table and took her hand. She didn't pull away.
Devon, Ottery St. Catchpole, November 16th, 1996
The home of the Weasley blood traitors looked like it was but one failing spell away from collapsing. Daphne Greengrass, hidden behind a tree at the edge of the property, couldn't really believe that this was the home of the family of a Ministry employee - it was a disgrace! She had seen hovels which had looked more impressive. Hunting lodges even! She shook her head.
And yet, it was protected with strong wards. Not as strong as those of Greengrass Manor, of course, but nothing to take lightly. The oldest son of the Weasleys was a skilled Curse-Breaker, she remembered, and he had obviously given his parents' home the same attention he had given his brothers' shop. She wasn't looking forward to crossing wands with him, not even with a dozen Death Eaters on her group's side.
Daphne was almost glad for the mask she was wearing; it hid her expression. She shook her head. She shouldn't be nervous, much less afraid. Mudbloods had attacked far better protected homes. She wouldn't be outdone by those murderers! She turned to Tracey and whispered: "Now I know why every Weasley is a Gryffindor - if they were less brave, they'd not be able to sleep in such a building."
Tracey laughed under her breath, but it sounded a bit off to Daphne. Or that could be the mask's effect. She would have to be careful not to lose sight of her friend - with these masks, she wouldn't be able to easily find her again.
"Alright, everyone, remember: Our task is to keep the house of the blood traitors covered in Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey Jinxes and keep them from escaping by other means," Draco said. "The others will take care of the wards and attack."
Their leader must be nervous himself, Daphne thought - counting the briefing at the meeting, that was the third time Draco had repeated himself.
"I'm not exactly sorry we're not going in that house ourselves," Tracey whispered when Draco had gone over to where Theo was standing, "one missed curse could bring it down on your head."
"If they are smart they'll simply set it on fire from the outside," Daphne answered.
"Start casting!" Draco yelled suddenly.
Daphne stood up and cast an Anti-Apparition Jinx on the house while Tracey cast an Anti-Portkey Jinx. Both followed up with Human-presence-revealing Charms. And Muggle-repelling Charms. She waited for the blood traitors to dispel them, but they didn't. Even while the Death Eaters were attacking the wards, no one seemed to even try to escape. That didn't fit a family who was Gryffindor to the core. She ground her teeth. Something wasn't right.
Minutes passed, and she still saw no Weasleys appear to defend their house. Were they even home? But the lights had been on, and she had seen movement behind the curtains. "I don't like this," she whispered.
"What?" Tracey whispered back.
"This doesn't feel right. They should be doing something in that house. Why aren't they trying something while the wards still protect them?"
"Maybe they are waiting for help?" Tracey said.
"If they are, they'll be waiting until they are dead," Daphne said. Draco had told them that all over Wizarding Britain, blood traitors and other enemies would be attacked now, while even more false alerts would be called in to the Ministry. No help would be coming!
And yet, they didn't react. The Quidditch team on their brooms up in the air was ready, but no one tried to escape by broom. No one even tried to dispel their jinxes!
What were they waiting for?
"The wards are down!" One unfamiliar Death Eater suddenly shouted with glee. "Let's get them!"
Daphne saw four Death Eaters rush to the house. Evidently, they were not about to simply set fire to the house. The one in front cast a Blasting Curse at the door, blowing it and half the wall away. Before they reached the new opening though, all four suddenly started screaming and collapsed.
Daphne stared, shocked, as the four writhed on the grass. One of them ripped his mask off, and she almost screamed when she saw his face - his skin seemed to turn to leather while his eyes shrank in their sockets.
"Moisture-Draining Curse," Tracey whispered next to her while the screams died one by one and the Death Eaters stopped moving.
But who had cast it? Daphne hadn't seen anyone.
A few more Blasting Curses followed, blowing more holes in the walls. Someone set fire to the house. Or tried to - it didn't seem to take. But the wards were down, Daphne knew that. It didn't seem to matter though, since the house started to collapse.
And still no one tried to escape. Even as the walls came tumbling down. Then she caught a glimpse of a stone structure in the middle of the house, right before the roof started to hit the ground. The curse!
"It's a trap!" she yelled. "They've cursed the house!"
She was too late. A green light suddenly shone from within the ruins, covering the area. A second later, the remaining Death Eaters started to scream as they were sucked into the ground.
"Quicksand Curse," Tracey said next to her. "Another favourite of the Old Egyptians."
Screams from above them made Daphne look up. Vaisey and Warrington, the two former Chasers, were surrounded by what looked like small black clouds. They were flailing wildly, but the clouds seemed to cling to them. And that buzzing sound…
"Devouring Scarabaeus…" Tracey started to say.
Daphne grabbed her and dragged her away. They had to get out of the range of their own Jinxes, so they could apparate away.
London, Soho, November 16th, 1996
"I didn't expect you to take us dancing," Hermione Granger said, once they had made it past the bouncer at the door and found a table in a corner to sit down. She had expected a movie.
"Did you expect me to take you to a museum?"
Museums were not open that late, Hermione knew. "Not exactly."
"Well, you seemed to enjoy the dancing at the Yule Ball," Ron said. Thanks to another privacy spell, the didn't have to yell at each other. "And I haven't been to a muggle club yet."
Hermione hadn't been to a muggle club either, yet. Apart from her last vacation in France, after her fourth year, and that hadn't been a real night club. Certainly not a date. She nodded.
"If you don't like it we can take a stroll through the town, and catch a late night movie," Ron said.
"You seem to have planned ahead." If he had.
"A bit." He grinned. "I can apparate us to a cinema, at least. And I know when the last movie starts." He took her hand again. "But I'd really like to dance with you. It's not a ball, but…"
She smiled. "Let's dance then."
Hermione didn't take long to realise that she liked dancing. And liked dancing with Ron. He wasn't a particularly good dancer - it was obvious he hadn't done this before - but he enjoyed it. And his attention made her feel good. And desired. He had grown up, as he had said. He had turned down Lavender, after all. Something not many teenage boys would have done, Hermione knew. She was no fool - she knew that Lavender was more attractive than she was.
And, she added to herself, Ron had also simply grown. He was as tall as Percy now, but had broader shoulders and a better build. A much better build. She had caught a few other girls eyeing him. But for this evening, he was hers. And she didn't share, she thought with a smile.
She was just returning to their corner with two drinks when she felt her purse vibrate. The enchanted mirror. Ron must have noticed from her expression that something was wrong, since he was looking around, hand on where he kept his wand. She put the drinks down and pulled the mirror out.
Harry's face appeared. "I'm very sorry to disturb you, really sorry. But there's been attacks on the Burrow and other places. The teachers are calling the students whose families have been attacked, and I don't think Dumbledore can cover for you."
Ron muttered a curse. Hermione gasped. "Is everyone alright?" She knew the Burrow had been evacuated before, but if there were Death Eater attacks, then the Order would be responding.
"We don't know yet," Harry said, "sorry." He did look miserable before his image vanished.
"Alright," Ron said. He would be worrying for his family. Hermione felt rather selfish for being angry that her evening was cut short.
She sighed. "I better get back as well." The Resistance hadn't planned anything and was unlikely to get involved, but she should check with them.
He nodded. "Damn Death Eaters. Attacking people and ruining dates."
She chuckled at the black humour. Then she looked at him, and slid closer. A few minutes wouldn't make a difference. "It's not ruined. Just cut short."
He looked puzzled. Until she slid in his lap and kissed him. No chaste kiss to start, not now.
When they pulled apart, Ron had his eyes closed. "Damn, now I hate them all even more."
She nodded, slightly out of breath as she left his lap. That had been… passionate. Like in some of those books she didn't read. "We have to go now."
He nodded, and they stood up.
They held hands until they were out of the door, and around the corner. Until they had to apparate.
Kent, Britain, Longbottom Manor, November 16th, 1996
Augusta Longbottom was glad that her grandson was at Hogwarts, and not at home, when she noticed that the wards of her ancestral manor were under attack. They were strong, and would hold whoever was attacking at bay for quite some time, but they would not hold out forever. And her Floo connection was dead - there was no way to call for help. Apparition and portkeys were blocked as well.
She scowled. No one attacking her wards would fail to block magical travel. She could use a broom, but she was quite certain that the sky above her home was being watched as well. That would be, at best, a last resort.
She didn't let any of those dark thoughts show though when she addressed her house elf. "Pammy, gather the others and go hide in the cellar." The elves were useless in a fight, their magic just barely making them better servants than muggles, but if the worst happened and the wards were breached, then they would be safe down there. The Dark Lord's scum attacking her home wanted her. Hopefully.
She strode through the entrance hall of the manor, activating the enchanted statues in there, then stepped outside. More such defenses were hidden in the garden, and she turned them on as she strode towards the wall that marked both the edge of the Longbottom property as well as the wardline.
Were the Death Eaters as brazen as to attack the gates itself? Or were they showing their true mettle, and trying to break in through the back? To Augusta's surprise, she saw figures in dark robes moving behind the gate. Did they think she'd cower in her Manor while they tried to break in?
Filled with anger and contempt, she aimed her wand and conjured a few vipers outside the gate. Sudden yells told her that the enemies had lookouts at least. She scoffed and conjured stone stairs in front of her, high enough so she could cast over the wall and remain protected by her wards.
She saw half a dozen Death Eaters blasting the ground, killing her snakes. A yell from above her tried to warn them, but she was already casting, sending several Cutting and Piercing Curses at the two closest enemies. One of them went down, the other's Shield Charm managed to protect him long enough so he could dodge her volley. Her Blasting Curse got him though. The rest took cover behind trees and rocks. Those were not the ones attacking the wards though. They would be hidden, better protected. But where?
Suddenly, red spells flew at the hiding Death Eaters from behind. She saw one jump up and start to run, falling to two spells after a few steps. Another slumped over and slid around a tree. Then she saw red robes appear. Aurors. Four of them.
Two slapped small discs on the stunned Death Eaters, portkeying them away. The other two waved at her and walked to the gate. Augusta met them there. She recognised the leader. Kingsley Shacklebolt. One of Dumbledore's faction.
"Good evening, Mrs Longbottom. We were alerted that your Floo connection had been sabotaged, and were dispatched to check on you. Are you alright?"
She nodded. "The wards are still under attack, so there's bound to be a few more of them in hiding." It wasn't as if the scum could quickly withdraw; the backlash from the wards would kill them.
Shacklebolt nodded and turned to the other Auror. "Runcorn, take the others and make a sweep around the perimeter!" Turning back to Augusta, he asked. "Can I come inside and check the Floo connection? We think they may have found new ways of blocking it. And I think we need more Aurors here. Trusted ones," he added, his emphasis telling her that he knew as well as she did that there were traitors within the Aurors' ranks.
"Certainly." She moved her wand and cleared him to enter. She kept her wand in hand, of course - she had just been attacked.
"Thank you." He smiled at her. Then his eyes widened and his wand came up.
She turned around, wand out, but she saw no threat. She tried to turn back, but she was too slow. Too late.
"Stupefy!"
'Even in hindsight, it is easy to assume that the kidnapping and killing of Petra Rowle and her husband on November 1st, 1996 was the event that caused the, up to then, most violent Death Eater attacks in the Second Blood War. I do not share this assumption. Careful analysis of the conflict shows that it wasn't the death of Rowle, who was revealed as a marked Death Eater at the same time, but the actions of the Ministry following that event that caused the Dark Lord to launch his attacks.
At that point he had already completed the build-up of his forces and could take the offensive. Some historians even maintain that he was forced to send his followers out, because he was running the danger of them acting of their own volition. I once more disagree. The Dark Lord was known to maintain iron discipline among his followers; the notion that he would be in danger of losing control of his forces is not very plausible.'
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn
*****
Hogwarts, November 12th, 1996
"Sir?" Harry Potter asked, standing at the door to Dumbledore's office. The gargoyle had let him pass, but it was just polite to ask in person before actually entering the office of the Headmaster.
"Come in, Harry." The old wizard waved at him. "I've informed Minerva that you're receiving another special lesson."
"Thank you, sir." Harry did feel a bit guilty about skipping lessons. Not even telling himself that he would make it up later helped much. The Headmaster was covering for his absences so he could help Hermione and prepare for the search for Voldemort's Horcruxes. Harry just wasn't certain his current trip would be covered by either reason. Even though technically, it was to help Hermione.
"Please send Sirius my regards. And enjoy your visit. Family is important."
Harry nodded and headed to the Floo connection. Judging by the smile on the Headmaster's face, Dumbledore had seen through Harry's excuse, but condoned his trip anyway. Even though Harry didn't know exactly why.
A minute later he set foot into No. 12 Grimmauld Place. So to speak - both of his feet touched the floor. Sadly, so did his buttocks. And Sirius was chuckling while that nasty little creature in the corner was mumbling something about clumsy half-bloods. One of these days he had to get Hermione to tell him how she had managed to make Kreacher behave; neither his friend nor his godfather had told him.
"And hello to you, Sirius," he mumbled, getting up and dusting himself off.
"Hello, Harry. Once we have the time, we'll need to teach you how to use the Floo without falling down." Sirius chuckled, then rubbed his chin. "On the other hand, you'll have a better chance at avoiding an ambush that way." His grin showed clearly that he wasn't talking seriously.
"Says the wizard who could probably travel through the Floo network before he could walk."
"Technically, you travelled through the Floo network before you could walk as well," Sirius said. And winced right afterwards.
Harry nodded. Talking about his parents and early childhood was a touchy subject. Neither Sirius nor he knew what would set the other off.
"So… come, sit down. You said you needed my help, and Dumbledore let you skip classes, so it must be something serious." His godfather opened the door to the living room and gestured at the couch. "Kreacher! Get us some tea!"
Harry sat down, again feeling guilty. His godfather probably had more important things to do, things to support the Order, than listen to him.
"So, Harry… spill!" Sirius sat down on the seat opposite Harry and leaned forward. "How can I help you?"
Harry took a deep breath. "I need some advice."
"Oh? About girls, I hope?" Sirius grinned widely.
"I've got a date this weekend." Harry noticed Sirius looked briefly surprised, before his grin widened further. "And I've no idea how to…"
"... show a girl a good time?" Sirius cut in. "You've come to the right person! I will gladly share my vast experience with you!"
"It's Hermione. She's dating me on Friday, then Ron on Saturday. And she expects us to plan the dates." Harry quickly said.
"Hm." Sirius rubbed his chin again. "I have underestimated the girl. It seems she has taken my advice to heart, if in an unexpected way."
"What?" Hermione had asked Sirius for advice?
"Ah… I told her to consider a ménage-à-trois. It seems she has decided to give it a try." Sirius beamed. "A girl after my own heart."
Harry blinked. "Ron and I think this is a test for us so she can pick the better, more compatible man."
"Oh." Sirius frowned. "I guess that could be possible as well. Seems rather cold though."
Harry had second thoughts about asking Sirius for advice, but he couldn't back out right then. "So… I need to plan a date. For Hermione."
"Well, you can't go wrong with the classics. Dinner, a movie, some dancing, and then you take her home for a shag." Sirius blinked before Harry could yell at him. "Wait. It's Hermione. Scratch the movie, she'd prefer a play I think. Brainy birds usually do."
"I think it's the 'shagging' I should scratch," Harry said through clenched teeth. He was no expert - far from it - but he was very, very certain that Hermione wasn't the kind of girl to have sex on a first date. And he was also certain that his own lack of experience wouldn't help even if she was that kind of girl.
"No shagging? What happened to 'make love, not war'?" Sirius asked.
"The 80s." Harry was so not asking why Sirius thought the Hippie movement was still in fashion.
"Oh." His godfather didn't seem to be impressed by his mistake. "Anyway, since she's Wizarding Britain's most wanted witch, you'll have to stay in muggle Britain for the date. Though since she's a muggleborn girl, that won't be a drawback for you. You have to look your best. Dress smartly. Pick an expensive restaurant for dinner. Not one of those muggle things were you fetch your own food. Hire one of those long black cars to drive you around. Pick the most famous club in London. Bribe the club bouncer so he'll let you cut the line. Be generous, show you've got the gold. Birds like a wealthy man."
"Hermione isn't like that!" Harry glared at his godfather. "She doesn't care about gold!" Or she'd have picked him right away - he certainly had more money than Ron.
"She's a practical girl, thinking ahead. Having money makes for a better life than lacking money." Sirius nodded at his own words.
Harry closed his eyes for a moment. "She already knows that I have money. I don't need to show her that."
"But you need to show her that you think she is worth it. That you'll make an effort to impress her," Sirius said. "All girls like to feel wanted, desired, and hate to be taken for granted. Save that for after the marriage."
Harry dug his fingers into his thighs. "She wouldn't be impressed by me flashing gold around. She would be impressed if I show that I understand her. Know what she likes, and…" he blinked. "I need The Times."
Sirius pulled out his watch.
"No, the muggle newspaper," Harry corrected him. "I need to find out if there's a good play in a theatre in London!"
*****
Hogsmeade, November 12th, 1996
Ron Weasley was certain his brothers, especially the twins, would be proud of him. Here he was, cutting classes and sneaking out of school, for a witch. Well, to prepare for a date with a witch. Which, he was rather certain, added up to the same. There was not much of a chance of meeting another student, and he doubted the teachers visited this part of Hogsmeade, but he was still carefully looking around while he made his way through the outskirts of the village. He wished he had asked Harry for the invisibility cloak, but it would have been a tad… well, asking Harry to help so Ron could impress Hermione on his date felt wrong. Both of them should probably learn the Disillusionment Charm soon though - they couldn't rely on that cloak forever. Hell, he had just sounded like Hermione in his head.
He was still grinning at that when he entered the Hog's Head Inn. He had been there before, on a Hogsmeade weekend, on a dare. The most ill-reputed inn in the village. Maybe Britain, outside Knockturn Alley. Just about every student from Gryffindor visited it once in their third year. It was, as Hermione had called it once, a rite of passage.
The owner was the brother of the Headmaster, and as gruff as they came. More importantly though, he didn't care who he served, as long as they didn't annoy the other guests. Which made it perfect for a meeting.
"Hey!"
He turned his head. There he was. Bill. Former headboy. Former Quidditch House Team player. Curse-Breaker. And fiancé to a French witch who also happened to be a Veela and a champion of the Triwizard Tournament. If anyone knew about girls and how to treat them well, it was Ron's oldest brother.
He walked to the table in the corner Bill was sitting at - in a very cool pose, one boot propped up on the bench - and sat down. "Hi, Bill."
"Hi, Ron." Bill pushed a butterbeer towards him.
"Thanks." Ron didn't know if that was Bill being nice, or a subtle way of showing him that real beer and stronger stuff was not going to happen on his watch. He didn't care either - he was here for help, not alcohol. And the butterbeer was probably the safest drink in the inn, seeing as it came in unopened bottles. He cast a privacy spell, ignoring the way Bill smirked at seeing it. Ron wasn't just concerned about being embarrassed.
"So… you asked to meet me so I could give you advice," Bill said. He sounded amused, but in that friendly way. Unlike Percy or the twins if they had been in his place.
Ron took a deep breath. "Yes. This Saturday, I have a date." He wished Bill wouldn't look quite that surprised.
Ron's expression must have betrayed his thoughts, since Bill held one hand up. "Sorry… I was expecting you to need advice in how to ask a witch out. But I see you're already past that." Ron's brother grinned. "Gryffindor courage, right?"
Ron pondered how much he could tell Bill. He couldn't tell him it was Hermione. She was still a wanted witch - the most wanted, apart from Bellatrix Lestrange. Or, judging by what dad had said, even counting Bellatrix. But Bill had to know a bit more to understand Ron's situation. He sighed. "She asked me on a date." Well, Hermione had told him she'd date him, but given the situation, and for Hermione, that was asking.
"Ah!" Bill grinned. "She must really like you then, for her to ask you out."
Ron coughed. "She wants to go on a date to see if she should go out with me, or this other bloke. We're both interested in her."
"Oh." Bill frowned. "That sounds… "
"Yes?"
"Don't take this wrong, Ron, but that doesn't sound like a nice witch." Bill shook his head.
"What?" Ron glared at him. "She's the nicest witch I know!"
"Calm down! I just meant…" Bill frowned. "Look, what would you do if Ginny wanted to date a wizard, and he said he'll date her and another witch, to find out who he likes more?"
"Ginny would hex him into a puddle!" Ron said at once. When he saw Bill nod, he groaned. "It's not like that. Look - we both asked her out. Sort of."
Bill blinked. "Who's we?"
Ron ground his teeth. Another lapse. In for a knut, in for a galleon - at least he could trust Bill. "Harry and I told her that we like her."
"Not together I hope!" Bill grinned, but he looked a bit incredulous.
Ron didn't say anything.
"Wow. Alright, that is original." Bill was still shaking his head.
"How those dates were arranged doesn't really matter. What matters is that I need to make the best impression I can." Ron grimaced. "You know Harry. He attracts witches without trying." He almost mentioned Ginny, but she would hex him into a puddle if he blabbed to Bill about her love life.
"Yes. That bloke has all the charm and luck," Bill said.
Ron didn't quite glare at him - he knew that as well, but there was no point in saying it that directly. "So, what can I do?"
Bill took a sip from his own beer - not a butterbeer, Ron noticed - before answering. "Well, you have to consider your own qualities. Don't try to copy Harry."
"I can't. We're not telling each other what we're planning," Ron cut in.
"I didn't mean it like that. I mean, don't try to act like Harry. Play to your strengths." Bill took another sip.
"Are you telling me to just be myself?" Ron asked, with narrowed eyes.
Bill grinned. "Basically, yes. I know you're feeling a bit overshadowed at times, but you're doing good. And the witches will be seeing that as well."
Ron thought of Lavender. He didn't want to mention her, but she had asked him out, hadn't she? Not Harry. "I guess so."
"Hey, witches don't all care about fame or money. The good ones don't. If you have confidence in yourself, then you'll be attractive to witches too."
Ron wasn't exactly feeling that confident right now, but he nodded. He could fake it.
"But don't try to play a role. That only works if you love them and leave them, before they realise you're not what you appeared to be. And even so, you'll have a reputation after a while. Not a good one."
So he couldn't fake it, Ron thought.
"Witches like if you care about them. If you make an effort. Find out what she likes, so you know what you can talk about. But try to find things you both like to talk about."
That would be a problem, Ron thought. He and Hermione didn't share that many interests.
"And, make sure you're having fun on the date. If it's not fun for you, it won't last. Did you think where you'll go? Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley?"
Ron shook his head. "Muggle London. Safer."
"Oh! Nice idea. You can impress her with your knowledge then. Maybe ask Dad for some advice about muggle dates."
Ron winced.
Bill frowned. "I know what people say about dad, but he deals with muggles a lot in his work. He does know his stuff."
"It's not that," Ron said. "I just don't think I know more about muggles than she does." Bill's eyes widened, and Ron knew he had made another mistake. "Don't tell anyone," he growled.
"I won't. Promise." Bill looked serious, to Ron's relief.
"But I can only tell you this then: Be yourself. Make an effort, but don't put on an act. She knows you, after all. And witches hate being lied to. Almost more than anything else."
Ron sighed, and leaned back. "I had hoped for something more concrete." Not quite 'Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches' - Hermione would kill him if he tried such a stunt - but… something.
"Well… she's been to France, hasn't she?"
Ron nodded. Hermione spoke French.
Bill grinned. "There's this restaurant Fleur swears has the best cook this side of the Channel. And there's this club with live bands."
Now this was why Ron had asked Bill for advice!
*****
Knockturn Alley, November 14th, 1996
"Should we be here?"
Brenda Brocktuckle glanced at her partner. Martin had asked that question twice so far. "It's an important operation. I owe it to them to at least be ready to intervene if things go wrong." And it was her important operation. And woe betide them if Rickett and Purvis blew it.
"Dawlish couldn't mess this up if he tried. If there's one thing he's good at, it's failing," Parkinson said.
All three of them were standing in the upper part of Knockturn Alley, near the exit to Diagon Alley, polyjuiced. Brenda had handed over her case, including the leverage on Mills, and Bones had put the pressure on Dawlish to arrest suspects. A little hint about the muggleborns hiding in that alley being behind the mudholes, and Dawlish was off to arrest them. Or to try to arrest them and fail, if Rickett and Puvis did what they were supposed to do. Which they had better do, if they knew what was good for them.
Martin didn't look too convinced. "It's time," he said, checking his watch.
As expected, Dawlish did things by the book. A book written for places that weren't Knockturn Alley. Six Aurors entered the alley with Dawlish in the center of their formation. The regulars of the alley knew what that meant, and started to react at once. Those who had reasons to fear the law more than others disappeared - Brenda even heard the popping sounds of Apparition - while others moved out of the way. The three disguised Aurors did the same, moving to the entrance of a side alley. Brenda spotted a reporter for the Daily Prophet hiding in the alley opposite them, and grinned. Tipping the newspaper off had ensured that everyone would hear about this.
Brenda spotted something moving in the dark shadows behind them. "Watch our backs," she whispered to Martin while she watched the Aurors walk past. Those who had experience in the alley looked nervous or angry, but Dawlish was smiling. The fool hadn't done any patrols here in years, and had apparently forgotten what things were like here. All the better for her operation, Brenda thought with a smile.
She knew the names and addresses Dawlish was going after, and if he was doing it by the book, he'd go after the one closest to the entrance to the Alley first. Bertram Bennington. Mills had told her that the old muggleborn had no family left, and hadn't left Wizarding Britain for decades, which explained why he hadn't fled yet. The fool had needed to be persuaded to leave even when told that the Aurors were coming for him. Brenda shook her head at the stupidity of mudbloods who wanted to follow the law exactly when they shouldn't.
At least Dawlish was acting according to the plan, even if he didn't know about it. He sent two Aurors, Meryn and Fleawater, up the small stairway next to a second-hand clothing shop that led to Bennington's room. They pounded on the door. "DMLE! Open the door!"
Brenda winced. She knew what was coming, and didn't like it, even if it was needed. Everyone knew the mudbloods showed no mercy, and wouldn't trust someone who was too soft.
The door exploded outward, blowing the two Aurors off the stairs and into the wall opposite it. They hit it, and then fell down the three yards into the alley. Neither screamed, so hopefully they were unconscious already.
Dawlish froze for a moment, as did two of his remaining Aurors. The other two were already casting Shield Charms before aiming their wands up the stairs and moving to take cover.
Unfortunately, Rickett and Purvis knew how Aurors trained and worked. They were going out through the windows, disillusioned and on their brooms. Bludgeoning Curses hit Dawlish and one of the other Aurors, bowling them over before they managed to finish casting Shield Charms of their own. Dawlish struggled to get up, and was hit by a stunner while a Reductor Curse drove the three Aurors who were still standing into cover.
They would be casting Human-presence-revealing spells now, which they should have cast before entering the Alley even. But with Dawlish out, and three others of their number down, they'd be thinking about escaping, not retaliating. As planned.
A few more Reductor Curses hit the ground, blowing small craters into the pavement. Close enough to shower the Aurors with splinters, but not close enough to seriously threaten them behind their Shield Charms.
Suddenly, a loud voice rang out through the entire Alley: "The Ministry has betrayed the people for the last time! We, the Avengers, will not let you kidnap Bennington or anyone else! Muggleborns, half-bloods, purebloods! Unite and throw off the yoke of the Ministry! Flee and hide!"
Purvis was getting into this, Brenda noted. It sounded very convincing.
"We'll return when we are needed anew!" the undercover Auror shouted.
A few curses flew through the air, but hit no one - Rickett and Purvis would have flown away already. On the ground, Brenda saw flashes, and almost drew her wand - but it was just a man taking pictures of Dawlish, down and stunned.
That just made Brenda's smile grow wider. Everything was going according to plan.
*****
Ministry of Magic, November 15th, 1996
Albus Dumbledore acted surprised when he left the chamber of the Wizengamot and saw Kingsley leading a squad of Aurors through the hallway outside, even though he had known about this in advance. The wizards and witches milling around outside the chamber parted to let the group pass, and more than a few looked more worried than puzzled. Albus took note of those.
"Terrance Avery!" Kingsley stated, pointing his wand at a younger wizard who was talking to the esteemed member of the Wizengamot Bilius Runcorn. "You're under arrest!"
The rest of Kingsley's squad had their wands out as well, probably not needed here, but better safe than sorry. Not that Albus would stay out of any fight, should one happen.
While Avery blinked, looking more surprised than shocked, Runcorn was already stepping in front of Kingsley. "What is this? What are you doing? This is the Wizengamot!"
KIngsley faced the old wizard while two of his Aurors - Nymphadora among them, Albus saw - moved to the side and covered Avery with their wands.
"We've found proof that Mister Avery has been working for the Dark Lord," Kingsley said in a calm tone.
"This is ridiculous!" Runcorn gasped. "I vouch for him!"
"Of course you will vouch for him, Mister Runcorn," the Auror responded, and his tone and expression left no doubt that he would have arrested the Wizengamot member as well, if he could. "But our duty is clear; the evidence incriminating Mister Avery is too convincing, as the Head of the DMLE has agreed."
He gestured with his free hand, and Nymphadora and the other Auror - Leslie Barnockle, Albus recognised him now - stepped forward to disarm and secure Avery. For a moment, the young wizard looked like he was about to resist, but then he scoffed. "I have done nothing wrong!"
"The Wizengamot will clear him!" Runcorn said, far louder than needed. "This is an outrage!" He turned to Avery. "Don't worry, Terrance. I'll talk with the Minister and have this sorted out in no time!"
Albus shook his head. How predictable. But then, that was why Kingsley was arresting Avery in such a public location, instead of more discreetly, like the others the information from Miss Granger had incriminated.
He turned to Cornelius, who had been staring at the scene. "Maybe this should be discussed in the privacy of your office, Cornelius? Instead of in the hallway?"
The Minister for Magic nodded. "Yes, of course," he said, almost automatically, before he glanced at Albus and narrowed his eyes.
"Since this seems to involve the Wizengamot, I think it would be best if I was present as well, to provide information about the rules and regulation governing our esteemed body." Albus smiled politely, but stared at Cornelius until the wizard nodded.
A few minutes later Cornelius, Runcorn, Amelia, Kingsley and Albus himself were in the Minister's office.
"This is an outrage! To arrest an upstanding young Ministry worker, on hearsay and slander!" Runcorn yelled and turned towards Kingsley. "How dare you!"
"The proof presented to me was more than sufficient for an arrest," Amelia said, in that clipped tone Albus knew meant she would have liked to hex the man.
"What proof? I demand to see it!" Runcorn wheeled around.
"It's part of a criminal investigation, and therefore not open to the public." Amelia said with more than a hint of contempt.
"I'm a member of the Wizengamot, not the public!" Runcorn snarled.
"The Wizengamot has no special rights with regards to such investigations," Albus remarked, doing his best to sound as if this was a purely academic question. "In fact, they cannot see such evidence, or they would prejudice themselves for a possible trial."
Runcorn gaped at him. Everyone present knew that this was a rule not too many Wizengamot members followed to the letter. Something Amelia hated, even though Albus knew a number of cases where only his own intervention had prevented a travesty of justice.
"Exactly," Cornelius said, smiling weakly. "We wouldn't want to break the law ourselves, would we?"
"Of course not," Albus said.
"This is not about the law! This is about politics!" Runcorn wasn't giving up. "This is a ploy to weaken those among us who stand for tradition and a proper society!"
"Are you accusing me of faking evidence for political reasons?" Amelia glared at the older wizard.
"What? No, no!" Runcorn shook his head. "This is his work!" He pointed at Albus. "He is in league with the mudbloods trying to topple our society!"
"Really, my dear Bilius," Albus said, "that is quite the accusation. How would I have managed to fool Amelia?"
"Yes. Please explain," Amelia said through clenched teeth.
"I cannot explain without seeing the evidence, of course," Runcorn said.
"So, you have no basis for your accusations, it is just wild speculation. Or, in other words, you are slandering Amelia and myself while you attempt to break the law yourself?" Albus shook his head as if scolding a student.
Runcorn reacted as he had hoped. The man snarled. "I see. Mark my words, once those who care about the country take over, there will be changes! Drastic changes!" He scoffed. "Your plot will be stopped in the Wizengamot! My colleagues will not be fooled with fake evidence!"
After Runcorn had stormed out, Albus sighed. "He was always a very passionate student. Although I do fear that the Wizengamot in its current state will not be too concerned about proof."
"We will do our duty," Amelia said, though her expression told Albus she was well aware of this. She wouldn't let that stop her though - which he was counting on. A glance to Cornelius also told him that the Minister had understood what Runcorn had threatened. Hopefully, he would realise soon that Voldemort wouldn't let him stay Minister, should the Dark Lord manage to take over the Ministry. Amelia would already be aware that she wouldn't be kept in office. Or alive.
If not, then Albus would have to engineer a few more incidents. Fortunately, the information from Miss Granger implicated more than just Avery, though procuring admissible evidence about the others that Amelia would act upon would take a bit more effort.
It would be worth it though, if it would keep the Ministry from falling to Voldemort.
*****
London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, November 15th, 1996
Harry Potter checked his appearance in the mirror once again. The non-magical mirror in his room in Grimmauld Place - the magical mirror kept trying to convince him to put on a robe instead of the suit he was wearing. He muttered a curse while he adjusted his tie.
"You're looking fine, Harry. You don't want to look too perfect, or your roguish charm will suffer."
Harry turned and rolled his eyes at his godfather. "Hermione is a perfectionist and she doesn't like rogues."
"All girls have a weakness for the bad boys, Harry. Especially those who appear to loathe them. Trust me, I've dated my share of Ravenclaws in Hogwarts." Sirius grinned. "You'll be fine, trust me."
Harry sighed. He couldn't help feeling nervous. This was worse than the O.W.L.s, in a way. Which was a thought he wouldn't tell Hermione, of course. Among other topics that Harry and Sirius had deemed unsafe or unsuitable.
"Do you have the muggle money?" Sirius sneered, as he normally did when talking about 'paper money'.
"Yes." Harry patted his jacket. "I have also the emergency galleons, the emergency portkey, the communication mirror and the shrunken Firebolt."
"And you studied my notes!"
Harry blushed and rolled his eyes. "Your notes are in my pocket as well." And there they'd be staying, he knew. The kind of things Sirius had taken notes about weren't the kind of things he'd be doing with Hermione on this date.
"Perfect!" Sirius nodded. "By the way, she's waiting in the entrance hall."
"What?" Harry all but shrieked. "And you didn't tell me?" He quickly checked his appearance again. "You left her waiting?"
Sirius smirked. "She's early. You can blame me."
Harry glared at his godfather while he rushed out of his room, and down to the ground floor.
*****
Hermione Granger didn't fidget while she waited for Sirius to fetch Harry. She was just stretching her legs a bit, walking around in the entrance hall. She was early anyway. She wondered what Harry had planned for their date - he had told her to pick a formal dress. Her black evening gown certainly qualified, even though it had taken her several tries to adjust the dress so it both looked good and quite a bit more expensive than the original cocktail dress she had transfigured.
"Hermione!"
She turned around and saw Harry descend the stairs, first taking two steps at a time, then slowing down. He was wearing a suit, she noted with relief - she wasn't overdressed.
"Good evening, Harry."
He stopped, and smiled at her. "You look great!"
"Thank you." Hermione thought the compliment had been honest - Harry hadn't sounded as if he had prepared it, or even thought about it. Certainly not as smooth as Sirius's comment when he had greeted her.
"Sirius didn't tell me right away that you had already arrived," he added, with a frown, "or I'd have come down at once."
She chuckled. That sounded like Harry's godfather. "I'm early. I didn't expect you to be ready."
"Well, I am now." Harry checked his watch - a new one, Hermione noticed - and added: "But the limousine will not be ready for another fifteen minutes."
"You've rented a limousine?" She raised her eyebrows.
For a moment, Harry looked insecure, then he nodded. "Yes. It's a date, after all."
"You haven't made reservations at the most expensive restaurant you managed to find, have you?" Hermione asked, smiling slightly.
"No," Harry shook his head, grinning. "That would have been tacky."
*****
Half an hour later, they were getting seated in the restaurant, and Harry Potter had to assure Hermione again that this wasn't the most expensive restaurant he had been able to find. Just one of the most recommended. He kept smiling while he mentally cursed Sirius's advice - 'wants to see you make an effort', indeed! Neither the limousine nor the restaurant seemed to have met with her approval.
He was looking around while Hermione was studying the menu. He coughed. "Just pick what you like. And don't try to work out how much it'll cost." Which she had already, of course.
She looked at him. "Are you eating here often?"
Harry shook his head. "No. I didn't get to eat out much, with the Dursleys." He saw her wince, and hastily added: "But I've been to a few places with Sirius. He recommended this place."
She snorted. "Figures."
He wasn't certain if that was a good thing. Fortunately, the waiter came by and they ordered. Then the drinks were served, and that served as another distraction. Harry wasn't quite nervous, but usually, he felt much more at ease with Hermione. They had eaten together hundreds of times. Thousands even. He chuckled.
"Hm?" She looked at him, tugging on one of her still very short locks.
"Nothing. Just thinking that we've eaten together so often, and yet here we are, being awkward." He snorted.
"We haven't eaten in such an ambience," she pointed out.
"True." If she was blaming the restaurant, then he was fine with that. Better than blaming the occasion.
"Did you sneak out of Hogwarts?"
He shook his head. "Well… technically. But Dumbledore is aware of my absence. So, I have at least unofficial permission."
She pursed her lips. Probably annoyed at the rule-breaking, or the favouritism. Before she could say anything though, the first course was served. "Oh… that's good." She even closed her eyes for an instant. "I take back what I thought about the restaurant. If all the dishes are as good as this, then it's worth whatever money you are paying."
Harry smiled, enjoying his own meal. "I might try to find this recipe myself," he said. "I can cook, at least a bit."
"Really?"
"Yes. I'm also handy around the house, though there's spells for that." Harry laughed, and regaled her with a few stories about some of his culinary experiments that hadn't been unqualified successes.
When he ran out of those stories, the main course had been served, and he felt far more confident. She'd been laughing a lot, and they hadn't touched any awkward topics. That was how a good date should go, Sirius had said.
Hermione looked around, and grew serious again. He saw her slip her wand out and move it under the table, then heard her mumble before the slight noise of a privacy spell told him what she had done. She took a deep breath, then stared straight at him. "I have to tell you something."
He froze for a second. That wasn't sounding good. "Yes?"
"You remember Allan Baker?"
Of course he did! Arrogant Ravenclaw. Jealous too. He nodded, not liking where this was going.
"I found out that he's been… killing people on his own."
Harry's eyes widened. Was she saying…
"He's been going out, in Death Eater garb, and setting fire to half-blood shops and homes. Killed an entire family." She scoffed. "Just so people would think it was on the Dark Lord's orders."
He gasped. That was sick.
"He's also killed Umbridge. He really likes killing."
Harry shook his head. That had led to the Aurors attacking Hermione. "We have to do something about that!"
She snorted. "I've killed him. Captured him, interrogated him, then cut his head off." She was looking directly into his eyes.
He nodded, slowly. "Good."
"Good?" She narrowed her eyes a bit.
He wasn't certain what she wanted to hear, so he stuck to the truth. "It's not good what he did, but it's good that he isn't murdering people anymore."
"It had to be done." She nodded and took a sip from her glass.
They remained silent for a while, finishing the main course.
"I've been wondering…" Hermione spoke up again.
"Yes?"
"Why didn't you ask me to the Yule Ball, when Cho was going with Cedric?" She was staring at him again.
He took a deep breath. "It's embarrassing." It was. That hadn't been his finest hour. He hadn't been as bad as Ron though. 'Hermione, you're a girl!' indeed.
"Yes?"
"I hadn't really thought of you as a girl, back then." He took a sip from his own glass while she looked at him with an unreadable expression. "You've always been with me and Ron, almost always at least. I've always seen you as a friend, like Ron, not as a girl. Girls for me were Parvati and Lavender, chatting about clothes and makeup and hairstyles." She winced at that, a tiny bit. He went on. "Aunt Petunia had clear opinions of what girls and boys did."
She snorted. "And I didn't match her criteria."
Harry shook his head. "You even hit Draco right in the face. That's something boys do, not girls. At least I thought so. Unconsciously."
"So, you never saw me as a girl, until Ron noticed?"
"Well, to be honest… I knew you were a girl then, but didn't really realise just how much until the Yule Ball."
"How much?" She had her eyebrows raised again.
"How pretty. Beautiful." He smiled, a bit weakly. "I told you, it's embarrassing."
"Maybe I should have used makeup and hairstyling charms earlier then," she said.
"I'm not certain I'd have noticed." He forced a chuckle. "I didn't really pay that much attention to my friends' appearances. Still don't."
"That's not always a bad thing. People who focus on appearances are often rather shallow." Hermione sniffed.
Harry agreed eagerly.
*****
"It was a wonderful date," Hermione Granger told Harry when the two of them were back in the entrance hall of Grimmauld Place. She wasn't lying - the meal had been to die for, and the play Harry had taken her to had been interesting and well deserving of the good reviews. Though she hadn't missed that Harry hadn't enjoyed it as much as she had. She also didn't miss how his face lit up at her words.
"So, you had fun." His tone turned it into half a question.
"Yes." She ran her tongue over her lips, and took a step closer to him. Close enough so if they wanted to dance, all he would have to do was to put his arms around her. He had grown a bit more, she noted - and he had been taller than her for a while.
He swallowed, looking more than a bit nervous. His shoulders twitched, for an instant, as if his arms had moved just a bit.
Smiling, she leaned forward, and kissed him. She was frowning when she pulled away. It hadn't exactly been a chaste kiss, but… She grabbed his head and pulled him down for another kiss. A French kiss. When she pulled back after that, both of them were breathing heavily, and her hair was mussed. That had been a real kiss!
Part of her wanted to go on. Go further even. Test just how 'compatible' they were. Find out if and how those dreams she had had stood up to reality. She wouldn't though. That wouldn't have been fair to Ron. Who had featured in her steamy dreams as well.
"Thank you for a wonderful date." She smiled at Harry.
"Thank you," he said. Then he looked around. "I expected Sirius to appear, and tell us to get a room."
She laughed. "He'd only do that if he didn't want us to get a room."
Harry blinked, before he laughed as well.
Five minutes later she was in a currently unused safe house of the Resistance, stripping off her dress. Another five minutes later, she was back in their headquarters.
Back in the war.
*****
Dorset, Britain, November 16th, 1996
"Ah, there you are! Come, everyone else is waiting!"
Draco was excited, Daphne Greengrass noticed that at once when he welcomed her and Tracey into his home. She glanced at her friend, and the two witches followed their host to his living room. Which had been expanded a bit more, as far as she could tell, and there were now paintings on the walls. No portraits, but that didn't have to mean anything.
Pansy was there, Crabbe and Goyle, of course, as well as Nott, and Vaisey and Warrington, former Chasers of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Daphne and Tracey took up their usual spots, seated on a small couch in the corner with Pansy. The other witch in the room was looking better. Or at least, she was not crying anymore.
"Alright! Now that everyone is here, I can finally share the great news I received!" Draco stood in the centre of the room, smiling widely. "Tonight, many blood traitors and mudbloods will receive their just punishment! The Dark Lord himself has called upon us to fight for him!"
Daphne was about to whisper to Tracey that she had thought they were already doing that, when Draco summoned a large bag to his feet. He opened it and pulled out a white mask. A Death Eater mask, Daphne realised.
"He has granted us the honour of wearing his robes and masks!" Draco declared. "He is acknowledging us as his!"
Daphne exchanged a glance with Tracey. She wasn't quite certain what to think of this, and her friend didn't look like she knew how to react herself.
"If we perform well, we might even earn the honour of receiving his mark!" Draco continued. Crabbe and Goyle nodded eagerly. The others smiled. Even Pansy was smiling, so Daphne forced herself to join in. She was rubbing her left arm though - and asking herself if she truly wanted to be marked like that.
But, she thought as she took one of the robes and masks Draco was handing out to everyone, refusing such an 'honour' was not exactly a decision conducive to a long life. No one insulted the Dark Lord and managed to get away with it.
That Draco was unlikely to share the glory of whatever they were about to do today with anyone was but a small consolation. More than ever she felt trapped.
*****
London, November 16th, 1996
At the bus stop closest to the restaurant he had made reservations at, Ron Weasley tugged on his new jacket. It wasn't a leather jacket. Despite Bill's advice, he had opted for a less… Bill-ish jacket. He wasn't his oldest brother. He had wanted to get a coat, a long coat. Something that would feel closer to a robe. But that wouldn't have been fashionable or appropriate for muggle London. Or so his father had told him. So, a jacket it was. Matching his trousers.
He checked his new watch - a cheap muggle one which wouldn't work at Hogwarts, or anywhere else with too much magic. He preferred his own watch, but this was supposed to be fashionable for muggles. Though why they called it 'Swatch' he couldn't fathom. Ten minutes left until Hermione would arrive. If she wasn't late or early.
He noticed that the girl next to him was looking at him. He smiled at her, politely. She was waiting for the bus - muggle buses didn't stop wherever you held out your wand.
She smiled back. "Big night out planned?"
He nodded. "First date."
"Oh." She looked him over. "Good luck then."
"Thank you." He paused for a moment. "You?"
"I'm going dancing," she said.
"Have fun."
"Thanks."
He was about to ask which club the girl was going to when he spotted Hermione walking towards the bus stop. The girl was saying something, but he didn't listen. His date was wearing a short black dress, just reaching her knees, and a black jacket over it. And matching ankle boots.
"Hi, Hermione!"
"Hi, Ron!"
He moved to hug her. She looked briefly surprised, but she returned the hug. "You look great!"
That made her smile. "You look good as well. I haven't seen you in those clothes since the Cup."
"Ah, yes. Fashion changed since then." And he had grown older. She giggled at that. He hoped that was a good sign. He offered her his arm. "Let's go. The restaurant is around the corner."
"Oh? I thought we'd be taking the bus." She sounded surprised.
"No, I just wanted it to be a surprise." He wasn't his father. He didn't jump at the chance to do something muggle-style.
"Ah. I should have thought of that."
"Did I really outsmart you?" He grinned at her, inclining his head.
She scoffed in response, but she was smiling. He had a feeling that the date was off to a good start.
*****
Hermione Granger was surprised by the restaurant Ron had chosen. It was a small, cozy one. French cuisine, and apparently with French staff. A family business, as far as she could tell. Not the kind of restaurant you'd find by browsing the yellow pages. Or the guides.
"Have you been here before?" she asked.
Ron shook his head. "No, but Fleur said this is one of the best French restaurants in London."
"Ah!" That explained it. "Do you like French food?" She didn't remember eating any at the Weasleys.
"Well… it might sound a bit weird, but Mum's cooking is so good, not even Hogwarts' elves match her, and the few times Dad took us to a muggle restaurant, I was a bit disappointed. But she doesn't do French dishes." Ron smiled.
She nodded. Neither of her parents could cook that well - or rather, took the time to cook well - so she usually associated eating out, or Hogwarts, with better meals. She frowned a bit. If not for the damn Ministry and the Death Eaters, she would be enjoying Hogwarts' meals.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned the school," Ron said, after they had ordered.
"No, no. It's not your fault." She knew whose fault it was. And they'd pay. She changed the topic anyway. "How are Bill and Fleur doing?"
"Oh, they're doing well, though they are a tad stressed. Wedding preparations, and, you know…" he trailed off.
She nodded. Dumbledore's Order. She had no doubt that the whole Weasley family were members, with the possible exception of Ginny. "Will they marry in England or France?"
"France. Mum's not happy about it, but she knows it's safer. Still, I'm glad I'm not involved in all that." He shook his head. "Even Bill is more stressed about the wedding than his work."
And the war, of course.
He told a few more tales about Bill and Fleur, and their extended families, while they ate. Fleur had been right, she found out - the food tasted like it did in one of the small restaurants on the Côte d'Azur. One of the small, excellent restaurants. She wondered what had made the family - her guess had been confirmed by a quick question to the waiter - come to London. But she would pass the address on to her parents. After the war.
*****
Ron Weasley was growing more and more confident as the meal continued. They were talking, they were laughing, they were having fun. It was just like a good date should be going. Of course, that was when Hermione changed the topic from light-hearted to what Bill would have called "curse-trapped."
Ron had just finished his main course - Bill hadn't steered him wrong with his advice there either - when Hermione took a deep breath and cast a privacy spell, before asking: "Do you remember Allan Baker?"
He nodded. Of course he did. Git. Probably had been jealous of their friendship with Hermione.
She bit her lower lip. Which meant she was worried. Or distressed. "I found out that he's been murdering people."
"What?"
"He's been disguising himself as a Death Eater and attacking half-blood shops. Killed an entire family to frame the Death Eaters."
"Merlin's balls!" Ron was shocked. That was… he would have expected that from Death Eaters! Killing your own people, innocents… he shook his head.
"He's also killed Umbridge and several Aurors."
Ron felt torn about that. Umbridge certainly had deserved to die, she had been a cruel monster. Aurors… well, they were hunting muggleborns. And Hermione. Some were also hunting Death Eaters though. "What did you do?" If Hermione had found out what he had been doing, she'd have done something about it.
She looked at him. "I've killed him. Captured him, interrogated him with Veritaserum, then cut his head off."
Ron nodded, slowly. That was what he had expected. "He won't be a threat to anyone else then."
"No, he won't."
"Good."
She looked a bit surprised. "That's all?"
He shrugged. "People who act like Death Eaters should get treated like Death Eaters." And killing them was the best option. Malfoy had shown what happened when you let them live - they tried again.
Hermione nodded, smiling slightly.
Dessert was served, and Ron enjoyed a truly divine cake. Sadly, the portions were not as generous as they would have been at Hogwarts. But he guessed that was a question of quality before quantity. Even though he was really tempted to cast a Doubling Charm on the cake.
Afterwards, Hermione broke the silence - if her appreciative noises during dessert didn't count: "Ron… when you asked me to go to Yule Ball with you..." She was staring at him.
He winced. That had been almost as bad as getting mad at Harry for being thrown into the Tournament. "Yes?"
"Did you really not think of me as a girl before that?"
He took a deep breath. "No, I didn't. I was an idiot back then." He shrugged. "I was focused on appearances. You know how I acted around Fleur. And I was too shy to ask any of the other pretty girls."
She had narrowed her eyes a bit. "And then you noticed that I could be a pretty girl as well, at the ball."
Ron nodded. He wasn't about to lie to her. "Yes. That was a shock."
"A shock?"
"Yes. I mean… I had known you for years. You and Harry were my two best friends. Both of you kept getting into trouble. Usually with me coming along. I didn't think of us as two boys and a girl, we were just three friends. Two of them with wild, untameable hair." He grinned, and she chuckled. "And then I realised you were a girl. A girl I knew. And was friends with. I was such an egotistical git, I didn't want to believe that anyone other than Harry or me would have even thought of inviting you to the ball. Because why would anyone else realise you were a girl when we didn't? You didn't exactly act like Lavender or Parvati."
Hermione had a rather wry expression now, he noticed. "Why, indeed? I was a bushy-haired nightmare."
"Hey, now!" he protested. "That was in our first year! You can't bring that up. I didn't remind you of your skewed priorities, did I? 'Killed, or worse, expelled'."
"True," she admitted, blushing slightly.
He quickly continued with his explanation. "So, at the ball I saw you were a pretty girl. Which was a shock."
"You mentioned that already."
"Yes, I did. Anyway, it took me some time, but I realised I like you." He smiled.
She didn't smile. "Because I could be pretty?"
"Because you are a great girl, friend, person." He would be lying if he denied that it hadn't hurt that she was pretty.
"That's why you turned Lavender down?"
"Yes. I've grown up. I want you."
That seemed to please her. He reached over the table and took her hand. She didn't pull away.
*****
Devon, Ottery St. Catchpole, November 16th, 1996
The home of the Weasley blood traitors looked like it was but one failing spell away from collapsing. Daphne Greengrass, hidden behind a tree at the edge of the property, couldn't really believe that this was the home of the family of a Ministry employee - it was a disgrace! She had seen hovels which had looked more impressive. Hunting lodges even! She shook her head.
And yet, it was protected with strong wards. Not as strong as those of Greengrass Manor, of course, but nothing to take lightly. The oldest son of the Weasleys was a skilled Curse-Breaker, she remembered, and he had obviously given his parents' home the same attention he had given his brothers' shop. She wasn't looking forward to crossing wands with him, not even with a dozen Death Eaters on her group's side.
Daphne was almost glad for the mask she was wearing; it hid her expression. She shook her head. She shouldn't be nervous, much less afraid. Mudbloods had attacked far better protected homes. She wouldn't be outdone by those murderers! She turned to Tracey and whispered: "Now I know why every Weasley is a Gryffindor - if they were less brave, they'd not be able to sleep in such a building."
Tracey laughed under her breath, but it sounded a bit off to Daphne. Or that could be the mask's effect. She would have to be careful not to lose sight of her friend - with these masks, she wouldn't be able to easily find her again.
"Alright, everyone, remember: Our task is to keep the house of the blood traitors covered in Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey Jinxes and keep them from escaping by other means," Draco said. "The others will take care of the wards and attack."
Their leader must be nervous himself, Daphne thought - counting the briefing at the meeting, that was the third time Draco had repeated himself.
"I'm not exactly sorry we're not going in that house ourselves," Tracey whispered when Draco had gone over to where Theo was standing, "one missed curse could bring it down on your head."
"If they are smart they'll simply set it on fire from the outside," Daphne answered.
"Start casting!" Draco yelled suddenly.
Daphne stood up and cast an Anti-Apparition Jinx on the house while Tracey cast an Anti-Portkey Jinx. Both followed up with Human-presence-revealing Charms. And Muggle-repelling Charms. She waited for the blood traitors to dispel them, but they didn't. Even while the Death Eaters were attacking the wards, no one seemed to even try to escape. That didn't fit a family who was Gryffindor to the core. She ground her teeth. Something wasn't right.
Minutes passed, and she still saw no Weasleys appear to defend their house. Were they even home? But the lights had been on, and she had seen movement behind the curtains. "I don't like this," she whispered.
"What?" Tracey whispered back.
"This doesn't feel right. They should be doing something in that house. Why aren't they trying something while the wards still protect them?"
"Maybe they are waiting for help?" Tracey said.
"If they are, they'll be waiting until they are dead," Daphne said. Draco had told them that all over Wizarding Britain, blood traitors and other enemies would be attacked now, while even more false alerts would be called in to the Ministry. No help would be coming!
And yet, they didn't react. The Quidditch team on their brooms up in the air was ready, but no one tried to escape by broom. No one even tried to dispel their jinxes!
What were they waiting for?
"The wards are down!" One unfamiliar Death Eater suddenly shouted with glee. "Let's get them!"
Daphne saw four Death Eaters rush to the house. Evidently, they were not about to simply set fire to the house. The one in front cast a Blasting Curse at the door, blowing it and half the wall away. Before they reached the new opening though, all four suddenly started screaming and collapsed.
Daphne stared, shocked, as the four writhed on the grass. One of them ripped his mask off, and she almost screamed when she saw his face - his skin seemed to turn to leather while his eyes shrank in their sockets.
"Moisture-Draining Curse," Tracey whispered next to her while the screams died one by one and the Death Eaters stopped moving.
But who had cast it? Daphne hadn't seen anyone.
A few more Blasting Curses followed, blowing more holes in the walls. Someone set fire to the house. Or tried to - it didn't seem to take. But the wards were down, Daphne knew that. It didn't seem to matter though, since the house started to collapse.
And still no one tried to escape. Even as the walls came tumbling down. Then she caught a glimpse of a stone structure in the middle of the house, right before the roof started to hit the ground. The curse!
"It's a trap!" she yelled. "They've cursed the house!"
She was too late. A green light suddenly shone from within the ruins, covering the area. A second later, the remaining Death Eaters started to scream as they were sucked into the ground.
"Quicksand Curse," Tracey said next to her. "Another favourite of the Old Egyptians."
Screams from above them made Daphne look up. Vaisey and Warrington, the two former Chasers, were surrounded by what looked like small black clouds. They were flailing wildly, but the clouds seemed to cling to them. And that buzzing sound…
"Devouring Scarabaeus…" Tracey started to say.
Daphne grabbed her and dragged her away. They had to get out of the range of their own Jinxes, so they could apparate away.
*****
London, Soho, November 16th, 1996
"I didn't expect you to take us dancing," Hermione Granger said, once they had made it past the bouncer at the door and found a table in a corner to sit down. She had expected a movie.
"Did you expect me to take you to a museum?"
Museums were not open that late, Hermione knew. "Not exactly."
"Well, you seemed to enjoy the dancing at the Yule Ball," Ron said. Thanks to another privacy spell, the didn't have to yell at each other. "And I haven't been to a muggle club yet."
Hermione hadn't been to a muggle club either, yet. Apart from her last vacation in France, after her fourth year, and that hadn't been a real night club. Certainly not a date. She nodded.
"If you don't like it we can take a stroll through the town, and catch a late night movie," Ron said.
"You seem to have planned ahead." If he had.
"A bit." He grinned. "I can apparate us to a cinema, at least. And I know when the last movie starts." He took her hand again. "But I'd really like to dance with you. It's not a ball, but…"
She smiled. "Let's dance then."
Hermione didn't take long to realise that she liked dancing. And liked dancing with Ron. He wasn't a particularly good dancer - it was obvious he hadn't done this before - but he enjoyed it. And his attention made her feel good. And desired. He had grown up, as he had said. He had turned down Lavender, after all. Something not many teenage boys would have done, Hermione knew. She was no fool - she knew that Lavender was more attractive than she was.
And, she added to herself, Ron had also simply grown. He was as tall as Percy now, but had broader shoulders and a better build. A much better build. She had caught a few other girls eyeing him. But for this evening, he was hers. And she didn't share, she thought with a smile.
She was just returning to their corner with two drinks when she felt her purse vibrate. The enchanted mirror. Ron must have noticed from her expression that something was wrong, since he was looking around, hand on where he kept his wand. She put the drinks down and pulled the mirror out.
Harry's face appeared. "I'm very sorry to disturb you, really sorry. But there's been attacks on the Burrow and other places. The teachers are calling the students whose families have been attacked, and I don't think Dumbledore can cover for you."
Ron muttered a curse. Hermione gasped. "Is everyone alright?" She knew the Burrow had been evacuated before, but if there were Death Eater attacks, then the Order would be responding.
"We don't know yet," Harry said, "sorry." He did look miserable before his image vanished.
"Alright," Ron said. He would be worrying for his family. Hermione felt rather selfish for being angry that her evening was cut short.
She sighed. "I better get back as well." The Resistance hadn't planned anything and was unlikely to get involved, but she should check with them.
He nodded. "Damn Death Eaters. Attacking people and ruining dates."
She chuckled at the black humour. Then she looked at him, and slid closer. A few minutes wouldn't make a difference. "It's not ruined. Just cut short."
He looked puzzled. Until she slid in his lap and kissed him. No chaste kiss to start, not now.
When they pulled apart, Ron had his eyes closed. "Damn, now I hate them all even more."
She nodded, slightly out of breath as she left his lap. That had been… passionate. Like in some of those books she didn't read. "We have to go now."
He nodded, and they stood up.
They held hands until they were out of the door, and around the corner. Until they had to apparate.
*****
Kent, Britain, Longbottom Manor, November 16th, 1996
Augusta Longbottom was glad that her grandson was at Hogwarts, and not at home, when she noticed that the wards of her ancestral manor were under attack. They were strong, and would hold whoever was attacking at bay for quite some time, but they would not hold out forever. And her Floo connection was dead - there was no way to call for help. Apparition and portkeys were blocked as well.
She scowled. No one attacking her wards would fail to block magical travel. She could use a broom, but she was quite certain that the sky above her home was being watched as well. That would be, at best, a last resort.
She didn't let any of those dark thoughts show though when she addressed her house elf. "Pammy, gather the others and go hide in the cellar." The elves were useless in a fight, their magic just barely making them better servants than muggles, but if the worst happened and the wards were breached, then they would be safe down there. The Dark Lord's scum attacking her home wanted her. Hopefully.
She strode through the entrance hall of the manor, activating the enchanted statues in there, then stepped outside. More such defenses were hidden in the garden, and she turned them on as she strode towards the wall that marked both the edge of the Longbottom property as well as the wardline.
Were the Death Eaters as brazen as to attack the gates itself? Or were they showing their true mettle, and trying to break in through the back? To Augusta's surprise, she saw figures in dark robes moving behind the gate. Did they think she'd cower in her Manor while they tried to break in?
Filled with anger and contempt, she aimed her wand and conjured a few vipers outside the gate. Sudden yells told her that the enemies had lookouts at least. She scoffed and conjured stone stairs in front of her, high enough so she could cast over the wall and remain protected by her wards.
She saw half a dozen Death Eaters blasting the ground, killing her snakes. A yell from above her tried to warn them, but she was already casting, sending several Cutting and Piercing Curses at the two closest enemies. One of them went down, the other's Shield Charm managed to protect him long enough so he could dodge her volley. Her Blasting Curse got him though. The rest took cover behind trees and rocks. Those were not the ones attacking the wards though. They would be hidden, better protected. But where?
Suddenly, red spells flew at the hiding Death Eaters from behind. She saw one jump up and start to run, falling to two spells after a few steps. Another slumped over and slid around a tree. Then she saw red robes appear. Aurors. Four of them.
Two slapped small discs on the stunned Death Eaters, portkeying them away. The other two waved at her and walked to the gate. Augusta met them there. She recognised the leader. Kingsley Shacklebolt. One of Dumbledore's faction.
"Good evening, Mrs Longbottom. We were alerted that your Floo connection had been sabotaged, and were dispatched to check on you. Are you alright?"
She nodded. "The wards are still under attack, so there's bound to be a few more of them in hiding." It wasn't as if the scum could quickly withdraw; the backlash from the wards would kill them.
Shacklebolt nodded and turned to the other Auror. "Runcorn, take the others and make a sweep around the perimeter!" Turning back to Augusta, he asked. "Can I come inside and check the Floo connection? We think they may have found new ways of blocking it. And I think we need more Aurors here. Trusted ones," he added, his emphasis telling her that he knew as well as she did that there were traitors within the Aurors' ranks.
"Certainly." She moved her wand and cleared him to enter. She kept her wand in hand, of course - she had just been attacked.
"Thank you." He smiled at her. Then his eyes widened and his wand came up.
She turned around, wand out, but she saw no threat. She tried to turn back, but she was too slow. Too late.
"Stupefy!"
*****
Beyogi
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2014
- Messages
- 953
So they've used Polyjuice? Effective trojan horse ploy.
I really hope Bill's defenses slaughtered the Death Eaters. He's trapped the fuck out of the property and I hope it'll take a lot of them.
Maybe they should look into auto-turrets or something. The Death munchers certainly wouldn't expect that.
I really hope Bill's defenses slaughtered the Death Eaters. He's trapped the fuck out of the property and I hope it'll take a lot of them.
Maybe they should look into auto-turrets or something. The Death munchers certainly wouldn't expect that.
Starfox5
Experienced.
- Joined
- Feb 5, 2015
- Messages
- 4,010
I think the Death Eaters would expect dart- or spear-launching traps, if they have some Curse-Breaking experience. Not to mention that using muggle weapons could backfire in the current climate.
Ack
(Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)
- Joined
- Feb 12, 2014
- Messages
- 7,239
Starfox5
Experienced.
- Joined
- Feb 5, 2015
- Messages
- 4,010
"Ah! Muggle bombs! They are in cahoots with those mass-murdering mudbloods!"
At this point, using muggle weapons is a really bad idea for any wizard or witch who doesn't want to get hunted by the Ministry.
Beyogi
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2014
- Messages
- 953
So make it a magical frag. The splinters don't care where the force comes from.
Either way if I was the weasley's I'd stack up on alternate weapons because I'd be quite surprised if the ministry survives the month.
Hell, it might even be their own infiltrator unit that gives them the death blow. Would be an interesting repeat of history I guess considering how the GDR secret service escalated the situation in a way that only strenghtened the protesters and lead to the collapse of the state.
Starfox5
Experienced.
- Joined
- Feb 5, 2015
- Messages
- 4,010
A magical frag would be a Blasting Curse. Quite common. Shields would do well I think.
The Ministry might have some life left.
I already used the "Weasley muggle weapon stockpile" idea in "Patron" as well.
The Ministry might have some life left.
I already used the "Weasley muggle weapon stockpile" idea in "Patron" as well.
Last edited:
Beyogi
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2014
- Messages
- 953
You did? That was the sexytimes Hermione fic, right? Can you give a link? I dropped it halfway through when my browser crashed, I think.
Starfox5
Experienced.
- Joined
- Feb 5, 2015
- Messages
- 4,010
Chapter 17: Plots and Propaganda
Starfox5
Experienced.
- Joined
- Feb 5, 2015
- Messages
- 4,010
Chapter 17: Plots and Propaganda
'Taking an unbiased view, one cannot help but conclude that the Dark Lord had shown considerable restraint for over a year since his return, until the so-called 'November Offensive' in 1996. While some of my colleagues claim that only the timely disappearance of the muggleborns had prevented terror attacks on them and their families, as had happened so often in the First Blood War, I disagree. Apart from the attack on Azkaban, which, given the inhuman conditions under which prisoners were kept there, should have been expected by the Ministry, the only attacks attributed to the Dark Lord's forces were in response to attacks on pureblood supporters of his - usually by muggleborns. Although the possibility that there were attacks and incidents executed and instigated by his followers without claiming responsibility cannot be excluded, especially in light of the cursing of Nigel Nye and the infamous riot in Diagon Alley.
Nevertheless, the theory that the Dark Lord's attacks on so-called 'blood traitors' was the direct result of the change in Ministry policy that resulted in the arrest of several of his supporters among the Ministry employees appears to be quite compelling. And it cannot be overlooked that even in those attacks, the Dark Lord showed some restraint - certainly more than the Muggleborn Resistance showed.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn
Outside Withernsea, Yorkshire, Britain, November 17th, 1996
"Rennervate!"
The Dark Lord Voldemort watched as his latest prisoner started to stir. He smiled faintly at how her eyes widened for a moment when she realised where she was: in the middle of his throne room, in front of him, surrounded by his most loyal followers.
"Good morning, Mrs Longbottom."
The old witch slowly stood up. She had to be hurting - she had been stunned for the entire night, and the Dark Lord knew what toll this took on an old body - but her face betrayed none of the pain she had to be suffering. And her voice didn't quiver when she answered him. "Voldemort, I presume."
Bellatrix snarled and raised her wand, eager to avenge the slight against his position, but he held her back with a gesture and inclined his head. "Indeed. Welcome to my home."
Her eyes briefly narrowed, but otherwise she did not react to his mocking of pureblood customs. The old witch raised her chin. "You are finally showing your true colours then. Striking against everyone who doesn't follow you."
He chuckled. "Attacking? I would say I have merely forcefully invited you to my home to discuss your current political views." He flicked his wand and a soft armchair appeared behind the witch.
She remained standing. Her composure and pride would have been admirable, if they did not extend to her politics. She sneered at him, and he had to hold Bellatrix back again. "Discuss? We have nothing to discuss. Your mad dogs took my son from me."
He leaned back in his seat. "Your son and your daughter-in-law fought in the last war. Everyone knows that people get hurt in war."
She scoffed. "They fought for Britain. And they were ambushed by cowards!" She glance at the Lestranges, sniffing.
They didn't dare to go against his will and attack the old witch, but they very much wanted to. Bellatrix even begged with her eyes. "And your son killed my followers. It was war, Madam. But that war ended. And now we're finding us in the middle of another war - against the mudblood menace your family naively and erroneously protected." He sighed. "I warned Britain, again and again, that tolerating mudbloods would be our doom. But did the Ministry listen? No! You can see the result of that mistake where Malfoy Manor once stood." He stared at her. "It is time for us to stop fighting so we can focus on the real enemy."
She sneered at him again. "Do you take me for a fool? All you want is power. And you will kill anyone and everyone to rule." She snorted. "But while you have me, my grandson is safe. No matter what you do to me, or threaten to do, Neville will never follow you! He is his father's son!"
He smiled, carefully not stretching his lips wider than a human would - his new body had wonderful secrets, but also a few peculiarities that alienated many. "Oh, you misunderstand me. I do not want you to follow me. No - all I want from those who are as misguided as you are is to stop opposing me. To simply do nothing." He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper that still filled the room. "And I think that while Neville would sacrifice you rather than join me, I doubt he would be as rash if all I ask from him is to do nothing. To continue his schooling, and advise the proxy who will replace you to simply abstain from any votes."
She drew a shuddering breath, and the hatred that appeared on her face told him that he was correct, and that she knew that her grandson wouldn't sacrifice her. Not if he could get her back by simply doing nothing - something, Severus had assured him, the boy was good at.
"Now, Bellatrix, please show our guest her room and make her comfortable."
The dark witch smiled gleefully, and pointed her wand at the old witch. "Imperio!"
While the prisoner was made to walk peacefully to her cell, Voldemort leaned back and dismissed his followers. Not all of his attacks had been as successful as the one on Longbottom Manor. The attack against the Weasleys' home had been a catastrophe. Maybe Malfoy's boasts about his plans to fool and ambush the Weasley twins had not been as self-aggrandising as he had thought. The family had certainly shown more cunning and brutal ruthlessness than the Dark Lord had expected, sacrificing their own home just to kill some of his Death Eaters. And the spells they had used…
He rubbed his chin. Yes, they would need to be dealt with. But with careful planning. He remembered Molly Weasley, and what she had done in the last war, after her brothers had died. If she had died in the Burrow this problem would have been solved, but now… He had to tell Malfoy that the Weasley twins had to be taken alive.
The Weasleys were too brave and foolish to betray their friends and allies, but if Voldemort simply asked for their neutrality? It was certainly worth a try. He would prefer it if the purebloods opposing him would learn to simply stand aside. It would make his future reign easier. And he could always kill his prisoners, should their relatives prove to be stubborn or difficult.
He stood up and walked over to the tapestry depicting the founding of Hogwarts. Running his hand over the fabric, he took a deep breath. He still wasn't certain that going on the offensive and attacking the blood traitors had been the right decision. He could have waited. Let his followers and their allies counter Dumbledore's latest move. Continue to let the mudbloods kill purebloods until the Wizengamot saw no other way to save themselves than turn to him.
His first attempt to take the power, thirty years ago, had been, in hindsight, too brutal, too crude, even. His most loyal followers had been young, inexperienced. Too rash for many of the conservative members of the Wizengamot.
Which was why, this time, he had bided his time and kept his followers from starting a war. Let them slowly and subtly take over the Wizengamot and the Ministry and oust Dumbledore. Then the mudbloods had started a war. As brutal as his last one, if not more so. And his people had been growing more restless with each success of those animals, with each defeat handed to the Ministry. They hated to be thought weak and cowards by their peers. He had kept them in check, used the purebloods' fear of the mudbloods for his own aims.
He ground his teeth. But the mudbloods taking Rowle had sown doubts about his power in the weak hearts of the British purebloods. They were asking themselves how the Dark Lord could protect them if he couldn't even protect his own. And Dumbledore's cronies were reinforcing those doubts. People were starting to fear the mudbloods more than him. Then the Aurors had begun to strike at his spies in the Ministry. Another move of Dumbledore's, aiming to make the public and the Wizengamot believe that he was weak, weaker than the Ministry, even!
His fingers dug into the rising walls of Hogwarts on the tapestry. The same Wizengamot members that had, even eagerly, turned to him as an alternative to Dumbledore's thinly-veiled reign over Britain had started to waver. No pureblood in power had liked Dumbledore's progressive policies, but after his victory over Grindelwald, the old wizard had been too powerful for the Old Families to oppose. So they had forced themselves to bear it. Until the Dark Lord had appeared, more terrifying, more powerful than Dumbledore. More attractive to many purebloods. But only as long as they believed he could defeat Dumbledore, and save them from the mudbloods. Only as long as they feared the Dark Lord more than anything, more than anyone else.
He took a step back, releasing the tapestry, and smoothed it out with a gesture of his hand. No, he could not have waited any longer. He had to act, before his reputation suffered another blow.
The curse was cast. Now all that mattered was to see it through.
Devon, Ottery St. Catchpole, November 17th, 1996
The Burrow was gone.
That was Ron Weasley's first thought when he appeared at the edge of his family's property. Debris covered the spot where the house had stood. Some was blackened, as if it had burned. Other parts were just broken, as if a giant had smashed them. And, for some weird reason, the uppermost part, the roof covering the upper attic, had settled down undamaged on the rest of the remains.
He shook his head. He had known that this could happen, that this probably would happen, when his parents had told him that they were evacuating their home, but to see the destruction… he ground his teeth to avoid cursing. The Death Eaters had destroyed his family's home. His home. He closed his eyes and drew a long, shuddering breath to calm down. Those who had attacked the Burrow had paid for it already. With their lives.
Whatever had done this hadn't even spared his father's shed. That had been burned down. He took a few steps closer, trying to see if his dad had taken his muggle item collection with him, but an Auror stopped him.
"We haven't checked the remains in there for curses and traps yet."
Ron opened his mouth to argue - muggle items were harmless, at least the ones his dad collected - then closed it when he saw another Auror conjure a blanket near the shed and realised that they were talking about human remains. He nodded, and turned away.
"Mate, I'm sorry. That's…" Harry was shaking his head.
Ron knew that Harry came closest to understanding what he was feeling. Harry had once told him that the Burrow had been the first home he had felt happy in. Ron nodded at his friend, and clapped him on the shoulder. "No one was hurt. No one from our family, at least." He frowned. "And it wasn't your fault!"
Harry looked like he wanted to disagree - Ron's friend had a complex about such things - but he caved under Ron's glare. "Alright. I'm still sorry for wrecking your date."
"Hm?" Ron looked away from the remains of gnomes that had been burned trying to escape their tunnels. "You didn't ruin it. It went fine."
"Oh?"
"Yes," Ron smiled. "We had fun. We danced for hours."
"Oh." Harry looked surprised.
"What did you do?" Ron asked.
"We watched a play," Harry said. "She liked it," he added.
"You didn't." Ron looked at him.
"It was… interesting." Harry looked to his side. "Oh, there's Bill. Bill!"
Ron's eldest brother walked over to them, a smile on his face. "Hi, Harry, Ron. I didn't know you were allowed to leave Hogwarts."
"We've got permission," Harry said quickly.
"Family emergency," Ron added.
"And why do I think that mum and dad don't know about this?" Bill shook his head.
Ron couldn't help but looking around for his parents. His brother chuckled. "They're not here." He grew serious. "Mum… she couldn't stand the sight. Cried a lot. Dad took her to… where they are staying."
That sounded like their mother. Ron nodded. "From what we can tell, your curses worked as planned."
Bill blinked. "How did you know?"
"Moody used the opportunity to teach us how to 'read a crime scene'," Harry said.
Ron added: "Well, he told us what he could spot, with the right spells. We didn't do anything here."
Bill relaxed a bit. "Good. I used the nastiest curses I knew. Not all of them are safe even now." He looked over the area. "They wrecked the house, but they paid for it. Eight Death Eaters down."
Ron wasn't entirely certain that even double that number was worth the destruction of his home, but didn't want to argue. He simply nodded. Hermione would have grilled Bill for more information.
His brother must have picked up on it anyway - he was the eldest, after all, and had been responsible for Ron often - since he asked: "How's Ginny doing? Didn't she want to come as well?"
Ron shook his head. "No. She's staying at Hogwarts where it's safe."
"She agreed to that?" Bill raised his eyebrows.
"She doesn't know we're here," Ron explained. At least he hoped Ginny didn't know.
Bill frowned. "I see."
"What?" Harry looked puzzled. Ron didn't know what Bill was talking about either.
His oldest brother shook his head. "Just wondering what you're training for with the Headmaster."
They couldn't tell him that, so all three looked at the destroyed house for a while without saying anything.
"We'll rebuild it," Bill suddenly said. "After the war, when it's safe."
Ron nodded. Whenever that would be. Weasleys were stubborn. Like himself.
Hogwarts, November 17th, 1996
"So, the wards of Longbottom Manor were untouched. Yet the Dark Mark was floating above it, and Augusta is missing," Albus Dumbledore summed up Kingsley's report.
His friend nodded. "There are no witnesses. The elves said the wards were attacked, but that's all they know. And the Floo connection was sabotaged."
Albus nodded. Tom's spies had been working hard last night. The Floo Network had been utterly disrupted. That hadn't affected the Order; Albus's friends had been prepared. But others who, like Augusta, opposed the Dark Lord politically, yet didn't share Albus's views of muggleborns… they had been isolated. Easy pickings. Half a dozen homes had been attacked. Although Augusta was the only Wizengamot member among those who had been kidnapped. The Dark Lord was after leverage, no doubt.
And Tom was still restraining his Death Eaters - there had been no massacres. So he still cared about the opinion of the purebloods. A pity. But Albus hadn't really expected the Dark Lord to make the same mistake he had made in the last war.
"Have you heard anything regarding those 'Avengers' who attacked the Aurors in Knockturn Alley?" Albus asked. He had expected other resistance groups to form, but this one had been surprisingly competent given the circumstances.
Kingsley shook his head. "That's Brenda Brocktuckle's case. She's not been too successful in the past."
The Headmaster nodded. His friend couldn't meddle with that investigation, not without making waves that would render him vulnerable to more subtle attacks than the ones Albus wanted to provoke. Still, those people bore watching. Loose cannons could cause a lot of harm to his plans.
"I've heard the attack on the Burrow was a massacre," Kingsley said.
Albus nodded. "Young William is an experienced Curse-Breaker. He used his knowledge quite efficiently."
The Auror frowned. "Auror Brown used other words. 'Brutal' and 'dark'."
Albus spread his hands. "The old Egyptians were quite ruthless when it came to protecting their tombs."
"Gringotts has been sending teams down there for decades. That's the first time I have heard of such curses being used to defend a home."
Albus smiled. "In order to create such strong and lethal defenses, the Egyptians needed to limit their curses with specific conditions. Conditions rarely met by British Manors."
"So, the Death Eaters won't be able to use those curses to protect them?"
The Headmaster shook his head. "Even if they knew those curses, their hideouts and bases would not qualify." There was no need to inform Kingsley that William had turned the Burrow into a tomb to be able to use the old curses. The sarcophagus had been removed, with Albus's help, before the Aurors had been called.
"Alright." Kingsley sighed and stood up. "Bones is spitting mad, and even Fudge seems to care about the kidnapping of Madam Longbottom. They've made it very clear that they expect results."
The old wizard smiled. "I think they are now realising that the Dark Lord does not limit his violence to muggleborns. His hunger for power is too great to tolerate rivals - even such as Cornelius."
Kingsley snorted. "Ruling Britain isn't much of an achievement. Even Fudge managed that."
Albus chuckled. "I am rather certain that the Dark Lord considers me the ruler of Britain, which is why he intends to take over." Less than two years ago, it had not been far from the truth. Alas, Albus had come to discover that the majority of the Wizengamot and the Ministry had not followed his suggestions because they believed in them, but because they had come from the most powerful wizard in Britain. With that title challenged by the Dark Lord, many purebloods had quickly shown their true colours.
Kingsley was aware of that fact, but didn't mention it. "I'll be using the Floo Network sabotage to make more arrests."
The Headmaster smiled. "Be careful though."
His friend nodded.
Albus knew other members of his Order would have shrugged the danger off. Sirius, for one. "I will inform you as soon as I receive more information about our foes. Please keep an eye on Nymphadora." The Tonkses hadn't been attacked, but that could have been because their address wasn't known to the Ministry. Albus had yet to hear from the metamorphmagus whether anyone had tried to enter the flat the Ministry thought she was living in.
"I will." Kingsley waved and left Albus's office. He wasn't taking the Floo. Not after last night.
Albus leaned back in his chair. Harry and Mister Weasley were still at the Burrow. He had pondered the decision to let them visit for a while. Alastor saw it as a training opportunity. And a way to show them the costs of the war, as well as the dangers. Albus agreed with his old friend that this was a valuable lesson to learn before the two boys started to hunt Horcruxes.
He wasn't quite as certain that this was the only lesson the boys would learn. They might decide to take revenge for the destruction of their home. Harry was quite attached to the Burrow himself, even though he was now living with Sirius. Albus would have to trust them that they would not go down that particular path. No further than most, at least.
He sighed. This offensive by the Dark Lord also complicated matters with regards to Miss Granger. With the Tonkses moving to the safety of Sirius's house, it would not be able to be used for private meetings anymore. Young Nymphadora still had not fully come to terms with the actions of the Muggleborn Resistance. She was coming around though.
He petted Fawkes and sighed. There was another task he was not looking forward to.
He had to inform Mister Longbottom of the kidnapping of his grandmother.
London, Ministry of Magic, November 17th, 1996
Brenda Brocktuckle wasn't quite certain if she should be glad or annoyed about the attacks by the Death Eaters. On one hand, the pressure on her had lightened somewhat, with part of the Wizengamot panicking about enemies other than mudbloods. On the other hand, Aurors were being shifted from hunting mudbloods to hunting Death Eaters.
She shook her head as she sat down at her desk. That clever bastard Shacklebolt had been lucky again - not only had he managed to actually arrest Death Eaters as soon as he had taken over from Dawlish, but his case was now even given priority! Some people had all the luck. And, she added, thinking of Dawlish, some had none.
She looked up as her office's door opened, expecting her partner, Martin. It was Parkinson instead. "Morning," she greeted him.
"It's a bit late for that," Parkinson answered.
She couldn't tell if he was commenting on the time, or the events of last night. She didn't care that much either, so she shrugged.
"Did you hear about the Weasley home?" Parkinson said, sitting down on the edge of her desk.
Brenda nodded. It was the talk of the Corps - not even the kidnapping of Longbottom had made such waves.
"Brown said he had never seen curses like the ones used there," Parkinson went on. "And yet, rumour is we're not investigating the family."
Brenda spread her hands. "Criminals attack an old pureblood family home, get killed in the process - you know how that goes." The Wizengamot certainly took defending your manor seriously.
Parkinson scoffed. "The Weasleys are not an Old Family. And they're only purebloods because the last two generations, they haven't found mudbloods or half-bloods to wed."
Brenda chuckled. "You mean, they're too poor to count as an Old Family." Gold mattered, after all. A lot.
The other Auror snorted, but conceded the point. "So, what's new about those 'Avengers'?" he asked with a grin.
Brenda sighed theatrically. "They're hiding, I guess. Preparing their next strike, no doubt. But with the Corps currently focused on the Death Eaters, they might have trouble finding a similarly spectacular opportunity." Dawlish certainly wouldn't offer one with half his Aurors 'temporarily dispatched' to other duties.
"Well, something better crop up soon," Parkinson grumbled.
As if such things could be rushed, Brenda thought. Fortunately, Martin finally arrived with some scones and distracted the older Auror.
Hogwarts, November 17th, 1996
Harry Potter entered the Gryffindor common room with Ron, and winced when he saw the students inside. Ginny had jumped up and now was glaring at him and Ron, hands on her hip. Neville, who was sitting near her, looked shaken, in need of a Calming Draught. The boy was staring at the carpet.
"Blimey! What happened to Neville?" Ron asked next to him. When Ginny made a beeline towards them, Harry's friend whispered: "Damn, she's furious."
"So… you're back from your 'family emergency'. An emergency I was not told about until you had left already!" Ginny spat. "Why did you get to go and visit the Burrow and our family, and I had to stay here?"
Harry took a small step to the side. That looked like a question best handled by Ginny's brother.
Ron cast a privacy spell before answering: "It was part of our training. The 'family emergency' was just a cover story."
"Your mysterious training. For the Order. Of which everyone of our family but me is a member." Ginny was still glaring at Ron.
"Aunt Muriel isn't a member either."
"Did you just compare me to that hag?" Ginny seemed to be fuming now. She had her wand in hand, even, Harry saw.
"Merlin's beard, Ginny!" Ron exclaimed. "It's not about you! You know we can't tell you what we're doing. We can't tell anyone!"
"I can help as well!"
"That's not up to us," Ron said. Harry refrained from nodding along. "It's up to Dumbledore to decide who he recruits."
Ginny frowned, but she didn't seem to be planning to rush off and accost the Headmaster.
"Besides," Harry added, "you're helping us here already, keeping an eye on the Slytherins."
Ginny smiled at him, then pouted. "The troublemakers all left. The rest rarely leave their dorms. Well, Zabini does, but… you know what he does." She blushed slightly.
Harry didn't really want to hear about the love life of a Slytherin when his own was… complicated. He simply nodded.
"Did he chat you up, Ginny?" Ron asked.
"No, he didn't. And if he did, it would be none of your business!"
Ron glanced at Harry. His friend didn't seem to share that view. Harry agreed with him. Zabini hadn't done anything suspicious, but that didn't mean you could trust him. He was a Slytherin, after all.
"So… what's up with Neville?" Ron asked after a brief moment of silence.
Ginny winced. "His grandmother was kidnapped last night. Death Eater attack on his home."
"Merlin's balls!" Ron muttered.
"Damn!" Harry hissed. He hadn't been fond of his fellow Gryffindor's stance towards the Muggleborn Resistance, but he couldn't help but feel sorry for Neville - the poor bloke had just lost his last family. Harry knew how it hurt, being alone. His own family… he shook his head.
Ginny sighed. "He wanted to go home, but McGonagall said it wasn't safe yet. They don't know what happened. The wards are still intact."
"Treason," Harry whispered. "Someone must have let the scum through." Just like Wormtail.
Ron nodded. "Someone Madam Longbottom trusted. A friend, or even a relative."
"She wasn't a member of the Order, was she?" Harry asked. He was quite certain that the old witch was dead. Or was wishing she was dead. He knew how callously the Dark Lord murdered people. And how he liked torturing his victims.
"I don't know," Ron said. "If she was I hope she wasn't in a cell with anyone we know."
Ginny looked puzzled for a moment. Harry explained: "The Order is made up of small groups. Apart from Dumbledore, you only know your group. Muggles call such a group a cell."
"You heard that from Hermione, hm?" Ron's sister cocked her head sideways.
Neither Ron nor Harry answered her. She sighed. "Sorry. I'll head back to Neville."
Once she had left, Ron recast the privacy spell. "That went well." He seemed relieved.
"That was 'well'?" Harry wondered.
Ron nodded. "Oh, yes. She's usually on her best behaviour around you. But she has a temper, and a loose wand. Or she had. Second year, well… she changed."
Harry felt a pang of guilt. If he had paid a bit more attention… but then, no one had. Not even Ginny's brothers. Or Hermione. He sighed.
Ron glanced at him. "It wasn't your fault. It was Malfoy's."
Harry snorted. His friend knew him too well. And he apparently had had a rather nice date with Hermione. Ron had taken her dancing. Harry hadn't thought of that. Hermione had brought up the Yule Ball during their date. Had that been a veiled clue that she would have liked to go dancing? More than she wanted to watch a play? She was Hermione, but… she had really enjoyed the ball, hadn't she? At least until he and Ron had ruined it. He sighed.
Ron slapped his back. "I told you, it wasn't your fault."
For a moment, Harry was tempted to simply nod. Let Ron think this was about second year. Then he sighed again. "I was just thinking about the Yule Ball."
"Ah."
Neither Harry nor Ron said anything for a while after that.
London, East End, November 17th, 1996
The Resistance had moved back to their regular headquarters, a fact for which Hermione Granger was glad. She had become used to her room. She knew it was a weakness - developing routines, becoming predictable was dangerous - but she liked having things set up just right. Though, she added, looking at the van standing in the middle of the large room on the ground floor, if she could have a mobile wireless studio, a mobile room, or even a mobile base, might be possible. Ron's dad had managed to expand the interior of his car a lot, after all, and wizard tents did the same. Though if those spells ever failed… she shuddered.
"Is something wrong with the set up?" John asked, sounding worried.
She shook her head. "No. I just had a thought about something else."
"Oh. The attacks by the Death Eaters? Or the 'Avengers'?" John grinned at that last part.
Hermione didn't quite roll her eyes. The Resistance had had lively discussions about this new group. Dennis and Colin had been quite impressed and wanted to track them down and recruit them. Surprisingly, Dean and Seamus hadn't been in favour of that - or not so surprisingly, given that no Auror had been killed in the attack.
Hermione herself had not been that impressed by the new group's name. Picking either a TV show or a British comic series… But as flashy as their attack had been, the name might fit. She still convinced the rest to adopt a wait and see policy, until the 'Avengers' proved themselves. Not that it would be easy to contact a group in hiding anyway.
"I just imagined Extension Charms failing with people inside a wizard tent," Hermione explained.
That made John shudder. "Are you planning to use this against the Death Eaters in hiding?"
Hermione chuckled. "I was more concerned with avoiding such a fate. But it would be a possible way to bring down a wizard house." They wouldn't be able to use bombs on every target, after all. Still, to cancel or even just disrupt such charms… It would probably be easier to simply blast the structure to which they were anchored to bits.
"Well… the 'studio' is now finished. All we need is to enchant the van." John patted the side of the vehicle.
She nodded. "I've looked into the charms needed, but I need to check with a source or two." Sirius had enchanted his flying bike, though it hadn't been invisible. Maybe she would have to ask Ron's dad - though that would be tricky. She also needed to gather more information about those attacks. She had spoken with Harry and Ron on the mirror, but they didn't know that much either.
"Who'll go on air, by the way?" John asked. "I'm not exactly a DJ."
"We'll have to discuss that." And probably ask for a volunteer. Hermione would have suggested Lee Jordan, the wizard had been an enthusiastic commentator of the Quidditch matches at Hogwarts, and knew how to rile up a crowd. That he was also horribly biased wouldn't be a problem for the Resistance's wireless. Or the Resistance Radio, as Sally-Anne called it. But Jordan wasn't a muggleborn, and even if the resistance would accept him, she doubted he'd want to join them - every member had a death sentence hanging over them, and while Jordan might not be scared off by that, the danger their families were in would be too much. Or so she thought. Seamus was another option, but he was a bit too excitable. And bloodthirsty. Dean was the same, and already involved with the flyers. Colin or Dennis… even more excitable, but not quite as brutal. Sally-Anne was too meek, and Justin had already begged off.
"We'll have to exploit this opportunity the Dark Lord has given us. We need to tell the public just how dangerous he is, and what his goals are." She pursed her lips. "That means we'll have to go over the script again."
"Was there any news about Allan?"
Hermione was glad that John was focused on gathering his tools. She hated lying to the group. "No. I doubt the Ministry has arrested him. They would have announced that at once. And the Death Eaters… if the contract had not worked, then they would have probably attacked us as well, last night. And if it worked…"
John sighed. "Then they'll likely have killed him out of frustration."
"Maybe. They could've tried to use him as bait anyway." It was what she would have done.
John chuckled. "No wonder you're our leader. You keep thinking like that."
Hermione wasn't quite as flattered as John probably thought she'd be.
London, Soho, November 17th, 1996
The nightclub was packed, the music too loud and the air so full of smoke, Hermione was tempted to cast a Bubble-Head Charm. She'd have to scourgify her clothes afterwards, or she'd carry the stench of stale cigarette smoke back to headquarters. In short, it was no wonder Sirius had picked this location to meet her, now that his home housed the Tonkses. Hermione was shaking her head as she made her way through the thong of people, looking for the wizard.
She spotted him at the bar. To her surprise, he wasn't dressed like a 70s reject - someone must have given him some fashion advice. And he was chatting up a girl young enough to be his daughter - if Hermione was inclined to believe his claims about his third year. She shook her head at the display and walked to the bar herself, ordering a soda. Once she was certain Sirius had seen her, she stepped outside the club to get some fresh air.
A few minutes later, the wizard joined her at the corner. "Mandy thinks I'm on the loo, so we don't have much time," he said, after casting a privacy spell. "Here are the copies of the notes you wanted."
"Thank you." She stashed the parchment.
"Planning to ride a bike yourself? You'd look fetching in leather." He grinned at her.
"You know, those girls on your calendar, what they're wearing isn't what real bikers are wearing." She snorted at his reaction. "But no, not planning to enchant a bike."
"A car then?"
"A bit bigger. I need to figure out a way to hide it too." Though that wasn't quite that urgent - they could fly around at night, and be pretty safe from being spotted with a Colour Change Charm.
He nodded. "There's been no news about the attacks, other than that the DMLE confirmed the kidnappings. Five houses were hit." He scoffed. "Augusta Longbottom is the most prominent victim, but all of the others are connected or related to a Wizengamot member." He stretched. "I reckon I'll be able to get you a few more names as a result - I think this will open the eyes of a number of people who have tried to keep their heads down so far."
"Like Tonks?"
Sirius winced. "She's slowly coming around. She hated the Death Eaters already. No surprise, since Bellatrix wants to kill her whole family. But the reaction of some esteemed purebloods to this might finally make her admit just how rotten the Ministry and Wizengamot are."
Hermione doubted that it would be that easy, but ultimately, it didn't matter. Tonks reported to Dumbledore, who could pass on any information she found to the Resistance. "Are you planning a counter-strike?"
Sirius took a deep breath. "Dumbledore says he is focusing on moving everyone to safe houses. But I'd be surprised if he hadn't already set some things in motion."
"Good. With this change of the Death Eaters modus operandi, we need to react quickly, before they cow the rest of the purebloods."
Sirius sneered. "They are already cowed. We just need to show that we're stronger than the Death Eaters."
Hermione nodded. "I'll need another address then."
"I'll get it to you."
"Thanks."
He smiled at her, and then turned to walk back to the club.
For a moment, Hermione was tempted to follow him. Enjoy the night a bit. Dance. Forget the war for an hour or two.
She shook her head. She had already spent two evenings on dates. She had more important things to do. People depended on her.
And she would not let them down.
London, Ministry of Magic, November 18th, 1996
"Please have a seat, Albus."
"Thank you." Albus Dumbledore smiled politely and conjured a chair for himself. Cornelius was flexible even for a politician - as soon as the Dark Lord had struck at purebloods, Albus had been invited back to the Minister's office with all the courtesy due, and then some.
Amelia was present as well, nodding at him. She didn't try to act as if they were best friends. He hadn't expected her to either.
"We're in a bit of a pickle, Albus," Cornelius started. "Those Death Eater attacks… terrible business." He shook his head.
"The Dark Lord has finally shown his true colours," the Headmaster agreed. "As I predicted."
Cornelius nodded, though Amelia looked a bit doubtful. "It's quite convenient timing," she said. "As soon as some of his followers are arrested, he attacks purebloods in their homes."
Albus shrugged. He hadn't specifically arranged these exact attacks, but he had hoped and counted on the Dark Lord lashing out like this. Although he had expected the attacks to be aimed at Kingsley and other Aurors working with him, first. People who knew the risks and were prepared. "The Dark Lord must have decided that he had come as far as he could using less violent means, and now has switched back to the brutal attacks that terrified Britain 20 years ago."
"One could say you provoked him," Amelia said.
"Any sort of resistance provokes him." Albus smiled. "He will never be satisfied, not even if he was the sole ruler of Britain."
Cornelius shook his head. "First the attack on the Rowles, now Augusta has been kidnapped… terrible times are upon us."
Albus could have pointed out that this could have been avoided if the Minister had listened to him earlier, but that would have been counter-productive. "The question is: What can we do now?" He leaned back. "There are still Death Eaters among the Wizengamot, and while this latest atrocities may have opened the eyes of many, others still follow the Dark Lord's orders. Some out of fear." He sighed. "And those attacks were only possible because of spies in the Ministry."
Amelia frowned. "Aurors are hunting down those saboteurs. As you know very well."
"They are doing their best," Albus said, "but it might not be enough. And his followers in the Wizengamot itself are untouchable." Legally, at least.
"The immunity of a member of the Wizengamot can be revoked," Amelia said.
"With a qualified majority," Cornelius cut in.
"Which we currently lack," Albus said. And even a simple majority was unlikely for many proposals from his allies - or from the Death Eaters. Sadly, the only thing a majority of the Wizengamot might still agree upon was fighting the Muggleborn Resistance.
"That's politics," Amelia said. "Dealing with Death Eaters and other criminals is a matter of law enforcement."
"Exactly!" Cornelius smiled. "And we need to coordinate our efforts for that."
Albus raised his eyebrows. "Oh? In what manner?" he asked, feigning ignorance.
Amelia scowled. "Don't play dumb. You're the only one who can stop the Dark Lord in the field. And you're the one who fed Shacklebolt the names he is arresting. You have spies in the Death Eaters' ranks, and you have some vigilantes who are fighting them."
Albus inclined his head. Amelia knew about her brother's deeds in the last war.
"More importantly, you're a symbol," the Minister added. "If the people know that you're with the Ministry, then that will raise morale, and sway many of those who are afraid of the Dark Lord."
So, they wanted information, cooperation, and a public alliance. Or the appearance of one. As expected. "In those trying times, we need to band together," Albus said. When Cornelius beamed at him, he added: "Against the real enemy of Wizarding Britain."
That made the minister's face fall and Amelia scowl. "Are you still protecting those mass-murderers?" she asked with a sneer, ignoring Cornelius's grimace.
"I do not protect murderers, but I will not support any attack on muggleborns who are just fighting the Dark Lord," Albus said. He wouldn't be able to push for more. Not yet.
"Splendid!" Cornelius was smiling widely again. If he understood that Albus considered the attack on Malfoy Manor a strike against the Dark Lord, then he didn't show it.
Amelia's sneer told Albus that she understood it. And that she knew he couldn't pressure her into stopping the persecution of the muggleborns. Not when he needed their support against Voldemort.
But things would change.
London, East End, November 18th, 1996
Hermione winced when she hit her upper arm on the side panel of the van, right where she had a bruise. After the morning spent training in the woods, she should have used a magical ointment. But she had wanted to tough it out, and serve as an example for preserving the magical supplies for more serious wounds.
She sighed. It was her own fault. If she was more focused, she'd not have such trouble with enchanting the van. At least as far as flying went. But she couldn't help thinking about the dates. With her two best friends. And her inability to make a decision.
She sighed again - she was doing this a lot lately - lowered her wand from where she had been tracing runes on the chassis of the van, and simply lay there, on her back. It was supposed to be a simple solution: Date both boys, pick one. And it had failed. Utterly.
After the date with Harry, she had been happy. He had showed he cared about her, her hobbies and interests. He had been honest about their past… She frowned. 'Troubles' was too strong a word. He had been honest about their past differences. And he hadn't been disgusted or taken aback by her confession about Allan. He cared about her, more than about himself. To quote her silly former roommates, Harry was prime boyfriend material.
Ron had taken a different approach, something she hadn't expected. Instead of catering to her known interests, he had offered her a new experience. The French restaurant had been a familiar and surprising choice, but the dancing… she sighed. She had discovered that she liked dancing, or clubbing. Which she wouldn't have expected. Nor had she expected that it would be Ron who would turn out to be the more adventurous one. Maybe she should have - the Weasleys weren't exactly known for being conservative among wizards.
Ron was interested in discovering new things they could enjoy together. Harry on the other hand seemed to care about her a bit too much - she was mostly certain that he hadn't really enjoyed the play. And yet - discovering what Harry liked would be an enjoyable experience as well, she suspected. Discovering what desires he had, under his urge to save and help others, would be interesting at the least. Then again, so would be trying out new things with Ron.
She sighed again. She was a selfish, silly girl who couldn't make a decision. Who took things far too seriously, even though teenage relationships seldom lasted that long. Doubly so during a war where the three of them could be killed any day. But emotions, relationships, friendship, love - those were serious matters. History was full of examples where love or passion had been a decisive factor in deciding the fate of many people.
Alright, she was growing far too dramatic again. She hissed through her teeth, and raised her wand again. She still had some time until she'd meet her friends again.
But why was she feeling so lonely, right now?
Hogwarts, November 20th, 1996
Neville was looking even worse than after the attacks, Harry Potter noticed when he stashed his fifth year Transfiguration notes in his trunk. The other Gryffindor was sitting on his bed, staring at the window. Harry took a deep breath. He still resented Neville for his attitude towards Hermione and the other muggleborns, but Neville had just lost his grandmother. And with his parents in St. Mungo's… Harry knew how Neville was feeling. Or at least he could understand the boy, better than anyone else.
He stood up. "Hey."
Neville didn't react. Harry frowned. The boy was either ignoring him, or so out of it that he didn't notice when someone was talking to him. Or, Harry added with more than a bit of guilt, he was expecting some more scorn heaped on him.
"Hey, Neville." Harry was about to sit down next to him, but reconsidered, and kept standing next to the bed.
"Come to gloat?" Neville whispered suddenly, without looking up.
"What?" Harry gasped. Did the other boy really expect him to gloat about losing family? "Of course not! How can you think that?" Harry hadn't been that bad, had he?
"You told me for months that the Death Eaters and their supporters were the enemy, and the muggleborns were just defending themselves. And now the Dark Lord has kidnapped my grandmother." Neville raised his head and Harry saw he had been crying. "You've been right, and Gran's been wrong. Just as you said. I've been wrong."
"Well…" Harry swallowed his first thought. "That doesn't matter. What matters is … what will you do now?" He should have thought about this a bit longer, he realised.
"I can't do anything! They'll kill Gran if I…" Neville pressed his teeth together.
"They've contacted you?" If Death Eaters could reach the students at Hogwarts…
Neville glared at him, then looked down. His shoulder twitched and he wiped his eyes. "I've received a letter."
"What do they want you to do?"
"Nothing." Neville stared at the floor. "Nothing! They simply want me to do nothing! Say nothing! Do nothing! Just stay 'neutral', keep my head down, and Gran will be released once the war is over."
Harry winced. He didn't believe Voldemort would keep his word. Not even if he won the war. The Dark Lord had tried to kill him in his crib, after all, due to a prophecy. He certainly wouldn't leave Augusta Longbottom alive and able to take revenge. Or… He closed his eyes. What if he let the Lestranges torture her into insanity as well? That would be just like Voldemort.
Neville was looking at him, Harry noticed. "Do you think he'll keep his word?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself.
Neville snorted. "His Death Eaters tortured my parents into insanity. How could I trust him? Or why would he think I'd not try to take revenge?" Harry saw tears in Neville's eyes again. "But if I defy him he'll torture Gran to death. And it'll be my fault!" Suddenly, the boy reached out and grabbed Harry's arms. "What can I do? What can I do?"
Harry had no answer. He didn't know what he'd do if Sirius was kidnapped. Or Ron or Hermione. His first urge was to try to rescue them, but what if that went wrong?
He winced as Neville released him and returned to staring out of the window. He had to inform Dumbledore. Even though he had a feeling the Headmaster might already know about it.
Hogwarts, November 22nd, 1996
Ron Weasley had seldom seen so many students gathered around one wireless receiver in the Great Hall. Not since the first broadcast of the latest song of the Weird Sisters. He had expected the first broadcast of 'Radio Resistance' to attract attention, but not so openly. But then, those waiting here weren't Slytherins, but mainly Gryffindors, with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs mixed in. He saw a number of the propaganda leaflets which had announced this broadcast floating around as well. The Resistance had dropped them on Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade and even Hogwarts.
"Ron!"
He turned around when he heard his name. "Luna?" Ginny's childhood friend was standing there.
The blonde Ravenclaw nodded and offered him a … pointed hat sporting all the colours of the rainbow. "Here! For your protection!" She was wearing the same hat, he noticed.
"Uh… protection?"
"Against the muggle mind-control techniques. Tinfoil hats protect against them. I'm not quite certain if it can affect us through the wards of Hogwarts, but better safe than sorry, right?"
Ron blinked. Belatedly, he took the hat, earning himself a beaming smile. "Muggle mind-control techniques?"
Luna nodded emphatically. "Yes. We're about to listen to muggleborn propaganda, which aims to influence our views on politics and the war. Which means it's an attempt to influence our minds, since our views are decided by our minds. So… we need to protect our minds. With tinfoil. All the muggle sources Daddy consulted agree that this is the best way to protect your mind."
While Ron stared at her, trying to make sense of her words, she pulled her own hat off and waved her wand over it. Suddenly, she was holding two hats. Luna had just cast a Doubling Charm. In her fifth year. Impressive.
Ron shook his head. "I don't think it works that way, Luna. They want to persuade us with arguments."
"That would be silly. Quarrelling has rarely if ever persuaded anyone of another point of view." Luna shook her head.
Ron forced himself to smile. "I meant, they'll try to reason with the audience."
"Are you certain?" Luna peered at him
"Yes, I'm certain. They are not trying to mind-control us," Ron said as convincing as he managed.
Luna wrinkled her nose. "Well, you'd know… on the other hand, you could be mind-controlled already." She looked at the hat Ron was still holding.
Ron sighed and put it on. "The Resistance are not trying to mind-control us," he repeated himself.
"Hm." Luna pouted. "You could have been mind-controlled for so long, it could have become ingrained in your mind."
"What?"
"This requires further study," the blonde said, and Ron had the impression she wasn't quite talking to him. She certainly wasn't listening to him. "I'll have to check daddy's notes about propaganda and counter-measures!"
The blonde witch skipped off, leaving Ron shaking his head at the absurdity of the entire scene.
"Ron!"
He turned around once more and found himself facing Ginny. "Yes?"
"Are you flirting with Luna now, or why are you wearing the ugliest hat I've ever seen since we visited Aunt Muriel?" Ginny asked, frowning at him.
Ron pulled off the hat. "I was talking with her. Or rather, she was talking to me. I'm not quite certain if she understood what I said. I certainly didn't understand her."
Ginny shook her head. "Well, don't start two-timing your girlfriend."
He gasped. "Ginny!" He didn't have a girlfriend. He quickly cast a privacy spell.
"What? You managed to impress her on your date. Wasn't the point of that to see who is more compatible with her?"
"How do you know that?" Ron stared at her.
Ginny grinned. "I guilt-tripped Bill for leaving me stuck at Hogwarts, worrying about our family."
Ron groaned. He should have known that Bill wouldn't be able to stand up to Ginny. "Well, don't spread it. There are enough rumours going around already."
"I know," she said. "So… how did Harry's date go?"
"It went well." He shrugged. "We haven't really compared notes."
"What did she say?"
"We haven't really talked about that, yet. What with the attacks, and all." And some things shouldn't be said through a mirror, but face to face. "And she's been really busy."
"Oh." Ginny pouted.
"Still rooting for me?" Ron asked, grinning slightly.
"Of course!" his sister said. "If you get her, I can get Harry."
Ron wasn't certain things would work like that, but didn't want to start an argument. And the wireless broadcast began - right on time. Not that he would have expected anything else from Hermione.
It started with music. Rock music. He even recognised the song - they had danced to that, last Saturday. Grinning, he started to whip his foot in step with the music, ignoring Ginny's puzzled glance.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the voice of the Muggleborn Resistance. My name is Tania, and I'll be your host today as we expose the lies of the Death Eaters and their accomplices. And listen to great music!"
That was Tania Dennel, Ron realised. Gryffindor, two years above him. He hadn't know she sounded that sexy on the wireless.
"You all have heard about the cowardly attacks by Death Eaters on several pureblood homes last Saturday. What you haven't heard is that they could do this because of traitors in the Ministry. Yes, folks, the same people who claim to be protecting you were giving out the addresses of the victims, and then sabotaged the Floo Network so they couldn't escape!
"Think about that for a moment.
"That Auror wanting to talk to you about a complaint? He might be a Death Eater spy, here to kill you. Or worse.
"Horrible, isn't it? That's how life has been for a muggleborn in Wizarding Britain for a long time! How many of those muggleborns who were killed 'resisting arrest' were actually resisting?
"Death Eaters are everywhere in the Ministry. Do you think you're safe because you're a pureblood? Think again! Remember the dozen guards of Azkaban, fed to Dementors? They were purebloods as well! Remember the kidnappings last week - purebloods again!
"It's time to fight - for your rights, for your family, for your life! And we'll tell you how!
"But first: More music!"
While another rock song started - Ron didn't recognise that one - the students were already discussing the broadcast. Hotly.
Ron smiled. He wasn't certain if many 'neutrals' would be swayed by this, but it certainly seemed to strike a chord with many of his friends.
Hogwarts, November 22nd, 1996
Albus Dumbledore switched the wireless off when the last notes of 'God save the Queen' had been played. Cornelius would be incensed, Amelia livid, and the Death Eaters and their allies enraged. And a number of pureblood parents would be very concerned about their children listening to the broadcast as well, unaware that the more they tried to suppress this, the more attractive listening to it would become. The Prophet would likely denounce the show as well.
Chuckling, Albus leaned back in his seat. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Fawkes trilled at him, and he banished a treat to the phoenix, before focusing on the list in front of him again.
Kingsley had managed to find a few more Death Eater spies thanks to interrogating the ones he had arrested, but Albus had already known all of them thanks to Miss Granger. At least now there was evidence available in court. Severus knew more names, but Albus was loath to risk his spy to simply strike at a few more minions of the Dark Lord.
His fireplace lit up, announcing a call. He frowned - was there another attack? But the Floo Network still couldn't be trusted. Probably not even after everyone working in the Floo Network Authority had been vetted with Veritaserum - there still remained the Imperius. He flicked his wand, and the fire turned green.
Aberforth's head appeared in the middle of the flames. "I've got something for you," his brother stated in a gruff voice.
Albus nodded. "I will be waiting."
Fifteen minutes later, Aberforth entered his office. Instead of a greeting, he tossed a scroll on Albus's desk.
Albus picked it up. There was an address on it. In Knockturn Alley.
"Death Eater recruiting spot," his brother explained. "Friend of mine noticed some unfamiliar faces, and tracked them down."
"How many wands are there?"
Aberforth shrugged. "About a dozen, maybe more. My friend didn't go inside to check. People who do tend to join or vanish."
"I see. Thank you."
Aberforth scoffed. "Are you going to do something about it?"
Albus rubbed his chin. "I think so." The Order's cells were not large enough to tackle such a location. He would have to call two or three together, which would defeat the purpose of keeping them ignorant of each other. They had been facing similar problems when they had lured Voldemort to the Department of Mysteries, but some deception and cunning had allowed them to split the Death Eaters up while he had faced the Dark Lord. He'd rather not take a similar risk again though.
"I'll tell my friends to stay away from the area then."
Albus nodded. There was but one group large and hopefully skilled enough to attack such a location. "Your presence would be helpful in that mission," he said.
"I'm not about to help your fine, upstanding Order," his brother spat.
Albus shook his head. "This is not a mission the Order is suited for."
"What?" Aberforth's eyes widened. "You're sending the children there?"
"They've struck in Knockturn Alley before."
"Not that far inside. And the underground is now warded and watched. They won't be able to duplicate that," Aberforth said, then glared at him. "And that's why you want me there, right?"
Albus nodded.
"Damn you, Albus. Damn you to hell!"
Albus didn't say anything. His brother was already coming around. He'd contact Miss Granger soon.
Once Aberforth had left, he looked through the list again. He doubted any one of them knew where Augusta was being held prisoner, but it wouldn't hurt to try to find out. And the Knockturn Alley attack might provide information as well - it depended on just how cautious Tom was. Though should Albus discover Augusta's location, then he'd have to decide if a rescue was possible - and worth the risk.
He wasn't looking forward to that decision.
London, Diagon Alley, November 23rd, 1996
Daphne Greengrass glanced at every mudhole in the alley as she walked with Tracey towards Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Who knew what traps were hidden in them? What curses would be unleashed on unsuspecting victims? Anything could be hidden in those mudholes, behind those transfigurations! She gripped Tracey's arm while the two gave another mudhole a wide berth.
Daphne hated to feel like this. Nervous. Afraid. Terrified. But she couldn't help it. The things she had seen that Saturday, at the Weasleys' family home, still haunted her sleep. The deaths she had witnessed...
Who would have expected the Weasleys of all families to use such dark curses? They were supposed to be a bunch of fools! Blood traitors and muggle lovers! Not the kind of people who used magic that impressed even the Dark Lord!
At least that was what Draco claimed had happened when he had reported his failure. Since he was still alive, and not a nervous wreck, he hadn't earned the Dark Lord's ire either. He probably had blamed the dead for the failure - not entirely unjustly, in her opinion. Draco had told them that the Weasleys were tricky, or something like that.
She sighed, then yelped when Tracey gripped her arm a tad too strongly.
"Don't lose it now," her friend whispered. "You heard Draco: It is imperative that we capture the twins. Alive. And we're the only ones who can do it. Or fail."
Daphne nodded. She knew that any failure would be painful. "Aren't you nervous? You know what the Weasleys did to their home."
Tracey shook her head. "That was a trap. They can't do that to a shop."
Daphne hoped her friend was right. If she was wrong… Daphne didn't want to die. "At least I don't have to act as if I'm afraid anymore."
Tracey chuckled at that, but Daphne knew she was forcing herself to laugh. It wasn't funny. Not after the massacre they had seen. If Tracey's theory was correct and the eldest brother of the Weasleys was responsible for those curses, as well as for the wards… the twins' had some really strong wards as well.
They had arrived at the twins' shop. Daphne took a deep breath and entered, ducking beneath a rubber chicken that shot past.
"Well done!" That had to be… Fred, since he was cheerful. "You are the only ones to constantly dodge our welcome jokes!"
"We try," Tracey said. Daphne nodded.
"And you succeed!" Fred stepped closer, beaming at them. "I'm glad to see you safe and sound. With the attacks last week, I was worried."
Daphne nodded. "Those were scary."
Fred's eyes widened. "Did you see an attack?"
Tracey shook her head. "No. But just reading about them was bad enough. To think they managed to go through the Longbottom's wards…"
Fred nodded. "We've some theories how this could have happened." He pulled out a box from his robe's pockets. "And we've worked on something to help people." He grinned, and suddenly, two balloons appeared, flying straight at Daphne and Tracey, drenching both.
"Our famous Instant Dryness combined with…"
As Fred trailed off, Daphne realised to her horror that Tracey had retaken her true form. As had she herself.
'Taking an unbiased view, one cannot help but conclude that the Dark Lord had shown considerable restraint for over a year since his return, until the so-called 'November Offensive' in 1996. While some of my colleagues claim that only the timely disappearance of the muggleborns had prevented terror attacks on them and their families, as had happened so often in the First Blood War, I disagree. Apart from the attack on Azkaban, which, given the inhuman conditions under which prisoners were kept there, should have been expected by the Ministry, the only attacks attributed to the Dark Lord's forces were in response to attacks on pureblood supporters of his - usually by muggleborns. Although the possibility that there were attacks and incidents executed and instigated by his followers without claiming responsibility cannot be excluded, especially in light of the cursing of Nigel Nye and the infamous riot in Diagon Alley.
Nevertheless, the theory that the Dark Lord's attacks on so-called 'blood traitors' was the direct result of the change in Ministry policy that resulted in the arrest of several of his supporters among the Ministry employees appears to be quite compelling. And it cannot be overlooked that even in those attacks, the Dark Lord showed some restraint - certainly more than the Muggleborn Resistance showed.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn
*****
Outside Withernsea, Yorkshire, Britain, November 17th, 1996
"Rennervate!"
The Dark Lord Voldemort watched as his latest prisoner started to stir. He smiled faintly at how her eyes widened for a moment when she realised where she was: in the middle of his throne room, in front of him, surrounded by his most loyal followers.
"Good morning, Mrs Longbottom."
The old witch slowly stood up. She had to be hurting - she had been stunned for the entire night, and the Dark Lord knew what toll this took on an old body - but her face betrayed none of the pain she had to be suffering. And her voice didn't quiver when she answered him. "Voldemort, I presume."
Bellatrix snarled and raised her wand, eager to avenge the slight against his position, but he held her back with a gesture and inclined his head. "Indeed. Welcome to my home."
Her eyes briefly narrowed, but otherwise she did not react to his mocking of pureblood customs. The old witch raised her chin. "You are finally showing your true colours then. Striking against everyone who doesn't follow you."
He chuckled. "Attacking? I would say I have merely forcefully invited you to my home to discuss your current political views." He flicked his wand and a soft armchair appeared behind the witch.
She remained standing. Her composure and pride would have been admirable, if they did not extend to her politics. She sneered at him, and he had to hold Bellatrix back again. "Discuss? We have nothing to discuss. Your mad dogs took my son from me."
He leaned back in his seat. "Your son and your daughter-in-law fought in the last war. Everyone knows that people get hurt in war."
She scoffed. "They fought for Britain. And they were ambushed by cowards!" She glance at the Lestranges, sniffing.
They didn't dare to go against his will and attack the old witch, but they very much wanted to. Bellatrix even begged with her eyes. "And your son killed my followers. It was war, Madam. But that war ended. And now we're finding us in the middle of another war - against the mudblood menace your family naively and erroneously protected." He sighed. "I warned Britain, again and again, that tolerating mudbloods would be our doom. But did the Ministry listen? No! You can see the result of that mistake where Malfoy Manor once stood." He stared at her. "It is time for us to stop fighting so we can focus on the real enemy."
She sneered at him again. "Do you take me for a fool? All you want is power. And you will kill anyone and everyone to rule." She snorted. "But while you have me, my grandson is safe. No matter what you do to me, or threaten to do, Neville will never follow you! He is his father's son!"
He smiled, carefully not stretching his lips wider than a human would - his new body had wonderful secrets, but also a few peculiarities that alienated many. "Oh, you misunderstand me. I do not want you to follow me. No - all I want from those who are as misguided as you are is to stop opposing me. To simply do nothing." He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper that still filled the room. "And I think that while Neville would sacrifice you rather than join me, I doubt he would be as rash if all I ask from him is to do nothing. To continue his schooling, and advise the proxy who will replace you to simply abstain from any votes."
She drew a shuddering breath, and the hatred that appeared on her face told him that he was correct, and that she knew that her grandson wouldn't sacrifice her. Not if he could get her back by simply doing nothing - something, Severus had assured him, the boy was good at.
"Now, Bellatrix, please show our guest her room and make her comfortable."
The dark witch smiled gleefully, and pointed her wand at the old witch. "Imperio!"
While the prisoner was made to walk peacefully to her cell, Voldemort leaned back and dismissed his followers. Not all of his attacks had been as successful as the one on Longbottom Manor. The attack against the Weasleys' home had been a catastrophe. Maybe Malfoy's boasts about his plans to fool and ambush the Weasley twins had not been as self-aggrandising as he had thought. The family had certainly shown more cunning and brutal ruthlessness than the Dark Lord had expected, sacrificing their own home just to kill some of his Death Eaters. And the spells they had used…
He rubbed his chin. Yes, they would need to be dealt with. But with careful planning. He remembered Molly Weasley, and what she had done in the last war, after her brothers had died. If she had died in the Burrow this problem would have been solved, but now… He had to tell Malfoy that the Weasley twins had to be taken alive.
The Weasleys were too brave and foolish to betray their friends and allies, but if Voldemort simply asked for their neutrality? It was certainly worth a try. He would prefer it if the purebloods opposing him would learn to simply stand aside. It would make his future reign easier. And he could always kill his prisoners, should their relatives prove to be stubborn or difficult.
He stood up and walked over to the tapestry depicting the founding of Hogwarts. Running his hand over the fabric, he took a deep breath. He still wasn't certain that going on the offensive and attacking the blood traitors had been the right decision. He could have waited. Let his followers and their allies counter Dumbledore's latest move. Continue to let the mudbloods kill purebloods until the Wizengamot saw no other way to save themselves than turn to him.
His first attempt to take the power, thirty years ago, had been, in hindsight, too brutal, too crude, even. His most loyal followers had been young, inexperienced. Too rash for many of the conservative members of the Wizengamot.
Which was why, this time, he had bided his time and kept his followers from starting a war. Let them slowly and subtly take over the Wizengamot and the Ministry and oust Dumbledore. Then the mudbloods had started a war. As brutal as his last one, if not more so. And his people had been growing more restless with each success of those animals, with each defeat handed to the Ministry. They hated to be thought weak and cowards by their peers. He had kept them in check, used the purebloods' fear of the mudbloods for his own aims.
He ground his teeth. But the mudbloods taking Rowle had sown doubts about his power in the weak hearts of the British purebloods. They were asking themselves how the Dark Lord could protect them if he couldn't even protect his own. And Dumbledore's cronies were reinforcing those doubts. People were starting to fear the mudbloods more than him. Then the Aurors had begun to strike at his spies in the Ministry. Another move of Dumbledore's, aiming to make the public and the Wizengamot believe that he was weak, weaker than the Ministry, even!
His fingers dug into the rising walls of Hogwarts on the tapestry. The same Wizengamot members that had, even eagerly, turned to him as an alternative to Dumbledore's thinly-veiled reign over Britain had started to waver. No pureblood in power had liked Dumbledore's progressive policies, but after his victory over Grindelwald, the old wizard had been too powerful for the Old Families to oppose. So they had forced themselves to bear it. Until the Dark Lord had appeared, more terrifying, more powerful than Dumbledore. More attractive to many purebloods. But only as long as they believed he could defeat Dumbledore, and save them from the mudbloods. Only as long as they feared the Dark Lord more than anything, more than anyone else.
He took a step back, releasing the tapestry, and smoothed it out with a gesture of his hand. No, he could not have waited any longer. He had to act, before his reputation suffered another blow.
The curse was cast. Now all that mattered was to see it through.
*****
Devon, Ottery St. Catchpole, November 17th, 1996
The Burrow was gone.
That was Ron Weasley's first thought when he appeared at the edge of his family's property. Debris covered the spot where the house had stood. Some was blackened, as if it had burned. Other parts were just broken, as if a giant had smashed them. And, for some weird reason, the uppermost part, the roof covering the upper attic, had settled down undamaged on the rest of the remains.
He shook his head. He had known that this could happen, that this probably would happen, when his parents had told him that they were evacuating their home, but to see the destruction… he ground his teeth to avoid cursing. The Death Eaters had destroyed his family's home. His home. He closed his eyes and drew a long, shuddering breath to calm down. Those who had attacked the Burrow had paid for it already. With their lives.
Whatever had done this hadn't even spared his father's shed. That had been burned down. He took a few steps closer, trying to see if his dad had taken his muggle item collection with him, but an Auror stopped him.
"We haven't checked the remains in there for curses and traps yet."
Ron opened his mouth to argue - muggle items were harmless, at least the ones his dad collected - then closed it when he saw another Auror conjure a blanket near the shed and realised that they were talking about human remains. He nodded, and turned away.
"Mate, I'm sorry. That's…" Harry was shaking his head.
Ron knew that Harry came closest to understanding what he was feeling. Harry had once told him that the Burrow had been the first home he had felt happy in. Ron nodded at his friend, and clapped him on the shoulder. "No one was hurt. No one from our family, at least." He frowned. "And it wasn't your fault!"
Harry looked like he wanted to disagree - Ron's friend had a complex about such things - but he caved under Ron's glare. "Alright. I'm still sorry for wrecking your date."
"Hm?" Ron looked away from the remains of gnomes that had been burned trying to escape their tunnels. "You didn't ruin it. It went fine."
"Oh?"
"Yes," Ron smiled. "We had fun. We danced for hours."
"Oh." Harry looked surprised.
"What did you do?" Ron asked.
"We watched a play," Harry said. "She liked it," he added.
"You didn't." Ron looked at him.
"It was… interesting." Harry looked to his side. "Oh, there's Bill. Bill!"
Ron's eldest brother walked over to them, a smile on his face. "Hi, Harry, Ron. I didn't know you were allowed to leave Hogwarts."
"We've got permission," Harry said quickly.
"Family emergency," Ron added.
"And why do I think that mum and dad don't know about this?" Bill shook his head.
Ron couldn't help but looking around for his parents. His brother chuckled. "They're not here." He grew serious. "Mum… she couldn't stand the sight. Cried a lot. Dad took her to… where they are staying."
That sounded like their mother. Ron nodded. "From what we can tell, your curses worked as planned."
Bill blinked. "How did you know?"
"Moody used the opportunity to teach us how to 'read a crime scene'," Harry said.
Ron added: "Well, he told us what he could spot, with the right spells. We didn't do anything here."
Bill relaxed a bit. "Good. I used the nastiest curses I knew. Not all of them are safe even now." He looked over the area. "They wrecked the house, but they paid for it. Eight Death Eaters down."
Ron wasn't entirely certain that even double that number was worth the destruction of his home, but didn't want to argue. He simply nodded. Hermione would have grilled Bill for more information.
His brother must have picked up on it anyway - he was the eldest, after all, and had been responsible for Ron often - since he asked: "How's Ginny doing? Didn't she want to come as well?"
Ron shook his head. "No. She's staying at Hogwarts where it's safe."
"She agreed to that?" Bill raised his eyebrows.
"She doesn't know we're here," Ron explained. At least he hoped Ginny didn't know.
Bill frowned. "I see."
"What?" Harry looked puzzled. Ron didn't know what Bill was talking about either.
His oldest brother shook his head. "Just wondering what you're training for with the Headmaster."
They couldn't tell him that, so all three looked at the destroyed house for a while without saying anything.
"We'll rebuild it," Bill suddenly said. "After the war, when it's safe."
Ron nodded. Whenever that would be. Weasleys were stubborn. Like himself.
*****
Hogwarts, November 17th, 1996
"So, the wards of Longbottom Manor were untouched. Yet the Dark Mark was floating above it, and Augusta is missing," Albus Dumbledore summed up Kingsley's report.
His friend nodded. "There are no witnesses. The elves said the wards were attacked, but that's all they know. And the Floo connection was sabotaged."
Albus nodded. Tom's spies had been working hard last night. The Floo Network had been utterly disrupted. That hadn't affected the Order; Albus's friends had been prepared. But others who, like Augusta, opposed the Dark Lord politically, yet didn't share Albus's views of muggleborns… they had been isolated. Easy pickings. Half a dozen homes had been attacked. Although Augusta was the only Wizengamot member among those who had been kidnapped. The Dark Lord was after leverage, no doubt.
And Tom was still restraining his Death Eaters - there had been no massacres. So he still cared about the opinion of the purebloods. A pity. But Albus hadn't really expected the Dark Lord to make the same mistake he had made in the last war.
"Have you heard anything regarding those 'Avengers' who attacked the Aurors in Knockturn Alley?" Albus asked. He had expected other resistance groups to form, but this one had been surprisingly competent given the circumstances.
Kingsley shook his head. "That's Brenda Brocktuckle's case. She's not been too successful in the past."
The Headmaster nodded. His friend couldn't meddle with that investigation, not without making waves that would render him vulnerable to more subtle attacks than the ones Albus wanted to provoke. Still, those people bore watching. Loose cannons could cause a lot of harm to his plans.
"I've heard the attack on the Burrow was a massacre," Kingsley said.
Albus nodded. "Young William is an experienced Curse-Breaker. He used his knowledge quite efficiently."
The Auror frowned. "Auror Brown used other words. 'Brutal' and 'dark'."
Albus spread his hands. "The old Egyptians were quite ruthless when it came to protecting their tombs."
"Gringotts has been sending teams down there for decades. That's the first time I have heard of such curses being used to defend a home."
Albus smiled. "In order to create such strong and lethal defenses, the Egyptians needed to limit their curses with specific conditions. Conditions rarely met by British Manors."
"So, the Death Eaters won't be able to use those curses to protect them?"
The Headmaster shook his head. "Even if they knew those curses, their hideouts and bases would not qualify." There was no need to inform Kingsley that William had turned the Burrow into a tomb to be able to use the old curses. The sarcophagus had been removed, with Albus's help, before the Aurors had been called.
"Alright." Kingsley sighed and stood up. "Bones is spitting mad, and even Fudge seems to care about the kidnapping of Madam Longbottom. They've made it very clear that they expect results."
The old wizard smiled. "I think they are now realising that the Dark Lord does not limit his violence to muggleborns. His hunger for power is too great to tolerate rivals - even such as Cornelius."
Kingsley snorted. "Ruling Britain isn't much of an achievement. Even Fudge managed that."
Albus chuckled. "I am rather certain that the Dark Lord considers me the ruler of Britain, which is why he intends to take over." Less than two years ago, it had not been far from the truth. Alas, Albus had come to discover that the majority of the Wizengamot and the Ministry had not followed his suggestions because they believed in them, but because they had come from the most powerful wizard in Britain. With that title challenged by the Dark Lord, many purebloods had quickly shown their true colours.
Kingsley was aware of that fact, but didn't mention it. "I'll be using the Floo Network sabotage to make more arrests."
The Headmaster smiled. "Be careful though."
His friend nodded.
Albus knew other members of his Order would have shrugged the danger off. Sirius, for one. "I will inform you as soon as I receive more information about our foes. Please keep an eye on Nymphadora." The Tonkses hadn't been attacked, but that could have been because their address wasn't known to the Ministry. Albus had yet to hear from the metamorphmagus whether anyone had tried to enter the flat the Ministry thought she was living in.
"I will." Kingsley waved and left Albus's office. He wasn't taking the Floo. Not after last night.
Albus leaned back in his chair. Harry and Mister Weasley were still at the Burrow. He had pondered the decision to let them visit for a while. Alastor saw it as a training opportunity. And a way to show them the costs of the war, as well as the dangers. Albus agreed with his old friend that this was a valuable lesson to learn before the two boys started to hunt Horcruxes.
He wasn't quite as certain that this was the only lesson the boys would learn. They might decide to take revenge for the destruction of their home. Harry was quite attached to the Burrow himself, even though he was now living with Sirius. Albus would have to trust them that they would not go down that particular path. No further than most, at least.
He sighed. This offensive by the Dark Lord also complicated matters with regards to Miss Granger. With the Tonkses moving to the safety of Sirius's house, it would not be able to be used for private meetings anymore. Young Nymphadora still had not fully come to terms with the actions of the Muggleborn Resistance. She was coming around though.
He petted Fawkes and sighed. There was another task he was not looking forward to.
He had to inform Mister Longbottom of the kidnapping of his grandmother.
*****
London, Ministry of Magic, November 17th, 1996
Brenda Brocktuckle wasn't quite certain if she should be glad or annoyed about the attacks by the Death Eaters. On one hand, the pressure on her had lightened somewhat, with part of the Wizengamot panicking about enemies other than mudbloods. On the other hand, Aurors were being shifted from hunting mudbloods to hunting Death Eaters.
She shook her head as she sat down at her desk. That clever bastard Shacklebolt had been lucky again - not only had he managed to actually arrest Death Eaters as soon as he had taken over from Dawlish, but his case was now even given priority! Some people had all the luck. And, she added, thinking of Dawlish, some had none.
She looked up as her office's door opened, expecting her partner, Martin. It was Parkinson instead. "Morning," she greeted him.
"It's a bit late for that," Parkinson answered.
She couldn't tell if he was commenting on the time, or the events of last night. She didn't care that much either, so she shrugged.
"Did you hear about the Weasley home?" Parkinson said, sitting down on the edge of her desk.
Brenda nodded. It was the talk of the Corps - not even the kidnapping of Longbottom had made such waves.
"Brown said he had never seen curses like the ones used there," Parkinson went on. "And yet, rumour is we're not investigating the family."
Brenda spread her hands. "Criminals attack an old pureblood family home, get killed in the process - you know how that goes." The Wizengamot certainly took defending your manor seriously.
Parkinson scoffed. "The Weasleys are not an Old Family. And they're only purebloods because the last two generations, they haven't found mudbloods or half-bloods to wed."
Brenda chuckled. "You mean, they're too poor to count as an Old Family." Gold mattered, after all. A lot.
The other Auror snorted, but conceded the point. "So, what's new about those 'Avengers'?" he asked with a grin.
Brenda sighed theatrically. "They're hiding, I guess. Preparing their next strike, no doubt. But with the Corps currently focused on the Death Eaters, they might have trouble finding a similarly spectacular opportunity." Dawlish certainly wouldn't offer one with half his Aurors 'temporarily dispatched' to other duties.
"Well, something better crop up soon," Parkinson grumbled.
As if such things could be rushed, Brenda thought. Fortunately, Martin finally arrived with some scones and distracted the older Auror.
*****
Hogwarts, November 17th, 1996
Harry Potter entered the Gryffindor common room with Ron, and winced when he saw the students inside. Ginny had jumped up and now was glaring at him and Ron, hands on her hip. Neville, who was sitting near her, looked shaken, in need of a Calming Draught. The boy was staring at the carpet.
"Blimey! What happened to Neville?" Ron asked next to him. When Ginny made a beeline towards them, Harry's friend whispered: "Damn, she's furious."
"So… you're back from your 'family emergency'. An emergency I was not told about until you had left already!" Ginny spat. "Why did you get to go and visit the Burrow and our family, and I had to stay here?"
Harry took a small step to the side. That looked like a question best handled by Ginny's brother.
Ron cast a privacy spell before answering: "It was part of our training. The 'family emergency' was just a cover story."
"Your mysterious training. For the Order. Of which everyone of our family but me is a member." Ginny was still glaring at Ron.
"Aunt Muriel isn't a member either."
"Did you just compare me to that hag?" Ginny seemed to be fuming now. She had her wand in hand, even, Harry saw.
"Merlin's beard, Ginny!" Ron exclaimed. "It's not about you! You know we can't tell you what we're doing. We can't tell anyone!"
"I can help as well!"
"That's not up to us," Ron said. Harry refrained from nodding along. "It's up to Dumbledore to decide who he recruits."
Ginny frowned, but she didn't seem to be planning to rush off and accost the Headmaster.
"Besides," Harry added, "you're helping us here already, keeping an eye on the Slytherins."
Ginny smiled at him, then pouted. "The troublemakers all left. The rest rarely leave their dorms. Well, Zabini does, but… you know what he does." She blushed slightly.
Harry didn't really want to hear about the love life of a Slytherin when his own was… complicated. He simply nodded.
"Did he chat you up, Ginny?" Ron asked.
"No, he didn't. And if he did, it would be none of your business!"
Ron glanced at Harry. His friend didn't seem to share that view. Harry agreed with him. Zabini hadn't done anything suspicious, but that didn't mean you could trust him. He was a Slytherin, after all.
"So… what's up with Neville?" Ron asked after a brief moment of silence.
Ginny winced. "His grandmother was kidnapped last night. Death Eater attack on his home."
"Merlin's balls!" Ron muttered.
"Damn!" Harry hissed. He hadn't been fond of his fellow Gryffindor's stance towards the Muggleborn Resistance, but he couldn't help but feel sorry for Neville - the poor bloke had just lost his last family. Harry knew how it hurt, being alone. His own family… he shook his head.
Ginny sighed. "He wanted to go home, but McGonagall said it wasn't safe yet. They don't know what happened. The wards are still intact."
"Treason," Harry whispered. "Someone must have let the scum through." Just like Wormtail.
Ron nodded. "Someone Madam Longbottom trusted. A friend, or even a relative."
"She wasn't a member of the Order, was she?" Harry asked. He was quite certain that the old witch was dead. Or was wishing she was dead. He knew how callously the Dark Lord murdered people. And how he liked torturing his victims.
"I don't know," Ron said. "If she was I hope she wasn't in a cell with anyone we know."
Ginny looked puzzled for a moment. Harry explained: "The Order is made up of small groups. Apart from Dumbledore, you only know your group. Muggles call such a group a cell."
"You heard that from Hermione, hm?" Ron's sister cocked her head sideways.
Neither Ron nor Harry answered her. She sighed. "Sorry. I'll head back to Neville."
Once she had left, Ron recast the privacy spell. "That went well." He seemed relieved.
"That was 'well'?" Harry wondered.
Ron nodded. "Oh, yes. She's usually on her best behaviour around you. But she has a temper, and a loose wand. Or she had. Second year, well… she changed."
Harry felt a pang of guilt. If he had paid a bit more attention… but then, no one had. Not even Ginny's brothers. Or Hermione. He sighed.
Ron glanced at him. "It wasn't your fault. It was Malfoy's."
Harry snorted. His friend knew him too well. And he apparently had had a rather nice date with Hermione. Ron had taken her dancing. Harry hadn't thought of that. Hermione had brought up the Yule Ball during their date. Had that been a veiled clue that she would have liked to go dancing? More than she wanted to watch a play? She was Hermione, but… she had really enjoyed the ball, hadn't she? At least until he and Ron had ruined it. He sighed.
Ron slapped his back. "I told you, it wasn't your fault."
For a moment, Harry was tempted to simply nod. Let Ron think this was about second year. Then he sighed again. "I was just thinking about the Yule Ball."
"Ah."
Neither Harry nor Ron said anything for a while after that.
*****
London, East End, November 17th, 1996
The Resistance had moved back to their regular headquarters, a fact for which Hermione Granger was glad. She had become used to her room. She knew it was a weakness - developing routines, becoming predictable was dangerous - but she liked having things set up just right. Though, she added, looking at the van standing in the middle of the large room on the ground floor, if she could have a mobile wireless studio, a mobile room, or even a mobile base, might be possible. Ron's dad had managed to expand the interior of his car a lot, after all, and wizard tents did the same. Though if those spells ever failed… she shuddered.
"Is something wrong with the set up?" John asked, sounding worried.
She shook her head. "No. I just had a thought about something else."
"Oh. The attacks by the Death Eaters? Or the 'Avengers'?" John grinned at that last part.
Hermione didn't quite roll her eyes. The Resistance had had lively discussions about this new group. Dennis and Colin had been quite impressed and wanted to track them down and recruit them. Surprisingly, Dean and Seamus hadn't been in favour of that - or not so surprisingly, given that no Auror had been killed in the attack.
Hermione herself had not been that impressed by the new group's name. Picking either a TV show or a British comic series… But as flashy as their attack had been, the name might fit. She still convinced the rest to adopt a wait and see policy, until the 'Avengers' proved themselves. Not that it would be easy to contact a group in hiding anyway.
"I just imagined Extension Charms failing with people inside a wizard tent," Hermione explained.
That made John shudder. "Are you planning to use this against the Death Eaters in hiding?"
Hermione chuckled. "I was more concerned with avoiding such a fate. But it would be a possible way to bring down a wizard house." They wouldn't be able to use bombs on every target, after all. Still, to cancel or even just disrupt such charms… It would probably be easier to simply blast the structure to which they were anchored to bits.
"Well… the 'studio' is now finished. All we need is to enchant the van." John patted the side of the vehicle.
She nodded. "I've looked into the charms needed, but I need to check with a source or two." Sirius had enchanted his flying bike, though it hadn't been invisible. Maybe she would have to ask Ron's dad - though that would be tricky. She also needed to gather more information about those attacks. She had spoken with Harry and Ron on the mirror, but they didn't know that much either.
"Who'll go on air, by the way?" John asked. "I'm not exactly a DJ."
"We'll have to discuss that." And probably ask for a volunteer. Hermione would have suggested Lee Jordan, the wizard had been an enthusiastic commentator of the Quidditch matches at Hogwarts, and knew how to rile up a crowd. That he was also horribly biased wouldn't be a problem for the Resistance's wireless. Or the Resistance Radio, as Sally-Anne called it. But Jordan wasn't a muggleborn, and even if the resistance would accept him, she doubted he'd want to join them - every member had a death sentence hanging over them, and while Jordan might not be scared off by that, the danger their families were in would be too much. Or so she thought. Seamus was another option, but he was a bit too excitable. And bloodthirsty. Dean was the same, and already involved with the flyers. Colin or Dennis… even more excitable, but not quite as brutal. Sally-Anne was too meek, and Justin had already begged off.
"We'll have to exploit this opportunity the Dark Lord has given us. We need to tell the public just how dangerous he is, and what his goals are." She pursed her lips. "That means we'll have to go over the script again."
"Was there any news about Allan?"
Hermione was glad that John was focused on gathering his tools. She hated lying to the group. "No. I doubt the Ministry has arrested him. They would have announced that at once. And the Death Eaters… if the contract had not worked, then they would have probably attacked us as well, last night. And if it worked…"
John sighed. "Then they'll likely have killed him out of frustration."
"Maybe. They could've tried to use him as bait anyway." It was what she would have done.
John chuckled. "No wonder you're our leader. You keep thinking like that."
Hermione wasn't quite as flattered as John probably thought she'd be.
*****
London, Soho, November 17th, 1996
The nightclub was packed, the music too loud and the air so full of smoke, Hermione was tempted to cast a Bubble-Head Charm. She'd have to scourgify her clothes afterwards, or she'd carry the stench of stale cigarette smoke back to headquarters. In short, it was no wonder Sirius had picked this location to meet her, now that his home housed the Tonkses. Hermione was shaking her head as she made her way through the thong of people, looking for the wizard.
She spotted him at the bar. To her surprise, he wasn't dressed like a 70s reject - someone must have given him some fashion advice. And he was chatting up a girl young enough to be his daughter - if Hermione was inclined to believe his claims about his third year. She shook her head at the display and walked to the bar herself, ordering a soda. Once she was certain Sirius had seen her, she stepped outside the club to get some fresh air.
A few minutes later, the wizard joined her at the corner. "Mandy thinks I'm on the loo, so we don't have much time," he said, after casting a privacy spell. "Here are the copies of the notes you wanted."
"Thank you." She stashed the parchment.
"Planning to ride a bike yourself? You'd look fetching in leather." He grinned at her.
"You know, those girls on your calendar, what they're wearing isn't what real bikers are wearing." She snorted at his reaction. "But no, not planning to enchant a bike."
"A car then?"
"A bit bigger. I need to figure out a way to hide it too." Though that wasn't quite that urgent - they could fly around at night, and be pretty safe from being spotted with a Colour Change Charm.
He nodded. "There's been no news about the attacks, other than that the DMLE confirmed the kidnappings. Five houses were hit." He scoffed. "Augusta Longbottom is the most prominent victim, but all of the others are connected or related to a Wizengamot member." He stretched. "I reckon I'll be able to get you a few more names as a result - I think this will open the eyes of a number of people who have tried to keep their heads down so far."
"Like Tonks?"
Sirius winced. "She's slowly coming around. She hated the Death Eaters already. No surprise, since Bellatrix wants to kill her whole family. But the reaction of some esteemed purebloods to this might finally make her admit just how rotten the Ministry and Wizengamot are."
Hermione doubted that it would be that easy, but ultimately, it didn't matter. Tonks reported to Dumbledore, who could pass on any information she found to the Resistance. "Are you planning a counter-strike?"
Sirius took a deep breath. "Dumbledore says he is focusing on moving everyone to safe houses. But I'd be surprised if he hadn't already set some things in motion."
"Good. With this change of the Death Eaters modus operandi, we need to react quickly, before they cow the rest of the purebloods."
Sirius sneered. "They are already cowed. We just need to show that we're stronger than the Death Eaters."
Hermione nodded. "I'll need another address then."
"I'll get it to you."
"Thanks."
He smiled at her, and then turned to walk back to the club.
For a moment, Hermione was tempted to follow him. Enjoy the night a bit. Dance. Forget the war for an hour or two.
She shook her head. She had already spent two evenings on dates. She had more important things to do. People depended on her.
And she would not let them down.
*****
London, Ministry of Magic, November 18th, 1996
"Please have a seat, Albus."
"Thank you." Albus Dumbledore smiled politely and conjured a chair for himself. Cornelius was flexible even for a politician - as soon as the Dark Lord had struck at purebloods, Albus had been invited back to the Minister's office with all the courtesy due, and then some.
Amelia was present as well, nodding at him. She didn't try to act as if they were best friends. He hadn't expected her to either.
"We're in a bit of a pickle, Albus," Cornelius started. "Those Death Eater attacks… terrible business." He shook his head.
"The Dark Lord has finally shown his true colours," the Headmaster agreed. "As I predicted."
Cornelius nodded, though Amelia looked a bit doubtful. "It's quite convenient timing," she said. "As soon as some of his followers are arrested, he attacks purebloods in their homes."
Albus shrugged. He hadn't specifically arranged these exact attacks, but he had hoped and counted on the Dark Lord lashing out like this. Although he had expected the attacks to be aimed at Kingsley and other Aurors working with him, first. People who knew the risks and were prepared. "The Dark Lord must have decided that he had come as far as he could using less violent means, and now has switched back to the brutal attacks that terrified Britain 20 years ago."
"One could say you provoked him," Amelia said.
"Any sort of resistance provokes him." Albus smiled. "He will never be satisfied, not even if he was the sole ruler of Britain."
Cornelius shook his head. "First the attack on the Rowles, now Augusta has been kidnapped… terrible times are upon us."
Albus could have pointed out that this could have been avoided if the Minister had listened to him earlier, but that would have been counter-productive. "The question is: What can we do now?" He leaned back. "There are still Death Eaters among the Wizengamot, and while this latest atrocities may have opened the eyes of many, others still follow the Dark Lord's orders. Some out of fear." He sighed. "And those attacks were only possible because of spies in the Ministry."
Amelia frowned. "Aurors are hunting down those saboteurs. As you know very well."
"They are doing their best," Albus said, "but it might not be enough. And his followers in the Wizengamot itself are untouchable." Legally, at least.
"The immunity of a member of the Wizengamot can be revoked," Amelia said.
"With a qualified majority," Cornelius cut in.
"Which we currently lack," Albus said. And even a simple majority was unlikely for many proposals from his allies - or from the Death Eaters. Sadly, the only thing a majority of the Wizengamot might still agree upon was fighting the Muggleborn Resistance.
"That's politics," Amelia said. "Dealing with Death Eaters and other criminals is a matter of law enforcement."
"Exactly!" Cornelius smiled. "And we need to coordinate our efforts for that."
Albus raised his eyebrows. "Oh? In what manner?" he asked, feigning ignorance.
Amelia scowled. "Don't play dumb. You're the only one who can stop the Dark Lord in the field. And you're the one who fed Shacklebolt the names he is arresting. You have spies in the Death Eaters' ranks, and you have some vigilantes who are fighting them."
Albus inclined his head. Amelia knew about her brother's deeds in the last war.
"More importantly, you're a symbol," the Minister added. "If the people know that you're with the Ministry, then that will raise morale, and sway many of those who are afraid of the Dark Lord."
So, they wanted information, cooperation, and a public alliance. Or the appearance of one. As expected. "In those trying times, we need to band together," Albus said. When Cornelius beamed at him, he added: "Against the real enemy of Wizarding Britain."
That made the minister's face fall and Amelia scowl. "Are you still protecting those mass-murderers?" she asked with a sneer, ignoring Cornelius's grimace.
"I do not protect murderers, but I will not support any attack on muggleborns who are just fighting the Dark Lord," Albus said. He wouldn't be able to push for more. Not yet.
"Splendid!" Cornelius was smiling widely again. If he understood that Albus considered the attack on Malfoy Manor a strike against the Dark Lord, then he didn't show it.
Amelia's sneer told Albus that she understood it. And that she knew he couldn't pressure her into stopping the persecution of the muggleborns. Not when he needed their support against Voldemort.
But things would change.
*****
London, East End, November 18th, 1996
Hermione winced when she hit her upper arm on the side panel of the van, right where she had a bruise. After the morning spent training in the woods, she should have used a magical ointment. But she had wanted to tough it out, and serve as an example for preserving the magical supplies for more serious wounds.
She sighed. It was her own fault. If she was more focused, she'd not have such trouble with enchanting the van. At least as far as flying went. But she couldn't help thinking about the dates. With her two best friends. And her inability to make a decision.
She sighed again - she was doing this a lot lately - lowered her wand from where she had been tracing runes on the chassis of the van, and simply lay there, on her back. It was supposed to be a simple solution: Date both boys, pick one. And it had failed. Utterly.
After the date with Harry, she had been happy. He had showed he cared about her, her hobbies and interests. He had been honest about their past… She frowned. 'Troubles' was too strong a word. He had been honest about their past differences. And he hadn't been disgusted or taken aback by her confession about Allan. He cared about her, more than about himself. To quote her silly former roommates, Harry was prime boyfriend material.
Ron had taken a different approach, something she hadn't expected. Instead of catering to her known interests, he had offered her a new experience. The French restaurant had been a familiar and surprising choice, but the dancing… she sighed. She had discovered that she liked dancing, or clubbing. Which she wouldn't have expected. Nor had she expected that it would be Ron who would turn out to be the more adventurous one. Maybe she should have - the Weasleys weren't exactly known for being conservative among wizards.
Ron was interested in discovering new things they could enjoy together. Harry on the other hand seemed to care about her a bit too much - she was mostly certain that he hadn't really enjoyed the play. And yet - discovering what Harry liked would be an enjoyable experience as well, she suspected. Discovering what desires he had, under his urge to save and help others, would be interesting at the least. Then again, so would be trying out new things with Ron.
She sighed again. She was a selfish, silly girl who couldn't make a decision. Who took things far too seriously, even though teenage relationships seldom lasted that long. Doubly so during a war where the three of them could be killed any day. But emotions, relationships, friendship, love - those were serious matters. History was full of examples where love or passion had been a decisive factor in deciding the fate of many people.
Alright, she was growing far too dramatic again. She hissed through her teeth, and raised her wand again. She still had some time until she'd meet her friends again.
But why was she feeling so lonely, right now?
*****
Hogwarts, November 20th, 1996
Neville was looking even worse than after the attacks, Harry Potter noticed when he stashed his fifth year Transfiguration notes in his trunk. The other Gryffindor was sitting on his bed, staring at the window. Harry took a deep breath. He still resented Neville for his attitude towards Hermione and the other muggleborns, but Neville had just lost his grandmother. And with his parents in St. Mungo's… Harry knew how Neville was feeling. Or at least he could understand the boy, better than anyone else.
He stood up. "Hey."
Neville didn't react. Harry frowned. The boy was either ignoring him, or so out of it that he didn't notice when someone was talking to him. Or, Harry added with more than a bit of guilt, he was expecting some more scorn heaped on him.
"Hey, Neville." Harry was about to sit down next to him, but reconsidered, and kept standing next to the bed.
"Come to gloat?" Neville whispered suddenly, without looking up.
"What?" Harry gasped. Did the other boy really expect him to gloat about losing family? "Of course not! How can you think that?" Harry hadn't been that bad, had he?
"You told me for months that the Death Eaters and their supporters were the enemy, and the muggleborns were just defending themselves. And now the Dark Lord has kidnapped my grandmother." Neville raised his head and Harry saw he had been crying. "You've been right, and Gran's been wrong. Just as you said. I've been wrong."
"Well…" Harry swallowed his first thought. "That doesn't matter. What matters is … what will you do now?" He should have thought about this a bit longer, he realised.
"I can't do anything! They'll kill Gran if I…" Neville pressed his teeth together.
"They've contacted you?" If Death Eaters could reach the students at Hogwarts…
Neville glared at him, then looked down. His shoulder twitched and he wiped his eyes. "I've received a letter."
"What do they want you to do?"
"Nothing." Neville stared at the floor. "Nothing! They simply want me to do nothing! Say nothing! Do nothing! Just stay 'neutral', keep my head down, and Gran will be released once the war is over."
Harry winced. He didn't believe Voldemort would keep his word. Not even if he won the war. The Dark Lord had tried to kill him in his crib, after all, due to a prophecy. He certainly wouldn't leave Augusta Longbottom alive and able to take revenge. Or… He closed his eyes. What if he let the Lestranges torture her into insanity as well? That would be just like Voldemort.
Neville was looking at him, Harry noticed. "Do you think he'll keep his word?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself.
Neville snorted. "His Death Eaters tortured my parents into insanity. How could I trust him? Or why would he think I'd not try to take revenge?" Harry saw tears in Neville's eyes again. "But if I defy him he'll torture Gran to death. And it'll be my fault!" Suddenly, the boy reached out and grabbed Harry's arms. "What can I do? What can I do?"
Harry had no answer. He didn't know what he'd do if Sirius was kidnapped. Or Ron or Hermione. His first urge was to try to rescue them, but what if that went wrong?
He winced as Neville released him and returned to staring out of the window. He had to inform Dumbledore. Even though he had a feeling the Headmaster might already know about it.
*****
Hogwarts, November 22nd, 1996
Ron Weasley had seldom seen so many students gathered around one wireless receiver in the Great Hall. Not since the first broadcast of the latest song of the Weird Sisters. He had expected the first broadcast of 'Radio Resistance' to attract attention, but not so openly. But then, those waiting here weren't Slytherins, but mainly Gryffindors, with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs mixed in. He saw a number of the propaganda leaflets which had announced this broadcast floating around as well. The Resistance had dropped them on Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade and even Hogwarts.
"Ron!"
He turned around when he heard his name. "Luna?" Ginny's childhood friend was standing there.
The blonde Ravenclaw nodded and offered him a … pointed hat sporting all the colours of the rainbow. "Here! For your protection!" She was wearing the same hat, he noticed.
"Uh… protection?"
"Against the muggle mind-control techniques. Tinfoil hats protect against them. I'm not quite certain if it can affect us through the wards of Hogwarts, but better safe than sorry, right?"
Ron blinked. Belatedly, he took the hat, earning himself a beaming smile. "Muggle mind-control techniques?"
Luna nodded emphatically. "Yes. We're about to listen to muggleborn propaganda, which aims to influence our views on politics and the war. Which means it's an attempt to influence our minds, since our views are decided by our minds. So… we need to protect our minds. With tinfoil. All the muggle sources Daddy consulted agree that this is the best way to protect your mind."
While Ron stared at her, trying to make sense of her words, she pulled her own hat off and waved her wand over it. Suddenly, she was holding two hats. Luna had just cast a Doubling Charm. In her fifth year. Impressive.
Ron shook his head. "I don't think it works that way, Luna. They want to persuade us with arguments."
"That would be silly. Quarrelling has rarely if ever persuaded anyone of another point of view." Luna shook her head.
Ron forced himself to smile. "I meant, they'll try to reason with the audience."
"Are you certain?" Luna peered at him
"Yes, I'm certain. They are not trying to mind-control us," Ron said as convincing as he managed.
Luna wrinkled her nose. "Well, you'd know… on the other hand, you could be mind-controlled already." She looked at the hat Ron was still holding.
Ron sighed and put it on. "The Resistance are not trying to mind-control us," he repeated himself.
"Hm." Luna pouted. "You could have been mind-controlled for so long, it could have become ingrained in your mind."
"What?"
"This requires further study," the blonde said, and Ron had the impression she wasn't quite talking to him. She certainly wasn't listening to him. "I'll have to check daddy's notes about propaganda and counter-measures!"
The blonde witch skipped off, leaving Ron shaking his head at the absurdity of the entire scene.
"Ron!"
He turned around once more and found himself facing Ginny. "Yes?"
"Are you flirting with Luna now, or why are you wearing the ugliest hat I've ever seen since we visited Aunt Muriel?" Ginny asked, frowning at him.
Ron pulled off the hat. "I was talking with her. Or rather, she was talking to me. I'm not quite certain if she understood what I said. I certainly didn't understand her."
Ginny shook her head. "Well, don't start two-timing your girlfriend."
He gasped. "Ginny!" He didn't have a girlfriend. He quickly cast a privacy spell.
"What? You managed to impress her on your date. Wasn't the point of that to see who is more compatible with her?"
"How do you know that?" Ron stared at her.
Ginny grinned. "I guilt-tripped Bill for leaving me stuck at Hogwarts, worrying about our family."
Ron groaned. He should have known that Bill wouldn't be able to stand up to Ginny. "Well, don't spread it. There are enough rumours going around already."
"I know," she said. "So… how did Harry's date go?"
"It went well." He shrugged. "We haven't really compared notes."
"What did she say?"
"We haven't really talked about that, yet. What with the attacks, and all." And some things shouldn't be said through a mirror, but face to face. "And she's been really busy."
"Oh." Ginny pouted.
"Still rooting for me?" Ron asked, grinning slightly.
"Of course!" his sister said. "If you get her, I can get Harry."
Ron wasn't certain things would work like that, but didn't want to start an argument. And the wireless broadcast began - right on time. Not that he would have expected anything else from Hermione.
It started with music. Rock music. He even recognised the song - they had danced to that, last Saturday. Grinning, he started to whip his foot in step with the music, ignoring Ginny's puzzled glance.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the voice of the Muggleborn Resistance. My name is Tania, and I'll be your host today as we expose the lies of the Death Eaters and their accomplices. And listen to great music!"
That was Tania Dennel, Ron realised. Gryffindor, two years above him. He hadn't know she sounded that sexy on the wireless.
"You all have heard about the cowardly attacks by Death Eaters on several pureblood homes last Saturday. What you haven't heard is that they could do this because of traitors in the Ministry. Yes, folks, the same people who claim to be protecting you were giving out the addresses of the victims, and then sabotaged the Floo Network so they couldn't escape!
"Think about that for a moment.
"That Auror wanting to talk to you about a complaint? He might be a Death Eater spy, here to kill you. Or worse.
"Horrible, isn't it? That's how life has been for a muggleborn in Wizarding Britain for a long time! How many of those muggleborns who were killed 'resisting arrest' were actually resisting?
"Death Eaters are everywhere in the Ministry. Do you think you're safe because you're a pureblood? Think again! Remember the dozen guards of Azkaban, fed to Dementors? They were purebloods as well! Remember the kidnappings last week - purebloods again!
"It's time to fight - for your rights, for your family, for your life! And we'll tell you how!
"But first: More music!"
While another rock song started - Ron didn't recognise that one - the students were already discussing the broadcast. Hotly.
Ron smiled. He wasn't certain if many 'neutrals' would be swayed by this, but it certainly seemed to strike a chord with many of his friends.
*****
Hogwarts, November 22nd, 1996
Albus Dumbledore switched the wireless off when the last notes of 'God save the Queen' had been played. Cornelius would be incensed, Amelia livid, and the Death Eaters and their allies enraged. And a number of pureblood parents would be very concerned about their children listening to the broadcast as well, unaware that the more they tried to suppress this, the more attractive listening to it would become. The Prophet would likely denounce the show as well.
Chuckling, Albus leaned back in his seat. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Fawkes trilled at him, and he banished a treat to the phoenix, before focusing on the list in front of him again.
Kingsley had managed to find a few more Death Eater spies thanks to interrogating the ones he had arrested, but Albus had already known all of them thanks to Miss Granger. At least now there was evidence available in court. Severus knew more names, but Albus was loath to risk his spy to simply strike at a few more minions of the Dark Lord.
His fireplace lit up, announcing a call. He frowned - was there another attack? But the Floo Network still couldn't be trusted. Probably not even after everyone working in the Floo Network Authority had been vetted with Veritaserum - there still remained the Imperius. He flicked his wand, and the fire turned green.
Aberforth's head appeared in the middle of the flames. "I've got something for you," his brother stated in a gruff voice.
Albus nodded. "I will be waiting."
Fifteen minutes later, Aberforth entered his office. Instead of a greeting, he tossed a scroll on Albus's desk.
Albus picked it up. There was an address on it. In Knockturn Alley.
"Death Eater recruiting spot," his brother explained. "Friend of mine noticed some unfamiliar faces, and tracked them down."
"How many wands are there?"
Aberforth shrugged. "About a dozen, maybe more. My friend didn't go inside to check. People who do tend to join or vanish."
"I see. Thank you."
Aberforth scoffed. "Are you going to do something about it?"
Albus rubbed his chin. "I think so." The Order's cells were not large enough to tackle such a location. He would have to call two or three together, which would defeat the purpose of keeping them ignorant of each other. They had been facing similar problems when they had lured Voldemort to the Department of Mysteries, but some deception and cunning had allowed them to split the Death Eaters up while he had faced the Dark Lord. He'd rather not take a similar risk again though.
"I'll tell my friends to stay away from the area then."
Albus nodded. There was but one group large and hopefully skilled enough to attack such a location. "Your presence would be helpful in that mission," he said.
"I'm not about to help your fine, upstanding Order," his brother spat.
Albus shook his head. "This is not a mission the Order is suited for."
"What?" Aberforth's eyes widened. "You're sending the children there?"
"They've struck in Knockturn Alley before."
"Not that far inside. And the underground is now warded and watched. They won't be able to duplicate that," Aberforth said, then glared at him. "And that's why you want me there, right?"
Albus nodded.
"Damn you, Albus. Damn you to hell!"
Albus didn't say anything. His brother was already coming around. He'd contact Miss Granger soon.
Once Aberforth had left, he looked through the list again. He doubted any one of them knew where Augusta was being held prisoner, but it wouldn't hurt to try to find out. And the Knockturn Alley attack might provide information as well - it depended on just how cautious Tom was. Though should Albus discover Augusta's location, then he'd have to decide if a rescue was possible - and worth the risk.
He wasn't looking forward to that decision.
*****
London, Diagon Alley, November 23rd, 1996
Daphne Greengrass glanced at every mudhole in the alley as she walked with Tracey towards Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Who knew what traps were hidden in them? What curses would be unleashed on unsuspecting victims? Anything could be hidden in those mudholes, behind those transfigurations! She gripped Tracey's arm while the two gave another mudhole a wide berth.
Daphne hated to feel like this. Nervous. Afraid. Terrified. But she couldn't help it. The things she had seen that Saturday, at the Weasleys' family home, still haunted her sleep. The deaths she had witnessed...
Who would have expected the Weasleys of all families to use such dark curses? They were supposed to be a bunch of fools! Blood traitors and muggle lovers! Not the kind of people who used magic that impressed even the Dark Lord!
At least that was what Draco claimed had happened when he had reported his failure. Since he was still alive, and not a nervous wreck, he hadn't earned the Dark Lord's ire either. He probably had blamed the dead for the failure - not entirely unjustly, in her opinion. Draco had told them that the Weasleys were tricky, or something like that.
She sighed, then yelped when Tracey gripped her arm a tad too strongly.
"Don't lose it now," her friend whispered. "You heard Draco: It is imperative that we capture the twins. Alive. And we're the only ones who can do it. Or fail."
Daphne nodded. She knew that any failure would be painful. "Aren't you nervous? You know what the Weasleys did to their home."
Tracey shook her head. "That was a trap. They can't do that to a shop."
Daphne hoped her friend was right. If she was wrong… Daphne didn't want to die. "At least I don't have to act as if I'm afraid anymore."
Tracey chuckled at that, but Daphne knew she was forcing herself to laugh. It wasn't funny. Not after the massacre they had seen. If Tracey's theory was correct and the eldest brother of the Weasleys was responsible for those curses, as well as for the wards… the twins' had some really strong wards as well.
They had arrived at the twins' shop. Daphne took a deep breath and entered, ducking beneath a rubber chicken that shot past.
"Well done!" That had to be… Fred, since he was cheerful. "You are the only ones to constantly dodge our welcome jokes!"
"We try," Tracey said. Daphne nodded.
"And you succeed!" Fred stepped closer, beaming at them. "I'm glad to see you safe and sound. With the attacks last week, I was worried."
Daphne nodded. "Those were scary."
Fred's eyes widened. "Did you see an attack?"
Tracey shook her head. "No. But just reading about them was bad enough. To think they managed to go through the Longbottom's wards…"
Fred nodded. "We've some theories how this could have happened." He pulled out a box from his robe's pockets. "And we've worked on something to help people." He grinned, and suddenly, two balloons appeared, flying straight at Daphne and Tracey, drenching both.
"Our famous Instant Dryness combined with…"
As Fred trailed off, Daphne realised to her horror that Tracey had retaken her true form. As had she herself.
*****
Beyogi
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2014
- Messages
- 953
Hehe... hehe...
Oh lol That plan failed exactly the way I hoped. Let's just hope the Weasley twins are fast enough with their wands.
But Voldemort is smart... Allan might have actually done the Muggleborn resistance a favour. Everyone thinks Voldemort was responsible for these murders, so even if he tries to play "civilised" now nobody is going to believe him.
I'm curious when things are going to become really hot. I mean Voldemort has struck for the first time now, meanwhile the Muggleborn Resitance doesn't really know what to hit. How long is the cloak and dagger stuff going to continue.
Unsurprisingly Hermione's propaganda is likely going to fail with the adult purebloods, because she simply doesn't know enough to properly address them. If she was smart she'd grab and imperio Skeeter to write her propaganda pieces.
Oh lol
That plan failed exactly the way I hoped. Let's just hope the Weasley twins are fast enough with their wands.But Voldemort is smart... Allan might have actually done the Muggleborn resistance a favour. Everyone thinks Voldemort was responsible for these murders, so even if he tries to play "civilised" now nobody is going to believe him.
I'm curious when things are going to become really hot. I mean Voldemort has struck for the first time now, meanwhile the Muggleborn Resitance doesn't really know what to hit. How long is the cloak and dagger stuff going to continue.
Unsurprisingly Hermione's propaganda is likely going to fail with the adult purebloods, because she simply doesn't know enough to properly address them. If she was smart she'd grab and imperio Skeeter to write her propaganda pieces.
Ack
(Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)
- Joined
- Feb 12, 2014
- Messages
- 7,239
Welp, best laid plans
Starfox5
Experienced.
- Joined
- Feb 5, 2015
- Messages
- 4,010
Oh lol
Indeed, that's going to be the key question in the next minute.
Well, Allan was a small part in this - Dumbledore's manipulations were a bit more effective.
Things are heating up. And as more people are uncovered on both sides, strikes will get easier. Or at least finding strike targets will.
It's not about how to address them. Many purebloods simply don't care about mudbloods. Not enough to actually oppose Voldemort, at least.
Welp, best laid plans
That's a theme here.
Beyogi
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2014
- Messages
- 953
They don't. But that doesn't mean Hermione can't use the radio to throw egg on the ministry and Voldemort. If the purebloods stop to support the ministry and also don't support Voldemort she's won a lot.
Ultimately her goal here must be to utterly discredit the ancient regime. Unless she really expects to win this on the battlefield. A drawn out two sided guerilla war can only end with two seperate societies forming in the long term. And I don't see how this can end with a quick victory unless someone derps really hard.
riaantheunissen
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- Apr 27, 2014
- Messages
- 526
It will be interesting to see what kind of victory Hermione will try to achieve.
Beyogi
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2014
- Messages
- 953
I'm not sure she knows at this point.
She's been mostly about killing Voldemort supporters, throwing some egg on the ministry and surviving so far while hoping that Dumbledore sorts it out. Realistically they're in a really bad situation right now, at least until they get the half bloods on board.
Chapter 18: Strikes
Starfox5
Experienced.
- Joined
- Feb 5, 2015
- Messages
- 4,010
Chapter 18: Strikes
'Some historians are of the opinion that the November Offensive by the Dark Lord showed a paradigm change. Instead of attacking muggleborns and blood traitors, he had his followers attack mainly pureblood families - and among them, only the Weasleys were considered blood traitors. A careful analysis shows that the Death Eater attacks followed the same distinct pattern in both Blood Wars: They went after the easiest available targets first. Their goal was, as far as it can be determined, to not only sow terror among the population and weaken the morale of the Dark Lord's enemies, but to also let the new recruits among his own forces grow accustomed to killing.
When the November Offensive was launched, the muggleborns had already been hiding from the Ministry for months, thus removing themselves from the list of available targets. In a similar way, Dumbledore had correctly anticipated such attacks, and had prepared his allies for it. That left either half-bloods or purebloods not allied with the Dark Lord or Dumbledore as the best targets. It's quite logical that he selected the purebloods with ties to the Wizengamot, since attacking the half-bloods had already caused negative reactions to his cause.'
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn
London, Diagon Alley, November 23rd, 1996
She had to escape! She had seen what the Weasleys did to intruders! If she stayed she would die!
Daphne Greengrass screamed and threw herself to the side, straight into the stand with the 'Randy Rubber Duckies' while a red spell barely missed her. The stand toppled over and she drew her wand while she slid over the rubbery abominations. Another spell hit the stand, sending the things bouncing throughout the shop with a cacophony of moans and dirty jokes. She hastily cast a Shield Charm while scrambling behind the Fireworks display.
"George! Come at once! Emergency!" she heard Fred yell, somewhere behind the Slippery Scrolls stand.
She glanced at Tracey and discovered to her horror that her friend was lying on the ground, stunned or dead. The door was just a few yards behind her. She could flee. Get out and apparate away. But Tracey… her best friend.
She cursed her own stupidity.
"Incendio!"
She set fire to the display in front of her. The first fireworks started to go off a second later. Then she banished the display towards Fred. More and more fireworks were going off. Shooting Stars peppered the ceiling. Screaming Screwdrivers whirled around, setting fire to the Nagging Newspapers. Explosions toppled the basket of Wilting Wands, and smoke started to fill the room.
Perfect!
Daphne sprinted towards Tracey, stumbling when a Howling Howitzer struck her shield. She ignored the embers dotting the witch's robe - Tracey could heal from that, but not from the curses the Weasleys used - and aimed her wand at the door.
"Reducto!"
Her spell hit the door and exploded.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
She barely heard her own voice in the deafening noise. Just a few steps… the door was untouched!
"Reducto!" she yelled in desperation. How strong were the protections on the door?
"Alohomora!"
She threw herself at the door, to no avail. She was trapped in here. Trapped in this inferno. Trapped with the Weasleys. More rockets hit her Shield Charm. Another hit Tracey. Tracey!
Daphne used her wand to drag her friend behind her. She needed to shield her from the fireworks going off. She took a step forward, and almost fell when she slipped on a scroll. Half the shop's stock was now strewn or flying around. A dragon made of green fire blocked the way to the back room. Not that she would have any chance to get through both twins. She couldn't even get through a damn door! If only Tracey… Daphne blinked, and could have cursed herself for her own stupidity.
"Rennervate!"
Tracey began to stir, then yelled with pain.
"Open the damn door!" Daphne screamed at her, wildly casting spells towards the back of the shop. "Open it or we're dead!"
Her friend shrieked when a firework hit the window near her and bounced off, but finally recovered her wits and started to cast at the door. The smoke was clearing. The fireworks going off were diminishing. The dragon had disappeared already. A Spinning Wheel was fizzling out. Soon the twins would have clear lines of fire.
"Tracey! Hurry!"
The two would die in here. And it was all Daphne's fault for forgetting to wake up her friend! A single mistake!
Daphne blew up the stack of Galloping Glasses, sending shards and enchanted glasses flying when Tracey grabbed her arm. "Come!"
The two witches stumbled through the door, into Diagon Alley. Daphne's shield shattered, and she felt something strike her back. For a moment, she was certain she was cursed. Dead. But there was no pain. And then she realised that joke items were shooting out of the shop, together with one lone firework.
A second later, she apparated away.
Hogwarts, November 23rd, 1996
Albus Dumbledore had rarely seen the Weasley twins as angry as they appeared to be when they entered his office through the Floo connection. He had rarely seen them angry at all. Acting as if they were angry, outraged at whatever accusation a teacher leveled against them, yes. Truly enraged, no.
"Death Eaters just attacked our shop!" one of them, Fred, Albus thought, bellowed. "They used polyjuice to appear as harmless customers!"
"Oh?" Albus doubted they'd sit down, but he conjured seats for them anyway.
"Half of the shop is destroyed! They set fire to it." Fred shook his head. "If I hadn't removed their disguises…"
"By accident!" George cut in.
Fred glared at his brother. "It was no accident; I wanted to use our new formula."
"But you didn't expect them to be disguised. You just thought it would be a nice prank to impress two girls." George shook his head. "You were lucky."
Albus cleared his throat. "I assume then that you have finished the project I asked you to undertake?"
Both nodded. "Yes, sir," Fred said. "Instant Dryness mixed with a derived formula that will remove magical disguises."
"He means polyjuice. It will not affect animagi, metamorphmagi or disillusionment charms," George clarified.
Albus smiled. They had been quicker than he expected. "I'm impressed."
"Don't be," George said. "The two Death Eaters escaped, and now the enemy knows what we did." He gestured towards his brother. "The lovestruck fool here was unable to capture them."
"Lovestruck fool?" Fred scoffed. "You're just jealous."
Albus cleared his throat. As entertaining it was to see the twins argue with each other, instead of unite against a teacher, an attack by Death Eaters was serious. When both wizards looked at him with a rather sheepish expression, he nodded. "Please tell me what happened, from the beginning."
"Of course. It started a month ago, when those two girls, Mary and Cassandra, started to visit our shop," George said. Fred opened his mouth, but a glance from Albus silenced him, and the other twin continued. "They flirted for almost an hour with Fred, before buying our products. They returned a few days later, to flirt some more. Two weeks ago they were back, all afraid of Death Eaters, saying they were half-bloods. Fred did his best to console them." The twins exchanged glares. "And today, they were even more nervous."
"You weren't there when they entered. I was," Fred said. "They were even more nervous, yes. I demonstrated our formula, and Mary and Cassandra turned into Greengrass - the elder one - and Davis. I managed to stun Davis, but Greengrass set fire to the stalls at the entrance, woke up her friend, and they managed to flee from the shop. Despite the locked door." Fred grinned. "I hit Greengrass with a 'Traceless Tracker' though, so we know where they apparated to."
That was very good news, Albus thought. Provided the two witches were actually Death Eaters. "Did they attack you?"
"They were panicking," Fred said. "They were about to, but I was faster. Still… half the shop went up in flames. Mostly. That'll hurt our finances."
"Given your latest achievement, I'm certain Sirius will cover the damages," Albus said. The two boys perked up.
"We can strike at their hideout," George said. "Make them pay for this - figuratively."
"We don't know if they kidnapped Cassandra and Mary to impersonate them!" Fred said. "We can't just attack their house."
"Are you still stupid? Didn't she duck under our greeting joke?" George huffed. "That was a spy mission from the start, and you fell for it like a confunded Hufflepuff!"
"What?" Fred glared at his brother.
"Please," Albus said. "This is a serious incident. Though I have to agree that we cannot assume that the two witches were Death Eaters. Given your house, and family, and past, two young Slytherins could very well have chosen Polyjuice to visit your shop, to avoid trouble from their families and friends." Stranger things had happened, after all.
George scoffed. Fred glared at him. "I'm just saying we can't set Hermione on them. Not if there's a possibility that they have innocents imprisoned."
Albus didn't react to Miss Granger's name, though he agreed with that statement, if not for the same reasons. "Well, gentlemen, it appears that there is a need to gather more information before we act rashly. And with your shop in such a state, you will not be expected to be out and about for some time."
"You mean we should spy on them?" Fred asked.
"Yes. We need to know just what happened, before we can decide on the proper response." Albus smiled. "How likely is it that your 'Traceless Tracker' will be discovered?
"It's called 'traceless' because it vanishes when it's touched, or if the Disillusionment Charm on it is dispelled, or after a set amount of time," George explained.
"Six hours, in this case," Fred said. "There are a few ways to bypass that, but I doubt the Slytherins will know or think of them."
"They will not expect to be tracked then. Very good." The Headmaster rubbed his chin. "Where did they apparate to?"
"Dorset." Fred pulled out a map. "I've marked it here - it's not near any muggle houses."
Dorset, November 23rd, 1996
"... and that's when we managed to apparate away," Daphne Greengrass finished. Tracey was sitting next to her, on the couch of Draco's home. They were still shaking, hours after their close brush with death.
"They can counter Polyjuice?" Draco shook his head. "Have they made a deal with the goblins? Where did they get the gold to pay for that secret… Black! It has to be Black! That blood traitor! Wasting the gold of my family!" He sighed. "But you managed to escape them with your lives despite this surprise."
"They didn't expect us. Fred looked surprised when whatever he used worked. If they had been prepared we'd be dead," Tracey said.
"They still almost killed us." Daphne closed her eyes. If only she had thought to wake up Tracey right away.
"On the other hand, their shop was damaged," Draco pointed out. "That will cost them more gold that could have been spent on fighting us."
Daphne didn't think that was a big achievement, but held her tongue. Although, discovering that the blood traitors had found a way to deal with Polyjuice was important information for the Dark Lord.
Draco started to pace. "But it's obvious that we cannot depend on Polyjuice anymore. We'll have to find another way to strike at the blood traitors and mudbloods."
Tracey, never one to hold her tongue, snorted. "We didn't do well at the Burrow without Polyjuice."
Draco scoffed and made a dismissive gesture. "That was a trap. Other attacks succeeded, like the one against Longbottom. We just have to pick our target carefully."
"And find it," Tracey added. "Most are in hiding. As are we."
Draco glared at that reminder. "The blood traitors still visit Diagon Alley and the Ministry."
"Under the eyes of the Aurors," Daphne said.
"Some of them are quite sympathetic to our cause," Draco retorted.
"If we show our faces, we'll also draw attention. We might get attacked." Tracey frowned. "We might even be sought by the Aurors right now, if they claimed we tried to rob them."
"You two, robbing a joke shop? The Ministry knows better than that. And the Wizengamot is on our side." Draco smiled.
"It's not going to be on our side that much longer, if Dumbledore has his way," Daphne said. Her uncle had told her about the latest development in the Ministry.
Draco suddenly had a glint in his eyes. "We might have to do something about that. I will ask the Dark Lord for advice." He seemed to be already thinking about how to approach the Dark Lord, and probably how to claim the credit for discovering that the blood traitors could counter Polyjuice.
She didn't really mind. The less she was known to the Dark Lord, the easier it would be to avoid attention. She exchanged a glance with Tracey, who seemed to share her thoughts. "We'll go home then."
Astoria had been asking more frequently what Daphne was doing, and all but demanded to help her.
Daphne had no intention at all of letting her little sister get involved in this. Not after the Weasleys had shown their true colours in such drastic ways.
London, Knockturn Alley, November 23rd, 1996
Hermione Granger could think of worse missions than scouting out a Death Eater base in Knockturn Alley at night from the air, but not that many. She knew both Harry and Ron loved flying, but she hadn't ever been that comfortable in the air. At least not on a broom. She could fly, contrary to some tales that had gone around at school, but she'd never love it.
But she had other things to do than focus on the possibility of her broom failing and her falling down. She needed to find a way to break into this house. Preferably without alerting both the Ministry and the Dark Lord, but she'd settle for a quick way in and out, so the Resistance could be done and gone before any response would arrive.
The underground was out; after the bombing of the potion shop of the traitor, the Death Eaters would have reinforced their basements. And laid traps. And then there were the wards. Any conventional attack on the wards would allow the Death Eaters to call for help - and even if they didn't want to call upon their fellow murderers, they could inform the Ministry's Aurors. A bomb of sufficient power dropped from above would take down the wards. And destroy the houses nearby which were not quite as strongly warded. Evacuating them beforehand would certainly alert the Death Eaters. But killing so many civilians… Hermione shook her head.
A directed explosion would solve that problem. Maybe a shaped charge of sorts. Blow a hole into the wall, and take down the wards at the same time. She had thought about such a device, and made some calculations, but she lacked the skill to construct one. A penetrator dropped from high enough would go through the wards as well, but both reaching such a height and aiming it would be hard. As would avoiding muggle attention.
It looked like they would have to use a rather daring tactic to get inside the house. A plan Hermione would have preferred to save for another target, but as long as no witnesses were left alive, that wouldn't be a problem.
A lot would be riding on one person, though. She didn't like such plans. But she couldn't think of a better way to get inside the wards and capture the Death Eaters.
Not that it meant her current mission was done - the Resistance needed to know who was coming and going through the doors.
Hogwarts, November 24th, 1996
Harry Potter rolled over the stone floor, blindly casting with his wand until smoke filled the air around him. That should throw his opponent's aim off, and allow him to recast his Shield Charm!
Some liquid splashed over his face and chest before he finished the charm. He clenched his teeth, then yelled "I'm out!". He had learned his lesson - if Moody didn't hear him surrendering after getting hit, the spells would keep coming, and would become more painful.
And Moody's training was already painful enough. Even Snape's Occlumency training hadn't been that bad.
"Damn, Harry!" Ron yelled. "Now I'm… OW!"
"And that's another double-defeat, boys," Moody said.
Harry was certain the old Auror was shaking his head, though he couldn't see that through the smoke he had conjured.
"And what have we learned?" Moody asked, dispelling the smoke and chuckling at Harry's paint-covered face.
The boy sighed. "If your enemy is hiding inside smoke, use an area-effect spell."
"Not exactly." Moody frowned. "Weasley?"
"Uh… don't use, I mean, don't count on smoke as cover?" Ron said.
Moody sighed theatrically. "Boys… the lesson is: Transfigure the air around your enemy into smoke. He can't see you, and you can see what he's doing while you seek cover or hide. Other than that, you showed better teamwork. Still not cunning or sneaky enough to beat me, but I guess you'd have beaten a rookie Auror."
"We'd have beaten a rookie Auror even before we started training with you," Harry mumbled. When he saw the grizzled wizard stare at him, he narrowed his eyes and scowled. "They're rubbish."
Moody held his gaze for a moment, then started to chuckle. "Most of them are rubbish, aye. But not everyone. So, what does that make you?"
"Better than rubbish," Ron said, rubbing ointment on his forearm.
"You don't aim high, Weasley, do you?"
Ron scoffed. "Just high enough to win. Showing off is bad."
Harry nodded. Another lesson Moody had hexed into them. "You said yourself, we work well together. And you complained about Aurors not working together until they've been around for a few years."
"Caught that, did you?" Moody grinned. "Maybe I wanted you to think that, hm?"
"We have independent confirmation of that." Harry cleaned the paint off his face and robe with a Cleaning Charm.
"Oh, you have?" Moody looked at them. "Not from Tonks."
"Hermione took down two of them at once." Harry wasn't about to tell Moody about the Aurors Allan had murdered.
"Yes. And Hermione wasn't the best in Defense among us," Ron added.
"You've been talking to her, hm?" Moody's scarred face twitched, but Harry couldn't tell if he was angry or amused.
"None of your business," Ron spat.
"It was in the newspaper anyway," Harry said.
"Maybe you're making progress with getting a bit sneakier," Moody said. "You still need more training before we can go off hunting."
"Where are we going first, anyway?" Harry asked, brushing his trousers off. He glanced at Ron, who was slowly getting up and ambling over to the basket with the snacks. Behind Moody.
"Gringotts is closest. And safest, as long as you don't start a fight with the goblins. The buggers are spoiling for one, right now." Moody scratched his cheek and bared his teeth.
"What?" This was the first time Harry had heard about that.
Ron was rummaging in the basket, and glanced back over his shoulder. "Harry, do you want a cauldron cake?"
Harry nodded. "Yes." He turned to Moody. "The goblins want a fight?"
"Aye. The scum always try to attack if they think the wizards are weak." Moody coughed. "They almost started a rebellion during the last war. Albus stopped them, but he never told me what he did."
"Catch!" Ron said, throwing the cake towards Harry, and pointing his wand at Moody's back.
Harry was already moving, his own wand flashing forward.
"Stupefy!"
"Stupefy!"
The old Auror had dropped to the floor though, causing both spells to miss. Harry was already moving and casting, but he missed while Moody slid over the floor as if it was ice. Ron was hit with a Disarming Charm, strong enough to bowl him over. Harry's friend hit the floor, hard.
Harry sidestepped a Hex, and his foot simply kept going, finding no purchase. He ended up on the floor, and yelled in pain when he pulled a muscle. Then he yelled again when Moody's Stinging Hex hit his face.
"I'm out!" he said, but another Disarming Charm had already hit him, and he slid over the floor - which Moody had turned into ice, he realised.
"Better. You need to pay more attention to your surroundings, and remember that I have an eye in the back of my head. But that was your best try yet, with the cake thrown as a distraction. If that trick hadn't been old when I graduated, it might have even worked - if you'd had better aim."
Harry numbed his hurting thigh and slowly, carefully stood up. He needed more ointment.
"I think we'll work on aiming and dodging for the rest of today," Moody said, grinning widely. "If you do well enough, we'll talk about how to fight goblins next session. Just in case."
Harry nodded while checking up on his groaning friend. They were making progress, at least. But Moody was convinced that pain was the best teacher.
If Hermione could see them now… At least they now had another story to tell their friend. And plan the next ambush.
London, Ministry of Magic, November 25th, 1996
Brenda Brocktuckle had grown used to the glances and glares she received from some Aurors, even months after she had lost her partner. Some people never forgave or forgot. Being glared at in the Auror offices for doing her job though, that was a new experience. And not one she liked.
"Damn idiots!" she muttered, closing the door to her office behind her. "The fact that I'm hunting the mudbloods doesn't make me a Death Eater."
Martin, loyal partner and in the same boat, nodded. "People are going crazy ever since Shacklebolt started his purge."
Brenda shook her head. "Shack's doing his job, like we're doing ours. People don't like that he took the task force over from Dawlish and is having success."
"Rumour has it he's working for Dumbledore, hunting down Death Eaters - and people opposing Dumbledore's policies. Including us, for hunting mudbloods."
Brenda cocked her head to the side. Martin looked concerned. "Where did you hear that?"
Her partner shrugged. "I've heard it from a few people."
Before Brenda could ask who exactly was spreading this, Parkinson entered. "Damn blood traitors! Shacklebolt is just waiting to arrest me!" the man loudly complained, before conjuring a seat for himself.
Brenda glanced at Martin, who shrugged. "Really?" she asked.
"He's been asking me questions about my aunt. The kind of questions you ask a suspect." Parkinson scoffed. "How stupid does he think I am? He wants to arrest me because I'm no mudblood lover." He looked up. "And you're on his list as well. He probably suspects that you've something big going to get the mudbloods, and will try to stop you."
Brenda frowned. She knew Shack had ambitions, but she didn't think he'd go as far as framing people. "In the kind of investigation he's running, he has to suspect everyone."
"That's his excuse! He said so to my face!" Parkinson sneered. "But we all know that Shack's job is not going to help him with his career. Hunting down the relatives and friends of Wizengamot members? That's what leads to blacklisting. And Shack's smart. He knows that." He grinned. "So, why would he volunteer for this?"
"Maybe he lost someone dear to him to the Death Eaters," Brenda said. "Or he thinks that at the end of the war, things will have changed." Long odds for that, in her opinion.
"Oh, I bet he hopes things will have changed! That's why he's doing this for Dumbledore!" Parkinson ground his teeth. "The old man aims to take over Britain, and turn it into a mudblood country. Haven't you heard that he refused to support the Ministry against the Mudblood Resistance?"
"I hadn't heard that," Brenda admitted.
"I've heard it from Fudge's secretary herself. The Minister and Bones weren't that happy about it, apparently. Still think he's not a mudblood lover?" Parkinson sneered.
"Dumbledore likes mudbloods, everyone knows that," Martin cut in. "That doesn't mean Shack shares those views."
"Well, I certainly never saw him with the 'right kind of purebloods', if you get my drift."
Brenda nodded. If an Auror had ambitions, they needed friends in high places. If Shacklebolt wasn't with the Death Eaters, he'd be with Dumbledore. Maybe. "That still does not prove that he'll frame us."
"If he's working for Dumbledore, then he's working with the mudbloods." Parkinson sneered. "Why do you think that they keep escaping us?"
"Are you telling me he's a spy?"
Parkinson shrugged. "Spy, saboteur, mole…"
"He'll have enough on his plate hunting the actual Death Eaters," Brenda said. Which might include Parkinson.
"Oh, yes. He hasn't made any friends. If he ever needs support from the Hit-Wizards, or more Aurors, then that'll be interesting."
Brenda narrowed her eyes. If the spies of both sides in the Ministry started to attack or assassinate each other… They might believe she was a spy just because she wasn't with them. "Maybe we should have gone undercover. It seems safer than working in the office right now." She sighed and ran a hand through her hair.
"Bit late for that," Parkinson said. "But I'd maybe change my address."
Brenda knew the Floo Network had been sabotaged by Death Eaters during their wave of attacks. She looked at Martin, who had a grim expression on his face."Well," she sighed, "we're hunting the Resistance, and if they have a spy here…"
"We don't know that," Martin cut in.
"We can't really risk it either." Brenda had thought the mudbloods at least had no spies in the Ministry. But if they were working with Dumbledore… "We might as well pick a flat among muggles."
"What?" Parkinson stared at her.
"The mudbloods won't use bombs in the middle of Muggle London," Brenda explained. At least she hoped so.
The wizard looked surprised, then he grinned and rubbed his chin. "I see. That's a good idea. The mudbloods wouldn't want to kill muggles, right?"
Martin nodded. "We expect that they would lose too much support if they started killing muggles."
"I guess I'll have to find myself a muggle flat as well." Parkinson grinned. "Unless you want a third roommate?"
Brenda looked at Martin, who shrugged. She'd rather not share a flat with Parkinson, but that wasn't the kind of thing you refused a man who was supposed to have your back. They'd manage. That at least. "There's one problem though." She drew a hissing breath through her teeth.
"Yes?" Parkinson's expression made it clear that he was planning to remove that problem, no matter how.
"We need to learn how to fit in among muggles."
Judging by Martin's and Parkinson's expression, neither had thought of that.
London, Soho, November 26th
Hermione Granger had put her foot down when Sirius had asked to meet in a nightclub again. She had told him flat-out that it was not 'traditional', but impractical. They needed to talk to each other without being interrupted or distracted by the kind of girls who apparently found Sirius as charming as he claimed he was.
Which was why she found herself in a hotel room in London with a grinning Sirius. She frowned at him. "Next time we rent a room as a girl with her dog, not as a couple."
Sirius grinned at her. "Muggle hotels allow pets now? They didn't in the 70s. Lily told me so."
Hermione was quite certain she knew why Harry's mother had told Sirius that. "I think they don't allow Padfoots." Which was true.
Sirius snorted. "Anyway, it's just the two of us now. No one will disturb us here. And our spells ensure privacy. Just as you wanted."
Hermione rolled her eyes at Sirius. "Yes, Harry. Sirius took me to a hotel room, so we could have some privacy."
The wizard pouted at her. "When you say it like that it sounds bad."
"You just said the same thing." Hermione shook her head. "Let's get down to business." She ignored his chuckle at that. "We're preparing a strike against a Death Eater base in Knockturn Alley. We need some way to spy on them, so we know what we're facing. Do you have something that would help with that? Like the Wireless Ears?"
Sirius tapped his index finger to his lips. "Hm. To place those you need to get inside, which kind of defeats the purpose. But the twins are currently on a similar mission, so they would have something to get past wards."
"Oh? They're spying on the Slytherins who tried to sneak into their shop? Greengrass and Davis?" Hermione had heard the gist of that from her friends.
"Yes. The two witches didn't notice the tracker they were tagged with, and led the twins to their base." The wizard grinned. "Quite careless of them, but then, they were panicking, or so I heard."
"Where is their base?" If they were such amateurs, then the Resistance would not have any trouble wiping their cell out.
"Somewhere in Dorset. Though there's some doubt whether the girls are Death Eaters or not. Hence the spying." Sirius shook his head, clearly showing what he thought of that.
Hermione nodded. Greengrass's sister had tried to kill the Gryffindor third years, after all. "Well, if you'd get us some spy gear, we can use it."
Sirius nodded. "I'll ask them. Since I'm funding their research, I'm certain they'll share the results." With a sly grin, he added: "Ah… to think of the lengths we went to back at Hogwarts to spy on the girls' showers…"
Hermione glared at him, but didn't ask if that was true or not. She'd rather not know. "Good."
"I've heard your broadcasts. Quite interesting," Sirius said. "Did you manage to make the van invisible yet?"
Hermione pursed her lips. "No. As expected, it's quite difficult." Invisibility Cloaks didn't last long, after all, and were quite rare. Apart from Harry's. "We're working on simply adapting the Disillusionment Charm, and until then, we charm the colours to match the sky at night."
"Ah." Sirius grinned. "As long as it works it's good enough."
Hermione sighed. "It's more work though. But we'll manage. How is your family doing?" He'd know what she was asking.
"The Tonkses?" He sighed. "Andromeda and Ted have been through the last war; they know Bellatrix wants to kill them all and understand what we have to do to beat the Death Eaters. Nymphadora is still not certain if she's an Auror first, or an Order member." He shook his head. "Though the recent rift inside the Corps might finally make her see reason."
"Rift?" Hermione hadn't heard about that.
"Seems that the split between Death Eaters and 'blood traitors' is worsening. Nymphadora said there's talk of purges, and worse. And since she's considered a blood traitor simply for existing…" He grinned widely.
She nodded in agreement. "She needs to understand that this is a war. Police and their procedures have no place in it."
"Indeed." Sirius rummaged through the mini bar in the room. "Fancy a muggle whiskey?"
"No, thank you. Soda please." She certainly wouldn't drink alcohol on a mission.
"Suit yourself." He tossed her a soda, ensuring she'd have to wait until she could open it, and grabbed the whiskey for himself. After one sip he frowned. "Are they allowed to serve this to their guests?"
"You picked the hotel." Hermione grinned.
"I did." He huffed, but didn't put the bottle away. "So…" He leaned forward. "... tell me how the dates went, hm?"
She narrowed her eyes. "That's none of your business."
"But… I need to know. Harry's my responsibility. How can I teach him how to improve when I don't know what he did wrong?"
"What makes you think he did anything wrong?" Hermione huffed.
"Well, he's not asking me for advice on how to properly satisfy a witch."
Hermione rubbed her forehead. The worst thing was that she couldn't tell if Sirius was actually being serious or not.
Hogwarts, November 27th, 1996
"So… Albus will talk to the goblins, but even if they give us their permission to search Gringotts - which is by no means certain - that doesn't mean it'll safe to do so." Moody grinned. "If we fall victim to a trap they forgot to tell us about, or run into some of their 'disgruntled criminal elements', they'll claim it wasn't their fault if we get hurt."
Harry Potter was surprised how close Moody's teaching was to the impostor's lessons in 4th year. Not that he'd mention that, ever, to the old Auror.
"Goblins have criminals?" Ron asked.
"Goblins are criminals, lad," Moody said. "Assume they want to rob you, kill you, and eat you, and that just the threat of swift and brutal retribution keeps them in check."
Harry blinked. That was the first time he'd heard this. "What?"
"Why would we trust them with our gold if they were criminals?" Ron shook his head. "That doesn't make sense!"
The Auror grinned. "It makes sense if you consider the fact that we fought countless times against the goblins. They're a bunch of bloodthirsty monsters. The only thing they love more than blood is gold."
"So, we gave them our gold? We paid them off?" Ron shook his head. Harry had to agree - that sounded barmy.
"Well, after we beat them the last time, and apparently were considering ending their race, they finally seemed to wise up and accept that they couldn't raid Britain anymore. So they offered us a deal."
"That still doesn't explain why we gave them gold. Instead of taking it from them," Ron said.
"Gold was the key part of the deal. Galleons, Knuts and Sickles cannot be counterfeited or copied. The goblins use their own magic to mint them. Something that Wizarding Britain never managed. They've protected the secret with rituals and magic…" Moody shook his head. "A few rebellions broke out when they suspected that the wizards were trying to find out their secrets so they could mint coins as well."
Harry was confused. "Didn't that deal end the Goblin Rebellions?"
Moody laughed. "No, the deal ended the Goblin Wars. Since Gringotts was founded, there haven't been any wars, just rebellions. Usually by 'disgruntled elements'."
"I still think giving them our gold is barmy if they are that bad," Ron grumbled. "What keeps them from simply taking the gold from us, and then rebelling again?"
"There are safeguards in place, or so the Ministry claims. But the biggest reason they won't do that is that we'd wipe them out in response." Moody grinned. "The nasty little buggers know that. We've only gotten more dangerous since the Goblin Wars. They haven't been able to keep up."
Harry wasn't quite certain what he should be feeling about the fact that, apparently, only the threat of genocide kept the peace between goblins and humans.
"They could be trying to lull us into a false sense of security. Build up their forces, fool us with a few rebellions that are easily put down," Ron said.
"Ah, now you're thinking properly!" Moody grinned. "Of course they're trying to do that. But on the other hand, they haven't managed to do so in hundreds of years. And we're keeping an eye on them. They need human employees, after all, for all tasks that need wands."
"And yet they almost started a rebellion in the last war?"
"Of course. They're like animals - if they sense a weakness, they'll pounce. The trick is to not show any weakness. Or at least remind them regularly that no matter how weak the average wizard looks, Britain still has the wands to put the goblins down for good." Moody laughed. "Though that's a task for Albus. I'm here to teach you how to fight goblins."
He stood up. "Fortunately, their way of fighting doesn't use wands, so we can use conjuration to get us some training dummies."
Harry cursed and threw himself to the side, drawing his wand. As expected, there were already some crude goblin-like figures behind them. As he blasted the closest apart, noticing that Ron was doing the same, Moody laughed again. "You are learning, boys! Maybe this won't be as much of a babysitting job as I feared."
Harry would have liked to answer with some cutting remark about old people who should be in a home for the elderly, but he was too busy defending himself against an onslaught of goblin look-alikes.
London, Diagon Alley, November 27th, 1996
Albus Dumbledore was smiling at the goblins standing guard at the entrance to Gringotts. They didn't react, of course. They never did. He knew it riled them up though - goblins had to be polite, lest they suffer the consequences. Albus could afford to be polite because he wanted to.
He had a quick chat with Eberhard Faulkner. Hufflepuff, half-blood, owner of 'Faulkner's Furs', and reassured the man that he was doing all he could to deal with the Death Eaters, then approached the closest free teller.
"Good morning, sir." He nodded slowly at the surly goblin. "I would like to talk to a manager, if one of them has time to meet me." Again, he knew that his polite request was anything but a request - Gringotts could not afford not to meet with the Chief Warlock. But Albus was polite and respectful, no matter if it was appreciated or not. It was a matter of principle.
A few minutes later, he was led to the office of Gutripper, a member of the management, as the leadership of the bank had been calling themselves since 1972. "Greetings, Gutripper. Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice."
"Of course, Chief Warlock. What can we do for you?"
"There are two matters I would like to discuss." Albus smiled, then looked at the mounted head of a Deep Crawler behind the goblin. "Is that a new trophy?"
"Yes. I acquired it a few months ago." Gutripper showed his teeth, briefly.
"Impressive." Albus had noticed that the goblin had not gone into detail just how he acquired that trophy, but didn't ask.
"But I would not want to waste the time of such an important wizard," the goblin said, the effort it took him to avoid sneering obvious to Albus, "so, what can we do for you?"
"I have heard some rumours about a dark artifact hidden in Gringotts," Albus said.
"We're not responsible for whatever items are stored in wizards' vaults," the goblin said quickly.
"Of course not. I would never blame you for what crimes wizards commit," Albus told the goblin. "But you are responsible for the discretion and safety guaranteed to the owner of a vault, are you not?"
"Yes. That's stipulated in our standard contract." The goblin was guarded now. He had to know what Albus wanted.
"Indeed. But that does not include hiding contraband and banned items, right?" It didn't, but everyone knew that for the right price, Gringotts would do almost anything.
"Of course not. Though some might suspect that a search for an illegal artifact was but a pretext to spy on vault owners."
"Well, they would be wrong." That was just a benefit. "I am concerned about a very dark - and dangerous - artifact. Dangerous to Gringotts as well."
"Really?" Gutripper's teeth were showing fully now. "And why wouldn't our employees have noticed this?"
"Because the magic that conceals it is beyond their power," Albus said with a smile. It was true too, no matter how much it galled the goblins.
"I see." Gutripper hissed more than he spoke. "And will you conduct this search in person?"
"I will be in the area, in case I am needed, but there are a few specialists who will be searching. I would appreciate it if you would provide them with all the help they request for this task. It is of the utmost importance." He met the goblin's eyes directly. "It goes without saying that I will personally hold the bank responsible for their safety."
"I see," Gutripper pressed out through his clenched jaws.
"Good. I was afraid there would be some misunderstandings." Albus smiled widely. "With tempers riled up in the current conflict, misunderstandings could have catastrophic consequences."
The goblin paled just a shade. "Of course. When will those people arrive?"
"On the 29th. Probably after business hours - I would not want to inconvenience you." He smiled again.
"Thank you for your consideration. You mentioned another matter you wished to discuss."
"Ah, yes. There were rumours, or rather, speculations about Gringotts' stance in the conflict with Voldemort."
"Gringotts does not meddle with internal matters of Wizarding Britain," Gutripper spat.
"Oh, that is not what I am concerned about." Albus leaned forward. "I overheard some of my students discussing their latest lesson in Magic History. They talked about how often goblin rebellions were started in times of turmoil. Like Wizarding Britain is currently experiencing."
"Mere speculation, I assure you." Gutripper smiled showing all his teeth,
"Oh, I am convinced you would never be as foolish as that. After all, this would be seen by the Ministry and other concerned parties as siding with Voldemort." Albus bared his teeth. "And I know you are very much aware of the kind of retribution that would follow. From the Ministry." He noticed that the goblin was slightly sneering. "And from the people who destroyed Malfoy Manor. And of course, from me."
The goblin wasn't sneering anymore. "The Muggleborn Resistance is fighting the Ministry. They might welcome allies."
Albus snorted. "They are well aware of what kind of allies you are, and what your goals are." And if not, they soon would be. Harry and Mister Weasley certainly would tell Miss Granger all about it. "But even if they did not - do you think they will let you go back to the old ways of raids and pillaging? Have you forgotten how muggles have changed? How they wage war these days? What weapons they wield?"
"Muggles cannot even find us, much less fight us."
"But muggleborns can. And they will destroy you, to protect the muggles. Or themselves." Albus leaned back in his chair. "The times you yearn for have passed. Both in Wizarding Britain and in muggle Britain. And be glad for that."
Gutripper slowly nodded, his voice a whisper. "I understand."
"Good." Albus stood up. "I am glad we had this talk. It is far better to avoid a misunderstanding than to deal with it after it has happened."
"Of course."
Albus nodded politely, and left the goblin to stew in his frustration and rage. He hoped that the rest of Gringotts' leadership would see reason as well.
Otherwise, they might discover just how much the times had changed - to their, likely fatal, detriment.
London, Knockturn Alley, November 28th, 1996
"That's some clever gadget you've got there."
Hermione Granger looked up from the scroll the enchanted quill was filling, and at the Headmaster's brother. "The Wireless Voles?" She didn't know if the old wizard was talking about the latest invention of the Weasley twins, or the enchanted goggles she was wearing.
"Yes. Ingenious… that they can pass through wards…" he shook his head.
"That's actually simple. The things are completely harmless, so they do not register as a danger. And they are not alive, so they do not register as animals. Despite looking like voles."
Hermione knew that should the secret of their existence get out, people would be able to use counter-measures. A simple privacy spell would fool them, unlike the Wireless Ears. But as the Death Eaters in the house across the street proved, not many would think of using such spells in the privacy of a warded house.
"I didn't invent them," she added. "Nor did I name them." She certainly wouldn't have chosen such a silly name!
While Aberforth chuckled, Hermione moved a bit closer to the window of the deserted flat they were hiding in. From the remains of the torn newspapers they had found - looters hadn't taken those - it had belonged to a muggleborn. The Death Eater hideout looked unchanged. Just another house in the alley. As long as the windows remained dark, no one would suspect their presence.
"Bit of a waste to spy on them like that, only to attack the place."
She wasn't certain if the man was serious, or simply testing her. He was a bit like his brother in that regard, Hermione thought - not that she'd mention that, again. "This is just a recruiting post. The scum who frequent it won't know anything valuable. Not enough to let them continue. We want to catch their liaison or leader. They know more important people and locations."
The wizard nodded. "You're set on this then."
"Yes." She glanced at the man. Did he think she'd shy away from attacking Death Eaters? Or killing them?
"Despite the risk."
She shrugged. "It's a solid plan. I trust you to protect the trunk until we're inside." And to set it up in a good spot as well. That went without saying.
"Albus put in a good word for me?" he asked, a bit too casually.
Hermione was well aware of his opinion of the Headmaster. "He picked you to help us." She had checked though, just to ensure the old wizard's reputation as a wastrel was wrong. The Headmaster had told a few tales…
"I see."
She wasn't certain what he meant, but nodded, and focused on observing the door. "There should be a man named Callum leaving soon. He just said he'd be back in two days."
Aberforth moved forward to stand next to her. "I know the man. Drunk and violent, but not useless with a wand. He'll do."
Hermione didn't offer to help subdue the man. If Dumbledore's brother couldn't handle one Death Eater, then she would have to reconsider her plan.
She didn't think that would be needed though.
London, Diagon Alley, November 29th, 1996
"The bank looked much less foreboding before I knew so much about goblins," Harry heard Ron mutter next to him as they made their way to Gringotts. The sun had already set, and there weren't many people left in Diagon Alley. These days, no one wanted to be outside their wards at night. They were missing the next broadcast of the Resistance, but this was more important.
"Did you never wonder why Binns covers so many Goblin Rebellions?" Moody snorted behind them. "He knows exactly what cruel buggers they are, and does his best to remind everyone of that fact."
"Well, his best is not exactly much," Harry said. "He's boring. I doubt anyone pays attention to him."
"Hermione does. Did," Ron said.
"Not since first year. She was reading the book while he talked." Harry saw Ron glance at him. "She told me last week."
"Ah." Ron looked at the Goblin guards. "Are they expecting us?"
"Aye," Moody said. "Albus had a talk with them. They should be on their best behaviour. Which, mind you, isn't all that good."
"Great," Harry mumbled. Then he straightened up. This was an important mission. He and Ron could finally do something important in the war. Grumbling about it wouldn't do.
"Moody and company. We're expected by Gutripper," the old Auror told the guards at the door.
The two goblins didn't react at all, and for a moment, Harry thought there had been a mistake. But then the door opened, and another goblin stood in the entrance. "Come inside."
The three stepped inside, and the goblin seemed to hesitate.
Moody laughed. "Don't worry about Dumbledore. He's watching."
The goblin - Harry didn't know if he was Gutripper, or just a doorman, seemed to scowl at that, but then nodded, and closed the door.
"You know what we're here to do. Let's get on with it!" Moody said "We're wasting time standing around..."
"Follow me." The goblin turned around without checking if they were.
Harry sighed, and cast the modified Supersensory Charm. Now he just had to walk around and hope for a headache. Simple. As long as the goblins didn't betray and ambush them.
The goblin led the three wizards to the entrance to the vaults. "We're not taking the cart," Moody said as soon as they saw one of the contraptions. "Too easy to sabotage."
"If we wanted to kill you, you'd be dead," the goblin growled.
"Yes, and Albus would avenge us. But some of you might be dumb enough to think that if it looks like a 'tragic accident', he might not kill the lot of you." Moody grinned. "Best not to risk an accident, hm?"
Without a further word, the goblin led them to another door. And to stairs that seemed to descend forever.
"We could take out our brooms and fly down," Ron said, earning a glare from Moody. Apparently, they were supposed to keep those a secret, Harry thought. As if it made much of a difference.
After what felt like eternity, they reached the first vaults. And Harry discovered that the spell made any pain much worse. Including the slight ache in his leg. He groaned.
"Harry?" Ron looked around. "Do you…?"
He shook his head. "No. Just my legs."
"Oh. Oh!" Ron winced in sympathy. "That's going to be nasty."
It was. A few hours later, Harry's whole body ached terribly, but for his scar. And there was still a level of vaults left. At least the goblins had not broken their agreement.
The goblin was glaring at them. Harry hoped the bugger was feeling as tired and bad as he was. The creature had been a pain to follow, and about as helpful as a rock with an attitude. Ron, Harry and Moody had regularly cast detection spells of all kinds, but Harry was not quite certain that had fooled the goblin. He was past caring though. All he wanted was for this to end, and then head to Hogwarts, guzzle down two or three Pain Relief Potions, and sleep for a week.
Ron was looking haggard as well, and even Moody hadn't berated them for not being as vigilant as a paranoid cat in a room full of rocking chairs for an hour at least. One more level, and they'd be done.
Then Harry's scar started to hurt. So much, he winced and bent over, groaning.
"Harry?"
"Lad?"
"Yes…" Harry closed his eyes. "I'm fine." He cast another detection spell, which he didn't need, and started to act as if he was following his wand while he tried to sense where the pain was worst.
For the next minutes, he walked around, aimlessly and unable to find which vault the Horcrux was stored in. Only when he finally sat down to catch his breath though did the pain from his scar grow even worse.
"It's beneath us," he mumbled, then repeated it, loudly. "It's beneath us."
"There are no vaults there!" the goblin snarled.
"That's where the wards are anchored, right?" Moody said. "It's there then, hidden."
The goblin hissed. "No outsider is allowed down there!"
Moody scoffed. "Well, someone obviously didn't listen."
"Why would they hide a dark artifact there, and not in a vault? That makes no sense!" The goblin sneered. "This is a trick!"
"It's not a trick," Moody said. "It's down there. Probably linked to your wards even. And we're the only ones who can find it. So, you either let us down there, or we leave and ask Dumbledore to settle this."
"It's connected to the Dark Lord!" Harry saw the goblin was staring at him. "That's why the Boy-Who-Lived is here! What is it?"
"It's a soul anchor," Moody said.
The goblin gasped. "Connected to our wards? One of those leeches?"
"Aye." Moody grinned. "Aren't you glad we found it?"
Harry blinked. Weren't they supposed to keep the Horcruxes a secret? Or did Moody think that telling the goblin was the best way to remove it?
Apparently, it was. It took another hour - which Harry spent on the stairs, a level up, where his scar didn't hurt anymore - before the three of them could descend to the lowest level. With a dozen goblin guards. The little buggers were about as paranoid as Moody, in Harry's opinion.
The ward anchors were sealed behind the thickest, strongest vault doors Harry had seen so far. And that included the scene in Fort Knox in 'Goldfinger'. But when they were open, the pain was so bad, Harry had to drop the charm - and he could still feel the Horcrux.
He remembered to keep his wand out, and acted as if he was led by a spell, not pain, while he walked between polished stones covered with runes - and what looked like either paint or dried blood - until he finally found a small rock, oval and polished, hidden behind one of the more worn stones. "This is it," he said, pointing his wand at it.
Moody cast a few spells at it, then shook his head. "Can't remove it from that web."
"What? You said you could!" Gutripper snarled.
"I said we'd find it. And now we'll deal with it." The old Auror pulled out a small vial. "Stay back. Basilisk poison is quite deadly."
The half a dozen goblins who had swarmed the stone and had started to run their hands over it scattered at once.
Moody chuckled, and then tipped the vial, carefully. A hissing sound filled the room, followed by unnatural screeching. The pain in Harry's scar flared up and he felt liquid - blood - run down his face. He saw a green shape - a familiar view, after his first and second year - flicker, before it started to fade.
The pain went away with the shade, and Harry relaxed, relieved. He didn't even protest when Moody vanished the blood on his face.
"Well done, boy. Now let's leave this forsaken place so the goblins can repair the damage to their wards. I bet they wouldn't want an Auror to see what exactly they are doing here." The old wizard chuckled, but no goblin reacted to him.
This time they flew up the stairs - literally.
London, Knockturn Alley, November 30th, 1996
Hermione Granger was back in the deserted flat overlooking the Death Eater hideout. Calling it a base was not entirely accurate - it was more a hangout for riff-raff and other scum willing to kill for Voldemort. Most of the Resistance was there with her, all in fatigues turned black by the Colour Change Charm.
"I wish that damn Avery would arrive already!" Seamus muttered - not for the first time. Hermione hoped no one would take offense at his complaining - waiting for the mission to start was not easy on their tempers. Dean and Seamus were very eager. Hermione suspected they saw this as an opportunity to avenge Allan. She had never even thought of not taking them on this mission though. They needed this.
Justin was more sensible - or at least he acted like he was. Hermione's closest friend in the Resistance was standing near her, watching the scrolls the Wireless Voles were filling. Without muttering about the time they had already spent waiting. Which was a good thing - since he was the one in command of the reserves. He, the Creevey brothers, Sally-Anne and John would be waiting here, watching the house, in case some Death Eaters managed to flee - or reinforcements or Aurors arrived.
There! The quill had just written 'everyone up, the boss's arrived!' Hermione smiled. "Avery arrived. Let's go."
Aberforth Dumbledore slowly stood up from the chair he had conjured for himself - an obvious display of calm and patience, Hermione thought, both the chair, and his manner. He was already polyjuiced into Callum's form, so no one but Justin and her knew who he was, although that had led to some grumbling when she had told the group - they didn't like working with unknowns. She understood that, but had still persuaded them to trust him. With their lives. She wouldn't have managed that had Allan still been with them, she knew that. But if this went well, the group should trust her even more.
"Alright, everyone inside!" the wizard said in his unfamiliar voice, pointing to the trunk next to him. It was the same model that Moody had once been imprisoned in, so fitting seven people inside would be a tight fit, but possible - they had tested it. Air could be a problem though.
"Bubble-Head Charms up, everyone!" Hermione said. Then Mary and Tania went in first, followed by Hermione herself, then Louise and Jeremy, and - last in, first out - Dean and Seamus.
They were packed inside, and Hermione fought down the brief panic she felt at being inside such an enclosed space, unable to move much, and unable to watch or even listen as the Headmaster's brother carried them inside the Death Eater hideout.
What if it was a trap? What if the Death Eaters had found the Voles? Or if they expected this sort of attack? What if Callum had been bait? They had used Veritaserum on him, but if the Death Eaters had obliviated him...
Hermione closed her eyes and took deep breaths. She couldn't panic. She was the leader. And the die was cast. "Remember: We need prisoners."
"Are we there yet?" Seamus asked. "Mum? I have to pee!"
Hermione laughed together with everyone else, and the tension was broken.
Then the trunk was opened.
Dean and Seamus stormed out at once. The two former Hit-Wizards followed, and then Hermione. They were inside a rather shabby room, thin-looking walls, no furniture. Aberforth was at the door, Louise and Jeremy were running towards him, wands drawn, Dean and Seamus were already there, behind conjured cover.
Hermione took a step to the side to let Mary and Tania pass and pull their rifles out while she started casting Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey Jinxes, followed by a Human-presence-revealing Spell. As soon as she had finished, she said: "Go!"
Aberforth opened the door and flicked his wand. Dean and Seamus cast as well. Hermione heard a body hit the floor, followed by a scream, cut short by another spell. Then Dean vanished the stone cover, and Aberforth stepped inside. Dean and Seamus followed, going right, to secure the main entrance. The two former Hit-Wizards went left after the door, Shield Charms covering them as they went to block the back door.
Hermione entered the room after Tania and Mary - she didn't want to block their line of fire. The two witches were covering the stairs leading to the first floor, in conjured firing positions. A stone wall was blocking the entrance to the cellar. Aberforth stood in the middle, his wand aimed at a small room to the side. Hermione heard screams from there, and saw one wizard in black robes stumbling out of it, his hair on fire. Aberforth stunned him almost casually, then sealed the room up.
"The leader is inside the living room," Aberforth said, pointing at a door in the middle of the wall opposite them.
Hermione nodded and drew a 'flashbang' grenade, then moved to the side of the door. Dean and Seamus should be done any moment.
They weren't. She heard more screams from the main entrance. And explosions. Curses, not grenades. She looked at the old wizard, who nodded, grinning. A second later, the door was blasted to pieces, some of them hitting her shield. She threw the grenade inside the room without looking or exposing more than her hand - and almost lost that one to a brown spell.
The grenade went off, and she heard screams. Tania had left the stairs to Mary and stuck her rifle into the room, aiming low. She emptied one magazine, then pulled back. Hermione heard more screams. Then Aberforth conjured a slab of floating stone and banished it into the room, followed by another he used as a shield as he entered. Hermione took a deep breath and followed him.
Inside, a scene of carnage greeted her. She saw one man dead on the ground - hit in the chest and head by rifle rounds. Half his skull had been blown off. Another was pressing his hands on his bleeding legs. One witch was in the corner, stumbling around and rubbing her eyes. Hermione quickly stunned both of them, then dived forward in a roll, behind the remains of a couch which had started to catch fire. Dumbledore's brother was exchanging spells with a wizard. That had to be Avery - he was wearing Death Eater robes and a mask, unlike the rest of the people she had seen so far. And he was giving the old wizard some trouble, casting Killing Curses as quickly as Aberforth could conjure stone obstacles to absorb them. And Tania couldn't fire without endangering both of them. Taking Death Eaters alive was much harder than simply killing them.
Hermione saw no marker, so there was no disillusioned foe nearby. She crawled forward behind the smoldering couch, then popped up to cast. Her first Piercing Curse was stopped by the dark wizard's shield, but her second shattered it. He flinched and turned towards her, snarling, but before he could cast, a stone slab smashed into him and flung him into the wall. Two stunners, one from her and one from Aberforth, found him before he reached the ground.
"I think he should have survived that," Aberforth commented, "but you better check."
She nodded, cast an Amplifying Charm - she wished radio worked in Knockturn Alley - and yelled: "Main target down! Main target down!"
There was no need to take risks to capture more of the riff-raff.
She reached Avery and cast a quick diagnosis spell. He didn't seem to be in immediate danger, so she cut his robes off and collected his wand, then bound him. Then she cut off some of his hair. Turning to Tania, she pointed back. "Get him and the other living ones into the trunk."
When she left the room she saw a body on top of the stairs, blood running down the wooden steps.
"I've driven another one back," Mary informed her.
"I'll handle the ones above," Aberforth said.
Hermione nodded. "Tania, stay with the trunk once you are done! Mary, check with Louise and Jeremy!" she ordered while heading to the entrance hall.
She cursed under her breath at the sight that greeted her there. The door had been blown open, Seamus was on the ground, covered by a conjured wall, and Dean was trying to still the bleeding in his friend's leg. She saw three corpses near the door, and one right outside.
"What happened?" She asked, kneeling next to Seamus. A quick charm told her his leg bones had been shattered. She couldn't do anything about that, but she could stop the bleeding, and numb the pain.
"Half a dozen rushed the door. They were too many to stop. One of them got Seamus when he tried to block the door instead of covering himself," Dean said. "Justin's group got them though."
Hermione hadn't felt the mirror in her pocket vibrate, so Justin had not encountered further trouble. Or so she hoped. "We got our target. Get Seamus into the trunk, I'll cover you."
She quickly sealed the door with a conjured wall of stone, then pulled out the communication mirror. "Justin, we've got the target. Prepare to move to the rally point."
"Alright," Justin said. "We've killed two runners in the street."
When Hermione got back to the room they had started in, the rest of the group was filing in. Louise was fine, Jeremy slightly hurt. Nothing to worry about. Tania and Mary stayed right outside the door though, to cover the stairs again. "Where's our ally?"
"Still upstairs," Tania answered.
Hermione thought about heading up herself, but decided against it. She had to trust the man. "Justin, how's it looking outside?"
"The usual reaction to violence - people have disappeared from the street. No Aurors in sight yet."
"Alright." To the group, she said: "Shrink the trunk and move to the backyard. Secure the area and be ready to take down the Jinxes."
While the group moved out, Hermione opened a bottle filled with petrol, then cast a Doubling Charm on it. The bottle started to spill and multiply. She left the room and closed the door, repeating this with another bottle in the entrance hall.
"You're moving quickly," Aberforth said when he descended the stairs, still covered by Tania and Mary. A bound man floated behind him.
"Everyone taken care of above?" Hermione asked.
"Yes."
She nodded and handed him the hair. While he fed the prisoner Polyjuice with Avery's hair she pointed her wand at the remains of the living room. "Accio Death Eater robe and mask!"
Aberforth draped the remains on the polyjuiced man, then cast a Bludgeoning Curse and a Cutting Curse to match the damage to the garments. The Dark Lord might not be fooled by this, but it wouldn't hurt to make it appear as if Avery died in the building.
"Time to go." She took down her jinxes on the way to the backyard, then set fire to the spreading pool of petrol in the hallway. A second later, she apparated to the rally point.
Behind her, the house went up in flames.
'Some historians are of the opinion that the November Offensive by the Dark Lord showed a paradigm change. Instead of attacking muggleborns and blood traitors, he had his followers attack mainly pureblood families - and among them, only the Weasleys were considered blood traitors. A careful analysis shows that the Death Eater attacks followed the same distinct pattern in both Blood Wars: They went after the easiest available targets first. Their goal was, as far as it can be determined, to not only sow terror among the population and weaken the morale of the Dark Lord's enemies, but to also let the new recruits among his own forces grow accustomed to killing.
When the November Offensive was launched, the muggleborns had already been hiding from the Ministry for months, thus removing themselves from the list of available targets. In a similar way, Dumbledore had correctly anticipated such attacks, and had prepared his allies for it. That left either half-bloods or purebloods not allied with the Dark Lord or Dumbledore as the best targets. It's quite logical that he selected the purebloods with ties to the Wizengamot, since attacking the half-bloods had already caused negative reactions to his cause.'
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn
*****
London, Diagon Alley, November 23rd, 1996
She had to escape! She had seen what the Weasleys did to intruders! If she stayed she would die!
Daphne Greengrass screamed and threw herself to the side, straight into the stand with the 'Randy Rubber Duckies' while a red spell barely missed her. The stand toppled over and she drew her wand while she slid over the rubbery abominations. Another spell hit the stand, sending the things bouncing throughout the shop with a cacophony of moans and dirty jokes. She hastily cast a Shield Charm while scrambling behind the Fireworks display.
"George! Come at once! Emergency!" she heard Fred yell, somewhere behind the Slippery Scrolls stand.
She glanced at Tracey and discovered to her horror that her friend was lying on the ground, stunned or dead. The door was just a few yards behind her. She could flee. Get out and apparate away. But Tracey… her best friend.
She cursed her own stupidity.
"Incendio!"
She set fire to the display in front of her. The first fireworks started to go off a second later. Then she banished the display towards Fred. More and more fireworks were going off. Shooting Stars peppered the ceiling. Screaming Screwdrivers whirled around, setting fire to the Nagging Newspapers. Explosions toppled the basket of Wilting Wands, and smoke started to fill the room.
Perfect!
Daphne sprinted towards Tracey, stumbling when a Howling Howitzer struck her shield. She ignored the embers dotting the witch's robe - Tracey could heal from that, but not from the curses the Weasleys used - and aimed her wand at the door.
"Reducto!"
Her spell hit the door and exploded.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
She barely heard her own voice in the deafening noise. Just a few steps… the door was untouched!
"Reducto!" she yelled in desperation. How strong were the protections on the door?
"Alohomora!"
She threw herself at the door, to no avail. She was trapped in here. Trapped in this inferno. Trapped with the Weasleys. More rockets hit her Shield Charm. Another hit Tracey. Tracey!
Daphne used her wand to drag her friend behind her. She needed to shield her from the fireworks going off. She took a step forward, and almost fell when she slipped on a scroll. Half the shop's stock was now strewn or flying around. A dragon made of green fire blocked the way to the back room. Not that she would have any chance to get through both twins. She couldn't even get through a damn door! If only Tracey… Daphne blinked, and could have cursed herself for her own stupidity.
"Rennervate!"
Tracey began to stir, then yelled with pain.
"Open the damn door!" Daphne screamed at her, wildly casting spells towards the back of the shop. "Open it or we're dead!"
Her friend shrieked when a firework hit the window near her and bounced off, but finally recovered her wits and started to cast at the door. The smoke was clearing. The fireworks going off were diminishing. The dragon had disappeared already. A Spinning Wheel was fizzling out. Soon the twins would have clear lines of fire.
"Tracey! Hurry!"
The two would die in here. And it was all Daphne's fault for forgetting to wake up her friend! A single mistake!
Daphne blew up the stack of Galloping Glasses, sending shards and enchanted glasses flying when Tracey grabbed her arm. "Come!"
The two witches stumbled through the door, into Diagon Alley. Daphne's shield shattered, and she felt something strike her back. For a moment, she was certain she was cursed. Dead. But there was no pain. And then she realised that joke items were shooting out of the shop, together with one lone firework.
A second later, she apparated away.
*****
Hogwarts, November 23rd, 1996
Albus Dumbledore had rarely seen the Weasley twins as angry as they appeared to be when they entered his office through the Floo connection. He had rarely seen them angry at all. Acting as if they were angry, outraged at whatever accusation a teacher leveled against them, yes. Truly enraged, no.
"Death Eaters just attacked our shop!" one of them, Fred, Albus thought, bellowed. "They used polyjuice to appear as harmless customers!"
"Oh?" Albus doubted they'd sit down, but he conjured seats for them anyway.
"Half of the shop is destroyed! They set fire to it." Fred shook his head. "If I hadn't removed their disguises…"
"By accident!" George cut in.
Fred glared at his brother. "It was no accident; I wanted to use our new formula."
"But you didn't expect them to be disguised. You just thought it would be a nice prank to impress two girls." George shook his head. "You were lucky."
Albus cleared his throat. "I assume then that you have finished the project I asked you to undertake?"
Both nodded. "Yes, sir," Fred said. "Instant Dryness mixed with a derived formula that will remove magical disguises."
"He means polyjuice. It will not affect animagi, metamorphmagi or disillusionment charms," George clarified.
Albus smiled. They had been quicker than he expected. "I'm impressed."
"Don't be," George said. "The two Death Eaters escaped, and now the enemy knows what we did." He gestured towards his brother. "The lovestruck fool here was unable to capture them."
"Lovestruck fool?" Fred scoffed. "You're just jealous."
Albus cleared his throat. As entertaining it was to see the twins argue with each other, instead of unite against a teacher, an attack by Death Eaters was serious. When both wizards looked at him with a rather sheepish expression, he nodded. "Please tell me what happened, from the beginning."
"Of course. It started a month ago, when those two girls, Mary and Cassandra, started to visit our shop," George said. Fred opened his mouth, but a glance from Albus silenced him, and the other twin continued. "They flirted for almost an hour with Fred, before buying our products. They returned a few days later, to flirt some more. Two weeks ago they were back, all afraid of Death Eaters, saying they were half-bloods. Fred did his best to console them." The twins exchanged glares. "And today, they were even more nervous."
"You weren't there when they entered. I was," Fred said. "They were even more nervous, yes. I demonstrated our formula, and Mary and Cassandra turned into Greengrass - the elder one - and Davis. I managed to stun Davis, but Greengrass set fire to the stalls at the entrance, woke up her friend, and they managed to flee from the shop. Despite the locked door." Fred grinned. "I hit Greengrass with a 'Traceless Tracker' though, so we know where they apparated to."
That was very good news, Albus thought. Provided the two witches were actually Death Eaters. "Did they attack you?"
"They were panicking," Fred said. "They were about to, but I was faster. Still… half the shop went up in flames. Mostly. That'll hurt our finances."
"Given your latest achievement, I'm certain Sirius will cover the damages," Albus said. The two boys perked up.
"We can strike at their hideout," George said. "Make them pay for this - figuratively."
"We don't know if they kidnapped Cassandra and Mary to impersonate them!" Fred said. "We can't just attack their house."
"Are you still stupid? Didn't she duck under our greeting joke?" George huffed. "That was a spy mission from the start, and you fell for it like a confunded Hufflepuff!"
"What?" Fred glared at his brother.
"Please," Albus said. "This is a serious incident. Though I have to agree that we cannot assume that the two witches were Death Eaters. Given your house, and family, and past, two young Slytherins could very well have chosen Polyjuice to visit your shop, to avoid trouble from their families and friends." Stranger things had happened, after all.
George scoffed. Fred glared at him. "I'm just saying we can't set Hermione on them. Not if there's a possibility that they have innocents imprisoned."
Albus didn't react to Miss Granger's name, though he agreed with that statement, if not for the same reasons. "Well, gentlemen, it appears that there is a need to gather more information before we act rashly. And with your shop in such a state, you will not be expected to be out and about for some time."
"You mean we should spy on them?" Fred asked.
"Yes. We need to know just what happened, before we can decide on the proper response." Albus smiled. "How likely is it that your 'Traceless Tracker' will be discovered?
"It's called 'traceless' because it vanishes when it's touched, or if the Disillusionment Charm on it is dispelled, or after a set amount of time," George explained.
"Six hours, in this case," Fred said. "There are a few ways to bypass that, but I doubt the Slytherins will know or think of them."
"They will not expect to be tracked then. Very good." The Headmaster rubbed his chin. "Where did they apparate to?"
"Dorset." Fred pulled out a map. "I've marked it here - it's not near any muggle houses."
*****
Dorset, November 23rd, 1996
"... and that's when we managed to apparate away," Daphne Greengrass finished. Tracey was sitting next to her, on the couch of Draco's home. They were still shaking, hours after their close brush with death.
"They can counter Polyjuice?" Draco shook his head. "Have they made a deal with the goblins? Where did they get the gold to pay for that secret… Black! It has to be Black! That blood traitor! Wasting the gold of my family!" He sighed. "But you managed to escape them with your lives despite this surprise."
"They didn't expect us. Fred looked surprised when whatever he used worked. If they had been prepared we'd be dead," Tracey said.
"They still almost killed us." Daphne closed her eyes. If only she had thought to wake up Tracey right away.
"On the other hand, their shop was damaged," Draco pointed out. "That will cost them more gold that could have been spent on fighting us."
Daphne didn't think that was a big achievement, but held her tongue. Although, discovering that the blood traitors had found a way to deal with Polyjuice was important information for the Dark Lord.
Draco started to pace. "But it's obvious that we cannot depend on Polyjuice anymore. We'll have to find another way to strike at the blood traitors and mudbloods."
Tracey, never one to hold her tongue, snorted. "We didn't do well at the Burrow without Polyjuice."
Draco scoffed and made a dismissive gesture. "That was a trap. Other attacks succeeded, like the one against Longbottom. We just have to pick our target carefully."
"And find it," Tracey added. "Most are in hiding. As are we."
Draco glared at that reminder. "The blood traitors still visit Diagon Alley and the Ministry."
"Under the eyes of the Aurors," Daphne said.
"Some of them are quite sympathetic to our cause," Draco retorted.
"If we show our faces, we'll also draw attention. We might get attacked." Tracey frowned. "We might even be sought by the Aurors right now, if they claimed we tried to rob them."
"You two, robbing a joke shop? The Ministry knows better than that. And the Wizengamot is on our side." Draco smiled.
"It's not going to be on our side that much longer, if Dumbledore has his way," Daphne said. Her uncle had told her about the latest development in the Ministry.
Draco suddenly had a glint in his eyes. "We might have to do something about that. I will ask the Dark Lord for advice." He seemed to be already thinking about how to approach the Dark Lord, and probably how to claim the credit for discovering that the blood traitors could counter Polyjuice.
She didn't really mind. The less she was known to the Dark Lord, the easier it would be to avoid attention. She exchanged a glance with Tracey, who seemed to share her thoughts. "We'll go home then."
Astoria had been asking more frequently what Daphne was doing, and all but demanded to help her.
Daphne had no intention at all of letting her little sister get involved in this. Not after the Weasleys had shown their true colours in such drastic ways.
*****
London, Knockturn Alley, November 23rd, 1996
Hermione Granger could think of worse missions than scouting out a Death Eater base in Knockturn Alley at night from the air, but not that many. She knew both Harry and Ron loved flying, but she hadn't ever been that comfortable in the air. At least not on a broom. She could fly, contrary to some tales that had gone around at school, but she'd never love it.
But she had other things to do than focus on the possibility of her broom failing and her falling down. She needed to find a way to break into this house. Preferably without alerting both the Ministry and the Dark Lord, but she'd settle for a quick way in and out, so the Resistance could be done and gone before any response would arrive.
The underground was out; after the bombing of the potion shop of the traitor, the Death Eaters would have reinforced their basements. And laid traps. And then there were the wards. Any conventional attack on the wards would allow the Death Eaters to call for help - and even if they didn't want to call upon their fellow murderers, they could inform the Ministry's Aurors. A bomb of sufficient power dropped from above would take down the wards. And destroy the houses nearby which were not quite as strongly warded. Evacuating them beforehand would certainly alert the Death Eaters. But killing so many civilians… Hermione shook her head.
A directed explosion would solve that problem. Maybe a shaped charge of sorts. Blow a hole into the wall, and take down the wards at the same time. She had thought about such a device, and made some calculations, but she lacked the skill to construct one. A penetrator dropped from high enough would go through the wards as well, but both reaching such a height and aiming it would be hard. As would avoiding muggle attention.
It looked like they would have to use a rather daring tactic to get inside the house. A plan Hermione would have preferred to save for another target, but as long as no witnesses were left alive, that wouldn't be a problem.
A lot would be riding on one person, though. She didn't like such plans. But she couldn't think of a better way to get inside the wards and capture the Death Eaters.
Not that it meant her current mission was done - the Resistance needed to know who was coming and going through the doors.
*****
Hogwarts, November 24th, 1996
Harry Potter rolled over the stone floor, blindly casting with his wand until smoke filled the air around him. That should throw his opponent's aim off, and allow him to recast his Shield Charm!
Some liquid splashed over his face and chest before he finished the charm. He clenched his teeth, then yelled "I'm out!". He had learned his lesson - if Moody didn't hear him surrendering after getting hit, the spells would keep coming, and would become more painful.
And Moody's training was already painful enough. Even Snape's Occlumency training hadn't been that bad.
"Damn, Harry!" Ron yelled. "Now I'm… OW!"
"And that's another double-defeat, boys," Moody said.
Harry was certain the old Auror was shaking his head, though he couldn't see that through the smoke he had conjured.
"And what have we learned?" Moody asked, dispelling the smoke and chuckling at Harry's paint-covered face.
The boy sighed. "If your enemy is hiding inside smoke, use an area-effect spell."
"Not exactly." Moody frowned. "Weasley?"
"Uh… don't use, I mean, don't count on smoke as cover?" Ron said.
Moody sighed theatrically. "Boys… the lesson is: Transfigure the air around your enemy into smoke. He can't see you, and you can see what he's doing while you seek cover or hide. Other than that, you showed better teamwork. Still not cunning or sneaky enough to beat me, but I guess you'd have beaten a rookie Auror."
"We'd have beaten a rookie Auror even before we started training with you," Harry mumbled. When he saw the grizzled wizard stare at him, he narrowed his eyes and scowled. "They're rubbish."
Moody held his gaze for a moment, then started to chuckle. "Most of them are rubbish, aye. But not everyone. So, what does that make you?"
"Better than rubbish," Ron said, rubbing ointment on his forearm.
"You don't aim high, Weasley, do you?"
Ron scoffed. "Just high enough to win. Showing off is bad."
Harry nodded. Another lesson Moody had hexed into them. "You said yourself, we work well together. And you complained about Aurors not working together until they've been around for a few years."
"Caught that, did you?" Moody grinned. "Maybe I wanted you to think that, hm?"
"We have independent confirmation of that." Harry cleaned the paint off his face and robe with a Cleaning Charm.
"Oh, you have?" Moody looked at them. "Not from Tonks."
"Hermione took down two of them at once." Harry wasn't about to tell Moody about the Aurors Allan had murdered.
"Yes. And Hermione wasn't the best in Defense among us," Ron added.
"You've been talking to her, hm?" Moody's scarred face twitched, but Harry couldn't tell if he was angry or amused.
"None of your business," Ron spat.
"It was in the newspaper anyway," Harry said.
"Maybe you're making progress with getting a bit sneakier," Moody said. "You still need more training before we can go off hunting."
"Where are we going first, anyway?" Harry asked, brushing his trousers off. He glanced at Ron, who was slowly getting up and ambling over to the basket with the snacks. Behind Moody.
"Gringotts is closest. And safest, as long as you don't start a fight with the goblins. The buggers are spoiling for one, right now." Moody scratched his cheek and bared his teeth.
"What?" This was the first time Harry had heard about that.
Ron was rummaging in the basket, and glanced back over his shoulder. "Harry, do you want a cauldron cake?"
Harry nodded. "Yes." He turned to Moody. "The goblins want a fight?"
"Aye. The scum always try to attack if they think the wizards are weak." Moody coughed. "They almost started a rebellion during the last war. Albus stopped them, but he never told me what he did."
"Catch!" Ron said, throwing the cake towards Harry, and pointing his wand at Moody's back.
Harry was already moving, his own wand flashing forward.
"Stupefy!"
"Stupefy!"
The old Auror had dropped to the floor though, causing both spells to miss. Harry was already moving and casting, but he missed while Moody slid over the floor as if it was ice. Ron was hit with a Disarming Charm, strong enough to bowl him over. Harry's friend hit the floor, hard.
Harry sidestepped a Hex, and his foot simply kept going, finding no purchase. He ended up on the floor, and yelled in pain when he pulled a muscle. Then he yelled again when Moody's Stinging Hex hit his face.
"I'm out!" he said, but another Disarming Charm had already hit him, and he slid over the floor - which Moody had turned into ice, he realised.
"Better. You need to pay more attention to your surroundings, and remember that I have an eye in the back of my head. But that was your best try yet, with the cake thrown as a distraction. If that trick hadn't been old when I graduated, it might have even worked - if you'd had better aim."
Harry numbed his hurting thigh and slowly, carefully stood up. He needed more ointment.
"I think we'll work on aiming and dodging for the rest of today," Moody said, grinning widely. "If you do well enough, we'll talk about how to fight goblins next session. Just in case."
Harry nodded while checking up on his groaning friend. They were making progress, at least. But Moody was convinced that pain was the best teacher.
If Hermione could see them now… At least they now had another story to tell their friend. And plan the next ambush.
*****
London, Ministry of Magic, November 25th, 1996
Brenda Brocktuckle had grown used to the glances and glares she received from some Aurors, even months after she had lost her partner. Some people never forgave or forgot. Being glared at in the Auror offices for doing her job though, that was a new experience. And not one she liked.
"Damn idiots!" she muttered, closing the door to her office behind her. "The fact that I'm hunting the mudbloods doesn't make me a Death Eater."
Martin, loyal partner and in the same boat, nodded. "People are going crazy ever since Shacklebolt started his purge."
Brenda shook her head. "Shack's doing his job, like we're doing ours. People don't like that he took the task force over from Dawlish and is having success."
"Rumour has it he's working for Dumbledore, hunting down Death Eaters - and people opposing Dumbledore's policies. Including us, for hunting mudbloods."
Brenda cocked her head to the side. Martin looked concerned. "Where did you hear that?"
Her partner shrugged. "I've heard it from a few people."
Before Brenda could ask who exactly was spreading this, Parkinson entered. "Damn blood traitors! Shacklebolt is just waiting to arrest me!" the man loudly complained, before conjuring a seat for himself.
Brenda glanced at Martin, who shrugged. "Really?" she asked.
"He's been asking me questions about my aunt. The kind of questions you ask a suspect." Parkinson scoffed. "How stupid does he think I am? He wants to arrest me because I'm no mudblood lover." He looked up. "And you're on his list as well. He probably suspects that you've something big going to get the mudbloods, and will try to stop you."
Brenda frowned. She knew Shack had ambitions, but she didn't think he'd go as far as framing people. "In the kind of investigation he's running, he has to suspect everyone."
"That's his excuse! He said so to my face!" Parkinson sneered. "But we all know that Shack's job is not going to help him with his career. Hunting down the relatives and friends of Wizengamot members? That's what leads to blacklisting. And Shack's smart. He knows that." He grinned. "So, why would he volunteer for this?"
"Maybe he lost someone dear to him to the Death Eaters," Brenda said. "Or he thinks that at the end of the war, things will have changed." Long odds for that, in her opinion.
"Oh, I bet he hopes things will have changed! That's why he's doing this for Dumbledore!" Parkinson ground his teeth. "The old man aims to take over Britain, and turn it into a mudblood country. Haven't you heard that he refused to support the Ministry against the Mudblood Resistance?"
"I hadn't heard that," Brenda admitted.
"I've heard it from Fudge's secretary herself. The Minister and Bones weren't that happy about it, apparently. Still think he's not a mudblood lover?" Parkinson sneered.
"Dumbledore likes mudbloods, everyone knows that," Martin cut in. "That doesn't mean Shack shares those views."
"Well, I certainly never saw him with the 'right kind of purebloods', if you get my drift."
Brenda nodded. If an Auror had ambitions, they needed friends in high places. If Shacklebolt wasn't with the Death Eaters, he'd be with Dumbledore. Maybe. "That still does not prove that he'll frame us."
"If he's working for Dumbledore, then he's working with the mudbloods." Parkinson sneered. "Why do you think that they keep escaping us?"
"Are you telling me he's a spy?"
Parkinson shrugged. "Spy, saboteur, mole…"
"He'll have enough on his plate hunting the actual Death Eaters," Brenda said. Which might include Parkinson.
"Oh, yes. He hasn't made any friends. If he ever needs support from the Hit-Wizards, or more Aurors, then that'll be interesting."
Brenda narrowed her eyes. If the spies of both sides in the Ministry started to attack or assassinate each other… They might believe she was a spy just because she wasn't with them. "Maybe we should have gone undercover. It seems safer than working in the office right now." She sighed and ran a hand through her hair.
"Bit late for that," Parkinson said. "But I'd maybe change my address."
Brenda knew the Floo Network had been sabotaged by Death Eaters during their wave of attacks. She looked at Martin, who had a grim expression on his face."Well," she sighed, "we're hunting the Resistance, and if they have a spy here…"
"We don't know that," Martin cut in.
"We can't really risk it either." Brenda had thought the mudbloods at least had no spies in the Ministry. But if they were working with Dumbledore… "We might as well pick a flat among muggles."
"What?" Parkinson stared at her.
"The mudbloods won't use bombs in the middle of Muggle London," Brenda explained. At least she hoped so.
The wizard looked surprised, then he grinned and rubbed his chin. "I see. That's a good idea. The mudbloods wouldn't want to kill muggles, right?"
Martin nodded. "We expect that they would lose too much support if they started killing muggles."
"I guess I'll have to find myself a muggle flat as well." Parkinson grinned. "Unless you want a third roommate?"
Brenda looked at Martin, who shrugged. She'd rather not share a flat with Parkinson, but that wasn't the kind of thing you refused a man who was supposed to have your back. They'd manage. That at least. "There's one problem though." She drew a hissing breath through her teeth.
"Yes?" Parkinson's expression made it clear that he was planning to remove that problem, no matter how.
"We need to learn how to fit in among muggles."
Judging by Martin's and Parkinson's expression, neither had thought of that.
*****
London, Soho, November 26th
Hermione Granger had put her foot down when Sirius had asked to meet in a nightclub again. She had told him flat-out that it was not 'traditional', but impractical. They needed to talk to each other without being interrupted or distracted by the kind of girls who apparently found Sirius as charming as he claimed he was.
Which was why she found herself in a hotel room in London with a grinning Sirius. She frowned at him. "Next time we rent a room as a girl with her dog, not as a couple."
Sirius grinned at her. "Muggle hotels allow pets now? They didn't in the 70s. Lily told me so."
Hermione was quite certain she knew why Harry's mother had told Sirius that. "I think they don't allow Padfoots." Which was true.
Sirius snorted. "Anyway, it's just the two of us now. No one will disturb us here. And our spells ensure privacy. Just as you wanted."
Hermione rolled her eyes at Sirius. "Yes, Harry. Sirius took me to a hotel room, so we could have some privacy."
The wizard pouted at her. "When you say it like that it sounds bad."
"You just said the same thing." Hermione shook her head. "Let's get down to business." She ignored his chuckle at that. "We're preparing a strike against a Death Eater base in Knockturn Alley. We need some way to spy on them, so we know what we're facing. Do you have something that would help with that? Like the Wireless Ears?"
Sirius tapped his index finger to his lips. "Hm. To place those you need to get inside, which kind of defeats the purpose. But the twins are currently on a similar mission, so they would have something to get past wards."
"Oh? They're spying on the Slytherins who tried to sneak into their shop? Greengrass and Davis?" Hermione had heard the gist of that from her friends.
"Yes. The two witches didn't notice the tracker they were tagged with, and led the twins to their base." The wizard grinned. "Quite careless of them, but then, they were panicking, or so I heard."
"Where is their base?" If they were such amateurs, then the Resistance would not have any trouble wiping their cell out.
"Somewhere in Dorset. Though there's some doubt whether the girls are Death Eaters or not. Hence the spying." Sirius shook his head, clearly showing what he thought of that.
Hermione nodded. Greengrass's sister had tried to kill the Gryffindor third years, after all. "Well, if you'd get us some spy gear, we can use it."
Sirius nodded. "I'll ask them. Since I'm funding their research, I'm certain they'll share the results." With a sly grin, he added: "Ah… to think of the lengths we went to back at Hogwarts to spy on the girls' showers…"
Hermione glared at him, but didn't ask if that was true or not. She'd rather not know. "Good."
"I've heard your broadcasts. Quite interesting," Sirius said. "Did you manage to make the van invisible yet?"
Hermione pursed her lips. "No. As expected, it's quite difficult." Invisibility Cloaks didn't last long, after all, and were quite rare. Apart from Harry's. "We're working on simply adapting the Disillusionment Charm, and until then, we charm the colours to match the sky at night."
"Ah." Sirius grinned. "As long as it works it's good enough."
Hermione sighed. "It's more work though. But we'll manage. How is your family doing?" He'd know what she was asking.
"The Tonkses?" He sighed. "Andromeda and Ted have been through the last war; they know Bellatrix wants to kill them all and understand what we have to do to beat the Death Eaters. Nymphadora is still not certain if she's an Auror first, or an Order member." He shook his head. "Though the recent rift inside the Corps might finally make her see reason."
"Rift?" Hermione hadn't heard about that.
"Seems that the split between Death Eaters and 'blood traitors' is worsening. Nymphadora said there's talk of purges, and worse. And since she's considered a blood traitor simply for existing…" He grinned widely.
She nodded in agreement. "She needs to understand that this is a war. Police and their procedures have no place in it."
"Indeed." Sirius rummaged through the mini bar in the room. "Fancy a muggle whiskey?"
"No, thank you. Soda please." She certainly wouldn't drink alcohol on a mission.
"Suit yourself." He tossed her a soda, ensuring she'd have to wait until she could open it, and grabbed the whiskey for himself. After one sip he frowned. "Are they allowed to serve this to their guests?"
"You picked the hotel." Hermione grinned.
"I did." He huffed, but didn't put the bottle away. "So…" He leaned forward. "... tell me how the dates went, hm?"
She narrowed her eyes. "That's none of your business."
"But… I need to know. Harry's my responsibility. How can I teach him how to improve when I don't know what he did wrong?"
"What makes you think he did anything wrong?" Hermione huffed.
"Well, he's not asking me for advice on how to properly satisfy a witch."
Hermione rubbed her forehead. The worst thing was that she couldn't tell if Sirius was actually being serious or not.
*****
Hogwarts, November 27th, 1996
"So… Albus will talk to the goblins, but even if they give us their permission to search Gringotts - which is by no means certain - that doesn't mean it'll safe to do so." Moody grinned. "If we fall victim to a trap they forgot to tell us about, or run into some of their 'disgruntled criminal elements', they'll claim it wasn't their fault if we get hurt."
Harry Potter was surprised how close Moody's teaching was to the impostor's lessons in 4th year. Not that he'd mention that, ever, to the old Auror.
"Goblins have criminals?" Ron asked.
"Goblins are criminals, lad," Moody said. "Assume they want to rob you, kill you, and eat you, and that just the threat of swift and brutal retribution keeps them in check."
Harry blinked. That was the first time he'd heard this. "What?"
"Why would we trust them with our gold if they were criminals?" Ron shook his head. "That doesn't make sense!"
The Auror grinned. "It makes sense if you consider the fact that we fought countless times against the goblins. They're a bunch of bloodthirsty monsters. The only thing they love more than blood is gold."
"So, we gave them our gold? We paid them off?" Ron shook his head. Harry had to agree - that sounded barmy.
"Well, after we beat them the last time, and apparently were considering ending their race, they finally seemed to wise up and accept that they couldn't raid Britain anymore. So they offered us a deal."
"That still doesn't explain why we gave them gold. Instead of taking it from them," Ron said.
"Gold was the key part of the deal. Galleons, Knuts and Sickles cannot be counterfeited or copied. The goblins use their own magic to mint them. Something that Wizarding Britain never managed. They've protected the secret with rituals and magic…" Moody shook his head. "A few rebellions broke out when they suspected that the wizards were trying to find out their secrets so they could mint coins as well."
Harry was confused. "Didn't that deal end the Goblin Rebellions?"
Moody laughed. "No, the deal ended the Goblin Wars. Since Gringotts was founded, there haven't been any wars, just rebellions. Usually by 'disgruntled elements'."
"I still think giving them our gold is barmy if they are that bad," Ron grumbled. "What keeps them from simply taking the gold from us, and then rebelling again?"
"There are safeguards in place, or so the Ministry claims. But the biggest reason they won't do that is that we'd wipe them out in response." Moody grinned. "The nasty little buggers know that. We've only gotten more dangerous since the Goblin Wars. They haven't been able to keep up."
Harry wasn't quite certain what he should be feeling about the fact that, apparently, only the threat of genocide kept the peace between goblins and humans.
"They could be trying to lull us into a false sense of security. Build up their forces, fool us with a few rebellions that are easily put down," Ron said.
"Ah, now you're thinking properly!" Moody grinned. "Of course they're trying to do that. But on the other hand, they haven't managed to do so in hundreds of years. And we're keeping an eye on them. They need human employees, after all, for all tasks that need wands."
"And yet they almost started a rebellion in the last war?"
"Of course. They're like animals - if they sense a weakness, they'll pounce. The trick is to not show any weakness. Or at least remind them regularly that no matter how weak the average wizard looks, Britain still has the wands to put the goblins down for good." Moody laughed. "Though that's a task for Albus. I'm here to teach you how to fight goblins."
He stood up. "Fortunately, their way of fighting doesn't use wands, so we can use conjuration to get us some training dummies."
Harry cursed and threw himself to the side, drawing his wand. As expected, there were already some crude goblin-like figures behind them. As he blasted the closest apart, noticing that Ron was doing the same, Moody laughed again. "You are learning, boys! Maybe this won't be as much of a babysitting job as I feared."
Harry would have liked to answer with some cutting remark about old people who should be in a home for the elderly, but he was too busy defending himself against an onslaught of goblin look-alikes.
*****
London, Diagon Alley, November 27th, 1996
Albus Dumbledore was smiling at the goblins standing guard at the entrance to Gringotts. They didn't react, of course. They never did. He knew it riled them up though - goblins had to be polite, lest they suffer the consequences. Albus could afford to be polite because he wanted to.
He had a quick chat with Eberhard Faulkner. Hufflepuff, half-blood, owner of 'Faulkner's Furs', and reassured the man that he was doing all he could to deal with the Death Eaters, then approached the closest free teller.
"Good morning, sir." He nodded slowly at the surly goblin. "I would like to talk to a manager, if one of them has time to meet me." Again, he knew that his polite request was anything but a request - Gringotts could not afford not to meet with the Chief Warlock. But Albus was polite and respectful, no matter if it was appreciated or not. It was a matter of principle.
A few minutes later, he was led to the office of Gutripper, a member of the management, as the leadership of the bank had been calling themselves since 1972. "Greetings, Gutripper. Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice."
"Of course, Chief Warlock. What can we do for you?"
"There are two matters I would like to discuss." Albus smiled, then looked at the mounted head of a Deep Crawler behind the goblin. "Is that a new trophy?"
"Yes. I acquired it a few months ago." Gutripper showed his teeth, briefly.
"Impressive." Albus had noticed that the goblin had not gone into detail just how he acquired that trophy, but didn't ask.
"But I would not want to waste the time of such an important wizard," the goblin said, the effort it took him to avoid sneering obvious to Albus, "so, what can we do for you?"
"I have heard some rumours about a dark artifact hidden in Gringotts," Albus said.
"We're not responsible for whatever items are stored in wizards' vaults," the goblin said quickly.
"Of course not. I would never blame you for what crimes wizards commit," Albus told the goblin. "But you are responsible for the discretion and safety guaranteed to the owner of a vault, are you not?"
"Yes. That's stipulated in our standard contract." The goblin was guarded now. He had to know what Albus wanted.
"Indeed. But that does not include hiding contraband and banned items, right?" It didn't, but everyone knew that for the right price, Gringotts would do almost anything.
"Of course not. Though some might suspect that a search for an illegal artifact was but a pretext to spy on vault owners."
"Well, they would be wrong." That was just a benefit. "I am concerned about a very dark - and dangerous - artifact. Dangerous to Gringotts as well."
"Really?" Gutripper's teeth were showing fully now. "And why wouldn't our employees have noticed this?"
"Because the magic that conceals it is beyond their power," Albus said with a smile. It was true too, no matter how much it galled the goblins.
"I see." Gutripper hissed more than he spoke. "And will you conduct this search in person?"
"I will be in the area, in case I am needed, but there are a few specialists who will be searching. I would appreciate it if you would provide them with all the help they request for this task. It is of the utmost importance." He met the goblin's eyes directly. "It goes without saying that I will personally hold the bank responsible for their safety."
"I see," Gutripper pressed out through his clenched jaws.
"Good. I was afraid there would be some misunderstandings." Albus smiled widely. "With tempers riled up in the current conflict, misunderstandings could have catastrophic consequences."
The goblin paled just a shade. "Of course. When will those people arrive?"
"On the 29th. Probably after business hours - I would not want to inconvenience you." He smiled again.
"Thank you for your consideration. You mentioned another matter you wished to discuss."
"Ah, yes. There were rumours, or rather, speculations about Gringotts' stance in the conflict with Voldemort."
"Gringotts does not meddle with internal matters of Wizarding Britain," Gutripper spat.
"Oh, that is not what I am concerned about." Albus leaned forward. "I overheard some of my students discussing their latest lesson in Magic History. They talked about how often goblin rebellions were started in times of turmoil. Like Wizarding Britain is currently experiencing."
"Mere speculation, I assure you." Gutripper smiled showing all his teeth,
"Oh, I am convinced you would never be as foolish as that. After all, this would be seen by the Ministry and other concerned parties as siding with Voldemort." Albus bared his teeth. "And I know you are very much aware of the kind of retribution that would follow. From the Ministry." He noticed that the goblin was slightly sneering. "And from the people who destroyed Malfoy Manor. And of course, from me."
The goblin wasn't sneering anymore. "The Muggleborn Resistance is fighting the Ministry. They might welcome allies."
Albus snorted. "They are well aware of what kind of allies you are, and what your goals are." And if not, they soon would be. Harry and Mister Weasley certainly would tell Miss Granger all about it. "But even if they did not - do you think they will let you go back to the old ways of raids and pillaging? Have you forgotten how muggles have changed? How they wage war these days? What weapons they wield?"
"Muggles cannot even find us, much less fight us."
"But muggleborns can. And they will destroy you, to protect the muggles. Or themselves." Albus leaned back in his chair. "The times you yearn for have passed. Both in Wizarding Britain and in muggle Britain. And be glad for that."
Gutripper slowly nodded, his voice a whisper. "I understand."
"Good." Albus stood up. "I am glad we had this talk. It is far better to avoid a misunderstanding than to deal with it after it has happened."
"Of course."
Albus nodded politely, and left the goblin to stew in his frustration and rage. He hoped that the rest of Gringotts' leadership would see reason as well.
Otherwise, they might discover just how much the times had changed - to their, likely fatal, detriment.
*****
London, Knockturn Alley, November 28th, 1996
"That's some clever gadget you've got there."
Hermione Granger looked up from the scroll the enchanted quill was filling, and at the Headmaster's brother. "The Wireless Voles?" She didn't know if the old wizard was talking about the latest invention of the Weasley twins, or the enchanted goggles she was wearing.
"Yes. Ingenious… that they can pass through wards…" he shook his head.
"That's actually simple. The things are completely harmless, so they do not register as a danger. And they are not alive, so they do not register as animals. Despite looking like voles."
Hermione knew that should the secret of their existence get out, people would be able to use counter-measures. A simple privacy spell would fool them, unlike the Wireless Ears. But as the Death Eaters in the house across the street proved, not many would think of using such spells in the privacy of a warded house.
"I didn't invent them," she added. "Nor did I name them." She certainly wouldn't have chosen such a silly name!
While Aberforth chuckled, Hermione moved a bit closer to the window of the deserted flat they were hiding in. From the remains of the torn newspapers they had found - looters hadn't taken those - it had belonged to a muggleborn. The Death Eater hideout looked unchanged. Just another house in the alley. As long as the windows remained dark, no one would suspect their presence.
"Bit of a waste to spy on them like that, only to attack the place."
She wasn't certain if the man was serious, or simply testing her. He was a bit like his brother in that regard, Hermione thought - not that she'd mention that, again. "This is just a recruiting post. The scum who frequent it won't know anything valuable. Not enough to let them continue. We want to catch their liaison or leader. They know more important people and locations."
The wizard nodded. "You're set on this then."
"Yes." She glanced at the man. Did he think she'd shy away from attacking Death Eaters? Or killing them?
"Despite the risk."
She shrugged. "It's a solid plan. I trust you to protect the trunk until we're inside." And to set it up in a good spot as well. That went without saying.
"Albus put in a good word for me?" he asked, a bit too casually.
Hermione was well aware of his opinion of the Headmaster. "He picked you to help us." She had checked though, just to ensure the old wizard's reputation as a wastrel was wrong. The Headmaster had told a few tales…
"I see."
She wasn't certain what he meant, but nodded, and focused on observing the door. "There should be a man named Callum leaving soon. He just said he'd be back in two days."
Aberforth moved forward to stand next to her. "I know the man. Drunk and violent, but not useless with a wand. He'll do."
Hermione didn't offer to help subdue the man. If Dumbledore's brother couldn't handle one Death Eater, then she would have to reconsider her plan.
She didn't think that would be needed though.
*****
London, Diagon Alley, November 29th, 1996
"The bank looked much less foreboding before I knew so much about goblins," Harry heard Ron mutter next to him as they made their way to Gringotts. The sun had already set, and there weren't many people left in Diagon Alley. These days, no one wanted to be outside their wards at night. They were missing the next broadcast of the Resistance, but this was more important.
"Did you never wonder why Binns covers so many Goblin Rebellions?" Moody snorted behind them. "He knows exactly what cruel buggers they are, and does his best to remind everyone of that fact."
"Well, his best is not exactly much," Harry said. "He's boring. I doubt anyone pays attention to him."
"Hermione does. Did," Ron said.
"Not since first year. She was reading the book while he talked." Harry saw Ron glance at him. "She told me last week."
"Ah." Ron looked at the Goblin guards. "Are they expecting us?"
"Aye," Moody said. "Albus had a talk with them. They should be on their best behaviour. Which, mind you, isn't all that good."
"Great," Harry mumbled. Then he straightened up. This was an important mission. He and Ron could finally do something important in the war. Grumbling about it wouldn't do.
"Moody and company. We're expected by Gutripper," the old Auror told the guards at the door.
The two goblins didn't react at all, and for a moment, Harry thought there had been a mistake. But then the door opened, and another goblin stood in the entrance. "Come inside."
The three stepped inside, and the goblin seemed to hesitate.
Moody laughed. "Don't worry about Dumbledore. He's watching."
The goblin - Harry didn't know if he was Gutripper, or just a doorman, seemed to scowl at that, but then nodded, and closed the door.
"You know what we're here to do. Let's get on with it!" Moody said "We're wasting time standing around..."
"Follow me." The goblin turned around without checking if they were.
Harry sighed, and cast the modified Supersensory Charm. Now he just had to walk around and hope for a headache. Simple. As long as the goblins didn't betray and ambush them.
The goblin led the three wizards to the entrance to the vaults. "We're not taking the cart," Moody said as soon as they saw one of the contraptions. "Too easy to sabotage."
"If we wanted to kill you, you'd be dead," the goblin growled.
"Yes, and Albus would avenge us. But some of you might be dumb enough to think that if it looks like a 'tragic accident', he might not kill the lot of you." Moody grinned. "Best not to risk an accident, hm?"
Without a further word, the goblin led them to another door. And to stairs that seemed to descend forever.
"We could take out our brooms and fly down," Ron said, earning a glare from Moody. Apparently, they were supposed to keep those a secret, Harry thought. As if it made much of a difference.
After what felt like eternity, they reached the first vaults. And Harry discovered that the spell made any pain much worse. Including the slight ache in his leg. He groaned.
"Harry?" Ron looked around. "Do you…?"
He shook his head. "No. Just my legs."
"Oh. Oh!" Ron winced in sympathy. "That's going to be nasty."
It was. A few hours later, Harry's whole body ached terribly, but for his scar. And there was still a level of vaults left. At least the goblins had not broken their agreement.
The goblin was glaring at them. Harry hoped the bugger was feeling as tired and bad as he was. The creature had been a pain to follow, and about as helpful as a rock with an attitude. Ron, Harry and Moody had regularly cast detection spells of all kinds, but Harry was not quite certain that had fooled the goblin. He was past caring though. All he wanted was for this to end, and then head to Hogwarts, guzzle down two or three Pain Relief Potions, and sleep for a week.
Ron was looking haggard as well, and even Moody hadn't berated them for not being as vigilant as a paranoid cat in a room full of rocking chairs for an hour at least. One more level, and they'd be done.
Then Harry's scar started to hurt. So much, he winced and bent over, groaning.
"Harry?"
"Lad?"
"Yes…" Harry closed his eyes. "I'm fine." He cast another detection spell, which he didn't need, and started to act as if he was following his wand while he tried to sense where the pain was worst.
For the next minutes, he walked around, aimlessly and unable to find which vault the Horcrux was stored in. Only when he finally sat down to catch his breath though did the pain from his scar grow even worse.
"It's beneath us," he mumbled, then repeated it, loudly. "It's beneath us."
"There are no vaults there!" the goblin snarled.
"That's where the wards are anchored, right?" Moody said. "It's there then, hidden."
The goblin hissed. "No outsider is allowed down there!"
Moody scoffed. "Well, someone obviously didn't listen."
"Why would they hide a dark artifact there, and not in a vault? That makes no sense!" The goblin sneered. "This is a trick!"
"It's not a trick," Moody said. "It's down there. Probably linked to your wards even. And we're the only ones who can find it. So, you either let us down there, or we leave and ask Dumbledore to settle this."
"It's connected to the Dark Lord!" Harry saw the goblin was staring at him. "That's why the Boy-Who-Lived is here! What is it?"
"It's a soul anchor," Moody said.
The goblin gasped. "Connected to our wards? One of those leeches?"
"Aye." Moody grinned. "Aren't you glad we found it?"
Harry blinked. Weren't they supposed to keep the Horcruxes a secret? Or did Moody think that telling the goblin was the best way to remove it?
Apparently, it was. It took another hour - which Harry spent on the stairs, a level up, where his scar didn't hurt anymore - before the three of them could descend to the lowest level. With a dozen goblin guards. The little buggers were about as paranoid as Moody, in Harry's opinion.
The ward anchors were sealed behind the thickest, strongest vault doors Harry had seen so far. And that included the scene in Fort Knox in 'Goldfinger'. But when they were open, the pain was so bad, Harry had to drop the charm - and he could still feel the Horcrux.
He remembered to keep his wand out, and acted as if he was led by a spell, not pain, while he walked between polished stones covered with runes - and what looked like either paint or dried blood - until he finally found a small rock, oval and polished, hidden behind one of the more worn stones. "This is it," he said, pointing his wand at it.
Moody cast a few spells at it, then shook his head. "Can't remove it from that web."
"What? You said you could!" Gutripper snarled.
"I said we'd find it. And now we'll deal with it." The old Auror pulled out a small vial. "Stay back. Basilisk poison is quite deadly."
The half a dozen goblins who had swarmed the stone and had started to run their hands over it scattered at once.
Moody chuckled, and then tipped the vial, carefully. A hissing sound filled the room, followed by unnatural screeching. The pain in Harry's scar flared up and he felt liquid - blood - run down his face. He saw a green shape - a familiar view, after his first and second year - flicker, before it started to fade.
The pain went away with the shade, and Harry relaxed, relieved. He didn't even protest when Moody vanished the blood on his face.
"Well done, boy. Now let's leave this forsaken place so the goblins can repair the damage to their wards. I bet they wouldn't want an Auror to see what exactly they are doing here." The old wizard chuckled, but no goblin reacted to him.
This time they flew up the stairs - literally.
*****
London, Knockturn Alley, November 30th, 1996
Hermione Granger was back in the deserted flat overlooking the Death Eater hideout. Calling it a base was not entirely accurate - it was more a hangout for riff-raff and other scum willing to kill for Voldemort. Most of the Resistance was there with her, all in fatigues turned black by the Colour Change Charm.
"I wish that damn Avery would arrive already!" Seamus muttered - not for the first time. Hermione hoped no one would take offense at his complaining - waiting for the mission to start was not easy on their tempers. Dean and Seamus were very eager. Hermione suspected they saw this as an opportunity to avenge Allan. She had never even thought of not taking them on this mission though. They needed this.
Justin was more sensible - or at least he acted like he was. Hermione's closest friend in the Resistance was standing near her, watching the scrolls the Wireless Voles were filling. Without muttering about the time they had already spent waiting. Which was a good thing - since he was the one in command of the reserves. He, the Creevey brothers, Sally-Anne and John would be waiting here, watching the house, in case some Death Eaters managed to flee - or reinforcements or Aurors arrived.
There! The quill had just written 'everyone up, the boss's arrived!' Hermione smiled. "Avery arrived. Let's go."
Aberforth Dumbledore slowly stood up from the chair he had conjured for himself - an obvious display of calm and patience, Hermione thought, both the chair, and his manner. He was already polyjuiced into Callum's form, so no one but Justin and her knew who he was, although that had led to some grumbling when she had told the group - they didn't like working with unknowns. She understood that, but had still persuaded them to trust him. With their lives. She wouldn't have managed that had Allan still been with them, she knew that. But if this went well, the group should trust her even more.
"Alright, everyone inside!" the wizard said in his unfamiliar voice, pointing to the trunk next to him. It was the same model that Moody had once been imprisoned in, so fitting seven people inside would be a tight fit, but possible - they had tested it. Air could be a problem though.
"Bubble-Head Charms up, everyone!" Hermione said. Then Mary and Tania went in first, followed by Hermione herself, then Louise and Jeremy, and - last in, first out - Dean and Seamus.
They were packed inside, and Hermione fought down the brief panic she felt at being inside such an enclosed space, unable to move much, and unable to watch or even listen as the Headmaster's brother carried them inside the Death Eater hideout.
What if it was a trap? What if the Death Eaters had found the Voles? Or if they expected this sort of attack? What if Callum had been bait? They had used Veritaserum on him, but if the Death Eaters had obliviated him...
Hermione closed her eyes and took deep breaths. She couldn't panic. She was the leader. And the die was cast. "Remember: We need prisoners."
"Are we there yet?" Seamus asked. "Mum? I have to pee!"
Hermione laughed together with everyone else, and the tension was broken.
Then the trunk was opened.
Dean and Seamus stormed out at once. The two former Hit-Wizards followed, and then Hermione. They were inside a rather shabby room, thin-looking walls, no furniture. Aberforth was at the door, Louise and Jeremy were running towards him, wands drawn, Dean and Seamus were already there, behind conjured cover.
Hermione took a step to the side to let Mary and Tania pass and pull their rifles out while she started casting Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey Jinxes, followed by a Human-presence-revealing Spell. As soon as she had finished, she said: "Go!"
Aberforth opened the door and flicked his wand. Dean and Seamus cast as well. Hermione heard a body hit the floor, followed by a scream, cut short by another spell. Then Dean vanished the stone cover, and Aberforth stepped inside. Dean and Seamus followed, going right, to secure the main entrance. The two former Hit-Wizards went left after the door, Shield Charms covering them as they went to block the back door.
Hermione entered the room after Tania and Mary - she didn't want to block their line of fire. The two witches were covering the stairs leading to the first floor, in conjured firing positions. A stone wall was blocking the entrance to the cellar. Aberforth stood in the middle, his wand aimed at a small room to the side. Hermione heard screams from there, and saw one wizard in black robes stumbling out of it, his hair on fire. Aberforth stunned him almost casually, then sealed the room up.
"The leader is inside the living room," Aberforth said, pointing at a door in the middle of the wall opposite them.
Hermione nodded and drew a 'flashbang' grenade, then moved to the side of the door. Dean and Seamus should be done any moment.
They weren't. She heard more screams from the main entrance. And explosions. Curses, not grenades. She looked at the old wizard, who nodded, grinning. A second later, the door was blasted to pieces, some of them hitting her shield. She threw the grenade inside the room without looking or exposing more than her hand - and almost lost that one to a brown spell.
The grenade went off, and she heard screams. Tania had left the stairs to Mary and stuck her rifle into the room, aiming low. She emptied one magazine, then pulled back. Hermione heard more screams. Then Aberforth conjured a slab of floating stone and banished it into the room, followed by another he used as a shield as he entered. Hermione took a deep breath and followed him.
Inside, a scene of carnage greeted her. She saw one man dead on the ground - hit in the chest and head by rifle rounds. Half his skull had been blown off. Another was pressing his hands on his bleeding legs. One witch was in the corner, stumbling around and rubbing her eyes. Hermione quickly stunned both of them, then dived forward in a roll, behind the remains of a couch which had started to catch fire. Dumbledore's brother was exchanging spells with a wizard. That had to be Avery - he was wearing Death Eater robes and a mask, unlike the rest of the people she had seen so far. And he was giving the old wizard some trouble, casting Killing Curses as quickly as Aberforth could conjure stone obstacles to absorb them. And Tania couldn't fire without endangering both of them. Taking Death Eaters alive was much harder than simply killing them.
Hermione saw no marker, so there was no disillusioned foe nearby. She crawled forward behind the smoldering couch, then popped up to cast. Her first Piercing Curse was stopped by the dark wizard's shield, but her second shattered it. He flinched and turned towards her, snarling, but before he could cast, a stone slab smashed into him and flung him into the wall. Two stunners, one from her and one from Aberforth, found him before he reached the ground.
"I think he should have survived that," Aberforth commented, "but you better check."
She nodded, cast an Amplifying Charm - she wished radio worked in Knockturn Alley - and yelled: "Main target down! Main target down!"
There was no need to take risks to capture more of the riff-raff.
She reached Avery and cast a quick diagnosis spell. He didn't seem to be in immediate danger, so she cut his robes off and collected his wand, then bound him. Then she cut off some of his hair. Turning to Tania, she pointed back. "Get him and the other living ones into the trunk."
When she left the room she saw a body on top of the stairs, blood running down the wooden steps.
"I've driven another one back," Mary informed her.
"I'll handle the ones above," Aberforth said.
Hermione nodded. "Tania, stay with the trunk once you are done! Mary, check with Louise and Jeremy!" she ordered while heading to the entrance hall.
She cursed under her breath at the sight that greeted her there. The door had been blown open, Seamus was on the ground, covered by a conjured wall, and Dean was trying to still the bleeding in his friend's leg. She saw three corpses near the door, and one right outside.
"What happened?" She asked, kneeling next to Seamus. A quick charm told her his leg bones had been shattered. She couldn't do anything about that, but she could stop the bleeding, and numb the pain.
"Half a dozen rushed the door. They were too many to stop. One of them got Seamus when he tried to block the door instead of covering himself," Dean said. "Justin's group got them though."
Hermione hadn't felt the mirror in her pocket vibrate, so Justin had not encountered further trouble. Or so she hoped. "We got our target. Get Seamus into the trunk, I'll cover you."
She quickly sealed the door with a conjured wall of stone, then pulled out the communication mirror. "Justin, we've got the target. Prepare to move to the rally point."
"Alright," Justin said. "We've killed two runners in the street."
When Hermione got back to the room they had started in, the rest of the group was filing in. Louise was fine, Jeremy slightly hurt. Nothing to worry about. Tania and Mary stayed right outside the door though, to cover the stairs again. "Where's our ally?"
"Still upstairs," Tania answered.
Hermione thought about heading up herself, but decided against it. She had to trust the man. "Justin, how's it looking outside?"
"The usual reaction to violence - people have disappeared from the street. No Aurors in sight yet."
"Alright." To the group, she said: "Shrink the trunk and move to the backyard. Secure the area and be ready to take down the Jinxes."
While the group moved out, Hermione opened a bottle filled with petrol, then cast a Doubling Charm on it. The bottle started to spill and multiply. She left the room and closed the door, repeating this with another bottle in the entrance hall.
"You're moving quickly," Aberforth said when he descended the stairs, still covered by Tania and Mary. A bound man floated behind him.
"Everyone taken care of above?" Hermione asked.
"Yes."
She nodded and handed him the hair. While he fed the prisoner Polyjuice with Avery's hair she pointed her wand at the remains of the living room. "Accio Death Eater robe and mask!"
Aberforth draped the remains on the polyjuiced man, then cast a Bludgeoning Curse and a Cutting Curse to match the damage to the garments. The Dark Lord might not be fooled by this, but it wouldn't hurt to make it appear as if Avery died in the building.
"Time to go." She took down her jinxes on the way to the backyard, then set fire to the spreading pool of petrol in the hallway. A second later, she apparated to the rally point.
Behind her, the house went up in flames.
*****
Last edited:
Ack
(Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)
- Joined
- Feb 12, 2014
- Messages
- 7,239
Wow, Hermione's really getting professional.
And everyone's getting serious.
And everyone's getting serious.