Divided and Entwined (Harry Potter AU) (Complete)

Chapter 44: Trials

In a noticeable difference to other civil wars, such as the third succession war in the Kingdom of Magical Florida, public order did not break down during the Second Blood War. While the combatants fought without regard for law and order, the common wizard or witch did obey the law. With the exception of the riot in Diagon Alley, there were no widespread incidents of looting or robberies. Even stretched past their breaking point, the Aurors managed to enforce the law.
This changed after the Dark Lord’s death, when the muggleborns who had been hiding in muggle Britain started to return. They generally did not rely on the authorities to retake possession of whatever shops and homes they had left months ago, but preferred to simply drive away whoever had taken over the locations with threats and even violence.
- Excerpt from ‘The Second Blood War’ by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, February 10th, 1997

Amelia Bones folded the Daily Prophet and dropped it on her desk. At least the press was acting in a responsible manner and following ministerial directions, she thought. And in hindsight, it had been a good thing that Skeeter had refused to help them - the author of the article covering Dumbledore’s funeral had been far more subtle than she would have been, and had simply mentioned how close Granger was to the Boy-Who-Lived, together with pointing out just how young Harry was, still at Hogwarts even. That would hopefully be subtle enough to keep the Resistance from recognising their strategy.

If only everyone else would care more for Britain than themselves! But not even Hogwarts’ staff saw just how much Britain needed to be united right now. Although that was no surprise, given that Dumbledore had handpicked all of the teachers and other staff members.

Dumbledore. Even after his death, the man’s machinations continued. Potter was his creature, down to sharing the man’s ideals - no wonder, since the boy had been raised by muggles. And yet, without Dumbledore, Britain would have fallen to the Dark Lord - or Grindelwald. He truly had been the greatest wizard in Britain. If only he hadn’t been so radical!

She sighed through clenched teeth. At the start of this mess, right after the return of the Dark Lord, Dumbledore and she had been working quite well together, pushing for increased recruiting of Aurors and Hit-Wizards and trying to convince Cornelius to move against the Dark Lord before he could amass more power and influence. They had made progress as well, especially after the Dark Lord’s attack on the Ministry.

But then, Dumbledore’s reaction to the massacre at Malfoy Manor had shown the key differences between Amelia and the Chief Warlock. He was a politician, and for him, the end - the defeat of the Dark Lord - justified the means. In this case, mass murder. He didn’t care about the law at all, something Amelia couldn’t bear. If you started breaking the law in the name of expediency, you eroded the very foundation of civilisation. It would lead to ‘might makes right’ - exactly what Grindelwald and the Dark Lord had stood for. She remembered how Dumbledore had openly threatened Britain, later, in order to force them to accede to his demands, and ground her teeth. No, she didn’t mourn Dumbledore’s passing. For all his great power, he had been a threat to her country.

If only… Amelia shook her head. She couldn’t afford to dwell on fantasies. She had a country to rebuild. And she’d do her duty - even if half the Ministry seemed to be conspiring against her. She checked her watch. Especially the wizard she was about to meet, Arthur Weasley.

*****​

“Have a seat, Arthur.”

“Thank you, Amelia.” The wizard sat down with that easy, almost shy smile he usually wore.

Amelia wouldn’t be fooled, though - Arthur had shown his true colours in the war, fighting for Dumbledore. He was far smarter and more cunning than he acted. Fortunately, as the Head of the Office of Anti-Curse Measures and Research, he was also far more vulnerable than he might have thought.

“How goes the search for a cure for the Withering Curse?” she asked. “The families of those afflicted are hounding me about this - with the Dark Lord dead, they expect the curse to be lifted.”

Arthur sighed. “Unfortunately, the Dark Lord’s death did not end his curses.”

Amelia interrupted him. “Dark Curses do not vanish because their caster dies. I have a number of scarred Aurors who can attest to that.”

Arthur coughed. “Yes. That’s because dark curses are tied into the very soul of those afflicted, sustaining themselves with the victims’ magic. Although the death of the caster usually lessens their power.”

“I did pass my Defence N.E.W.T., Arthur.” She was growing annoyed.

“I’m sorry!” He smiled in his usual, seemingly self-effacing, way, which annoyed her even more. “Many of the people assigned to my department didn’t. Pass their Defence Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T., I mean. So I had to explain the theory so often, it became a habit.”

Of course Arthur’s department wouldn’t get anyone even remotely capable in Defence Against the Dark Arts! Those were desperately needed in the Auror and Hit-Wizards Corps! “I distinctly recall that you received several Curse-Breakers.” She wouldn’t let him blame his own failures on her.

“I did. Although they were not among the most experienced,” he said.

“We don’t have that many experienced Curse-Breakers left.” Nor many other experienced wizards and witches.

“I know.” He kept smiling. “Hopefully, this will change with the muggleborns returning. A number of skilled Curse-Breakers were let go or left because of the Muggleborn Laws.”

Hiring muggleborns? The very people who had not only defied the Ministry’s authority and cheered the mass-murderers of the Resistance, but were now taking the properties they had left or sold back at wand-point? Amelia managed to hide her first reaction to that proposal. “That presumes that they want to return to the employ of the Ministry,” she said, carefully controlling her voice.

“I think that once they realise that most of those who forced them out are gone, they will at least consider it,” Arthur said. “The current Ministry should prove to be a far more welcoming place for muggleborns.” With a short chuckle, he added: “It’s not as if there are many other skilled wizards and witches left to hire.”

That was true, unfortunately. There were capable people left, but most of those already had well-paying positions in private businesses. Like the Quidditch League. And patriotism wouldn’t make many, if any, of them quit. But to hire muggleborns en masse… it was a transparent ploy of Arthur and Black to subvert the Ministry. “We shall see,” she said.

“Well, there’s not much I can do about the Withering Curse until I have experienced people working on it. The Department of Mysteries is working on the issue as well, but they have refused to coordinate our efforts, citing a need for secrecy,” Arthur said. He snorted. “Unless they’re dabbling in the houngan arts themselves, I don’t really see any secrets being endangered, but you know how the Unspeakables are.” He sighed and shrugged.

Amelia knew that better than anyone else outside the Department of Mysteries. If she had had their cooperation during the war… She forced herself to focus on her current situation. “You’re not the only one in this situation. All departments are understaffed and bereft of experienced employees. And yet everyone is doing what they can to do their duty.” Everyone else, at least, she thought, but did not say out loud.

“We’re doing what we can, but until Hogwarts starts offering courses in dark curses and necromancy, recent graduates won’t be able to do much about either.” Arthur didn’t lose his smile, but his eyes seemed to glint when he leaned forward. “We’re talking about a curse cast by the Dark Lord himself. Remember the curse he placed on the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor? Not even Dumbledore could break that one.”

Amelia hadn’t been aware that such a curse had ever been proven to exist, but this was not the time to debate that. “As you said yourself: With the Dark Lord’s death, the curse was weakened. You have the best employees we can spare, so I expect results.” It was technically true, even. But with the current situation, they needed every wand for more urgent tasks. If public order or the Ministry itself fell, then the fate of the Withering Curse’s victims would be sealed as well. “Is there anything else?”

Arthur shook his head and rose. Just before he reached the door, he turned around, though. “If fresh Hogwarts graduates and inexperienced Curse-Breakers were a match even for a weakened Dark Lord’s curse, then the Muggleborn Resistance and the Order of the Phoenix wouldn’t have had to save the Ministry.”

Amelia managed to keep from snarling until the door had closed behind him.

*****​

London, East End, February 10th, 1997

At breakfast, Hermione Granger put her cup of tea down next to the plate with her croissants and pressed her lips together to avoid muttering the sort of curses under her breath for which she used to chide others. The Daily Prophet’s coverage of Dumbledore’s funeral was, on the face of it, acceptable, but the details…

...The Boy-Who-Lived spoke touching words about his teacher, who had left him and his entire generation of students far too soon, in the middle of their education. The young student’s brief speech provided a moving contrast to the words from all the dignitaries and friends of the late Chief Warlock...

...Hermione Granger was seated between Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. The muggleborn witch had been close to the two younger boys for their entire time at Hogwarts, and so it is only logical that more developed from their friendship. Though given what the Boy-Who-Lived went through, he will hopefully receive support from experienced staff at Hogwarts. They’ll have enough time, at least, since he has not yet finished his sixth year...

...Sirius Black seemed to have fully recovered from his ordeal during the war. More than one Healer had been worried about his mental state as he had spent more than a decade in Azkaban...

The Ministry was obviously trying to be subtle, coating their poison in sweet, caring drivel instead of the sharp attacks Skeeter was so fond of. But if you knew what to look for, it was plain as day.

Hermione took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, then blew at a lock of hair that had fallen on to her face. She needed a haircut too, she thought with a snort, then brushed the lock back.

She had expected such an attack, even predicted it, but still… The question was: How should they respond? She had blackmailed Skeeter, which had put an end to the slander from that witch, but to try and blackmail the Daily Prophet… she didn’t exactly have much leverage, and even if she had, such an attempt might backfire. The Ministry might very well decide to get directly involved, and use the opportunity to take the newspaper over. Threatening the newspaper’s office and owners ran the same risk. Bones might even be expecting that, and be ready to denounce them as criminals.

But they had to react to that attack, before the British public saw Harry as a naive boy and her as some manipulative slag. She bit her lower lip. The Quibbler wouldn’t work well - it was a magazine, not a daily newspaper. And she doubted that the Lovegoods wanted to turn it into a militant newspaper.

Lacking television, that left the wireless. It was even better for propaganda, provided you could reach the majority of the population, and had a good orator. Which, she thought with a sigh, Harry wasn’t. Yet. And listening to speeches could get boring. They needed something new, something to catch the people’s attention. Apart from muggle music. Maybe a discussion show, or something… She’d have to take a closer look at what the BBC was broadcasting.

She sighed again. There was something more urgent to deal with. And she wasn’t looking forward to it.

*****​

“I assume you have heard about the Ministry’s demand to release our prisoners into their custody so they can be tried in front of the Wizengamot,” Hermione said an hour later in the living room.

Seamus snorted. “As if! Releasing Death Eaters into the care of the Ministry, so they can let them go? Are they delusional?”

Tania and John nodded in agreement, Hermione noted. She took a deep breath. “Not quite.”

“What? You know they’ll let them go!” Seamus said, standing up.

“That’s quite likely,” she agreed. “But if the Wizengamot acquits them, then that will demonstrate to to everyone just how corrupt the system is. Such a travesty of justice would serve as a perfect example of the need to reform Wizarding Britain.”

“You want to use that to generate more support.” Justin nodded. He didn’t look quite convinced, though.

“Yes,” she said. “On the other hand, if we keep them, or if we try them ourselves, then we’ll be portrayed as criminals.”

“They’ll do that anyway,” Louise said. The former Hit-Wizard was sneering.

“We’d make it easier for them, though. The Ministry is claiming that with the war over, there is no reason for vigilantes any more.” Hermione scoffed. “Unfortunately, I think that a lot of the purebloods, and even many half-bloods, would agree with them, believing that things have returned to normal. If we let the Ministry portray us as a bunch of kidnappers in defiance of the law, we’d be playing into their hands. On the other hand, if we let them acquit captured Death Eaters, we can build on that.”

“I see.” Seamus sat down and slowly nodded, then started to grin. “Give them enough rope to hang themselves, eh?”

“Yes.” Hermione nodded at him. “And you know that our prisoners are not exactly hard-core Death Eaters.” Otherwise Nott, Davis and Greengrass would have shared Malfoy’s fate.

“That is true. But it also means that the Wizengamot will have an easier time justifying their acquittal,” Justin said, looking at her. “A group of teenagers who joined the Dark Lord because they were afraid for their lives and wanted to avenge their parents… It wouldn’t be that hard to portray them in a sympathetic way to the public.”

“Bloody Slytherins!” Seamus muttered.

“I agree. But on the other hand, we can point out how they tried to murder children at Hogwarts, then fled when their plan failed, only to attack pureblood supporters of Dumbledore.” Hermione grinned. “Not exactly the actions of innocents kids afraid of the Resistance.” Appearances mattered more in politics than the truth; that much she knew. She let the others consider that for a moment. “Besides, they’re not exactly our prisoners any more - we handed them over to the Order.”

“What does the Order want?” Sally-Anne asked.

“The ones who care for the prisoners want to hand them over to the Ministry.” So Sirius had told her. She shrugged. “Some of them might hope that the conflict is now over, and they can return to their normal lives.”

“Cowards!” Seamus muttered, then clenched his teeth. He probably wanted to call them even worse names.

“They fought bravely against the Dark Lord, but not all of them have realised just how bad the Wizengamot is,” Hermione said. “If they see the three prisoners get released, they might change their opinion.” Sirius and the Weasleys could work on them, she thought.

“It’s still a risk we’re taking,” Justin said, “but I don’t see a better alternative.”

“Could always kill them,” Seamus said. “Now or later.”

Hermione stared at him. That sounded too close to Allan’s words for her comfort.

She wasn’t the only one staring at him. Seamus noticed, and frowned. “I’m just pointing out options!”

“They’re not good ideas,” Justin said. “It’s widely known that we captured them. If they suddenly disappear, we’ll be blamed as murderers.”

Hermione cut in. “Yes. Remember all those lies about us wanting to murder all purebloods? The Ministry would spread them all over Wizarding Britain, calling us as bad as the Death Eaters.”

Seamus seemed to understand the danger, since he winced and didn’t say anything else.

Hermione nodded. “So… all in favour of telling the Order to release the prisoners into the custody of the Ministry?”

The group agreed, some more slowly than others, though.

“Good. I’ll tell them.” She took a breath. “Now… we need to discuss recruitment for the Resistance. We need more people.” She didn’t have to point out that they had lost half their number during the war against Voldemort.

“Do you expect that we’ll have to fight the Ministry?” Sally-Anne asked, twisting her ponytail around her finger in that nervous habit she had.

“I’d rather be prepared for such a conflict than caught flat-footed,” Hermione said.

Justin nodded in agreement. “We’ll need to be careful when recruiting, though.” Hermione knew he was not just talking about Ministry spies, but people like Allan too. “And it’ll take time to train them.”

“And money,” Louise added.

“Money’s not an issue,” Hermione said. “Unless we want to recruit so many people that we couldn’t train them all, our finances are covered.”

“I don’t like depending on Black,” Seamus muttered. “He’s a pureblood.”

“He’s also an innocent wizard who was sent to Azkaban and spent a decade there,” Hermione countered. “He has no love for the Ministry.” Quite the contrary. He joked a bit too often about blowing up the Ministry. “But we digress. We need more people - at least half a dozen, though I’d prefer a dozen.”

“So many?” Tania frowned. “They would outnumber us.”

“Yes.” Hermione was well-aware that increasing the Resistance’s ranks by that many would change the dynamics of the group. “We’ll have to make sure that all recruits fit in.”

“We’re the veterans who fought in the war. They’d better listen to us,” Seamus said.
Mary-Jane spoke up for the first time. “I’m not exactly a veteran.” She wasn’t looking at anyone, Hermione noticed. “And I’m not exactly a member of the Resistance.”

“You’ve fought in the war,” Sally-Anne said, reaching out to pat the girl’s hand. “And you just need training.”

Louise cleared her throat. “I can contact a few of my friends from school, now that they are returning to Wizarding Britain Owl post should be working again. They won’t be enough, though.”

“And if we pass out a general recruitment notice, we’ll get swamped - and alert the Ministry,” Justin said.

“I have a solution for that.” Hermione grinned. “We need to organise the returning muggleborns anyway. We can use that to find suitable recruits.”

“You want to hold a rally?” John looked at her.

“Yes.” Hermione nodded at him. “We’ll need to be careful about what we say - there’ll be spies from the Ministry at any public event - but we have to put pressure on the Wizengamot and the Ministry.”

“They’ll not cave in to a few demonstrations,” Seamus said. “Not the kind that involve waving banners around, at least,” he added with a snort.

“I’d rather not start a war,” Hermione said, pursing her lips. Not when they were not ready for it, and certainly not when there was still hope that the Ministry would give in.

“Such rallies and demonstrations can easily get out of control,” Justin said. “Imagine if someone sent a curse into the crowd. Or if someone starts shouting about hunting down the Death Eaters and their supporters on our list.”

“Most of those who were not killed in the war are still in hiding,” she said. And the Ministry wasn’t exactly working hard to hunt them down, according to Sirius. “But I know we’re risking a riot.” Security would have to be very tight, Hermione knew. They might even have to hold the rally in a warded building, even though that would lessen its impact. “We have to do this, though, or people will get used to the Ministry being in charge of their lives again. We have to show that we have the support of the population.”

Justin sighed. “There goes our spare time!” He was joking, Hermione thought, but the glance he exchanged with Sally-Anne showed that he knew what it meant for the couple’s relationship.

She didn’t feel too guilty about it, though - she’d not have much time to spend with Ron either, and her boyfriend wasn’t living with her. And she needed to make time for studying the books Dumbledore had left her. And look into finding a cure for the Withering Curse. She sighed. “Unfortunately, we all will be very busy for the foreseeable future. In addition to recruiting, we need to contact the Major and the Sergeant, organise a training camp, continue and expand our broadcasts, and keep an eye on the Ministry’s actions.” She pointed at the Daily Prophet. “They already started their smear campaign against Harry.”

While the rest of the Resistance, except for Justin, Sally-Anne and John, who had read the issue already, gathered around the newspaper, Hermione leaned back in her seat and wondered how she would find the time to do all that needed doing.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, February 10th, 1997

Ron Weasley raised his wand and banished the Daily Prophet towards the corner of the kitchen. The newspaper hit the wall, then fell to the ground. He saw the dignitaries on the big picture of the front page stumble around, before realigning themselves, and briefly chuckled.

“Ronald!”

His mum was standing in the doorway, shaking her head.

“Sorry, Mum,” he said. “I just got fed up with the drivel in it. I didn’t know you hadn’t read it yet.”

“That’s not what I meant!” she said. “You shouldn’t be using your wand. You’re not yet of age.”

He stared at her, then laughed - and hissed through clenched teeth when his side hurt again. Laughing wasn’t a good idea.

“Ron!” Mum had gone from angry to concerned in a heartbeat, her wand flashing while she cast a spell on his side.

“I’m alright,” he protested. “It’s just a bit of pain. The muggle Healer said it wasn’t dangerous.”

She scoffed. “They don’t know anything about magic.” But she stopped casting, apparently satisfied that he’d not bleed out.

Ron sighed. “They saved me. And the wound’s not that bad. It can’t be healed with magic, but the muggles didn’t have trouble with it.”

“That was caused by a curse cast by the Dark Lord himself! You almost...” She shook her head, pressing her lips together. He could see some tears in her eyes.

“But I didn’t, Mum. I’m alright. Everyone is alright.” Everyone in his family, at least.

She sighed and sat down on the chair next to him. He gingerly reached over and laid his arm around her shoulders.

“You still shouldn’t use magic outside Hogwarts. It’s illegal,” she said after a while.

He snorted. “No one cared about that when I was fighting Death Eaters and the Dark Lord.”

“But they’ll care now. Percy told me that Amelia Bones is just waiting for any opportunity to hurt Arthur’s standing in the Ministry.”

Oh. Of course Bones would do that. That b… He pressed his lips together, not wanting to upset his mum by cursing, then shrugged. “They’ll not detect anything while we’re in this house. And I’ll be back at Hogwarts soon enough.”

“And when you’re out with Hermione?”

“Ah…” He stared at her.

She smiled, though she also looked a bit sad. “Did you think I wouldn’t know what my children are up to?”

“Well… you didn’t catch the twins that often when they were up to something.” At least as far as he could tell.

His mum sighed. “They were a handful. Worse than anyone else. But this is different. Of course you’ll sneak out to meet your girlfriend. You’d do that even if you hadn’t been…” She trailed off, but he knew what she meant.

“Yes.” He looked at the crumpled Prophet again.

“Will she be returning to Hogwarts?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” He shook his head, slowly.

“That’s… surprising. She was always so dedicated to her education.”

“More like fanatical,” Ron said, chuckling as he remembered her parting words after their first encounter with Fluffy.

“Did she change that much?” His mum sounded more concerned than he expected.

He thought it over. “It’s not so much that she changed - though she did, too - but that things changed. She’s just got too much to do to go back to school. Important things. She’ll pass her N.E.W.T.s anyway.” And with the highest marks, he’d bet on it.

His mum didn’t seem to approve. “And what about you?”

“I haven’t left Hogwarts, have I?” He smiled at her.

It didn’t impress her. She knew him too well. “And if you think you have more important things to do than go to school?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

She sighed.

They sat in silence for a while longer, until she spoke up again. “Why did you hex the newspaper? You were in a number of the pictures, even.”

He frowned. “They made it sound as if Hermione is sleeping with both Harry and me.”

“Oh!” She hugged him, a bit too forcefully - his side hurt again, but he didn’t react. “You know she isn’t doing anything of that sort!”

“I know. But it’s part of the Ministry’s plan. They want to discredit us. Make us look like children so we’re not taken seriously.” Hermione had predicted that.

“You are not yet adults.”

“I’ll be seventeen in less than three weeks, Mum.” And that made him sound like a child indeed. “And Hermione’s already seventeen.” Harry though would have to wait a few months more.

“I know. But you’ll always be my boy.”

He nodded, even though he thought he hadn’t been a boy since he had started taking part in the war.

*****​

Outside Rawtenstall, Lancashire, Britain, February 11th, 1997

The first thing Daphne Greengrass saw when she woke up was the grey ceiling of her prison. The second thing she saw was the sleeping form of Tracey.

“Good afternoon.”

She knew that voice. She was tempted to ignore the speaker. Defy her captors. But she wasn’t a Gryffindor. She was a Slytherin. So she turned her head to look at the Weasley twins standing in the door of her cell, wands in hand. “Why did you wake me up?” she asked, making an effort to sound as calm as she could. “Do you want to extort more gold from my family?”

Fred snorted. “No. We woke you up to tell you what happened while you slept.”

She stifled a gasp. She couldn’t afford to let them know how much she hungered to know what happened to her family. “Ah.”

Next to her, Tracey stirred, groaning as she woke up. Daphne saw her friend blink, then heard her mutter a curse.

“Ah, the other sleeping beauty is awake!” George said, with mocking cheerfulness.

Daphne looked around. “Where’s Theo?”

Fred shrugged. “He wasn’t cooperative, so we didn’t bother waking him up.”

“Why did you wake us up?” Tracey asked, sitting up, then falling back on her bed with another curse.

“To tell you what happened while you slept,” George said, grinning widely.

Daphne glanced at Tracey. The two wizards were entirely too cheerful. That didn’t bode well. She kept watching him. He wanted to tell them; she’d not lower herself to ask.

“So talk!” Tracey spat.

Fred chuckled. “It’s actually good news. The war is over.”

“What?” Daphne gasped, staring at the twins.

“The Dark Lord’s dead. Harry killed him in a duel.” Fred grinned.

“Potter? Potter killed the Dark Lord in a duel?” They had to be lying. No one but Dumbledore could match the Dark Lord. Certainly not Potter - he was in the same year as Daphne!

“Yes. The Boy-Who-Lived defeated the Dark Lord again, and this time for good,” Fred said.

“You’re lying!” Tracey said.

“I’m not. It happened outside our shop. Or what’s left of it. The Dark Lord burned it down trying to kill us, you know.” Fred shrugged. “He failed.”

“Good riddance,” Tracey whispered next to her.

Daphne wasn’t really listening to her friend, though. She was staring at the twins. Were they telling the truth? Why would they lie? To torment them? “What’s the date?”

“February 11th.”

Two months. Exactly two months since she had been captured. And the war was over? The last war had gone on for years!

“That can’t be! Potter is just a kid!” Tracey was shaking her head wildly.

George laughed. “Did you forget why he is the Boy-Who-Lived? He defeated the Dark Lord as a toddler! And in his first year. And in his second year. And then again in his fourth year.”

“Technically, that one was a draw,” Fred cut in. “Anyway. Dumbledore had trained Harry for this, planned it all out. And the Dark Lord fell for it.”

Tracey hissed. “So, you don’t need us any more, and will kill us now?”

Daphne froze. Was her friend correct? Would they murder them now? They had murdered her family. What had happened to her sister? Astoria wouldn’t have joined the Dark Lord, not if only two months had passed. And if she had been killed, wouldn’t the twins have told her right away?

Fred frowned. “No. We’ll hand you over to the Ministry so you can be tried in front of the Wizengamot.”

“Once they get around to it,” George added. “Between rebuilding the Ministry and Diagon Alley, the Ministry might be too busy to bother with you. But that’s their problem. Ours is how to transport you two. And that’s easier if you’re not awake. So...” He aimed his wand at her.

“Wait! What happened to my family? To Astoria?” Daphne asked quickly, staring at the tip of his wand. She needed to know!

Fred shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably still in hiding.”

“Unless she was in Diagon Alley when the Death Eaters started to burn it down,” George added, raising his own wand. “Your friends didn’t really care about bystanders, you know.”

“Wait!” she yelled, raising her hands.

“Stupefy!”

“Stupefy!”

Everything went black.

*****​

When Daphne woke up again the first thing she saw was an unfamiliar ceiling. It was a lighter grey. She was alive! They hadn’t killed her! The second thing she saw was her uncle.

“Daphne.” He smiled at her.

“Uncle Eric!” She sat up - she was on a small bed, barely more than a cot - reaching out for him, but suddenly felt dizzy.

He rushed to catch her, before she fell, and held her while he gently lowered her back on to the bed. “Careful! The Healers said you might be disoriented. Stunned, after spending months under the influence of the Draught of Living Death…”

She closed her eyes, trying to stop the room from spinning. “Where am I?”

“In the Ministry. In a holding cell.”

She pulled back, out of his embrace, and stared at him.

He winced. “I’m sorry. The Aurors insisted.”

She was still a prisoner, then. The twins hadn’t lied about that. “Is it true? Is the Dark Lord dead?”

“Yes.” Her uncle nodded, then glanced at the door.

She understood - she had to watch what she was saying. “Astoria?”

“She’s safe as far as I know,” he said. But he was smiling. So he did know, but couldn’t say more.

She sighed with relief. Her sister was safe. Her smile didn’t last long, though - she was a prisoner, and she remembered what the twins had told her. Taking a deep breath, she said: “They mentioned I would be put on trial.”

“Yes. The Minister was adamant about that.” He must have seen her reaction, since he added: “Amelia Bones is the current Minister. Fudge was killed by the Dark Lord.”

She stared at him. “What happened? What happened since I was taken prisoner?”

He told her.

*****​

Dumbledore dead. The Minister dead. Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade in ruins. Dozens of Ministry employees cursed so they had to be dosed with Draught of the Living Death - she shuddered at the memories that brought up. The Ministry allied with the mudbloods. Mudbloods forcing purebloods out of their homes! Had Britain gone mad during her captivity?

“I can’t believe it…” She shook her head, sending her hair flying back and forth.

“It’s true,” he said. “A lot has happened.”

“So much death… I thought Malfoy Manor was the worst that could happen…” She shivered, remembering how her parents had died, then sobbed.

He held her again, rubbing her back.

“But… if the mu… muggleborns are allies with the Ministry…” She bit her lips. How could she receive a fair trial under those conditions? The twins would have known that!

“Do not worry,” her uncle said. “The Wizengamot has lost a lot of its members, but it won’t bend to pressure from… them, and neither will the Minister.”

She slowly nodded, taking a few deep breaths.

“But,” he continued, “I need to know what you did. So I can speak in your defence.”

He was looking at her with apprehension, she realised. “I haven’t killed anyone. And I didn’t join the Death Eaters.” She hadn’t been marked, at least.

“But you fought for the Dark Lord.”

“I joined a group led by Draco Malfoy with the goal of protecting our families against the mudbloods trying to murder us. He didn’t mention the Dark Lord.” Not at the start.

Her uncle stared at her for a moment, then nodded slowly and smiled. “Good. I’m certain that the Wizengamot will understand that.”

Daphne hoped he was correct. She didn’t think that the Wizengamot would show much mercy to Death Eaters. Not after what they had done. “What about Astoria?”

“She hasn’t been accused of anything.” He smiled. “My colleagues, and the Ministry, understood her situation very well.”

“Ah.” Daphne felt more optimistic. If the Ministry didn’t go after Astoria, then her own chances were good as well. “Can she visit?”

Her uncle winced. “I would rather she stay safely wherever she is. The Ministry is… some of them might carry grudges.” He patted her shoulder as he rose. “I’ll coordinate with Cressida and Thaddeus.”

So Tracey and Theo were here as well. Daphne hadn’t had any reason to doubt that, but it felt good to have confirmation. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll push this in the Wizengamot. You’ll be home as soon as possible.”

With that, he left, and Daphne was alone in her cell. But she wasn’t insensate, at least. And she would be free, and with her sister, soon!

*****​

Hogwarts, February 12th, 1997

His fame was useful, Harry Potter told himself when he entered the Great Hall and heard the whispers start up as most of the students stared at him. Many people listened to the Boy-Who-Lived. He could help change Britain for the better thanks to his fame. Even more so than he had already, after killing Voldemort.

But as much as he told himself that, he still didn’t like being the centre of so much attention. At least it wasn’t as bad as it had been right after the battle. Even people he went to classes with had been looking at him as if he was Dumbledore.

It wasn’t quite that bad now, though the Daily Prophet’s articles covering the Headmaster’s funeral hadn’t helped matters, despite the subtle dismissive comments sprinkled throughout the praise heaped on him. He shook his head - he didn’t want to think about that article. The things they had implied about Hermione, Ron and himself...

Harry wished his friends were here. But Ron was still recovering at Grimmauld Place, and Hermione was with the Resistance, wherever they were. He felt rather alone, especially since if there was an assassin hiding among the crowd, he wouldn’t spot them until it was almost too late… He shook his head. He was at Hogwarts, which was among the safest locations in Britain. And if a student attacked they’d regret it dearly.

He noticed Luna was waving at him, and he smiled and waved back before he took a seat opposite Neville, next to Ginny.

“There you are!” the witch said, smiling at him. “Been on a walk again?”

Harry nodded. He had been flying, disillusioned, but it amounted to the same thing, in his opinion. And while he trusted Ginny, she didn’t know Occlumency, so her mind wasn’t protected against Legilimency. Though if she had used the map, then she would already know what he had been doing.

She nodded, then pushed a plate with roasted chicken towards him. “These are really good.”

“Thanks.” She beamed at him, then turned back to her own meal.

Neville hadn’t said anything, just nodded at him when he had sat down.

“Is everything alright?” Harry asked.

Neville shrugged.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” Harry said, snorting.

“I’m just thinking,” Neville said. “Lots to think about, right?” He glanced at Harry, then looked down at his plate again.

“Yes.” Though Harry couldn’t help wondering what Neville was thinking so hard about. He had inherited a seat on the Wizengamot, and while he wasn’t yet old enough to take it himself, his proxy would likely ask his opinion before voting.

It wouldn’t take much to use Legilimency. Harry wouldn’t even need to make eye contact. Not with the Elder Wand. He frowned and shook his head. He wouldn’t do that to Neville. Nor to anyone else.

“What’s wrong?” Ginny asked. “You both are looking so…” she made a gesture with her hand, instead of continuing.

“Nothing,” Harry said.

“Just thinking,” Neville said at the same time.

Ginny frowned, pouting. It was a cute expression, Harry thought, and he almost chuckled in response. She must have noticed anyway, since he saw her eyes narrowing.

“I was thinking of the battle,” he said.

“Oh.”

And now she looked ashamed for having brought that up. Harry felt guilty for lying to her, but he didn’t think telling her that he was pondering whether or not to invade their minds would be a good idea.

“They handed Greengrass, Davis and Nott over to the Ministry,” Neville said suddenly.

“Ah.” Harry had known of that in advance.

“They’ll be tried in front of the Wizengamot,” Neville went on. “Next Monday.”

Harry hadn’t known that. “That’s quick.”

“Their relatives are pushing for a quick trial.” His friend frowned. “I wonder how we should vote.”

“In the trial?” Harry asked.

“Yes.”

“Shouldn’t you - your proxy - decide that during the trial?” Harry couldn’t quite hide his reaction to Neville’s words.

“We already know that they’re Death Eaters. They were caught with Malfoy,” Ginny said.

Neville nodded.

“They weren’t killed like Malfoy, though,” Harry said.

“Did Hermione tell you anything about that?” Neville was looking at him now.

Harry’s first impulse was to deny having spoken to her, as he had done for months. But the war was over, and everyone had seen her with him and Ron at the funeral. “We didn’t talk much about it. She said that they weren’t as bad as Malfoy had been.”

“Not exactly a rousing endorsement,” Neville said.

“They tried to kill my family,” Ginny said through clenched teeth. “It was Malfoy’s group who attacked the Burrow. They should be executed!”

Neville nodded, no doubt thinking about his dead gran.

Harry made a vague noise. While he didn’t want a repeat of what had happened after the last war, when Death Eaters had gone free claiming they had been under the Imperius, he couldn’t help thinking that this was part of what Dumbledore had warned him about. And a good reason to replace the Wizengamot with real judges.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, February 17th, 1997

Sirius Black made certain to show a neutral expression while he made his way to his seat in the Wizengamot Chamber. He and his ‘esteemed colleagues’ were gathering for a trial, after all, and would decide the fate of three accused. And Sirius knew better than anyone else how important a trial was.

He sat down and watched the others file in. Not everyone showed the proper decorum. Some joked, some glared. Most were chatting. Eric Greengrass was talking with Cressida Davis. They were smiling.

Sirius frowned for a moment. They had not just pushed for a quick trial, they had also worked on their allies and acquaintances. Were they truly confident that the Wizengamot would acquit the three? Three Death Eaters, who had attacked not just the Burrow, but also a member of the Wizengamot? Barely two weeks after the death of the Dark Lord himself? And with half the Wizengamot afraid that the Resistance would start a war against them?

Would they claim they were under the Imperius? He wouldn’t let them get away with that. Not after what had happened in 1981.

Thicknesse, who was once again filling in for the acting Chief Warlock, entered, and called the chamber to order. As usual, it took a while for everyone to quiet down. Then whispers and murmuring broke out again once the three accused were brought in and chained to their chairs. They looked nervous, at least. Though not shaking quite as much as Sirius had expected - but then, they were Death Eaters.

“Honoured members of the Wizengamot! We have gathered here to pass judgement over three accused,” Thicknesse started the trial.

Bones’s successor was as diligent as the Minister had been, and the list of the crimes of which the three Slytherins were accused took a long time to be read. Multiple counts of attempted murder, conspiracy, treason - all of them were members of the Wizengamot, even if they were too young to actually hold the seat - and even underage magic. Sirius didn’t laugh or chuckle at that accusation, but he was in the minority. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Daphne Greengrass, how do you plead?”

“Not guilty!”

Sirius’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He had heard firmer voices, but not many in that chair.

“Take note that the accused Greengrass pleads ‘not guilty’,” Thicknesse told the court scribe. “Tracey Davis, how do you plead?”

“Not guilty!”

That one spoke firmly as well. Her plea was noted down.

“Theodore Nott, how do you plead?”

“Not guilty!”

And the boy sounded almost defiant.

While the accused were checked for spells and potions, Sirius watched them. They were putting up a proper facade. That would impress many of his colleagues. Sirius scoffed. That all of them were purebloods of Old Families, heads even, was far more important for many of the members. Wouldn’t do to set a precedent for a case against a member of the Wizengamot, would it?

“Since all of the accused are still minors, their guardians will speak up in their defence,” Thicknesse announced. “The chair recognises Mister Greengrass.”

Sirius saw Eric step down, to stand next to his niece. “Honoured members of the Wizengamot! My niece here stands accused of many crimes. Heinous crimes, even! But I tell you: All she has done is what anyone would have done in her situation. While it is true that she fought for the Dark Lord, she did so unknowingly, and later unwillingly, a victim of cruel circumstances.”

“Lies!” one member yelled - Sirius hadn’t seen who.

Greengrass didn’t ignore the shout, but took it up, to Sirius’s surprise. “Lies? No, it’s the truth! Do you remember the brutal attack on Malfoy Manor? Among the dozens murdered there were Daphne’s parents - my brother and his wife. My niece saw the attack, and only survived due to chance, being in the manor’s garden with her sister and friends at the time the muggleborns struck.”

He took a deep breath. “Having lost her parents, my nieces returned, grieving, to Hogwarts, thinking they were safe there. But they weren’t! Both of them almost died in that cowardly attack on House Slytherin!”

Greengrass ignored the murmurs this time, and went on: “Imagine their situation: Bereft of their parents, under attack in the school, with the authorities unable to find the attackers… what would you have done in that situation? Begged for mercy? Or would you have fought back to defend your family?

“My niece didn’t know that the group of students she joined was working for the Dark Lord! All she knew was that muggleborns were attacking her family, and herself, and she wanted to fight back. Misguided? Naive? Perhaps. But what kind of wizards and witches would we be, if we did not take up wands when under attack? Who among us would rather cower then stand up for their family?

“What else could she have done? She was a student, she couldn’t have joined the Aurors or Hit-Wizards. And when she realised just who the group’s leader was following, it was already too late - we all know what happened to those who defied the Dark Lord!”

“Like the Boy-Who-Lived?” Doge yelled.

Greengrass glared at the older wizard. “He is an exception. Even Dumbledore fell to the Dark Lord’s curses. My niece, once she knew who commanded her group, was trapped. Deserting the Dark Lord would not have just doomed herself, but her family as well. So she fought on. And yet she neither took the Dark Mark, nor did she kill anyone. All she did was follow the orders given to her - orders I doubt many among us would have dared to refuse, had they been in her place.

“Honoured members of the Wizengamot! All the crimes my niece has been accused of were either done with the aim of protecting herself and her sister, or committed under duress of the highest order. She did nothing anyone else wouldn’t have done in her place. I urge you to acquit her, so she may, after two months spent as a prisoner of the Muggleborn Resistance, finally return to her family!”

So that was their tactic, Sirius noted. And it was working, as he could tell from the reactions of the other members. He could have mentioned the fact that they had used a dark curse on Nigel Nye, a member of the Wizengamot… but then, that might lead to the revelation that that attack had been set up by Dumbledore, with the cooperation of Nye himself. Still, the Wizengamot had to know that letting a Death Eater go would enrage the muggleborns. He rose. “That’s a fair tale, Mister Greengrass, but there were a lot of tales told after the last war as well, and we all know how many of those were true.”

“My niece is ready to affirm the truth of her claims with Veritaserum. Though given her age, and her status as head of my family, she will only do so under the condition that I am the one to question her, lest others abuse the opportunity to expose my family’s secrets.”

Sirius had not expected that. Usually, the accused tended to try to use any excuse to avoid being questioned under Veritaserum. At least those who had not been prepared for it - but the girl was too young for that; not even Harry, who had been trained by Dumbledore himself, would be able to withstand Veritaserum. Was the story Sirius had heard actually true? He doubted it, still. And yet… would Greengrass dare to offer this, otherwise?

And the offer alone would impress many, and making others doubt themselves. If Sirius was allowed to word the questions… but he wasn’t. And Thicknesse wasn’t even trying to add that caveat. Greengrass must have been expecting this. They might have made a deal, even.

Well-played, Sirius thought. Well-played indeed.

*****​

“Did you know for certain that Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater when you joined him at Hogwarts?”

Daphne Greengrass found it hard to think. Too hard. Everyone had known that Draco’s father was a follower of the Dark Lord - and Draco had followed his father blindly. But had she known for certain? He hadn’t come out and said it until they had left Hogwarts… “No.”

“Is it true that you wanted to leave, but couldn’t, since you feared what the Dark Lord would do to you?”

“Yes.”

“There you have it, honoured members of the Wizengamot!”

Daphne felt someone grab her head. “Open your mouth.”

She did - there was no reason not to, was there? Then she swallowed whatever they had just dropped in her mouth. It tasted terrible. It tasted like...

Daphne shivered when she recovered her wits. That had been a dreadful experience, her mind clouded by the potion, unable to refuse anything. She wanted to hug herself, but she was still chained to the chair. She looked up. Was it over already? Her uncle was smiling at her, but Thicknesse was talking...

“Those in favour of acquittal, raise your wands!”

The chamber brightened as wands were lit. Daphne strained her neck, trying to count the wands. Was it enough? She couldn’t see the whole chamber from her seat, the backrest blocked her view. But her uncle was smiling. Did that mean…

“Daphne Greengrass, the Wizengamot has judged you not guilty. Aurors, release her.”

She was free. She was free! As soon as her chains were loosened, she rushed to hug her uncle.

*****​

 

Chapter 45: Reactions

‘Despite the vocal criticism of Wizarding Britain’s judicial system, mostly by muggleborns, an unbiased examination of the Wizengamot’s record as Wizarding Britain’s court would come to the conclusion that it worked very well. Of course, mistakes were made - although contrary to popular opinion, the imprisonment of Sirius Black wasn’t the fault of the Wizengamot since he did not receive a trial - but no system is perfect. Composed of experienced, educated members, the Wizengamot was not quite as easily swayed as a single judge, or a small group of judges, nor as prone to forget that a court case might have ramifications past the immediately obvious ones, unlike those wizards and witches focused on law enforcement. Some point at the trials following the Dark Lord’s death as ‘proof’ that the system was inherently corrupt by allowing the Wizengamot to render judgment over its own members. To that criticism I point at the muggle jury system, which explicitly demands that an accused be judged by a jury of their peers.’
- Excerpt from ‘Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century’ by Albert Runcorn

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, February 17th, 1997

“Innocent? They attacked the Burrow! They tried to kill us all! What is the Wizengamot thinking, releasing those murderers! I’ll go and kill them myself before they attack us or anyone else again!”

Ron Weasley gasped at hearing his mum’s reaction to the news of the trial. “Mum!” He was angry himself, but he had expected such a result. Hermione had told him the Resistance was prepared for it.

“Molly!” Dad grabbed her arms with both hands. “Calm down! You can’t just go and curse them!”

“Of course I can! They tried to kill my children! I’ll hex their heads off!”

Ron winced. Mum wasn’t quite shaking Dad off, but he was having trouble holding on to her. He had rarely seen her like this. Not even when Ginny had been missing.

“You won’t find them. They’ll be cowering in their hidden mansions,” Sirius cut in. “I doubt they’ll be walking down Diagon Alley any time soon; not with so many muggleborns back.”

Ron’s mum turned to glare at Sirius, and for a moment, Ron was afraid she’d lose her temper at their host. But instead, she closed her eyes and made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a strangled cry.

“How can they do this? It’s a travesty of justice!”

“It’s the Wizengamot,” Ron said. Everyone turned to look at him, and he fought the urge to flinch. “They’ll not condemn their own.” He shrugged. “We expected this.”

“I expected a more blatant farce, actually,” Sirius said. “The Veritaserum was a quite accomplished move that might even convince quite a few people.”

Ron snorted. “Not the muggleborns, and not many of the half-bloods either. They know better.”

“But many of the purebloods will believe the Wizengamot’s verdict was just,” his dad said, looking far more tired than Ron had expected. “Veritaserum is a powerful argument.”

“It’s all in the wording.” Sirius’s smile lacked any humour. “And that’s something you can bet the Prophet will not report accurately. Word of mouth will simplify it to ‘Veritaserum confirmed their innocence’.”

“That’s… that’s…” Ron’s mum was fuming again. “How could they do this?”

Sirius shrugged. “They played the Wizengamot almost perfectly. Although I think Thicknesse was in on it - he was remarkably agreeable to Greengrass’s demands. On the other hand, he is a shrewd politician, so he probably just saw which way the wind was blowing.”

“The Resistance will still spread the truth about this,” Ron said.

“Oh, yes.” Sirius grinned. “I’ll be sending her an exact transcript of the session.”

“You have a Pensieve?” Ron’s dad looked surprised.

“Dumbledore left his to us,” Sirius said. “We can certainly use it more than Hogwarts.”

“As long as something is being done!” Mum was shaking her head. “This cannot continue! They’ll let all those murderers go, just like last time!”

“If they do, there’ll be another war,” Sirius said. “Or rather, they’ll find out that the war’s not over yet,” he added with a grin.

Ron thought that Sirius sounded as if he would prefer that.

*****​

Hogwarts, February 17th, 1997

“... thank you, Sirius. Goodbye.”

Harry Potter, sitting on his bed in the Gryffindor dorms, sighed while he stashed the mirror in his pocket again. The three Slytherins had been acquitted. It wasn’t exactly a surprise, but… part of him had hoped that the Wizengamot would finally show some sense and not fall for their stories. It looked like the Old Families were still refusing to see reason.

He heard yelling from the common room and realised that the wireless had to have broadcast the news as well. Even if he stayed in his room, others would come and ask him about the trials. Better to set the record straight right away - he was all too familiar with Hogwarts’ rumour mill.

He was barely halfway down the stairs when he met Ginny coming up. “Harry! I was just coming to get you! They announced that Greengrass, Davies and Nott have been acquitted!”

“I heard.” He smiled. “It’s no surprise.”

She pouted. “I know, but still… do you think they’ll return to Hogwarts?”

He shook his head. “I doubt it.” Unless they were so delusional that they thought everyone would follow the Wizengamot’s lead. Or the Ministry took control of Hogwarts and stuffed it full of Aurors. Pureblood Aurors.

They reached the common room, and as soon as Harry entered, it seemed everyone present wanted to tell him about the verdicts. He raised his arms. “Calm down, everyone! I already heard about it!” To his slight surprise, the room quieted down after a few moments.

“What do you think of this?” Neville asked.

The boy looked very tense, but seemed to control himself, Harry thought. Although he couldn’t tell what Neville was thinking. Not without using Legilimency… he buried that thought quickly, then took a deep breath. “Did anyone really expect that the Wizengamot would find those three guilty? They haven’t even tried to prosecute Astoria Greengrass, despite her attack on our third years.” He saw a few of the Gryffindors of that year shudder.

“But they were questioned under Veritaserum!” Romilda said.

“The questions were asked by their proxies and guardians,” Harry answered. “And carefully worded. But even if it were true that they had been afraid for their lives, they could have run away from the Dark Lord and gone into hiding. You know how well that worked for so many others. They were not forced to fight.” He scoffed. “They almost died attacking the Weasleys’ home,” - he heard Ginny almost growl next to him - ”so they knew that staying with the Dark Lord and fighting was dangerous as well, but did they flee then? No.” He shook his head. “They were acquitted because they were the heirs of their families and members of the Wizengamot.”

That caused more yelling. Neville was one of the few who didn’t say anything, pressing his lips together.

“Will they let all of the Death Eaters go?” A third year asked, trembling. Her friends hugged her.

“Most of the Death Eaters are dead,” Harry said. Belatedly, he realised that smiling encouragingly while saying such a thing might look a bit… odd.

“But not all of them!” The little witch - a muggleborn, Harry thought, she was wearing jeans under her robes - tried to compose herself. “And the Slytherins? Will they return to Hogwarts?”

Ginny snorted, and mumbled something under her breath that Harry was certain would earn her a chore should her mum overhear it. He shrugged. “I doubt it.” Some had been killed, like Malfoy and his friends. “But even if some do, we’re prepared. They’ll not be able to do anything to us.”

“What if they send Aurors?” Will Banks asked.

Harry knew that the muggleborn third year had been afraid of the Ministry ever since he had been used to sabotage the Slytherin Quidditch Pitch stands. With good reason, he thought - if not for Dumbledore, the boy would have likely been punished for it. Harry smiled confidently. “They don’t have many Aurors left, and they need them elsewhere. And they have even less skilled Aurors left. If they try to take over Hogwarts… well, there are a lot of people who would object to that.”

“Like the Resistance!” The third year witch wasn’t trembling any more.

“Yes,” Harry said. “And many more. We won’t let the Ministry push us around any more!”

The yells and shouts filling the common room were even louder this time. Harry kept smiling, though for all he believed his words, he hoped that the Wizengamot would cave in, and soon.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, February 17th, 1997

Hermione Granger walked along Diagon Alley with her wand in hand and her rifle slung on her back. Justin was behind her, his rifle in hand, while Sally-Anne was in front, pulling a rolled up paper out of her enchanted bag. A flick of her wand later, a poster was stuck to the wall next to the entrance to ‘Jamie’s Jellies’.

Wizengamot lets Death Eaters go unpunished! was followed by a picture of Lucius Malfoy, with ‘1981: I was under the Imperius!’ superimposed over it on the left side, and a picture of the laughing Theo Nott with the caption ‘1997: I was too afraid to stop fighting’ on the right side. And at the bottom: ‘They persecute muggleborns, and protect Death Eaters! It’s time for a change!’

Sally-Anne stuck a leaflet with a more detailed - but not too detailed, just enough to counter the Veritaserum excuse - description of the trial next to it right when a man stepped out of the shop.

“Hey, what are…” he broke off and closed his mouth when he saw their uniforms, then turned around and disappeared back into the shop without a further word.

Hermione shook her head, wondering if the man had a guilty conscience, or was just afraid of the Resistance because he believed the Prophet. Another poster and leaflet later, they turned around a corner and entered the main part of Diagon Alley. Their appearance was noticed almost at once by the people on the street.

“It’s the Resistance!”

The crowd started to move towards them, eager faces and muggle clothes revealing them as muggleborns.

“They’re here!”

“Look at them!”

Hermione forced herself to keep smiling, even though she felt rather tense - it would be easy for someone to hide in the crowd and send a curse at her or the others, and their Shield Charms wouldn’t stop everything. Tania and Seamus, both disillusioned, were flying above them, keeping an eye out, but they too would not be perfect. And the Human-presence-revealing spell was pretty much useless in a crowd.

She held up a hand. “Please give us some space.” She pulled a leaflet out of her own pocket and cast a Doubling Charm, then sent the leaflets up in the air, and above the gathering people. The people stopped crowding the Resistance in favour of grabbing the leaflets, but that relief didn’t last long - as soon as they had skimmed the contents, they turned towards them again.

“This is an outrage!” one man, about thirty years old - it was harder to tell with wizards - yelled. “We need to do something!” His next words were drowned out by the crowd.

Hermione cast an Amplifying Charm to be heard over the shouting. “We are doing something!”

She had to repeat herself twice before the noise died down. “It’s time to show the Ministry and the Wizengamot that we will not accept being ruled by an aristocracy! We didn’t beat the Death Eaters just to bow to the very Wizengamot that persecuted us! We demand a democratically elected Wizengamot!” She took a deep breath. “We’ll be holding protests and rallies soon, as more and more muggleborns return to Wizarding Britain! Watch out for leaflets and listen to the Resistance Radio! Spread the news - we will not submit! Blood doesn’t matter!” she yelled at the end, the spell carrying her voice over the Alley.

The crowd took up the words. “Blood doesn’t matter! Blood doesn’t matter!”

For a moment, Hermione basked in the crowd’s approval, more certain than ever that they would win, that they would reform Wizarding Britain. Then she heard Seamus over the radio: “Watch out, Aurors closing in from the North!”

“Hold fire!” she said through the throat microphone, moving forward.

The crowd parted in front of her, to her own surprise, and she saw two - no, four - Aurors approach, wands out. The crowd noticed them too - they hadn’t posted rear guards - and the mood quickly grew worse, with wands being drawn and even aimed.

The Aurors - all of them so young, Hermione recognised three of them who had been two years above her at Hogwarts - stopped about ten yards away. They looked nervous, no, afraid even. Their leader, barely older than the rest, took a step forward. “What’s going on here?”

Hermione held up her left hand, quieting the crowd down, as she met his eyes. “We’re passing out leaflets and putting up posters.” She didn’t want to escalate matters, but she would not budge if the Aurors tried to stop them. She couldn’t - she’d lose all the influence she had over the crowd if she did that.

Sally-Anne stepped closer to Hermione. She had stashed her posters and leaflets, and her wand was out, but at her side. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Justin step to the side so he’d have a clear line of fire. Fortunately, the crowd was not moving forward, but holding where they stood. As riled up as the muggleborns were, it wouldn’t take much to start a fight.

Fortunately, the leader of the Aurors must have realised that as well, since he pressed his lips together and turned around. “Let’s go!”

The rest of the group followed him, but Hermione saw that they were looking over their shoulders, as if they expected an attack any moment. And yet they were not in a defensive formation - though she suspected that this was due to lack of training and experience, and not a deliberate decision.

Once they had turned around the next corner, Hermione relaxed. If that had gone wrong… She turned to address the crowd again. “Spread the word! We’re not submitting! We’re not going away! We demand democracy! Blood doesn’t matter!”

“Blood doesn’t matter!”

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, February 17th, 1997

Amelia Bones checked the clock on the wall of her office and frowned. It was getting too late again. She had worse hours as Minister than she had had as Head of the DMLE. It couldn’t be helped, though. Not with the situation the Ministry found itself in following the trials of Greengrass, Davis and Nott. The acquittal of those three hadn’t been received well by everyone.

Amelia knew that the questions asked while the three were under the influence of Veritaserum had been very carefully phrased. If she had conducted the questioning, then she would have asked more and different questions. Nevertheless, the trial had been conducted correctly, and if the Wizengamot ruled that the accused had acted under duress, and were not to be punished for what they had done and admitted to, then that was the verdict people would have to accept. She would never let public opinion, much less a vocal minority, dictate sentences. Even though she couldn’t help feeling that Britain’s situation wouldn’t be as dire as it currently was if the Wizengamot had taken a harsher stance towards Death Eaters after the last war, she would never condone vigilante ‘justice’.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Yes?”

Her secretary opened the door and peered inside. “Mister Thicknesse and Head Auror Dawlish are here, ma’am.”

Amelia suppressed a sigh. They wouldn’t bother her, not at this hour, if it wasn’t important. “Send them in.”

The two wizards entered, and she waved at the chairs in front of her desk. “Please have a seat.”

“Thank you, Amelia,” Pius said. “There was an incident today, in Diagon Alley.”

Amelia sat straighter. “What happened?”

Dawlish handed over a scroll of parchment and a roll of paper. “An Auror patrol encountered a group of Resistance members putting up posters and handing out leaflets. There was a crowd of muggleborns with them.”

She quickly read the parchment, her anger growing, then looked at the poster and leaflet. “They were prepared for this. They expected the verdict.” Granger had been ready to plaster this filth all over the Alley.

Pius, ever the politician, nodded. “I’d even say that they wanted the Wizengamot to acquit the three.”

He was correct. “They’ll use this to rile up the muggleborns.” Amelia clenched her teeth.

“They didn’t attack the patrol,” Dawlish said.

“They were probably hoping that the Aurors would attack them.” Pius was smiling faintly.

“I don’t think so.” Amelia shook her head. “They are not yet ready for an open conflict. The muggleborns who left Wizarding Britain last year are still in the process of returning. Granger will want to recruit more of them to replace her losses too.” And today’s verdict would help them - the muggleborns didn’t trust the Ministry, and would believe the Resistance’s propaganda over anyone else.

“Should we let them do this?” Dawlish asked. “How’s our own recruiting?”

Pius lost his smile. “We haven’t been able to recruit as many suitable wizards and witches as we’d like. I’ve spoken with a few members of the Wizengamot, asking them to impress upon their extended family just how much the Ministry needs trusted employees. The situation should improve in the summer, when the current seventh years graduate, but until then...” He sighed and spread his hands.

Dawlish frowned. “What about hiring more muggleborns and half-bloods?”

Amelia raised her eyebrows and exchanged a glance with Pius. Dawlish knew what Pius had meant by ‘suitable candidates’ - loyal purebloods. Had he talked with Weasley? Was this another plot? “Their loyalty is a concern,” she said.

Dawlish nodded. “I know. But on the other hand, having muggleborns in the Corps would improve our reputation among the other muggleborns, and defuse the tension somewhat. The Resistance would also have to worry about their loyalty, and any talented muggleborn joining the Corps is one the Resistance can’t train.”

“Would you trust them?” Pius asked, sneering slightly at his subordinate. “It’s not as if we can require an Unbreakable Vow from them, and we all know how many traitors we had within our ranks. And how that turned out.”

Dawlish flushed, but didn’t give in. “We aren’t at war with the muggleborns. The situation is tense, especially with the way they are retaking their old homes, but we just fought together against the Dark Lord, and they haven’t attacked the Ministry or the Aurors.”

“Not yet,” Pius said. “But once they are ready…”

“We’re not ready for a war either,” Dawlish said. “And if it comes to a war, it’s not just the loyalty of muggleborns we would have to worry about.”

Dawlish was showing more political awareness than Amelia had expected. He probably was talking to some of Dumbledore’s old friends and followers. Maybe Weasley, or even Black, she thought. “The muggleborns are breaking the law by forcing people out of their homes. That is something the Ministry cannot ignore.”

“If we intervene, we might start a war. And we don’t have the wands to intervene, much less fight a war,” Dawlish said.

“Our duty is to enforce the law. If you feel you are incapable or unwilling to do your duty, then I’ll accept your resignation,” Amelia said in a clipped tone. The Ministry had no need for cowards or traitors. Especially not in the current situation.

“If you wish that we intervene against the muggleborns taking over shops in Diagon Alley with our current strength, then we will have to strip the Ministry and Hogsmeade details of almost everyone. Otherwise, we will not have the numbers to do anything,” Dawlish said, staring at her. “I’ll need a direct order to prioritise this task above guarding the Ministry and the Wizengamot.”

Amelia glared at him. He was well aware that she couldn’t give that order. The Wizengamot would never allow it. He was undermining her, she realised. Was he working with Pius? She glanced at the Head of the DMLE. He was frowning as well. She knew that they didn’t have the numbers to do this, but they couldn’t let it go either. “If we don’t do enforce the law, then that will encourage the muggleborns to push further.”

“They’re already demanding changes in the Wizengamot,” Pius said. “Unless the Wizengamot agrees to their demands, a confrontation is unavoidable.”

“If the Ministry is to go to war against the muggleborns, then we can’t count on all our Aurors and Hit-Wizards,” Dawlish said.

“You don’t trust all of your Aurors, and yet you want to recruit more whose loyalty is questionable?” Pius asked. He was acting a bit too offended, Amelia thought - it was his department, and ultimately his responsibility, after all.

“If all we can recruit are fresh graduates from Hogwarts while the muggleborns get the pick of the experienced Aurors and Hit-Wizards that left the Corps as well as their share of the fresh graduates, then the Ministry’s situation will not improve over time.” Dawlish winced. “My people aren’t too happy about the Wizengamot’s judgement either.”

“Aurors never are happy when someone they arrested gets acquitted,” Amelia said. She knew that from personal experience.

“That is true, but this goes beyond the usual grumbling. And these aren’t helping matters,” Dawlish pointed at the poster and leaflet on Amelia’s desk. “The Corps knows that the trial wasn’t exactly…” he trailed off.

“Exactly what?” Amelia asked. “The Wizengamot conducted the trial according to the law. Pius can confirm that.”

Pius nodded.

Dawlish held his tongue, but she thought it took him some effort. “Do you have anything else to add?” she asked, staring at him.

“No, ma’am.”

“Very well. I have a few things to discuss with Pius that do not concern you.” She dismissed him with a nod.

Dawlish glanced at Pius for a moment, then nodded and left her office. Once the door had closed behind him, Amelia sighed. “We not only do not have enough Aurors and Hit-Wizards to do our duty, but those we have are unreliable. And our long-term prospects are worse.”

“That is an accurate summary of the situation,” Pius said, his face a polite facade.

“Did you explain this to the Wizengamot members you talked with?” Amelia asked.

“I mentioned my concerns about the lack of trusted Aurors and Hit-Wizards,” Pius said. He was smiling faintly again.

“And what did they say?” Amelia knew that Pius wouldn’t have talked to those too stupid to understand the situation; even if he wanted her to fail so he could succeed her he knew that they were likely to lose a war should it start now.

“They acknowledged the problems we are facing.” Pius’s smile vanished again. “But they couldn’t offer much to the Ministry. There aren’t that many capable purebloods left.”

“Enough to matter,” Amelia said. “They’re not willing to risk their heirs and close family.”

“Yes.” He hesitated for a moment, then went on: “But there’s more. They hinted at looking for help abroad.”

Amelia hissed. “Mercenaries?” The Wizengamot was unlikely to ask another country for help; too many countries would jump at the opportunity to squeeze concessions out of Britain after decades of Dumbledore pushing them around.

“Yes. Ostensibly to protect their families, but…” he shook his head.

“More vigilantes.” She pressed her lips together.

“The French created a precedent when they arrived to help Dumbledore.”

“But the muggleborns will jump on that.” Amelia could imagine the leaflets they’d print. “Will they be able to hire enough to even the odds?”

“I don’t think so. The Dark Lord himself had trouble recruiting mercenaries. With the record of the Resistance in the war, most of the experienced mercenaries would demand a lot of gold to risk their lives going up against them.”

Too much even for most of the Old Families, Amelia thought. “There’ll still be enough to cause trouble.”

“Yes.” Pius seemed to hesitate, then straightened. “Other countries might try to use this to meddle in Britain. Many of them are concerned about the muggleborns.”

Amelia narrowed her eyes. “That would likely push the muggleborns to return the favour.” She considered how fanatical Granger was. “They might already be planning to do that.” And that could start another war on the scale of Grindelwald’s War.

“They focused on the Death Eaters during the war, not the Ministry. And they haven’t attacked the Ministry. Not directly. I don’t think that they want another war.”

“Do you think that they’ll back down if the Wizengamot stands firm?” Amelia watched him. He hadn’t seemed to support his Head Auror, but the two had arrived together, and he was Dawlish’s superior. If Pius was leaning towards making a deal with the Resistance...

“I don’t know. Would they really rather start another war instead of accepting the status quo ante?”

That was a question Amelia didn’t think anyone but the Resistance could answer. And there was another question. “If they did, would the Wizengamot believe it?”

Pius didn’t look like he’d be smiling again any time soon.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, February 17th, 1997

Ron Weasley was about to eat a sandwich in Sirius’s kitchen when he heard a crash from the hallway, followed by hissed curses. He had drawn his wand before he recognised the voice. “Tonks?”

“Shh!” The young Auror entered, limping slightly. “Nothing happened. The pot wasn’t damaged.”

“If you say so.” Ron shook his head. He checked his watch. It was close to midnight. “Late shift?”

“I wish! Dawlish made me do overtime by burying me in orders!” Tonks frowned, taking a seat at the table. “Where’s Kreacher?”

“Probably off cleaning or something,” Ron said. The house-elf was remarkably apt at avoiding guests he didn’t like - which included both ‘blood traitors’ and half-bloods - unless specifically ordered to assist by Sirius.

Tonks snorted. “As if!” She summoned some bread and then raided the dishes Ron had taken from the icebox to make her own sandwich. “Third time in a row I get a cold midnight dinner thanks to that b...Bones.”

“You could get some muggle money and get takeout,” Ron said, finishing his sandwich.

Tonks narrowed her eyes at him, then focused on her sandwich.

He shrugged. She probably just wanted to vent a bit. “Was Bones mad about the verdict?”

“Hard to tell,” Tonks said between bites. “We don’t exactly see her much since she’s not the Head of the DMLE any more. But she’s been an Auror; I can’t see any Auror being happy about the verdict.”

“Really?” Ron was sceptical.

She rolled her eyes. “I mean, not any current Auror.”

“Ah.”

The eye-rolling turned into a glare. “The Corps has lost a lot of Aurors fighting the Dark Lord. They don’t like to see any of his followers get off.”

The Ministry had lost a lot of Aurors fighting the Resistance too, Ron knew. He didn’t mention that, though. It was a sensitive subject. “They won’t be too happy with the Wizengamot then - they aren’t finished yet.”

“There aren’t many prisoners left,” Tonks said, glancing at him before she grabbed some pumpkin juice.

“But quite a lot of Wizengamot members who were supporters of the Dark Lord.”

That earned him another glare. “You can’t arrest a member of the Wizengamot without permission from the Wizengamot. Not unless you catch them in flagrante.”

“Huh?”

“Not unless you catch them while they are committing a crime.”

“That doesn’t sound like a good system,” Ron said.

“It’s better than the Minister being able to have any Wizengamot member they want arrested,” Tonks said.

Not by much, he thought. He shrugged and refilled his glass with juice. “Looks like changes are needed.”

“I saw the leaflets. Thicknesse wasn’t happy about them.”

“Well, it’s true. If the Wizengamot continues with this, there’ll be trouble.” Ron put the juice down and looked straight at her.

“Another war?” She scoffed. “I’m just about the last Auror of my year. Do you really want more deaths?”

He shrugged. “It’s only a war if the Wizengamot can find enough idiots to die for them.”

She stared at him, her lips forming a thin line. “I get enough of that from your father. I’m not about to fight the Resistance, unless they turn into crazy murderers. But I’m not about to stab my friends in the back - none of my friends.”

“Good enough,” Ron said.

They finished their midnight snacks in silence.

*****​

Hogwarts, February 18th, 1997

Harry Potter was in the middle of breakfast in the Great Hall when the owls arrived with the morning post - and with the latest issues of the Daily Prophet. Soon, owls carrying rolled up newspapers and letters were landing on the tables, and hands reached for purses. One brown owl almost crashed into his plate, avoiding his tea cup with an awkward hop, before Neville reached over from his side of the table, grabbed it and pulled the newspaper off.

“They’re worse than Errol,” he heard Ginny, sitting next to Neville, mumble.

Harry didn’t comment - he was watching Neville skim over the article. It didn’t take long until Neville threw the newspaper down on the table, sending a breadbasket sliding, and grinding his teeth. “They let them go!”

“We already knew that from the wireless,” Ginny said, then flinched when Neville glared at her.

He grabbed the newspaper again, and stabbed the front page with his finger. “We didn’t see them smile! Look at them, acting as if they were innocent! That’s… that’s…” Neville shook his head, apparently at a loss for words.

“That’s outrageous,” Ginny finished for him. “They attacked our third years, then the Burrow, and the Wizengamot treats them as if they were victims?” The witch muttered a few expressions that would have upset Molly Weasley, in Harry’s opinion.

“It’s the Wizengamot - they take care of each other, and of no one else,” Harry said.

He caught a glimpse of a familiar white owl entering the Great Hall, and smiled. Hedwig. The snowy owl dived at him, a few beats of her powerful wings stopping her descent just in time so she could land lightly on the table. She barked and held out her leg to which a small package had been strapped.

Harry chuckled. “I know it’s Hermione’s fault, Hedwig. You’d never be late otherwise,” he said while he pulled the package off. “Have some bacon.”

The owl started to feed from his plate while he tapped the package with his wand, unshrinking it.

“Hermione sent you something?” Ginny asked, leaning forward and craning her neck, trying to see what he had received. Neville, too, was watching intently.

“She did,” Harry said, pulling out the posters and leaflets. He grinned as he handed out a number to Neville, Ginny and the other Gryffindors. “Something to counter the Prophet’s lies.”

The leaflets were quickly passed on to the other tables - including the Slytherin table, he noted. He also saw McGonagall grab one herself, then walk over towards him.

The Gryffindor table fell silent when the witch arrived.

“Is this yours, Mister Potter?”

Harry was tempted to say that no, she could keep it, but he didn’t. Instead he nodded. “Hermione sent them to me. We want to let the students know the truth.”

“And not the Prophet’s lies!” Neville said.

McGonagall looked surprised at the outburst from the usually quiet student, but she soon schooled her features. “I see.” Looking the rest of the table over, she raised her voice slightly. “While it’s laudable to counter lies, I have to remind you that this is a school, not the Wizengamot, or Diagon Alley. You’re here to study and learn, not to wage war.”

“We’re not starting a war,” Banks said. “But if someone else does, we’ll finish it!” The young Gryffindor flinched when everyone, including McGonagall, stared at him, but then he thrust his chin out. “It’s the truth!”

McGonagall looked like she was torn between pride and disapproval, or so Harry thought - he didn’t know the witch that well, anyway. “Not you, Mister Banks. Not even the Resistance recruited third years.”

Banks’s pouting expression made Harry chuckle - but then he remembered the Creeveys, who had joined the Resistance when Dennis had been barely older than Banks. And now Dennis was cursed and in a coma, and Colin was dead.

He didn’t say much for the rest of the meal.

*****​

“I want to train again,” Neville said when they were on their way to their dorms, to fetch the books and other supplies for the first lesson.

“Me too!” Ginny added, before Harry could respond.

He slowed down and looked at the two. “Moody’s dead.”

“So?” Neville scoffed.

“If the Slytherins return, I want to be prepared,” Ginny added. “Or if the Ministry tries anything.”

“Ah.” Harry was wondering what to say. Sirius was busy in the Wizengamot, and Remus was still in Europe, hunting Wormtail. Nymphadora… well, she was in the Ministry, and busy as well. Sirius would probably make time, though, to train with Harry.

“It’s not as if we haven’t been training, you know. Just not as hard as you with Moody,” Ginny added. She was not quite fidgeting, but she looked, if still stubborn, a bit more insecure than before.

It wasn’t as if it would do any harm, Harry thought. At least not permanently, he corrected himself - Moody’s lessons regularly left him hurting. And with things so tense, and the Wizengamot unwilling to do the right thing… He nodded. “Alright. Pass the word to the others - we’ll train in Defence. I’ll look for an instructor or two, but even without one, we can train.”

“Yes!” Ginny smiled widely.

Neville, though, simply nodded, his expression unchanging.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, February 19th, 1997

Sirius Black shook his head while he stared at the burned out ruins of the twins’ shop in Diagon Alley and the neighbouring houses. So much destruction… and the Wizengamot was dragging its feet about funding rebuilding efforts. He pressed his lips together so he’d not bare his teeth as if he was Padfoot. Of course, the longer the Wizengamot delayed allocating funds to support those in need, the more those businesses that were being rebuilt by the Old Families on their own would profit.

In a way, he was doing the same, loaning the twins money to rebuild their shop. He snorted - he wanted to simply give them the gold; as far as he was concerned, they had earned it playing bait for the Dark Lord, but they were too proud to accept. Just like their parents, already talking about rebuilding the Burrow on their own, with the help of some muggle ‘blueprints’, whatever that was - Arthur’s explanation at dinner last evening had been enthusiastic, but not entirely clear.

He checked his watch. He had plenty of time left for a stroll through Diagon Alley to see how the people were faring before heading to the Wizengamot for today’s session. He chuckled - that sounded like what a politician would say.

The parts of the Alley further away were looking fine, he thought. It was no surprise - the fighting had not spread that far from the twins’ shop. It made the destruction stand out even more, though - and seeing a café open next to ruins was more than a bit weird.

Sirius had bought chocolates from a shop on the way - not quite as good as those from Honeydukes, but by no means bad - and started eating them while walking towards the Leaky Cauldron when he heard yelling from a side alley.

He didn’t hesitate - he was a Gryffindor, after all - and entered the narrower alley. There was a group of people - muggleborns, he could tell from their clothes, half a dozen of them - standing in front of a small shop, wands out. A wizard in robes was facing them in the entrance.

“This is my shop! It was stolen from me when I had to hide from the Ministry!” a burly middle-aged wizard was yelling. “Get lost!” The others near him yelled their agreement.

The wizard standing in the door flinched and was obviously scared, but he stood his ground. “I didn’t steal it - I bought it from Matthias Selwyn!”

“So? It wasn’t his to sell! I’m taking my shop back!” The muggleborn snarled. “You can take it up with the thief!”

“But…” The wizard was trembling now, and took a step back. “You can’t do this!”

“Of course we can!”

Wands rose.

“That’s enough!” Sirius yelled.

The muggleborns whirled around, all of them. Sloppy, Sirius thought - the shop’s occupant could have cursed them in the back easily right then, not that the man looked as if he could do that; it seemed as if he was as surprised as the others.

The leader of the muggleborns glared at Sirius. “What do you…” Sirius saw the man’s eyes widen when he trailed off - he must have recognised him.

“Sirius Black.” Sirius inclined his head. “I was just passing by when I heard the yelling.” He popped the last piece of chocolate into his mouth.

The shop owner walked around the group, towards Sirius. “Sir! I’m Melvyn Gibbons. They’re trying to force me out of the shop! I paid for it - I even took out a loan - and now they are threatening me!”

“The shop was stolen from me!” came the angry retort.

“Not by me!”

Sirius sighed. That looked too complicated for his taste. “Calm down, everyone. Now, you bought the shop from Mattias Selwyn, you said?”

“Yes! Just three months ago!”

The man obviously hadn’t been too smart, Sirius thought. He turned to the muggleborn. “Did you sell the shop?”

“No! I simply locked it up and left!”

“Were you the owner, or were you a tenant?”

“I wouldn’t be trying to take it back if I weren’t the owner!” the man exclaimed. “I’m John Carrigan. Muggleborn,” he added unnecessarily.

Sirius showed his teeth. He thought he knew what had happened. “That means the building probably was deemed abandoned, and Selwyn bought it up from the Ministry.” For a pittance, Sirius assumed - that was how such things were handled, after all.

“I didn’t abandon it! I had to hide from the Ministry!”

“Yes.” Sirius nodded. He addressed the shop’s current owner again. “I’m sorry, but I think your best course of action is to demand your gold back from Selwyn. Provided he’s telling the truth.” He nodded at Carrigan.

“Of course I am!”

“But he’ll not pay me back - he’s the son of a member of the Wizengamot!” Gibbons said. “That was all I had!”

“Well, I’m a member of the Wizengamot myself. I’ll talk to him.” Sirius smiled.

“Thank you, sir!”

“That doesn’t mean you can stay in the shop, though,” Sirius said. He ignored how the man’s face fell - Gibbons should have known better than to buy a muggleborn’s shop.

He nodded at the men, then turned around and left, shaking his head. Another sign of just how corrupt the Wizengamot was.

*****​

Twenty minutes later, Sirius entered the Wizengamot’s floor in the Ministry. The session wouldn’t start for another fifteen minutes, but many members and their entourages were already present, either talking inside the chamber to other members, or gathered in small groups outside the chamber. He didn’t see Maximilian Selwyn, though.

“Sirius!”

He turned around and saw Doge was heading towards him. “Elphias.”

“Good to see you… I need to talk to you.” Doge flicked his wand, and a privacy spell surrounded them. “We need to elect a new Chief Warlock. We can’t let this linger any longer.”

“We certainly can’t let Runcorn continue.” The oldest member of the Wizengamot was acting Chief Warlock by default, but he was a known blood purist.

Elphias made a dismissive gesture. “He’s irrelevant. But we need to find a candidate we can push through. If we leave that office to the purists…”

Sirius nodded. The Chief Warlock was in theory primus inter pares - the first among equal members - and could act as a tiebreaker. But more important was their control over the schedules, and how the sessions were run. While they couldn’t stop a proposal from a member, they could delay it quite effectively - or push another. “Are you volunteering?” he asked. Doge was known to have been a close friend of Dumbledore, and he had had quite a career in the Ministry as well, before he had succeeded his father in the Wizengamot.

“Unless you are,” Doge said.

Sirius chuckled. “Me? Merlin’s balls, Amelia would be frothing at the mouth!”

“I’ve heard about her opinion of you,” Doge said, shaking his head.

Sirius shrugged. “Albus would have done the same.”

“That he would.” Doge snorted.

“How are your chances?” Doge would have sounded out the other members already, Sirius knew.

“Unless most of the members who are still hiding return, I should have a simple majority.”

Sirius nodded. “But they might return once they hear about your running for the office.”

“If they are brave enough. That trial didn’t help,” Doge said. “They might expect to get off as well.”

“Not all of them. Our esteemed members haven’t forgotten just how many blood purists had left the chamber right before the attack started.” Sirius bared his teeth.

“Enough to affect the result. Best would be if they were split among themselves, but…”

Sirius nodded. He hadn’t been a member of the Wizengamot for that long, but long enough to know that you couldn’t count on your opponent making a mistake. “Let’s get more votes then!” With Doge’s friendship with Dumbledore, and Harry’s approval, they should get the support of a number of the more impressionable members.

And, Sirius added to himself, he might also convince some members that electing a friend of Albus Dumbledore would help appeasing the muggleborns. He would have to ask Hermione if she could increase the pressure some.

He checked his watch. It was too late to hunt down Selwyn. Maybe he’d have more luck after the session.

*****​

“...and therefore I believe that the Order of Merlin, First Class, is an appropriate reward for the Boy-Who-Lived.”

Sirius was one among many who applauded when Chastity Milbrand finished, and probably not the only one who was as happy about the proposal as he was about the fact that Milbrand had finally finished - that witch could go on and on; she had started with a detailed if not quite factual account of Harry’s first defeat of Voldemort.

“The chair recognises Mister Diggory.”

Amos Diggory rose. “While I agree with my honoured colleague Madam Milbrand that Harry Potter deserves an Order of Merlin, First Class, I think this is not enough. The Boy-Who-Lived has saved Wizarding Britain twice now, and I think that we all know just how many of us here are only alive now because he stopped the Dark Lord before he could take the Ministry.”

Sirius glanced at Bones and Thicknesse; both showed no reaction while others loudly agreed.

“Therefore I think an Order of Merlin is not enough; the Boy-Who-Lived also deserves a seat on the Wizengamot!”

Now Amelia was showing a reaction, Sirius noticed - her lips were pressed together and her eyes had narrowed. The Minister for Magic didn’t share that view.

To his surprise the proposal was supported by several members of the Wizengamot Sirius knew for quite the bigots - if not followers of the Dark Lord. Were they actually hoping to bribe Harry into supporting the Wizengamot with this?

He mulled this over while Augustus Malfoy stood up and spent five minutes trying to convince the Wizengamot that Harry was immature and unfit without actually saying anything that could be construed as an insult towards the Boy-Who-Lived.

Some members might be naive enough to think that this could work. Sirius knew better, of course - Harry wouldn’t feel indebted to the Wizengamot, nor duty-bound to support their policies. And it wasn’t as if they could silence Harry, or pick his proxy for him. Unless… if they actually believed what the Prophet hinted at, then they might think they could influence Harry through a witch.

Sirius sighed. He’d have to warn Harry about that. He raised his wand.

“The chair recognises Mister Black.”

He stood up. “Honoured members of the Wizengamot! While I’m the first to support all accolades awarded to my godson, I have to point out that he was not alone when he faced the Dark Lord. I have no doubt that trying to honour him, but not his friends, will not endear you to him.” He smiled when he saw the expression on Amelia’s face. She knew what was coming. “Numerous brave people helped him, but foremost among them were his best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and the members of the Resistance and the Order of the Phoenix.”

His smile widened at the reaction that caused in the Wizengamot.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, February 19th, 1997

Ron Weasley jumped up from his seat when Hermione entered the living room in Sirius’s home and opened his arms wide. “Hermione!”

“Hello!” She smiled, but she didn’t jump into his arms, as he had expected - and hoped. Instead she approached slowly and hugged him rather tenderly, compared to her usual embrace.

“Is something… I’m alright, now,” he said. He wasn’t hurting anymore, not much at least. “I’m returning to Hogwarts tomorrow.”

From the way she pursed her lips, he could tell that she had some doubts.

Rolling his eyes, he pulled his sweater up, then pulled his bandage away. “See? Almost completely healed.”

“Almost doesn’t mean fully,” Hermione said, narrowing her eyes as she bent down to inspect his wound with her wand.

“It doesn’t hurt any more,” he said, shaking his head while she cast several spells. He was smiling, though - she cared, and had cared ever since their first year.

Finally she seemed satisfied and straightened up. “It looks good, but it’s not yet healed. No strenuous activity. No Quidditch.”

He pouted, then smiled. “I wasn’t planning to. I lost my broom.” And they weren’t going out this evening, anyway - they would be eating dinner with his family.

“Sirius’s planning to buy you a new one.”

“Well… “

She shook her head, and once again he missed her long hair. “Typical.” But she was smiling.

He gathered her in his arms again, and kissed her.

“So, what have you been doing while I was doing nothing?” Ron asked, once they were both sitting on the couch.

“Same as yesterday - organising,” she said, sighing. “The plans for the rally tomorrow are keeping me busy, and John’s been trying to copy some BBC programmes, but… we don’t have the manpower to produce them, and simply copying them…”

He knew what the BBC was. “Magic can’t help there?”

“No.” She was frowning again. “We need more people.”

“Ah.” He felt guilty for making her think about the friends she had lost. “Have you heard about the Wizengamot’s offer to Harry?”

She snorted. “Yes. What a transparent ploy! And so stupid - first they start hinting that he was immature and easily manipulated, and now they want him to become a member of the Wizengamot?” She shook her head. “That doesn’t make much sense.”

“That pretty much sums up the Wizengamot.” Ron snorted. “Still, I’m a bit worried about what Sirius said.”

“What did he say?” She stopped leaning into him and pulled back to look into his eyes.

“He’s afraid… well, concerned, that they’ll try to manipulate Harry through a witch.” And if that hurt Harry, it would be, partially at least, Ron’s fault for being with Hermione.

“Do you think they’ll try love potions?”

“No. That would be easily detected, and can you imagine the reaction?” They’d have to form a line so everyone could get their curse in. Ginny would go ballistic as well, Ron knew.

“Well, he was famous before this. He’d have to deal with that anyway,” Hermione said. “I know that a number of witches would love to be the girlfriend of the Boy-Who-Lived.”

Among them Ginny, Ron knew, but didn’t say. His sister, going after his best friend… he sighed.

“Hm?” Hermione was resting her head against his chest again.

“Just thinking. And wondering why I’m so lucky to be your boyfriend.”

“Because you’re a great boy and a wonderful friend.”

He didn’t think so, but he would not argue. He just enjoyed the moment with her.

*****​

Walney Island, Cumbria, Britain, February 19th, 1997

Augustus Rookwood rolled his wand between his fingers while he stared at the wireless without seeing it. The mudbloods were holding a rally in Diagon Alley tomorrow to demand the Wizengamot be ‘democratically elected’. Whatever they meant by that.

But he knew what that rally was: an opportunity for him. The Resistance would be there, leading the rabble. If he could eliminate Granger, then the Resistance would likely collapse. The Ministry would have the upper hand, once the rioting was over. And the Wizengamot would be more likely to make a deal with him without the pressure from the mudbloods. He might not even have to procure a cure for the Withering Curse; the mere prospect of finding one might be enough.

But eliminating Granger would not be easy - and quite dangerous. And, as much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t certain that he could do it. Not without taking risks that were far too great. Something he was not fond of.

On the other hand, disrupting the rally would be easy - and safer. An Imperius on the right target, and a fragile vial of Exploding Fluid would turn the rally into a cull. He might not get Granger and the rest of the Resistance, but the mudblood rabble would yell for blood, and blame the Ministry. Which would keep them too busy to hunt him.

But the Unspeakables wouldn’t care, and would likely continue hunting him. And they were the real danger.

So, should he take a risk, or just take a bit of revenge on both the Ministry and the mudbloods?

*****​

 

Chapter 46: Vacillation

‘The acquittal of Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis and Theodore Nott remains a controversial event to this day. From a legal standpoint, the trial was conducted in complete accord with the laws then in force. Further, the Wizengamot’s judgment was by no means out of line with the results of the questioning. And yet, it is also one of the most obvious examples of the many faults of the judicial system of that time.
More important, though, was the effect the trial had on the population of Wizarding Britain, who did not, as a rule, much care about the trial’s legal details. They either believed that the accused had been exonerated under Veritaserum, or that the Wizengamot had bent the law to set Death Eaters free after they had admitted their crimes. The muggleborns and most of the half-bloods, as well as a significant proportion of the purebloods, adhered to the latter view. Since the war had, owing to the timely exodus of the muggleborn and the subsequent focus of the Dark Lord’s attacks on so-called ‘blood traitors’, struck the purebloods the hardest, that meant that the solid majority of the population of Wizarding Britain was now convinced that the Wizengamot was corrupt and only concerned with protecting the interests of the Old Families.’
- Excerpt from ‘The Second Blood War’ by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, February 19th, 1997

Amelia Bones was livid - a state which had become, unfortunately, all too common since she had taken the office of Minister for Magic. The focus and cause of her anger was also a bit too common these days, namely Sirius Black. To tell the Wizengamot to grant a seat and an Order of Merlin to a pardoned criminal like Granger! And to one of the sons of Arthur - the wizard who was steadily trying to undermine her authority within the Ministry! The nerve of the man!

She wasn’t the only one his comments - he hadn’t made a formal proposal, of course, just delayed Milbrand’s proposal until the session had ended without a vote being called - had angered, though she hadn’t expected acting Chief Warlock Runcorn and Augustus Malfoy to request a private meeting with her this late - it was past eight already - over this. The two had arrived on schedule, though, and taken their seats in her office.

“You need to do something about Black! He’s sabotaging our efforts to rebuild Britain!” Runcorn said. The old wizard was trembling so much, Amelia was almost afraid he’d collapse on her carpet.

Augustus Malfoy nodded. “He is disrupting our sessions and his fear-mongering is unsettling some of our more inexperienced members.”

By which he meant those members of the Wizengamot who were not part of either the ‘blood traitors’ or the ‘blood purists’, as they called each other, Amelia knew. The numbers of those ‘fence-sitters’ had grown a bit during the war, some of the heirs of members killed by either faction being less focused on vengeance, and more concerned with their own survival.

“And Doge! He’s trying to get elected as Chief Warlock!” Runcorn shook his head almost violently.

Judging by the glance Malfoy sent to Runcorn, the younger wizard was put off by this outburst.

Amelia narrowed her eyes. “So far I haven’t heard of anything either of the two have done that would break the law.” She wasn’t about to police the Wizengamot’s politics.

“They are both members of a vigilante group,” Malfoy said. “I’m certain that they both committed heinous crimes during the war, given who they associate with.”

“They were pardoned for that,” Amelia said.

“That was granted under duress, during the panic following Dumbledore’s death - who was a member of that group himself. I do not think that such an act is legally binding,” Malfoy said.

Runcorn nodded. “Otherwise we’d have to enforce agreements made while under the Imperius.”

“In my opinion, annulling such a pardon would need an act of the Wizengamot,” Pius said.

Amelia glanced at him. He was wearing his polite smile again, but she knew he was not quite as calm as he appeared. He had to know as well as she did that annulling the pardon would push the muggleborns to war. She nodded. “I agree with the opinion of the Head of the DMLE.”

“You granted the pardon, therefore you can annul it as well,” Malfoy said.

“No. The law says otherwise.”

“That is a matter of debate. If you were under the Imperius such a pardon would not be legal.”

“I wasn’t.” Amelia sat a bit straighter. What were they insinuating?

“Are you certain?” Malfoy leaned forward, his hands on his knees. “Can you explain why else you would agree to such a travesty of justice?”

“Because the Ministry couldn’t afford to break the alliance Dumbledore and Fudge had made with the muggleborns.” Amelia remembered that meeting very well.

“They exploited the Ministry’s weak position as soon as it was possible. That’s a sign that they did not enter the alliance in good faith in the first place,” Malfoy said, a hint of a sneer on his face.

Runcorn nodded. “Exactly. They broke the alliance by renegotiating the conditions.”

“While we were not in an advantageous position during the negotiations, they did deliver, so to speak - they killed the Dark Lord a few days afterwards, at the first opportunity.” Pius sounded as if he was talking about the weather.

“I decided to grant the pardon, and I won’t withdraw it. Should any of the pardoned, no matter their blood status, commit a crime now, I’ll do my utmost to bring them to justice,” Amelia said. She didn’t like it - they were correct that Black and the muggleborns had forced her to grant them a pardon - but the law was the law; a pardon once granted couldn’t easily be annulled.

“Well, you need to investigate to determine if a crime was committed, don’t you?” Malfoy said with a thin smile.

“To start an investigation the DMLE needs sufficient reason,” Amelia said, staring at the man. She ignored the glance from Pius. She was not about to let the DMLE become the tool of politicians wanting to deal with a rival. “Political differences are not a sufficient reason.”

“We know you’re not any more content with the way the muggleborns act above their station than we are,” Malfoy said, glaring at her. “They are trying to take over Britain at wand point, and Black and Doge are their willing tools in the Wizengamot. Something needs to be done, or they might scare the more weak-willed members into surrendering - something the Dark Lord tried as well, as you know!”

“So far they haven’t attacked the Ministry,” Amelia answered.

“But they are attacking purebloods in the streets! Forcing them out of their homes!” Runcorn gasped. “Imagine that!”

Amelia had heard about that. Pius spoke before she could answer, though. “We’re investigating those complaints.”

“Investigating? What’s there to investigate?” Runcorn was panting. “They are robbing good pureblood families of their homes and shops!”

“The circumstances that led to those pureblood families taking up residences there are currently under review,” Pius said. “Allegations that the properties were unlawfully acquired during the war were made.”

“What? Rubbish!” Runcon scoffed.

“I fail to see how a sale made under duress would be in any way different from a pardon granted under such circumstances,” Malfoy said with a sly smile.

He almost sounded like Lucius, Amelia thought. He had a point - though less of one than he thought. “That’s what we are investigating,” she said.

Pius nodded. “There are several things to consider - not the least of them the fact that the Wizengamot didn’t just repeal the Muggleborn Laws, but also passed a bill to compensate those who were hurt due to those laws.”

Dumbledore had snuck that in, Amelia knew. Probably planned for this situation. “As you can see, the Ministry is investigating.” She didn’t smile - she knew as well as they did that the muggleborns would never accept any outcome of this investigation that did not favour them.

“I see.” Malfoy’s smile had grown quite thin. Almost like Pius’s.

“What?” Runcorn was shaking his head. “You’re leaving purebloods to be attacked by mudbloods?”

“If they own the properties, then this is not an attack, but an act of self-defense, as stated in a ruling of the Wizengamot in 1824, when Dalia Shafiq attacked a group of wizards who had taken over one of her hunting lodges and were unwilling to leave,” Pius said.

“That was different!” Runcorn yelled. “It was her lodge, and they were thieves!”

Malfoy put his hand on the old wizard’s arm. “I see that we do not agree on how to react to such events. Maybe we all should sleep on this, and consider our stances?”

Amelia nodded. Runcorn grumbled, but Malfoy pushed him out of her office.

Once the door closed behind the two, she sighed. “I can’t help but blame Cornelius for this.”

“He was known to be rather accommodating to the requests of the Wizengamot,” Pius said.

“That’s putting it very mildly,” Amelia said, then snorted. “But I’m not him; the times of bending the law for the Wizengamot are over. They can change the laws, if they feel it’s needed.”

“I assume that, in the current situation, the Wizengamot would find it rather difficult to pass those particular changes,” he said.

Amelia shrugged. “As long as they are sticking to politics it’s none of our business.”

“And if they are looking for more direct solutions to their problem?”

She glared at him. “If they resort to committing crimes we’ll deal with them.” If they could - the Blacks had a reputation, and while Black abhorred his family’s views, Amelia didn’t doubt for a second that he was willing to use whatever secrets and items and spells they had gathered over the centuries to deal with a threat to himself.

“An attack on Black might cause the Resistance to get involved as well.”

She briefly closed her eyes. “Yes. We’ll deal with that if it happens.”

“Very well.”

“What are your dispositions for that muggleborn rally tomorrow?” Amelia hadn’t liked it when Cornelius had tried to meddle in her business when she had been the Head of the DMLE, but this was too important.

“With the numbers of qualified Aurors at my disposal, I can’t do more than send four of them to observe,” Pius said.

Amelia nodded - ‘qualified’ didn’t mean as much as it had once meant either. Moody had called it ‘able to cast a curse without hitting themselves’, in his last report before his death. “Keep an eye out for malcontents trying to disrupt the rally.” The last thing Britain needed was a clash between purebloods and muggleborns during such a public occasion.

Pius nodded at her, then left.

Amelia rubbed her temples once he was gone. Why couldn’t everyone simply follow the law?

*****​

Kent, Greengrass Manor, February 19th, 1997

Daphne Greengrass stared at the leaflet her uncle had brought with him. She had known that the mudbloods wouldn’t be pleased about her acquittal, but this?

She dropped the sheet of paper on the low table and looked at her uncle, who was sitting on the armchair across from her. “What’s the Ministry doing about this?”

Astoria, who had tried to read over her shoulder, snatched it up. She barely glanced at it before gasping.

“Nothing.” Uncle Eric shook his head.

“What? They’re all but calling for my murder! Our murders!” She stood up, taking deep breaths.

“Technically, they’re just criticising the trial’s verdict,” he said. “They’re smart. They want to use your acquittal to pressure the Wizengamot into granting them political concessions. Given the speed with which those things appeared, I’ve no doubt that they expected the verdict and prepared in advance.”

“But…” She sank back on to the couch, shaking her head slowly, barely noticing Astoria gripping her hand. She briefly closed her eyes, forcing herself to calm down. She was the head of the Greengrass family. She had to keep her composure, for her and Astoria’s sake. “Will they succeed?”

“As expected, Black supports them,” her uncle said. She hadn’t missed his slight wince, though.

“And how much support does he have?”

He sighed. “Some of the … more impressionable members of the Wizengamot are faltering, and talking about making concessions to the rabble.”

Daphne pressed her lips together. “What concessions?”

“There was a proposal today to grant Potter both an Order of Merlin, First Class, and a seat on the Wizengamot.”

She nodded. That was to be expected - the vanquisher of Voldemort could hardly be rewarded with anything less.

“Appointed for his lifetime, of course. He is a half-blood, after all,” he went on.

“Yes.” Everyone knew that. “One seat won’t make much of a difference.” Potter wasn’t Dumbledore. He was the same age as herself, and apart from Black, he lacked any blood ties to the Old Families. And, she thought, he wasn’t even nearly as powerful as Dumbledore.

“Black said that Weasley and Granger should receive the same honours.” Her uncle’s wince was more pronounced this time, but that could be a reaction to Astoria’s shrill “What?”

“Three seats…” It still wouldn’t make that much of a difference, but the Weasleys were a pureblood family - technically, as the twins had emphasised - and both Weasley’s father and brother were in the Ministry.

“Of course, the mere suggestion of Granger in the Wizengamot spelled the end of that proposal,” he said, “but I fear that some of your esteemed colleagues might believe granting Granger such a reward would defuse the situation with the mudbloods.”

Daphne snorted. That witch wouldn’t understand what an honour such an offer would be. She was far too radical even for a mudblood. Although, Daphne amended mentally, if those leaflets were any indication, then the mudbloods might have grown far more radical than she had previously thought. Or feared.

“You do not think that she would accept such a compromise?”

Daphne shook her head. “I don’t know.” She didn’t know how much Granger had changed in the war. Or Potter.

Looking at the leaflet, and at Astoria, who was now crying, she realised that there was a lot she didn’t know any more.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, February 20th, 1997

Hermione Granger felt as tense as before a battle, watching the crowd starting to gather. She wasn’t too nervous about the speech she would make, though, despite the potential danger of the crowd getting out of control - she worried about the rally’s security.

They had chosen to temporarily erect a hall near the remains of the twins’ shop, close to the location where Voldemort had been killed. Thanks to Sirius’s help, they had a Thief’s Downfall installed at the entrance, which would take care of imperiused attendants, but the spells on the conjured walls were far weaker than she was comfortable with, and they would not hold up to a dedicated assault for long.

Even with Seamus and Tania up in the sky, providing cover and surveillance, and Louise and Justin manning the checkpoint, and the fact that most Death Eaters were accounted for, she didn’t feel very safe.

Most didn’t mean all. Remus hadn’t found Pettigrew, and no one had any idea of Rookwood’s whereabouts. He could have fled Britain, of course - indeed, Pettigrew had, last they knew - but she couldn’t afford to assume so. And even if neither was around, there were bound to be some sympathisers left. Or some of the purebloods forced out of the buildings the returning muggleborns took back. Although she doubted that an attack by those would amount to much.

She worried anyway. There was always the question of whether or not the Ministry, or elements of it, would try something. The Resistance had also taken other precautions, of course. Everyone was maintaining a Shield Charm. Transparent walls - she needed to procure some armored glass to study, so she could conjure a better variant - protected the stage on which she would be making her speech against curses cast from the audience. They had emergency exits prepared, and they were ready to conjure walls to contain Fiendfyre, for a time at least.

Still, she couldn’t help feeling that it wasn’t enough. Not if something happened.

She watched another group of muggleborns enter, drying themselves off after passing through the Thief’s Downfall. The idle thought that they hadn’t yet adapted the twins’ self-drying formula to the original crossed her mind, and she forced herself to focus on the matter at hand.

The makeshift hall was rapidly filling, faster than expected. She either had miscalculated the number of returning muggleborns, or their timing.

“This is a good turnout!”

She turned around and saw that John had stepped on to the stage without her noticing - sloppy of her. She smiled, though a bit weakly. “Yes. We should be able to gain enough support for the next steps.” If the muggleborns attending wanted to join a group mostly made up of teenagers and led by a teenager, she added to herself.

John didn’t show any such doubts. “Oh, of course we will! We’ve beaten the Dark Lord, and we’ve made the Ministry change course. Who else has done even nearly as much?”

“Dumbledore,” she said.

“Well… he’s dead, and he’s known to have been with us.” John grinned. “Don’t worry - they love us. And you especially.”

“Some of them might also have been hurt by our attacks,” Hermione said. “Knockturn Alley, for example.” That mistake still made her feel ashamed. To have missed that the explosion would throw up so much dust mixed with potions ingredients...

“I doubt that.” He shrugged. “That place has been neglected and the inhabitants harassed by the Ministry’s Aurors for decades. Compared to that, what we did didn’t really register much.” He grinned widely. “The e-mails we receive certainly don’t mention it.”

Hermione doubted that anyone who was living in Knockturn Alley would even know what e-mail was, muggleborn or not. “Those who lost their lives or limbs would probably disagree,” she remarked.

Once again he shrugged. “Those are just a handful, at most. I don’t think many would support them even if they tried to raise a stink. Such things happen in war.”

That Hermione knew very well, though she still felt bad about her mistake. Nevertheless, she nodded - they had important tasks to do. “Alright.” She checked her watch. It would soon be time to start.

Then she heard shots being fired outside - a light machine gun and a rifle, both firing long bursts. Seamus and Tania, she thought.

Hermione was just turning to face the entrance, her wand in hand, when an explosion shook the hall, blowing one of the big doors open. The crowd started screaming - panicking, she realised. Wands were raised and waved around, and some were rushing to the exits on the sides of the halls. Others pressed against the transparent walls surrounding the stage.

She tapped her radio button, cupping her hand over her ear to be able to hear a transmission over the noise. “What’s going on?”

“Suspicious couple approached, and when stopped, threw a vial at us. They’re down, but Louise has been hurt,” Justin said over the radio. “As have others. About a dozen.”

“I don’t see anyone else approaching - the purebloods watching us have fled,” Seamus chimed in.

Sally-Anne, who had been at the back of the hall, was already rushing outside. For a moment, Hermione was paralysed - should she end the jinxes preventing magical transportation, and send the crowd home? Send them out, possibly into an ambush? The first attendees were already opening the emergency exits.

She clenched her teeth and cast an Amplifying Charm. “Stay calm! Someone has attacked the checkpoint outside and there are several wounded. Don’t panic - we have the matter in hand. Calmly leave the hall, and apparate home.”

People kept leaving, though not particularly calmly. Not all of them, though. One wizard waved his wand wildly and shouted: “Where are the bastards? Let’s kill them!” Others agreed, equally loudly.

The situation was rapidly getting out of control. She had to do something! Hermione pointed at the first wizard. “You! Go to that emergency exit! Once all who want to have left, close the door and watch it!” Stepping down from the stage at the side, where the walls had an opening, she pointed at two more. “You and you - help him!” She turned towards John. “Grab half a dozen and secure the other exits!”

“You!” She addressed the rest. “Follow me! People need help outside!” Belatedly, she realised that she should have asked for those with Healer or medical training first. But as the Major had told her - in such a situation, it was more important to give some orders at once, to regain control, than to worry about the best orders.

She reached the entrance, a flick of her wand pushing the half-open door out of the way, then winced at the sight. Behind her, others made gagging noises.

There was no crater in the street, so the explosion hadn’t been that powerful. But about a dozen were strewn around, most of them bleeding and choking. Justin looked a bit banged up. And there were two bodies riddled with bullets, on the ground in a pool of blood.

Sally-Anne was bent over Louise, frantically weaving her wand around, then stuffed a bezoar into the former Hit-Witch’s mouth. “I’ve stilled the bleeding, but there was some poison too… and I don’t have enough bezoars for everyone!” the witch yelled.

Hermione cursed under her breath before turning to the wizards and witches behind her. “Everyone, grab one of the wounded and apparate with them to St Mungo’s!”

Two moved forward, each grabbing one of the screaming wounded. The others, though, hesitated.

“Move!” she yelled at them. Another witch obeyed, but one was shaking his head. “I never really got the hang of Side-Along-Apparition!”

He wasn’t the only one, judging by the expressions of the others near him. Hermione refrained from following the Sergeant’s example and cursing them out. Instead, she ordered in a clipped tone: “You! Go inside and ask for anyone able to provide first aid or side-along-apparate someone to St Mungo’s to rush to us here! Go!” With any luck, those who had evacuated wounded would return. She shook her head and pointed at a witch. “You! Head to the next shop and use the Floo Network to go to St Mungo’s. Tell them to send more help here!” She dug into her pocket to pull out her own spare bezoars, handing them to Sally-Anne.

“Aurors coming!” Seamus interrupted her through the radio. “From the northern part.”

Hermione’s first impulse was to take cover and prepare an ambush. She managed to restrain herself, though, and strode towards them.

“Hermione?” Tania said over the radio, just when Hermione spotted the red robes.

She pushed the button on her radio so the rest would hear and spoke before the apparent leader of the Aurors could say anything: “Someone attacked the rally. There are wounded and poisoned there. Give the poisoned your bezoars, and use Side-Along-Apparition to get them to St Mungo’s!” The Auror blinked at her, mouth half-open. Hermione didn’t give her any time to think. “What are you waiting for? There are wounded in need of help! Move!”

To Hermione’s relief, the Aurors - none of them looked much older than herself - didn’t question her and started to run forward. She heard Seamus chuckle over the radio. “First time the idiots are doing something helpful.”

She frowned, not that he could see it. “Keep an eye out for more suspicious people. We need to clear the perimeter.” Unless this was just an ill-planned or spontaneous attack, there would be another.

*****​

Hogwarts, February 20th, 1997

“While we were peacefully assembling to make ourselves heard, they tried to silence us with violence. They failed! We will not be silenced! We will not accept being ruled by an aristocracy based upon the very ideas the Dark Lord embraced! We fought for our lives, we fought for our freedom, and if needed, we will fight for our rights! Democracy now! Blood doesn’t matter!”

Harry Potter closed his eyes, sighing, while on the wireless, Hermione’s speech was followed by music. The news had spread quickly, over the wireless, and then through word of mouth, but not many knew just how close they had come to a riot in Diagon Alley. Hermione had filled him in through their mirror. If the Aurors had shown more backbone, if more muggleborns had wanted to fight, if Hermione hadn’t been listened to, or if there had been another attack…

“Merlin’s beard! We need to do something about the remaining Death Eaters!” Ginny, sitting in the seat next to him, said. “Not even the death of the Dark Lord stopped them - they’re still trying to kill everyone who opposes them!”

Harry started to shrug, then stopped. “We can’t do much about them. Those still alive are in hiding.”

“All of those on the Resistance’s list?” Ginny frowned. “Some of them are in the Wizengamot, like Runcorn.”

“That list included sympathisers too, not just Death Eaters.”

“Same thing,” Ginny said, scoffing.

“All of them will pay,” Neville added in a voice so low, even with the privacy spell active, Harry almost missed it.

“I think it’s more important to reform the Wizengamot,” Harry said. He wasn’t quite certain how he felt about Neville’s attitude, lately. He preferred it to Neville’s view of Hermione at the start of the war, but this felt like what what Dumbledore’s last message had been talking about to Harry and his friends.

“Well, I can’t do anything about that,” Ginny said.

“I told my proxy that he’s to support your godfather,” Neville said.

“Dad and Percy are doing their part in the Ministry,” Ginny added, glancing first at Neville, then at Harry.

“We use the Easter break,” Neville said. “We’ll be ready then. And the Death Eaters might have grown complacent.”

Harry thought that the Resistance would probably do something before that, if these attacks continued, which would drive most of the listed blood purists into hiding again, but simply nodded. Maybe the whole affair would be over by then, he thought, though he knew that was unlikely.

“Will you be getting your own seat in the Wizengamot?” Ginny asked after a brief lull in their talk.

Harry took a deep breath. “I don’t actually know. Sirius said that his remarks prevented a vote, and pretty much sent the whole proposal back to the drawing board.”

“The what?” Neville asked.

“He means that those who proposed it have to redo it,” Ginny said.

Harry nodded. “Sirius’s demand that Ron and Hermione be honoured too wasn’t received well. They might decide that they’d rather not grant me anything if it means the others get it as well.” It would be quite typical, he thought.

“Yes. That’s a common tactic in the Wizengamot,” Neville said. “If a proposal is popular, people try to add things that are not quite as popular to it - either to push them through as well, or to stop the proposal.”

Harry shrugged. “Well, it doesn’t matter much. The Wizengamot will be democratically elected soon anyway.” Or there would be war.

“Will you run for a seat then?” Ginny asked.

“Probably,” Harry said. He thought the idea of being a member of parliament while he was still at Hogwarts was weird, but given his popularity, he could do a lot of good there.

And he didn’t trust many others. Not any more.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, February 20th, 1997

Sirius Black looked up from his book on dark curses when the fireplace in his home flared up. A moment later, Nymphadora stepped out of it, stumbling, but managing to catch herself before she fell. Sirius shook his head - the girl was still too clumsy.

She blinked, then stared at him. “Have you been waiting in the entrance hall for me?” she asked.

“The kitchen is occupied by Molly,” he said. The older witch was baking, mainly to keep herself busy, in his opinion - the news of the attack on the muggleborn rally had shaken her. She feared another war was about to start. “Let’s head to the living room. We need to talk.”

The metamorphmagus sighed. “I would have found you anyway - I have a message for you. Send for some food, though - I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

Sirius ordered Kreacher to fetch some leftovers from dinner - Molly had been cooking, and she always made too much - while the two entered the living room. No one else was there - Remus hadn’t returned yet, Arthur was still at the Ministry, Nymphadora’s parents had retired for the night already, and Ron was using the communication mirror to talk to Hermione in his room. “What kind of message?” he asked, taking a seat.

“Thicknesse took me aside, told me to tell you that Malfoy and Runcorn wanted to annul your pardon. Bones refused, apparently.”

“That sounds like Amelia.” Sirius shook his head. “I don’t suppose she knows that he told you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Hm.” Amelia was unlikely to be playing such games. The witch had been a good Department Head, but Sirius didn’t think she was a good Minister. Far too strict and inflexible. “It looks like he’s hedging his bets.” Amelia wouldn’t like that.

“I wouldn’t know. Bones was unhappy about the fact that Hermione ordered an Auror patrol around. And that they listened to her.” She shrugged. “At least that’s what the rumours claim. Dawlish didn’t chew them out, though - he just told them not to take orders, but at the same time said they had reacted well to the situation.”

That sounded as if Dawlish was looking to reposition himself as well, Sirius thought. Unless it was a ploy. “What about the attack itself?”

She sighed. “The couple who attacked were killed, so we can’t interrogate them, but from what we know they had not been known as Death Eaters, or even blood purists. They hadn’t lost any family to the muggleborns either.”

“Imperiused?”

“It’s a possibility. We can’t tell for certain. But if they hadn’t been mind-controlled, wouldn’t they have waited to attack until they were inside the hall?” Nymphadora said.

“Not if they were spotted on the way,” Sirius said.

“How did they spot the couple anyway?”

He grinned. “They were dressed like purebloods trying to pass as muggles.” He had heard that from Hermione.

“Seriously?” Nymphadora stared at him again.

His grin widened, but before he could answer, she held up her hand. “No puns!”

He pouted. “It’s my house.”

“But it’s my sanity.”

“You’re not exactly a picture of mental health if a few puns endanger your sanity.” Good puns too!

“I’m half-Black, what do you expect?”

“Touché.” She had a point there - his family had a history of ‘eccentricities’. Like his late mother, and Bellatrix.

Kreacher arrived with the food. The little bugger was grumbling about having to serve a half-blood, or at least so Sirius assumed - the elf had quickly learned to keep his mutterings from being overheard.

“So,” he asked while she was starting to eat, “What’s the view in the Corps?”

He saw she frowned, briefly, before putting down her fork. “No one supports the attack. Everyone I have talked to knows that this could lead to another war.”

“And how many support the Wizengamot?”

She seemed to shrink a bit. “Bones is quite firmly stressing that we have a duty to the Ministry, and to Britain. The new Aurors seem to believe that too.”

“Would they fight for the Wizengamot?”

“No one wants a war!” She glanced at him, then stared at her food, stabbing it with her fork.

“But would they blame the Wizengamot or the muggleborns if a war happens?”

“Those with family ties to the Wizengamot would support it, but there’s not that many of them left. The others… hard to say. It’s not something we talk about.” She shook her head. “At least not many talk about that with me.”

That wasn’t a good sign. But maybe that would change, if Dawlish and Thicknesse were any indication. He nodded. “Try to talk to the ones who aren’t related to the Old Families. Well, not closely related.” A lot of purebloods and half-bloods were distant relatives of the Old Families. Relatives usually ignored, but in the current situation, even the biggest snobs would be trying to use that tie. Anything to remain in power.

Nymphadora tensed, then sighed. “I’ll try.”

He hid his smile. His cousin’s daughter was coming along, at last.

*****​

Kent, Greengrass Manor, February 20th, 1997

Daphne Greengrass stared at the wireless receiver. Someone had attacked the mudblood rally. She wasn’t certain if she should be happy, or terrified. That not everyone was rolling over in the face of their outrageous demands was a good thing, but if the war started again… she was certain that she and her family would be among the first targets.

“That should teach them that they can’t act so uppity!” Theo said, grinning widely. He either didn’t see, or ignored, the glance that earned him from Tracey.

“They died,” Daphne’s friend said. “Cut down by the mudbloods. And all they achieved was sending a few of them to St Mungo’s.”

“And they made the Resistance angry,” Daphne added.

Astoria, sitting next to her in their living room, lost her smile, and Daphne felt a pang of guilt. She suppressed it, though - her little sister needed to realise just how dangerous this could become. Before she did something foolish. Like Daphne.

Theo, though, scoffed. “There aren’t many of the Resistance left, and the rest of the mudbloods cowered in hiding until Potter killed the Dark Lord. Many of them will flee again after this.”

Daphne refrained from scowling at the boy. She didn’t particularly like him, and she wouldn’t have invited him, if not for the fact that the three of them hadn’t many friends or acquaintances left. At least none who wanted to associate with them right now. That didn’t mean that she wanted Astoria to listen to that sort of drivel. It sounded like what Draco had said. “They fled when the Ministry and the Dark Lord were after them. I don’t know if they will be that afraid of a few idiots with some explosive fluid.”

Theo’s grin widened. “They should be afraid. Now that they have crawled out of their holes, they are vulnerable to the same tactics they used against us.”

“What do you mean?” Tracey asked. Her friend had tensed up, Daphne noticed.

Theo glanced around, then bent forward, his elbows on his knees. “If the mudbloods can do it, we can do it better. Strike at exposed targets, then disappear. Sow terror until the mudbloods have been driven out of Britain again.”

“‘We’?” Tracey raised an eyebrow. “I’m not too keen on ending up dead like those two fools.”

Theo snorted. “We’ll be smarter. We’ll use mudbloods to attack.”

Daphne glanced at Astoria. Her sister was staring at Theo with rapt attention. Daphne frowned. “Have you forgotten what happened when we tried that with Draco?”

Theo glared at her for a moment, then started to smile again. “Draco was a fool. We’ll be more careful this time.”

“Really? So you know how we were found, and how to prevent that from happening again?” Tracey shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

Theo was frowning at her. “Someone must have slipped up. That won’t happen if we’re more careful. And we won’t even go near the mudbloods ourselves. We’ll send others.”

“Mudbloods?” Daphne asked.

“Or half-bloods, or blood traitors.” He shrugged. “Who cares about them?”

“The Ministry does,” Daphne said. At least they did now.

“They couldn’t find either the Dark Lord or the mudbloods; they are no threat.” Theo made a dismissive gesture with his left hand.

“I see that you have this all planned out perfectly,” Tracey said, sneering. “Like Draco.”

“And I see that you’ve become a coward who’d rather hide than fight for our rights!” Theo stood up, snarling.

“Theo! Tracey!” Daphne snapped.

The two turned towards her, and then sat down again. “Sorry,” Tracey mumbled. Theo simply nodded.

Daphne frowned. “Are you really willing to start a war? With the three of us?” She ignored Astoria’s “Four!”

“What choice do we have?” Theo said. “The Dark Lord is dead, the Ministry spent, and the mudbloods are trying to take over. Who else can stop them?”

“Do you really think you can stop them?” Tracey said. Daphne could almost see the scorn dripping from her words. “All you’ll do is make them hunt you down.”

“They’ll do that anyway,” Theo said. “Do you remember what happened after Grindelwald was defeated? What they did to his followers?”

Daphne had heard about that. France and the other countries had been quite thorough in their efforts to ensure that there wouldn’t be anyone left to continue in Grindelwald’s footsteps. Especially none of the mudbloods who had fought for him.

“Do you think the mudbloods have forgotten?” Theo scoffed again. “If we don’t stop them, they’ll kill us.”

Tracey sneered at him. “And you think you can stop them? Granger will kill you. Like she killed Draco. And the rest of our group.”

“The other countries won’t let the mudbloods take over Britain,” Theo said.

“They didn’t do anything about the Dark Lord, did they?” Tracey bared her teeth. “Do you honestly think they’ll dare go after Potter? The wizard who defeated the Dark Lord?”

“Potter’s no Dumbledore,” Theo shot back. “He’s just a boy.”

“The Boy-Who-Lived,” Daphne cut in. “The boy who survived the Killing Curse, won the Triwizard Tournament and was personally trained by Dumbledore to kill the Dark Lord - something Dumbledore himself couldn’t do.”

“That’s just propaganda!” Theo said, but his dismissive tone rang hollow in Daphne’s opinion.

“And he’s best friends with Granger, the purebloods’ bane,” Tracey added.

“That’s why other countries will support us. They don’t want another Grindelwald recruiting mudbloods to wage war against purebloods,” Theo said.

“As long as Granger’s not calling for mudbloods to rise up in Europe, the other countries will do nothing. The risks are too great.” Tracey sneered at him. “At most, they’ll send us some gold so we can fight and die for them.”

Theo flinched, and Daphne narrowed her eyes. “That’s it, right? Someone did talk to you!”

“Some people are concerned,” Theo said, glaring at her. “But they can’t intervene without causing an international incident. Not directly.”

She snorted. “How convenient.” Leaning forward, she met his eyes. “Did they ask you to ‘test’ Potter too?”

He flinched again. “Potter’s not our enemy, the mudbloods are.”

“They did,” Daphne said, looking at Tracey.

Her friend nodded, then turned to Theo. “You’re a fool.”

“At least I’m doing something, instead of waiting until they come to kill us all!” Theo stood up. “They’ll come for you, all of you!”

Astoria started to cry. Theo stared at her, then abruptly nodded. “I’ll take my leave. Think about this!”

He left while Daphne hugged her sister, trying to calm her down. Tracey busied herself by reading the latest Prophet until Astoria had stopped crying.

“What can we do? I don’t want to die!” Astoria said, sniffling.

Daphne caressed her head. “If things get worse we can move out of Britain.”

“And hope whatever country we’ll go to won’t send us back to appease Potter or the mudbloods after they take over Britain,” Tracey said.

Astoria started to sob again, and Daphne shot her friend a glare. Tracey flinched, and mouthed ‘sorry’. Daphne shook her head. They were all under a lot of stress, with the mudbloods crying for their blood, and the Ministry and Wizengamot wavering.

Unfortunately, Tracey was correct - if Potter and Granger took over, Daphne, her family and her friends would suffer.

And she couldn’t see a way out.

*****​

London, East End, February 20th, 1997

“How is Louise?” Hermione asked as soon as she saw Sally-Anne enter the living room in their safe house.

Her friend looked tired, and smiled rather weakly. “She should be fine in a few days - the poison has been neutralised, and her wounds treated.” After sitting down next to Justin, and leaning against her boyfriend, she added: “She would be fine tomorrow, if we had taken her to St Mungo’s.”

Hermione knew that as well - or had expected it. “The risk that there’s some Death Eater or sympathiser left among the Healers is too great.”

“We took the other victims there,” Sally-Anne said.

“We couldn’t treat them all, and they’re not members of the Resistance,” Hermione answered. “I don’t think a spy would risk their cover to attack a random muggleborn.” Or so she hoped - Death Eaters were not always logical. Or sane.

Sally-Anne nodded, though probably more because she was exhausted than because she agreed. “Did you find out who attacked us?”

“The Ministry identified the dead. Purebloods, though they were not known as blood purists,” Hermione said. “They could have been imperiused - they certainly didn’t act like experienced Death Eaters. And explosive fluid mixed with poison is not exactly something normal wizards and witches have on hand.”

Sally-Anne sighed. “How did Mary-Anne react when she heard?”

Hermione winced. “Not well.” She glanced at Justin, but he was studying the papers in front of him.

Sally-Anne looked at her. “What happened?”

“She hasn’t left her room since she heard about this,” Hermione admitted.

“And no one went after her?” Sally-Anne sounded exasperated.

Hermione flinched. “We were busy. We had to talk to the other muggleborns who helped, make certain there wouldn’t be a riot - the Aurors obviously couldn’t handle one - and prepare the wireless broadcast.” And talk to Ron and assure him that she was fine, she added to herself, feeling guilty about being so selfish.

Justin nodded, then winced under Sally-Anne’s glare. “I’ll go talk to her,” she announced and stood up.

Hermione didn’t stop her, and focused on her notes again while her friend left. She had a contract to prepare so they could recruit more people without putting themselves at risk.

“You can’t do everything, you know.”

She looked up. John, the only other member of the Resistance in the room, was smiling at her. She shrugged. “I know that.”

“But you still feel you should.”

“Yes.” She should have sent someone after Mary-Anne. And been prepared better for such an attack. And have organised the response better. It certainly hadn’t been thanks to her that no one had died today. No one but the two attackers, who were likely victims themselves. John shook his head, and she frowned at him. “We need to learn from our mistakes.”

“Of course. But we shouldn’t wallow in guilt.”

She wasn’t. A good officer was most critical with herself, the major had told her. “Did you set up a mailing list?” she asked, more to change the topic than because she needed to know.

“Yes. Though it will be of limited use, seeing as we’re about to recruit those on the list.”

“It’s not certain yet that we’ll recruit all of them. They might have stayed to fight, but that doesn’t mean they will make good recruits,” she said.

“If we don’t recruit them, will we keep them on the mailing list?”

“Probably not,” she admitted. Being refused entry to the Resistance could cause ill feeling - and potential spies or traitors.

“Did you manage to reach the Major and the Sergeant?”

“I did,” Justin said. “They should be back in Britain in a week.” Thanks to a generous offer of gold, Hermione knew.

“Should be fun, seeing others suffer,” John said, smirking.

She frowned. “We won’t haze them. And some of us will be joining them, to build trust and to help train them.”

He chuckled. “ Then I guess we’ll get to see how much of a difference our experience makes.” He continued with a more serious expression: “Though they’ll be wondering just where we acquired such experience. And where the others are.” Those who had died in the war.

Hermione nodded. “In a pinch we can wipe their memories.” It would be easier if she could read their minds, but she’d not be able to learn Legilimency in that time. She could ask Ron, of course, but…

“What about Ron and Harry?” John asked.

“What?” Had she spoken out loud?

“Are we going to recruit them as well?” John asked.

She bit her lower lip. Both of them would happily drop out of Hogwarts, if she asked, or offered - she knew that. But could she ask, knowing that?

“It would help with reaching out to the purebloods,” Justin said.

“Definitely,” John agreed.

“It might also damage Harry’s reputation,” Hermione pointed out. “They already claim that I control him with ‘my feminine wiles’,” she quoted the latest article.

Both boys snorted, and she frowned at them - she knew they didn’t mean it like that, and she knew she wasn’t ugly, but she certainly wasn’t a Veela, and she couldn’t help but have some doubts.

“They’ll try to wreck his reputation anyway, since he and Sirius support us,” Justin said.

“I know.” She sighed. “There’s something else, though. Chain of command.”

“Oh.” Justin rubbed his chin. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

John looked confused. “Huh?”

She sighed. “If they join the Resistance, then where would they fit in? Would they be like new recruits? I’d have to give them orders, too.” She wasn’t certain how that would work out, with either boy.

“I see,” John said.

“They don’t have to join us to train with us,” Justin said.

“If they don’t join, then how would it help us with the purebloods?” she asked.

“We’d still be working closely together,” John said.

“And it would help in a battle if we had trained together,” Justin pointed out.

Hermione wasn’t convinced that it would help against the Prophet’s lies, but if it came to a war, she’d prefer her best friend and her boyfriend to be as prepared as possible. Even if that meant neglecting their education for a bit. “I’ll have to sound out the others, though.”

“Seamus won’t mind,” John said. “Not after Diagon Alley.” She looked at him, and he nodded. “Trust me.”

She bit her lower lip, thinking, then sighed. “Alright. I’ll talk to them.”

She would make certain that they’d not slack off their schooling, though. They could study with her for their exams.

Just like they used to, she thought, smiling.

*****​

Dorset, Britain, February 20th, 1997

Augustus Rookwood flicked the wireless off when music followed the news. To think such noise was considered a hit these days!

He shook his head. His plan had worked, after a fashion. A dozen mudbloods in St Mungo’s, but the only fatalities had been his two tools, and there hadn’t been a riot, as he had hoped. Maybe he should have had more attackers, but two had already been pushing it with the Imperius. Or maybe he should have used a more effective poison. But if he had used some of his special stash, then Bones would have known that this had been a setup. Like this, she would at best have some suspicion - explosive fluid and Amazonian Flying Viper venom weren’t exactly rare among those who brewed their own potions.

No, it was better if the Ministry didn’t know he was behind this - it would make it easier to make a deal, later. He could claim he had been afraid of the Dark Lord, and not in his right state of mind after Azkaban. It would be enough to serve as an excuse to grant him a pardon, provided he could create a cure for the Withering Curse.

Which might be a bit more difficult than he had expected, lacking the Dark Lord’s information. He might have to travel abroad to acquire the right tomes. Not that he minded that very much - it would throw the Unspeakables off his trail as well.

*****​