Divided and Entwined (Harry Potter AU) (Complete)

Chapter 8: Outbreak

‘It is obvious that at the time it was proposed, the majority of the members of the Wizengamot realised just what the true purpose of the so-called ‘Muggleborn Infant Protection Bill’ was - those who voted for it on behalf of the Dark Lord, and those following Dumbledore’s lead. Significantly fewer would have been able to predict the consequences of passing that bill. The realisation that the Wizengamot was trying to take the weakest muggleborns, the children not yet old enough to attend Hogwarts, hostage, outraged and radicalised many who had been holding out hope for a reconciliation. It is quite clear that the mere act of passing that bill, even though Albus Dumbledore had already taken action to remove the children from the reach of the Ministry, caused the opposite effect of what many of its, in hindsight naive, supporters in the Ministry had hoped for. Instead of less violence it caused more. Worthy of special attention is that while many historians correctly assume that the events at Hogwarts that followed had been inevitable from the start, it is evident that the ‘Muggleborn Infant Protection Bill’ certainly hastened those events along by a great deal.’
- Excerpt from ‘The Second Blood War’ by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

Hogwarts, September 21st, 1996

Daphne Greengrass screamed when she felt the boards she was standing on tilting and almost lost her balance. She grabbed her sister and tried to drag her forward, to the lowest row of the stands, while behind and to their side more students screamed in terror as they started to slip and fall down. The entire row of seats Daphne had been on broke up as if a giant had snapped it - one part dropping down, the other snapping up. Next to her, Tracey cried out and Astoria shrieked, but all Daphne could think of was to reach that lowest row, two yards away, before everything broke down.

She reached it and grabbed the railing with one hand, just as the bottom started to break away. Tracey had disappeared, but she still held Astoria’s hand as they started to fall. For a moment, she managed to stop their descent, holding on to the railing and to her sister, then Astoria’s hand was ripped out of her grip, and Daphne could just scream in horror as her sister fell, landing on a crumpled row of seats.

“Astoria!”

Her sister didn’t answer. Daphne spotted more students nearby, some half-buried under the remains of the stands, many of them screaming for help. Pansy was screeching like a banshee, her leg impaled on a broken piece of wood, blood flowing between her hands.

“Astoria!”

Was that blood beneath her sister’s body? Daphne was trying to pull herself up, so she could use her wand, but she was too weak. She felt her grip weaken; she couldn’t hold on much longer, and her feet couldn’t find any purchase to climb down.

“Daphne!”

She looked up. Draco was flying towards her, his hand reaching for her. He grabbed her around the waist before she lost her grip, and then steered his broom down.

“Astoria! She fell!”

“Hold on!” Draco yelled, landing next to the mass of wood and canvas.

Daphne saw that the entire Quidditch team was above them. Urquhart yelled: “Malfoy! Fly to the castle and alert the teachers and Pomfrey! Go!”

Draco hesitated for a moment, then cursed and mounted his broom, racing towards the school. Daphne stumbled on, climbing through broken beams and poles, crawling over scattered seats and under ripped canvas, until she reached her sister. Astoria wasn’t moving. And there was blood dripping from the board she was lying on! But she was breathing! Daphne hugged her, crying, and simply held her.

Soon afterwards, help arrived. The teachers - and other students. She yelled: “Astoria here needs help! She’s bleeding!”, repeating herself until McGonagall, riding a broom, landed next to her.

With a flick of her wand, the old witch transfigured the broken stands around them into a bed for Astoria, then ran her wand over the Slytherin.

“Professor! She’s bleeding!” Daphne panted, tears running down her cheeks.

“Calm down, Miss Greengrass!” McGonagall said. “She’s not too badly hurt. I’ve stopped the bleeding, and Madam Pomfrey will fix her up as soon as she can.”

“As soon as she can?” Daphne was about to protest, then she remembered the other students. Tracey! She looked up, and gaped. All around her, people were moving wounded students on floating stretchers or beds. The remains of the stands had all but disappeared - vanished or transfigured, probably. She saw Pansy floating by, her leg immobilised. The witch was unconscious, probably stunned. Millicent, bleeding from a cut on her face, was carrying a crying fourth year.

Then she saw Tracey, unconscious as well, on a stretcher, next to a grim looking Professor Snape, stashing an empty vial on his robe.

“Tracey!” she yelled, torn between staying with her sister and checking up on her friend.

Snape turned around, saw her and came over to her. “She will live, Miss Greengrass. Take this!” He pushed a vial into her hand.

“I’m not hurt,” she protested. “They are!” Though her wrist was starting to hurt, now that she thought about it. She probably had it sprained.

“You’re under shock. Drink this!”

“Oh.” She blinked, uncorked the vial and drank its contents. She barely registered how the teacher conjured a stretcher for her while the potion took effect. Much calmer now, she sat down and watched as McGonagall levitated her sister and Tracey away, towards the Infirmary.

Under the influence of the Calming Draught, she didn’t react much when Draco started shouting.

“What are you doing here? Trying to finish off those who have survived your attack?”

He was shouting at an older Gryffindor, she realised. A prefect who had come with the teachers, together with other students. Draco had his wand out, too. Aimed at the other.

“Malfoy! Granville!” Snape shouted. “Stash your wands! If I see anyone casting at another student, they’ll wish they were dead!” He turned to the Gryffindor. “You can’t help here, take the rest of your house back to your dorm and stay there! Everyone! The situation is handled. Go back to your dorms, you can visit the wounded later!”

While her stretcher was floating towards the school, Daphne watched the Gryffindors walk back. And she wondered who among them had done this. Had hurt her sister and her best friend like this.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 21st, 1996

Albus Dumbledore watched as Pomona entered his office, the last of the Head of Houses to arrive. The Herbology teacher looked as grim as he felt. This incident - he hoped it was an accident, but knew that it didn’t really matter given the circumstances - was a catastrophe, and all teachers were aware of that.

“The students are confined to their dorms,” Minerva reported. “The staff is patrolling, to ensure that no one is sneaking out. I’ve impressed upon the prefects the importance to keep a headcount, and immediately alert us should anyone be missing.”

“Thank you, Minerva.” Albus sighed. He hoped it would be enough. “I’ve spoken with Poppy. Of the thirteen students who were injured, nine will be back in their dorm tomorrow. The rest will have to stay a few days longer, mostly for observation.”

“And who did this? Who tried to murder my students?” Severus asked in a clipped tone. The wizard was barely keeping control of his temper, Albus knew.

“Their injuries were hardly more serious than what happens in a normal Quidditch match, or so you claimed when Flint put one of my players in the infirmary,” Minerva snapped. “I hope you didn’t talk like that where your students could overhear you.”

“Of course I didn’t,” Severus snapped back. “But this wasn’t some contact sport. Someone sabotaged the stands!”

“It could have been an accident,” Filius said. “What did you find out, Albus, while we kept the students under control?”

The Headmaster sighed. “I’ve investigated the remains of the stands.” Those who hadn’t been vanished in the rush to save the wounded students. “I’ve found that the foundations of the support struts have rotted away.” He took a deep breath. “We checked the other stands. Those are in a much better condition.”

“Sabotage then,” Severus hissed. “This was planned.”

“If it was planned, then it was remarkably poorly done. The first Quidditch match is scheduled for November 2nd,” Albus said. “If the stands had collapsed then…”

Pomona gasped. “It would have been a catastrophe!”

“How was this done?” Filius asked.

“Wood-rotting potion,” Albus said.

“There is such a potion?”

“Not exactly. But a mistake while brewing the Cure for Boils can result in that,” the former Potions Master explained.

“And that’s something first years learn,” Minerva said. “It could have been anyone then.”

“It would take an effort to create such a potion, and there’s still the lack of opportunity . someone had to sneak there and apply it.” Severus shook his head.

“I’ll be looking further into this, rest assured,” Albus said. He had a suspect already, although mentioning this would not be opportune right now. “But for now we have to be even more vigilant, to prevent this incident from starting a war in Hogwarts.”

Albus knew he wasn’t talking figuratively, or using hyperbole. Things were much worse than he had feared but a few months ago.

But then, he had been thinking that exact thought each day ever since Cornelius had started his attempt to appease the Dark Lord.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 22nd, 1996

Albus Dumbledore smiled gently at the young wizard entering his office. “Please take a seat, Mister Banks.”

The Gryffindor 3rd year nodded, obviously nervous, and sat down on the edge of the chair in front of the Headmaster’s desk.

“Do you know why you have been called to my office?”

“N-No, sir.” The boy shook his head several times. “If it’s about the broken pot in Herbology… It wasn’t my fault.”

“It is not about that,” Albus said. “You are a good student. Best Gryffindor in your year in Potions for two years, and Professor Slughorn has said you might be the best student in your year.” Severus obviously hadn’t graded the boy fairly.

“T-thank you, sir.” The boy swallowed. Sweatdrops were already visible on his forehead.

Albus didn’t like what he was doing, but he had no choice. “Almost as good as Miss Granger was, I believe. Did she tutor you?” He slid his wand out of his sleeve, under his desk, and aimed it at the boy.

That made Banks flinch. “She did tutor all of us, in Potions, in our first year.”

“You gave us quite a scare, last week. Disappearing for an hour on your way back from Herbology.” Albus shook his head. “We feared the worst, but apparently you simply tried to find Bowtruckles at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.”

Banks looked down at his lap, where he was wringing his hands. “I’m sorry, sir. I know I shouldn’t have gone into the Forest.”

“You shouldn’t have. But you didn’t go into the forest, did you?”

The boy gasped, and looked at him with wide open eyes, shock written all over his face.

“Legilimens,” Albus whispered under his breath. He entered the boy’s mind without any problem. He didn’t like to violate a student’s privacy like that, but he had to know.

“Your kind killed my uncle,” whispered Selwyn while the two of them were fetching Doxy Wings from the ingredients cabinet. “I hope all you mudbloods die!” The Slytherin’s face showed his hatred.

“Remember: Don’t go anywhere alone. The Slytherins are just waiting to catch any of us,” Ron Weasley said. “Half of them are just waiting until they are old enough to join the Dark Lord.”

“Just wait until we have duels,” Rowle whispered when they entered the Defense classroom, “I’ll show you a real curse!”

“No, Hermione won’t be returning to Hogwarts. The Aurors tried to kill her, and she defended herself, so now she has to hide.” Harry Potter shook his head. “It’s a bloody shame.” He flinched, looking around, and then looked sad.

“I tripped right when I was on top of the stairs!” Anna said, crying and holding her shin. “Must have been a tripping hex,” Ginny Weasley said. “Were Slytherins nearby?”

“The Wizengamot wants to kidnap the muggleborn children and send them to prison!” Brown said. “They passed a bill!” “They’ll obliviate the parents, so they forget about having had a child,” Patil added.

“Bloody mudblood. We’ll get you one day!” Selwyn whispered.

Sally-Anne was shaking, trembling, crying without a sound. The other girls of her year were leading her upstairs. One of them, Brown, muttered ‘Umbridge’.

“Mudbloods should all be killed, before they murder more of us!” Runcorn said loudly to the other Slytherins while he walked past the Gryffindors on the way to the Greenhouses.

“Draco wanted all of us to die in our second year. When the Basilisk started hunting us, he was cheering,” Ron Weasley said. “And he’s grown worse since.”

“Bloody Goyle almost took my head off with his Beater bat last match we played them,” Bell said. “I’m not looking forward to playing them this year, they’re all blaming us for the Malfoy Manor attack.”

“We need to train and study Defense by ourselves. Snape will favor his own students, just like in Potions last year,” Harry Potter said.

He added the lacewings, then overheated the potion. This time, he got it right. The dark liquid didn’t look like a Cure for Boils at all. He dunked a wooden spoon into it, to test it. It didn’t take long for it to rot.

“You were busy pouring a wood-rotting potion you managed to brew on the Slytherin stands at the Quidditch pitch, weren’t you?” Albus said while he skimmed the boy’s memories.

Banks started to pant. Tears appeared in his eyes.

“There is no point in lying, Mister Banks. You had the means, and the opportunity. What remains is your motive. What were you hoping to achieve with your act of sabotage?” Albus asked, gently.

“I… I wanted to hurt the Slytherins!” The boy started to cry, but kept talking. ”They lorded it over us all last year, took every opportunity to hurt us! And this year, they were even worse. Always telling me to die, to leave, to get away! Always calling me a mudblood! And sneering at us! Everyone knows they want to kill us all!” He sobbed for a few moments. “And their Quidditch team is the worst! They use the game to attack our players, and they are all Death Eaters, like Malfoy!”

“Why did you not wait to use your potion until shortly before the first match?”

He blinked. “I… I just wanted to do something right now. I just wanted to strike back. We’ve had to take it and take it all the time, especially last year. I couldn’t take it anymore!”

He looked down at his lap again, and his shoulders shook as he cried.

Albus sighed. He had found the culprit. His suspicions had been correct. But now he had to decide what to do about it. If he informed the DMLE, the boy would be arrested and put on trial in front of the Wizengamot. They wouldn’t see a young boy, they’d see a muggleborn who had attacked purebloods. And in the current climate, he’d be either sent to Azkaban for years, or executed. Not for the first time, Albus wished Wizarding Britain had special provisions for underage criminals, like the muggles. But the closest they had were the rules for underage magic. And that was a special crime only children could commit.

The boy hadn’t wanted to kill the Slytherins. He had wanted to hurt them, but he certainly didn’t deserve death for this. No, he couldn’t deliver the child to the Ministry. Albus shook his head.

But he couldn’t cover up the crime either. It hadn’t been that hard to find Banks. Severus and Horace would be able to come to the same conclusion, once they remembered the missing Gryffindor from last week. And when the DMLE started investigating, they’d probably use Veritaserum on every muggleborn, glad for the occasion. Or, worse, on Harry and Ron Weasley. Amelia wasn’t a fool; she’d suspect those two to be in contact with Miss Granger.

For a brief, horrible moment he contemplated sacrificing the boy anyway. One life against many. One life against the lives of those crucial for Voldemort’s defeat. He was ashamed of himself for thinking that.

But he had to find a way to keep the DMLE from interrogating the other students. Amelia was no fool, she’d suspect… that might be the solution! He thought it through a bit longer, while Banks still cried, then nodded.

“Mister Banks.”

The boy looked up. “Y-Yes, sir?”

“Obliviate.”

*****​

“Mister Banks has been obliviated?”

“Yes, Minerva,” Albus said. “Quite clumsily, actually.” Or so it would seem to anyone checking the boy’s memories.

“The brat probably did it himself!” Severus said. “The same happened to that Ravenclaw they executed.”

“I assure you, this is quite different. Mister Coke’s Obliviation was the result of a sophisticated conditional curse. This here looks like the hasty work of a student. Coupled with the fact that as far as attacks go, this was rather ineffective, I think that the true culprit was a student who did not really wish to harm the Slytherins.”

“Wha… are you insinuating that this was done by one of my students?” Severus snarled.

Albus spread his hands. “Not necessarily. Although I cannot help noticing that you jumped to that conclusion right away, instead of assuming that this was the work of someone who wanted to harm your house, but did not wish to seriously hurt anyone.” He shook his head. “I’ll be taking Mister Banks to the DMLE, so they can check how much of his memories have been wiped.”

And so they could find the traces he had left, pointing to Slytherin. Once Severus found the cauldron the potion had been brewed in near the dungeons, clumsily cleaned by Banks himself, that should be enough to redirect the DMLE away from Gryffindor and Harry. And should they insist on questioning the muggleborns or Gryffindors anyway, he’d be able to insist on doing the same to the Slytherins. Which should lead to the investigation being buried instead.

It might even keep the Slytherins from lashing out in anger at the muggleborns and Gryffindors, if they started to suspect that this attack had been the work of one of their own.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 23rd, 1996

“They try to kill us, and the teachers protect them! Over a dozen of us almost died!”

Daphne Greengrass rubbed her wrist while she listened to Draco. It wasn’t supposed to hurt anymore, and it didn’t, not really. But sometimes she thought it did. The wizard was pacing in the middle of the Slytherin common room. She nodded. Astoria had just returned from the infirmary. She had woken up the day before, as had Tracey, but both had had to stay there a day longer, in case there were ‘complications’. Daphne had wanted to stay with Astoria, but Pomfrey had sent her away. Forced her to leave her little sister alone!

“The Headmaster said that the Gryffindor had been obliviated, and that it wasn’t a real attack,” Zabini said.

Daphne knew what the wizard was hinting at - rumours claimed that the real culprit behind the sabotage of the stands was a Slytherin wishing to frame the Gryffindors.

Draco knew it as well. “A baseless rumour meant to divide us. Are you actually believing such slander?”

Zabini shrugged. “As far as assassinations go, it was rather pathetic. Spectacular, yes, but not really that dangerous.”

Daphne hissed while Astoria whimpered. Tracey glared at the boy. “Not really that dangerous? Over a dozen of us were in the infirmary! I had to stay several days there! Pansy was bleeding like a stuck pig!”

“Hey!” Pansy huffed at that comparison.

“I’ve seen worse in Quidditch matches. Or training.” Zabini looked at Draco. “That doesn’t keep anyone down, unless they want to manipulate the cup.”

Draco sneered at the boy. “Are you accusing me of attacking our own house? Of hurting my fellow Slytherins? Harming the Greengrass sisters, who were at my side when my home was destroyed and our families slain?”

Zabini stood his ground. “I’m not accusing anyone. I’m just saying that for the mudbloods that killed so many purebloods, this was a rather tame attack.”

Daphne knew that Draco wasn’t behind this - he wasn’t a good enough actor to fool her. It wasn’t his style either. He’d have hexed one of his rivals, maybe Zabini, and framed the Gryffindors for it. She stood up. “Tame? Let me tell you, Zabini, it was anything but tame for those who were up on the stands when they collapsed! You’d not spew such drivel if you had been there, falling down on broken beams and struts!” She sat down again and hugged her sister.

Tracey snarled at Zabini. “I’d like to see you fall down a few yards, and break your legs or arms. Not your head, of course, that’s too thick to get damaged by such a fall!”

A few students laughed, though most were glaring at Zabini. The wizard frowned, but didn’t retort. Instead he turned around and went to his room.

Draco nodded at Daphne, smiling faintly, then addressed the room again. “We were lucky no one was hurt worse. Or killed. We won’t be lucky forever. We have to do something!”

“You said you had a plan!” Nott said. “Nothing came of it, did it?”

“Do you take me for a Gryffindor, to rush things without planning?” Draco scoffed. Daphne knew many thought exactly that of him, but he had changed after his parents’ death. “We’ve been training, and we’ve been preparing. But this incident has shown us that if we don’t do anything, they’ll attack us again.”

“But who’s ‘them’? Do you think a third year Gryffindor is responsible?” Tracey asked.

“The mudbloods. Who else would do this?” Draco spat. “They murdered our parents, and now they want to murder us!”

He looked around, at the gathered students.

“We won’t let them!”

*****​

Hogwarts, September 24th, 1996

Ron Weasley was in the common room, waiting for everyone to gather so they could head down to the Great Hall for lunch, when Lavender and Parvati entered, out of breath.

“There’s a big group of Slytherins in the Great Hall,” Lavender said, “making a ruckus! They are demanding to talk to the professors.”

“We saw them when we were returning from Divination,” Parvati added.

Ron nodded. “Good. Don’t let anyone leave, I’ll be right back!” He ran up the stairs to his room, taking two steps at a time. “Harry!”

His friend was on his bed, sorting his trunk’s contents. “What?”

“Check the map - the Slytherins are shouting for the professors in the Great Hall,” Ron said.

Harry pulled out the piece of parchment. “I solemnly swear I’m up to no good.”

Ron craned his neck as the map formed. Lots of names were in the Great Hall. “There’s Malfoy… Crabbe and Goyle… Parkinson, Davis, Zabini is back there…”

“There’s Greengrass, alone,” Harry said. “No, it’s her sister. Astoria.”

“Alone? She’s a fourth year... “ Ron blinked. Slytherins never left their dorm by themselves. “Where’s she going?”

Harry looked at the map. “She’s headed to the… side entrance.” He looked up. “Our third years are returning from Herbology.”

Ron looked at the list of names moving towards the castle. “If they hex her we’ll have trouble. The Slytherins are just waiting for that.”

“They won’t. They know how stupid that would be,” Harry said. “Look, Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall are in the Great Hall now. Talking to Malfoy it seems.”

“I wonder what this is about,” Ron said. “Should we head down? The teachers are there.” Which meant the Snakes wouldn’t try anything.

“I guess so,” Harry said. “We should…”

Ron heard a faint explosion. “What was that?”

“Merlin’s Arse! The third years!” Harry exclaimed, staring at the map.

Ron looked down. The Gryffindor third years who had been walking towards the castle, with the 5th year prefects escorting them, were now spread out, and only a few were moving. And Greengrass was running back towards the dungeons.

“Accio Firebolt!” Harry yelled, and his broom flew towards his outstretched hand.

Ron summoned his own broom, while Harry yelled down to the common room “Ginny! Inform the teachers! Something happened to our third years! Outside!”

Ron was already opening the window.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 24th, 1996

“It was Greengrass, sir. Astoria Greengrass,” Harry Potter said in the Headmaster’s office. “She was the only one on the map near them.”

Ron, standing next to him, nodded. “I saw it as well.”

Harry didn’t think either of them would forget the scene they had seen today anytime soon.

He had bent low on his broom as he had flown around the Ravenclaw tower and dived towards the Greenhouses. Almost there…

“Merlin!” He had gasped and slowed down when he had seen the small crater in the middle of the grass, and the students scattered around it. A number had been getting up. The two prefects had been moving already, Dunn kneeling down next to a still body on the ground, Layton running towards one screaming child near the crater.

“Damn!” Ron had caught up to him.

The two had exchanged a glance, then had descended rapidly. Harry had spotted Professor Sprout rushing out of her greenhouse, wand in hand.

“What happened?” the teacher had asked, panting.

“Someone banished a vial at us from the castle. I cast a Shield Charm and it exploded when it hit,” Dunn had said. He had looked bruised himself.

Harry and Ron had split up, checking on the third years. Harry had helped a dazed looking but not bleeding girl up. Next to her had been a boy, bleeding from his head, not moving. He had been breathing though.

“Those two need to be carried to the infirmary, at once!” Sprout had yelled, pointing at two bodies, two boys, next to her. Harry and Ron had jumped to it, levitating one each, and straddling their brooms. Then they had flown towards the castle, carefully staying low. Blood dripping from the boy floating next to Harry had left a trail of red spots on the stone floor inside the castle.

Harry shook his head, but the image of the trail of blood stayed with him.

Dumbledore sighed. “I see. I would ask if you are certain, or if the map was working correctly, but I know better.” He closed his eyes and Harry was struck by how tired and old the wizard suddenly looked.

“What did the Slytherins in the Great Hall do?” Ron asked.

“They demanded to be able to eat in their dorms, ‘separated from those dangerous muggleborns and those students who supported them’,” Dumbledore said. “Quite vocally, and maybe a bit too loudly and vehemently. A diversion, I believe.”

“Malfoy’s plan!” Ron spat. Harry agreed with him - that sounded like a plan Malfoy would try.

“Probably, yes,” Dumbledore said. “But it will be hard to prove it to the satisfaction of the DMLE. And nigh-impossible to get the Wizengamot to condemn him.”

“What about Greengrass?” Harry asked. She had been the one to actually hurt the students.

The Headmaster frowned. “While I am confident I could talk her into confessing, though I’d have to hint at an ability to track students, I do not think she would be punished either. An orphaned young pureblood witch lashing out at a student that had attacked and hurt her sister and herself?” He shook his head. “While I am loathe to see her avoid the consequences of her actions, I fear that having her accused and then acquitted, would have disastrous repercussions for Hogwarts.”

“The Slytherins would see it as permission to attack us,” Ron said.

His friend was correct, Harry knew. He ground his teeth. “And we would attack them.”

Dumbledore nodded. “The school would be turned into a battleground. We have been fortunate, very fortunate, so far that no one has died. But that will change should things escalate further.” He stared at Harry and Ron. “I implore you: Do not strike back. Do not let your friends and housemates strike back.”

Harry could understand that request, but at the same time, it galled him. “We can’t let them attack us with impunity. Malfoy won’t stop. If he gets away with this, he’ll do it again.”

“I will take steps to stop him and his friends. Trust me.”

“How? They managed this, despite your precautions!” Ron leaned forward, his hands digging in his thighs.

“It is better you do not know, Mister Weasley.” The Headmaster wryly smiled. “But consider this: The worse things grow, the harder it becomes to keep the DMLE from intervening. Imagine if they interrogated you with Veritaserum. Think of your family and friends.”

Harry felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. Hermione! “They would use this to make us betray her?”

“Blimey!” Ron said.

Dumbledore nodded. “Indeed. The DMLE almost certainly suspects that you have not abandoned your friend, though they lack the leverage and proof to move against you.”

“We can leave Hogwarts,” Harry said. They could hide. Join Hermione. Fight the Death Eaters.

“That is a last resort, Harry. Things are not yet so dire. I remain confident that I can prevent a catastrophe. At least at Hogwarts. But I need your help.”

Harry exchanged a look with Ron. His friend ground his teeth, but slowly nodded.

“Alright, Headmaster.”

It didn’t look like they had a choice. But they’d prepare to flee Hogwarts anyway. Just in case.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 24th, 1996

“What happened?”

Ron Weasley winced when the mass of Gryffindor students almost mobbed Harry and him right when they entered the dorms.

Harry shook his head and took a deep breath. “Someone attacked our third years. Threw something at them that exploded.”

“What?”

“Are they hurt?”

“Who did it?”

“Cursed Slytherins!”

Harry held up his hands. “Wait, wait! We took them to the infirmary. No one died. The teachers are investigating.”

Ron nodded. Though some had looked as if they were dead. Still, and silent. “Until they have found the culprit, we’ll have to stay in our dorms.”

“What? They’re locking us up?”

Ron didn’t catch who said this; too many echoed the sentiment. Harry shook his head. “They don’t want this to escalate.”

“It already escalated!” Neville said.

“They attacked us because Banks sabotaged the stands,” McLaggen cut in.

“Shut up, McLaggen!” Katie said. “Banks was obliviated by the real culprit. It was a Slytherin ploy so they could do this to us and claim innocence!”

McLaggen sneered at her. “Of course you’d say that!”

Harry stepped in. “Calm down, everyone! We need to focus on staying safe, not on blaming each other. Dumbledore has the situation in hand.”

“Doesn’t look like it to me,” McLaggen said, scoffing. “Almost thirty students in the infirmary within a few days? Dumbledore’s losing it.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Katie said. “You’d like the Dark Lord to take over, huh?”

“Do you want us to attack the Slytherins so the Ministry can sack Dumbledore?” Harry said. “Is that your plan?”

“What?” McLaggen stared at him as the rest of the students started whispering and muttering. “No!”

No one was listening to him though, and with a curse, he pushed his way through the throng of students and all but fled to his room. Ron watched him go while Harry once again told the students to stay in their dorms and not attack anyone.

A tug on his sleeve made him turn around. Ginny was there. “Do you think McLaggen is working for the Dark Lord?” she whispered.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. A bit far-fetched, I reckon, but it got the rest to stand down. We’ll have to watch him though.”

His little sister nodded. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the map. All students are inside their dorms. If they leave, we’ll know.”

“Good. We’ll need to have someone watch the map all the time. There’s more though.” He looked around. Harry still had the attention of most of their house, but Lavender was looking at Ron. “We’ll need to talk about that privately.”

*****​

An hour later, Ron, Harry and Ginny were sitting together in a corner. Things had finally calmed down to the point where there was no chance of the house storming out to attack the Slytherin dungeons, or to lynch suspected traitors in their midsts. Lavender was still watching them, or Ron - he couldn’t tell - but they had been given space enough to cast a privacy spell.

“So… what did you want to talk about?” Ginny asked, looking from Harry to him and back.

“We might have to flee Hogwarts, should the DMLE come down on Dumbledore,” Harry said.

“What?” Ginny gasped.

“They might use any pretext to interrogate us with Veritaserum. We can’t risk that,” Harry said.

“But…” Ginny trailed off and Ron knew she had understood they couldn’t risk anyone finding out about the meetings with Hermione. “Oh.”

He nodded at his sister. “We’ll need to be prepared to flee at a moment’s notice.”

“Does that include me?” Ginny said. She sounded almost afraid, but Ron couldn’t tell if she wanted to come with them, or wanted to stay. She was supposed to have gotten over her crush on Harry, hadn’t she?

“You don’t know what we know.” Ron shook his head. His sister wouldn’t come with them. Mum would flip, and she was too young for this. ”And someone needs to stay at Hogwarts. With the map.”

“I can’t do much by myself,” she countered.

“That’s why we need more people. People we can trust not to betray us,” Harry said. “But apart from Katie and you, we’re a bit stuck.”

“Last year, I’d have picked the Quidditch team,” Ron said, “but apart from us and Katie, all of them are new this year.” He looked at Ginny. “Do you trust your dorm mates?”

Ginny hesitated, and Ron winced. Then he glanced at Lavender again. The girl was chatting with Parvati now.

“I think it’s best to pick a few students we can trust not to betray our house, but don’t tell them about the rest,” Harry said.

Ron nodded. That sounded like a good idea. “The prefects. We need them anyway to protect the rest.” And to keep them from going out of control.

Harry and Ginny nodded. Ron’s sister then took a deep breath. “Do you really think you’ll have to flee?”

Harry sighed. Ron shrugged. “I hope we’ll not have to, but… things haven’t been going well for over a year now, have they?”

“Will you be joining…” She looked around.

“Don’t know,” Ron said. When she looked at him, flinching, he added. “I really don’t know.”

But if they did join Hermione, should they flee, he’d not tell her either. For her and their safety.

Harry stood up. “Let’s go and talk to Katie, and the prefects.”

*****​

Hogwarts, September 24th, 1996

“I’m telling you, next time I see the twins, I’ll give them a piece of my mind!” Katie said, shaking her head. “Claiming they were just that sneaky, while they had this to help them!” Most of the prefects agreed with her, chuckling. Jokes about not having to check all cupboards anymore had already made the round. Hopefully, they’d keep the map a secret, but even if they didn’t - keeping the school safe was more important than keeping the map secret.

Ron himself was headed to his room. With everyone confined to the dorms, and lessons suspended until further notice, there wasn’t much to do, no prefects patrols either, and he could use the opportunity to pack a bag, just in case he had to leave in a hurry.

He was halfway up the stairs when he heard someone running behind him. He whirled around, drawing his wand, and almost cursed a gasping Lavender.

He lowered his wand. “Why’d you run up the stairs?” To the boys’ rooms, even.

She was slightly out of breath. “I need to talk to you. Privately.”

Ron hesitated for a moment, wondering why she hadn’t asked him in the common room, then nodded. “Alright. We can use the third years’ room.”

The room was messy, and empty - all of the occupants were in the infirmary still. He closed the door and cast a privacy spell, then turned back to the witch, who was standing in the middle of the room, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and back.

“Why did you tell us of this map?” she suddenly asked.

He was briefly confused. “The twins kept it a secret so they could pull of their pranks more easily. We kind of kept it a secret after they handed it to Harry. You know the things that happened at Hogwarts to him.” And to Ron, and Hermione.

“I know that. But I’m asking why you told us the secret now.” Lavender stared at him. “You could have kept it a secret among you, Harry, and Ginny. Maybe Katie too.”

She was right, of course. He shrugged. “It’s better if more people can keep watch. We’re all in this together.”

“Do you trust us that much then?”

“We’d not have shown you the map otherwise.” Ron told himself he wasn’t lying. If they truly didn’t trust the prefects, they would have looked for others to help out.

Lavender smiled faintly. “You know, I had a crush on you last year.”

Ron nodded. Even he had noticed that.

“You turned me down though.”

He hadn’t turned her down, technically. Not out loud. Just… ignored her hints. He still nodded in agreement.

“Because you had a crush on Hermione.” She was looking straight into his eyes.

Ron could claim that just because he hadn’t wanted to start something with her didn’t mean he had a crush on someone else. But she was right. He had a crush on his best female friend. “Yes.”

“Did she turn you down?”

He winced. He hadn’t told her. Hadn’t realised, really, until she had gone home, had to go into hiding.

Lavender must have misread his expression since she smiled and moved closer to him. “Well, I still have a crush on you.” She reached out with her hand to his chest.

Ron shook his head. “I never told her.”

The witch stopped, her arm dropping. Then she straightened. “Are you still carrying a torch for her? She’s gone.” She didn’t add ‘And I’m still here’, but her stance and expression said enough.

Ron sighed. He couldn’t tell her that he saw her each day in the enchanted mirror. “I’m still… you know. Sorry.”

Lavender pouted, then slowly nodded. “Alright. But if you ever get over her…” she nodded again, turned around and left.

Ron wasn’t certain if she had had tears in her eyes or if that had been a trick of the light. He felt bad anyway.

*****​

Cumbria, Britain, September 25th, 1996

Hermione Granger struggled and sweated despite the cool weather. Running through the forest, loaded down with her rifle and an RPG-7 weighing fifteen pounds by itself was exhausting. Though after almost four weeks of intensive training, she was in the best shape of her life. Which, sadly, didn’t mean that much given that she had never been that interested in sports.

“Come on, Missy! There’s an APC barrelling down this road, and if you can’t set up an ambush in time, all your friends will be killed!” the Sergeant shouted at her.

Snarling, she sped up, jumping over a root and almost losing her footing when the ground was softer than she had expected. She ran on though, pushing herself until she felt like puking when she dropped in the ditch near the old logging road that cut through the forest, but she managed to prepare the RPG-7 for firing.

“There’s the target! Fire!”

She got on her knees, the launcher on her shoulder, sighted down the road, and sent the training grenade flying at the canvas target raised there. As she had been told to, she didn’t stay and watch if she hit, but dropped into the ditch and started to crawl away as fast as possible.

“That’s a hit. Barely, but you did hit it.” The Sergeant’s tone carried some grudging respect, or so Hermione liked to think while she lay there, panting, on the ground, once again covered with mud.

“Alright. Head back to the camp before you die here, and send the next one up.”

“Yes, Sarge!” she said, a far cry from her usual yell, and shambled off.

She felt better when she reached the camp and handed the RPG-7 to Seamus. “Here! Your turn to blow a vehicle up.”

Seamus grinned. “It’s not fun unless it’s a real explosion.”

She waved him off and walked to the ‘fridge’ with the drinks, grabbing two sodas and a sandwich, then fell more than sat down next to the camp fire, though still ensuring that her rifle wasn’t stuck in the ground. Such habits all of them had picked up quickly.

“You look like you could use a break for a week.”

Hermione looked up from her meal at Allan. After swallowing the bite in her mouth, she answered: “I’m OK. How are you doing?”

He shrugged. “So far ‘sniper training’ is just long-range target shooting. I do well though.” He grinned. “I don’t have to run as much as the others either.”

She nodded, bit off and swallowed another chunk of ham and bread, then asked: “How’s Justin doing?”

Allan frowned for a second. “He’s doing well. He has some prior experience with hunting, I think.”

Hermione knew that already. She shrugged, dropping her empty bottle in the container with the rest. “That won’t help with sniping. Or so I understand, from what I read. I guess I’ll find out in the afternoon.” She’d have her own shot at sniper training then. Or what kind of training you could get in an afternoon. Even a week was far too short to become a real sniper. But… the boys had insisted on it. She knew that the same was true for their entire training - they barely knew enough to use the weapons, but they were far from being really competent.

“I’ve been wondering… you’re the only one who doesn’t focus on something. You’ve been trying out every weapon they brought to us. Why?” Allan sat down next to her.

She snorted. “I could say that I don’t want to miss out on anything, but the truth is that I can’t really make good plans if I don’t have an idea about the different weapons and tactics.” In the middle of a battle, she’d not be able to ask for advice from an expert.

“I see.” He sounded angry for a moment, but when she turned her head to look at him, he was smiling. “I should have known you’d think like this.”

Grinning at him, she nodded. “Yes, you should have.” Rubbing her thighs, she added: “I’ll be glad when we’re back in London. Normal clothes are starting to feel weird.”

He laughed. “I felt that way after my first year at Hogwarts. Wearing jeans was weird after a year in robes.”

She smirked. “I just wore dresses more than trousers. But I know what you mean.”

Allan jerked when the staccato sound of a light machine gun broke the brief silence. Hermione shook her head. “Dean’s still not firing short bursts. Too many damn movies, as the Major would say. He will be shouting at him, right now.”

As if on cue, the sound stopped. Hermione stood up. “Time to head to the range.”

“Have fun,” Allan said, waving at her.

She snorted, then realised, walking to the improvised range, that she was having fun. Shaking her head, she muttered: “If I don’t pay attention, I’ll start to prefer the gym over the library!”

And that was a horrible thought.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 28th, 1996

Daphne Greengrass knew something terrible had happened as soon as she saw Draco’s expression when he entered the Slytherin common room. When the wizard made a beeline to her and cast a privacy spell, she felt her stomach drop.

“Daphne, we’ve got a problem,” Draco said, without preamble.

“What happened?” Hadn’t he simply gone to meet their Head of House? Crabbe and Goyle had remained behind - at the entrance, guarding it, she noted. “Did they find out about Astoria?”

“They know it’s her.”

Daphne gasped, and stood up. She needed to obliviate her sister to protect her.

Draco grabbed her hand. “Wait! That’s not the thing I’m worried about.”

“What?”

“The Wizengamot would never punish her for striking back against those mudbloods and blood traitors who tried to kill her,” Draco said. “And Dumbledore can’t punish her past a slap on the wrist without the Ministry getting involved.” He shook his head. “No, the problem is that the Gryffindors have a way to track everyone of us! Even inside our dorms!”

She froze. “That’s impossible.”

“It’s not. I have heard this from a trusted source, and I have been able to validate it from another.” Draco shook his head. “But it gets worse. Someone is trying to frame us for sabotaging our own stands. They found some ‘evidence’ of brewing a rotting potion near our dorms. One of them tries to kill us, and Dumbledore blames us!”

“Does Dumbledore actually believe that?” The Headmaster couldn’t be that gullible, Daphne thought. That was a ploy that anyone should have seen through.

“Of course not! He knows it’s a lie, but it allows him to protect his precious Gryffindors. They can do anything to us now, between the tracking and Dumbledore’s protection!”

Daphne swallowed. If they wanted revenge… if the Headmaster let them attack Astoria, knowing he couldn’t punish her… They could track them, plan ambushes with overwhelming force. “But… it’s Dumbledore! He wouldn’t let them do that!”

“He’s been trying to get the Ministry to declare war on the Dark Lord for over a year, despite the Lord’s attempts to make peace. And he knows the Wizengamot won’t condemn any of us.” Draco sounded grim.

“Merlin’s ghost!” Daphne was shaking now.

“He tried to make the Minister pardon the mudbloods! Even Granger, who murdered an Auror!” Draco shook his head. “Hogwarts is not safe anymore. I was a fool to come here in the first place. If I had known all of this beforehand...”

And she had been a fool to listen to him, and let Astoria attack the Gryffindors, Daphne thought. But that couldn’t be changed anymore. “You plan to leave then.”

He nodded. “And you and Astoria should come with us. The blood traitors will attack you.”

“Us?” she asked.

“Me, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Theo. A few others.” He looked around, scowling when he saw Zabini. That student wouldn’t be coming with them, Daphne knew.

But should she join Draco? He had made a compelling case. Dumbledore was protecting murderers like Granger, her uncle had told her about the Headmaster’s statements in the Wizengamot. And he was protecting the Gryffindor who had hurt her sister and so many others. No, she couldn’t stay, she couldn’t protect Astoria if they remained at Hogwarts.

“I’ll talk to Tracey and my sister. When do you leave?”

“There’s a staff meeting after dinner. We’ll leave the dorms together and fly away on brooms, until we can apparate or reach a Floo connection. The Gryffindors won’t be able to catch us if we’re quick enough.”

Daphne nodded. Snape was helping them, obviously, by passing this information to Draco. They could do it.

“We’ll be ready.”

She nodded at him, then went to find her sister, and her best friend. They didn’t have much time.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, September 28th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle almost wished she was back on ‘punishment detail’ and patrolling Knockturn Alley. Waiting day after day in this flat for the mudbloods to attack Beckett was tiresome. Boring. Frustrating.

“Pointless,” she muttered.

“What?” Martin Runcorn looked up from his book.

“Nothing. Just commenting on the sense of our mission here.” Brenda sighed and returned her attention to the potions shop.

“You don’t think the muggleborns will come?” her partner asked.

“I think they won’t do anything as long as we’re ready for them,” Brenda said, cynically. “They have the advantage - they can choose where they will strike. We have to defend an entire country.”

“We have more people to do it though,” Martin said.

“We’ll see how long they’ll last when the first ambushes happen.” Brenda scoffed. “That was how it was in the last war. Aurors were getting ambushed when they reacted to a call for help. The mudbloods will do the same. And with their ‘bombs’... we’ll have to be very careful when apparating in response to an alert.”

Martin winced. “That’s true.”

Brenda snorted. “Some are already deserting. Have you heard of Smith?”

“Smith?”

“Vanished during a patrol in Diagon Alley. His partner had to go, and when he returned, Smith had vanished. Witnesses claim he stepped into a side alley, but they didn’t find any trace there.” Brenda shook her head. “Bloody coward.”

“He could have been attacked and kidnapped,” Martin said.

She snorted. “If he was, then we’d have heard of demands made by the kidnappers, or found his body parts strewn over an alley or field. No, the guy was too afraid to face mudbloods and Death Eaters, and ran.”

Martin didn’t sound convinced. “I know him. I was with him in training. He didn’t strike me as a coward or deserter.”

Brenda grinned, without a trace of humour though. “Training is training. You don’t really know a wizard or witch until they’ve been in a fight. Or faced one, and ran.”

“Maybe.”

The rookie was still too inexperienced, Brenda knew. But he wouldn’t run or desert. “Maybe we should take Beckett in. Arrest him for the shady ingredients in his storage room,” she mused. That would end the mission. Beckett would be safe in a Ministry cell, even.

“That would be a poor repayment for his loyalty,” Martin cut in.

“Not if it serves to protect him from the mudbloods.” She glanced back and saw his expression. “You don’t like taking mudbloods in for their own protection?”

“Taking them in against their will is a bit much.”

“You’ve got a talent for diplomacy. Of course it’s for our own protection as much as theirs.” Brenda certainly didn’t want to end up like Lucius Malfoy, bombed to death by mudbloods.

“Beckett wouldn’t work out though - they want him dead.” Martin shook his head.

“Spoil my perfect ‘please everyone’ solution, will you?” She chuckled. “Just for that, you can take your turn at the window early.”

Martin grumbled and took her place at the window while Brenda sat down on the couch. At least they were not out there, trying to arrest more muggleborns for the Ministry. That could be dangerous - a few Aurors had ended up in St. Mungo’s so far. No fatalities. Yet.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 28th, 1996

“Harry! Come quickly!”

Harry Potter shot up from his seat in the common room when Ginny called him. She had been with Katie, watching the map. That meant something was up.

He rushed to her, casting a privacy spell. “What’s happening?

She pointed at the map on the table. “Look! The Slytherins are moving, a lot of them!”

“Half their house, I think,” Katie said. “Mostly the older students. And most of the teachers are in that meeting.”

Harry cursed. If they were attacking now… “Get the lower years in their dorms, and call the older years down. We’ll be ready.” He had to alert Dumbledore too.

“They’re running. Up the stairs… They’re not headed towards us. They’re headed towards the gate!” Katie said, looking at him.

Ron arrived. “What’s going on?”

Harry nodded at the map. “It looks like the Slytherins are fleeing from Hogwarts.”

“Good riddance?” his friend asked.

Harry winced. He wasn’t quite certain this was a good thing.

*****​

Cumbria, Britain, September 29th, 1996

“Hermione? Are you still awake?”

That sounded like Allan. Hermione stood up from her bed and walked to the door of her room. Allan was indeed standing in the entrance of the Wizarding tent, in front of her door.

She opened the door, and waved him inside. “Come in.”

He stepped inside, raising an eyebrow when he saw her. “Were you already asleep?” he asked, gesturing to her tank top and shorts. He was still in fatigues, clean ones.

Hermione shook her head. “I was in bed, but reading.” She grinned. “I’d not have answered the door otherwise. So, what brings you to my room past midnight?” The group had spent an hour discussing the news that most of House Slytherin had left Hogwarts, after Harry and Ron had informed her. Allan had wanted to hunt down Malfoy right away.

He sat down on her bed. “We’ve had some differences lately, as you know.”

She made a sort-of-agreeing noise. His insistence on taking action prematurely had been irritating, if she was honest.

“I don’t want this to come between us,” he said. “We’re all on the same side.” Allan smiled at her.

She nodded and sat down next to him on the bed. “We are, yes. And I don’t want to argue with you either.” Or with anyone else. But she had to, to prevent potentially fatal mistakes. “Why are you so eager to attack anyway?” She quickly added: “I’m just wondering.”

He looked grim. “It’s for Martin. He was a good friend of mine, and he died because of that traitor. I can’t stand the thought of Martin being dead, and his killer walking around.” Allan ground his teeth. “I want to avenge him, and make certain that no one else will betray us again.” He sighed. “I’m sorry if I made you angry.”

Hermione smiled and put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m not angry. I understand what you’re feeling.” If Harry or Ron had been murdered, she’d feel the same. Or worse. “I’m just trying to keep us from being too hasty. We’re almost done with our training here. We’ll get Beckett, trust me.”

He put his hand on her hand, squeezing gently. “Thank you.” He smiled at her.

Hermione smiled back. “That’s what friends do.”

Allan nodded. He looked at her without saying anything for a moment. “Can I ask you something personal?”

Hermione nodded. “Of course.”

He leaned towards her, his eyes not leaving hers. “Are you in a relationship with Potter or Weasley?”

Hermione blinked. That was more personal than she had expected. And why would he ask that? Was he.... suddenly, she was all too aware of their situation: Both sitting on her bed, their legs touching, and her in just a top and shorts… Had she unintentionally led him on? She shook her head, saw him starting to smile, and quickly said. “I’m not involved with anyone. I can’t, anyway. There is so much to do for the Resistance.” She smiled at him, hoping he’d understand.

He nodded, a bit stiffly. He had understood, then. “That’s true. I better let you get some rest. Good night, Hermione.”

“Good night, Allan.”

She waited until he had left before closing her eyes and sighing, laying down on her bed.

That could have gone better.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, September 29th, 1996

Auror Karen Blinings hated the midnight to morning shift. But as one of the youngest Aurors, she was guaranteed to be on it. An older Auror had told her that it was usually an easy shift - not much happened when everyone was in bed. A peaceful patrol almost every time.

That had been before the mudbloods and the Death Eaters started their wars against the Ministry. Nowadays, Karen dreaded that patrol. Every dark corner or alley could hide an enemy. At least she wasn’t alone, but had a partner. She looked at him. Jacob Parker had been in the same year as her at Hogwarts, but they hadn’t had much contact, not with him in Ravenclaw and her in Hufflepuff. They had become friends during training though, and had been on the same assignment since then.

“Imperio! Kill him!”

Jacob gasped, drawing his wand. He was too slow to stop her though - and he had been looking for the caster of the Imperius at first. Karen’s Reductor Curse blew his wand and hand up, splattering blood all over her and him. He opened his mouth, but she couldn’t hear him scream. Silenced, probably. It didn’t matter. Her next spell drilled a hole in his head and he dropped.

“Walk into that Alley and wait for me at the end!”

She nodded and started walking into the side alley the man had pointed out to her, ignoring the Vanishing Charms and other spells cast behind her. She had an order, and would obey.

She didn’t have to wait for long. The other wizard came and bound her with conjured ropes, then silenced her. Then he ended the Imperius.

Karen wanted to scream, but no sound left her mouth. She had killed her partner! Her friend! She panted, crying, and looked at the man who had forced her to do this. Her eyes widened when the wizard pulled his hood back. She knew that man! From Hogwarts. Had to be a Ravenclaw. What had been his name again?

“Hello there!” The wizard student smiled. “Shouldn’t have joined the Aurors. Now you’ve killed your partner. But don’t worry - he’ll get even.”

What was he talking about? Jacob was dead!

The man brandished a club to her. A club in the same color as her own robes. She stared at it, then at the man. The wizard nodded. “I transfigured his corpse into a club. You’ll be beaten to death with your murdered partner.”

The wizard’s smile widened as he lifted the club over his head. “But don’t worry - no one will ever find your bodies.”

Then the club came down, and once more Karen wanted to scream, but couldn’t. By the time she died, her throat was raw.

*****​

 

Chapter 9: Payback

‘Some of my colleagues claim that the flight of a substantial part of House Slytherin’s students from Hogwarts in September 1996 effectively removed hostages from Dumbledore’s control, allowing his opponents, both political and otherwise, to put more pressure on him without risking their children’s lives. This theory completely ignores the fact that those students had just returned to Hogwarts a few weeks before. Their families certainly wouldn’t have done that, had they feared that they would be hostages.
In marked contrast to this, the Ministry was at the same time still trying to acquire hostages. With their plan to take the youngest muggleborn hostages foiled, they went for those muggleborns who had not yet left Wizarding Britain - mostly the parents of half-blood Ministry employees because those still had some measure of trust in the Ministry. The claim of the Ministry that this was for the muggleborns’ own protection was not entirely wrong, since the Resistance started taking action against ‘traitors’ and ‘collaborators’ amongst the muggleborn population, but at the same time, it caused many half-bloods to reconsider their own position.
The Ministry’s policies had not directly touched half-bloods so far, and their parents had escaped the worst as well. That was all too understandable, since half-bloods had generally been raised in the Magical World and not many of the Dark Lord’s sympathisers in the Ministry would be as rash and reckless as to even contemplate persecuting Albus Dumbledore and a third of Britain’s population while they were already struggling to oppress a fifth of the British wizards and witches. But now, faced with either risking attacks by the Resistance or being used by an increasingly desperate Ministry, the half-bloods had a difficult choice to make.’
- Excerpt from ‘Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century’ by Albert Runcorn

*****​

Hogwarts, September 30th, 1996

Albus Dumbledore leaned back in his seat and looked at Amelia and Cornelius. It made for an interesting change to see them in his office, in front of his desk, like the students they had been years ago. Which was part of the reason he had not gone to the Ministry but had let them come to him, despite their Auror escorts.

“What is going on at Hogwarts, Albus?” Cornelius asked. He was trying to sound outraged, but his insecurity spoiled the effect.

“I suppose you are referring to the recent events,” the Headmaster said.

“Of course we’re talking about them!” Amelia said in a clipped tone. The witch was angry. That wasn’t unusual for her, but unfortunately her anger had lately been directed more, far more, at Albus than at the Dark Lord. “Almost thirty hospitalised children, Albus! On your watch!”

“Minor injuries, for the most part, and easily treated by Poppy. Calling them ‘hospitalised’ would be making light of those who suffer from dark curses or life-threatening injuries. Something I’d expect from a politician in the service of the Dark Lord.” Amelia gasped and stood up, outraged. Undaunted, he continued: “Incidentally, the Dark Lord’s machinations are at the heart of this whole matter, as I have managed to deduce.”

“What?” Cornelius asked.

Amelia stared at the Headmaster. “Are you claiming that this was the work of the Dark Lord?”

“One of his followers, at least.” Albus stood up. “You are aware of the collapse of the Quidditch stands of House Slytherin a week ago.”

“Yes. Sabotage, as you yourself found out!” Cornelius said.

Albus nodded. “Indeed. But as I also found out, sabotage done using a child as an unwitting, manipulated and obliviated tool. A ploy to make the Slytherins - a House without any muggleborn students - appear as the victims of muggleborn aggression while not truly endangering them.” He made a dismissive gesture. “A fall from a height much lower than a typical Quidditch accident, close to the school, and with the Slytherin Quidditch team ready to help - and coincidentally, look quite heroic at the same time.” He smiled without humour.

“Blaming the victims for the crime, Albus?” Amelia asked, glaring at him.

“Hardly. For a few days later, a Slytherin student threw a vial of explosive fluid at a group of children. Only the fact that the prefects leading them managed to cast Shield Charms in time saved their lives.” Albus knew he was exaggerating a bit here, of course. But that was needed in politics. And this confrontation was all about politics, even if Amelia would deny it if asked. In her own way, she was quite naive. “This happened at the same time as most of House Slytherin were creating a diversion for the staff in the Great Hall - led by Draco Malfoy, the son of the Dark Lord’s former right hand.”

The Minister winced at that reminder, but Amelia didn’t flinch. “Conjecture. A nice-sounding tale, Albus. Do you have proof for this?”

He smiled. “The cauldron the rotting potion was brewed in was found near the Slytherin dorms. Draco Malfoy was involved in both incidents, in central roles. But most importantly: As soon as he heard that I was aware of the culprit of this latest attack, he fled.” He leaned forward, folding his hands under his chin. “As you are fond of saying: Those who have nothing to hide do not need to flee from the authorities.”

Amelia’s glare intensified. Like many hypocrites, she didn’t like having her own words turned against her, Albus knew.

“He claims he was afraid for his life. That he feared Gryffindor aggression,” Cornelius said.

“Of course he’d claim that. Even though he had not been attacked at all - despite his history of hostility and aggression.” Albus scoffed. “If he truly was afraid, why would he flee now, after an attack on the Gryffindor third years, and not after the collapse of the stands?”

“He says the Gryffindors have a way to track everyone in school,” Cornelius said. “Allowing them to strike at the purebloods with impunity.”

Albus almost rolled his eyes. Didn’t the Minister realise just how much like a puppet of Malfoy he was acting? A puppet of Draco Malfoy, a child, not even an experienced politician!

“He says a lot of things. If they had that, why didn’t they use it to do exactly that, strike at the Slytherins? And why didn’t they use this to hide the sabotage on the stands? That was discovered because the obliviated student went missing for an hour, something that could have been easily avoided.” Albus scoffed. “It is a fairly obvious attempt to shift the blame, and hide his own guilt.”

His two visitors exchanged glances. An uneasy one in Cornelius’s case, and a frustrated one in Amelia’s. Albus almost smiled. His plan had worked. Draco was no Lucius; he was more like Narcissa - easily spooked, and not quite as cunning as he thought he was. He had run, just as Albus had known he would.

“That still leaves the fact that two dozen students were hurt at your school. And that you had to lock up the students to prevent more violence,” Amelia said.

It was a parting shot, nothing more. He shrugged. “No one was seriously hurt, as I said before, and the culprit has left the school. Lessons will resume tomorrow, though the staff will keep a close watch on everyone.”

And Albus and Filius would be analysing this map, so they could help Remus and Sirius duplicate it. With Draco and his cohorts gone from Hogwarts, the Dark Lord’s followers wouldn’t have to risk hurting their own children should they strike at the school. Additional security would be needed.

“The Board of Governors might not share your optimistic view,” Cornelius said. “They might consider your handling of this affair inadequate as the Headmaster of Hogwarts.”

Albus narrowed his eyes. “Should they do that I might consider their actions as proof of their allegiance with the Dark Lord.” Cornelius paled, and Albus glared at Amelia. “I am growing tired of struggling to protect the innocents while remaining within the bounds of laws passed by inept and corrupt people. I would suggest you stop pushing me, before you go too far.” Amelia was about to answer him, but he cut her off. “Neither of you know what a real war is like. Ask some of the few remaining British wizards and witches who fought at my side in Grindelwald’s War and you might understand why they and all of Europe scoff when you talk of the ‘Blood War’ twenty years ago that you fear so much. Ask, and then ask yourself if you truly wish to have me as your enemy. For if it comes to it, I will not merely fight you, I will wage war against you as I did against Grindelwald.”

He hadn’t raised his voice, not much, but Cornelius was cringing, and even Amelia looked shaken.

“Now go and take your Aurors with you, and do not bother me again when you are acting on Voldemort’s orders!”

Both left his office, not quite running, but looking remarkably like cowed first years. Albus leaned back in his seat, sighing. He had almost lost his temper, but if Cornelius and Amelia continued on their foolish path… The Headmaster shook his head. He doubted they would actually seek out a veteran of Grindelwald’s War. Or if they did, believe his tales. They didn’t want to believe just how bad things could become. Not that there were many such veterans left anyway. He imagined the two talking to Aberforth, and snorted. That would be a memorable conversation. To see Aberforth’s scorn turned on someone else… He closed his eyes, old pain filling him.

Albus shook his head. He had no time to waste reminiscing on the past. There was far too much to do. Even with most of the bigots of House Slytherin gone, Hogwarts was hardly as safe as it should be. Constant surveillance would be needed. Or constant vigilance, as another old friend of his would say.

But at least for now, this crisis had been handled.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, September 30th, 1996

“Bones is on the warpath,” Auror Parkinson said to Brenda Brocktuckle as soon as she entered the office.

“And good afternoon to you as well,” Brenda answered, as sarcastically as she could - she had just gotten up, having had a late shift in Knockturn Alley. She was in no mood for Parkinson’s usual drivel.

The other Auror snorted. “It’s not a good afternoon at all. Two Aurors went missing last night, and Bones was all but thrown out of Hogwarts by Dumbledore. She’s livid.”

“What?” Brenda stared at her colleague. “Who’s missing?”

“Parker and Blinings. Didn’t return from a patrol in Diagon Alley.”

Rookies, both, but not the type to desert. Or so Brenda would have thought. “Both vanished?”

Parkinson nodded. “Neither was home when we checked. It didn’t look as if they had been preparing to leave either.”

“Were they a couple?” It was frowned upon, but it wasn’t exactly forbidden, nor that rare. That was about the only explanation Brenda could think of for two Aurors deserting together. The other explanations for their disappearance were far worse.

“Not to my knowledge.” Parkinson shook his head.

Brenda hissed. “Did you find any traces?”

Parkinson shook his head. “Nothing. No blood, no remains, no witnesses have come forward so far. I was actually hoping you might have noticed something.”

Brenda sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t spot anything out of the ordinary.” She was aware that while he didn’t know exactly where she was posted, or what she was doing, he knew the gist of it. You couldn’t keep such missions a secret, not for that long.

“I didn’t expect you to, not really.” Parkinson sighed. “My gold’s on mudbloods having kidnapped them. They’ve been quiet too long.”

“Damn.” Brenda wasn’t that certain, but it was the most probable explanation, given the lack of a Dark Mark floating above mutilated bodies. But that might have been a mercy, compared to being kidnapped by the mudbloods. “If they are attacking our patrols like that…”

Parkinson shrugged. “How’s the hunt going?” He didn’t outright state that he thought this might have been been avoided had Brenda managed to capture the mudbloods, but he might as well have.

She glared at him anyway. “They haven’t shown themselves so far.” Brenda was still hoping they would make a move on Beckett - Granger was supposedly good at holding grudges. But so was Brenda. The mudblood would pay for murdering her partner. All of them would pay. She ground her teeth in frustration, before taking a deep breath to calm down. Somewhat. “What happened at Hogwarts?”

“Fudge took Bones with him to visit Hogwarts, to ‘investigate’ the reasons for half of House Slytherin fleeing the school two days ago.” Parkinson didn’t hide his disdain for the Minister. “Turns out Dumbledore is convinced that they ran away because they were behind both the sabotage of their own Quidditch stands and the attack on the Gryffindor Herbology class.”

“What?” Brenda stared at her colleague. Did the Slytherins really go that far? “And Bones accepted that?”

Parkinson chuckled. “That’s the interesting bit.” He looked over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “I’ve heard this straight from Smith, who is on Fudge’s protection detail: Dumbledore threatened the Minister and Bones, then threw them out, and told them not to bother him anymore, or he’d deal with them like he dealt with Grindelwald.”

“Merlin’s arse!” If they had to fight the Dark Lord, the mudbloods, and Dumbledore… Brenda didn’t want to contemplate that.

“I guess the Headmaster finally lost his temper. Or his mind.” Parkinson smiled. “Apparently, Fudge ordered Bones to leave Hogwarts alone. You know how she reacted to that.”

Brenda nodded. Bones hated it when the Minister meddled with her department.

“So, what do you think? Is Dumbledore protecting the mudbloods while they kill off the pureblood students?” Parkinson leaned towards her, smiling.

Brenda shrugged. “I’ve investigated neither him nor Hogwarts, so I can’t say what happened. But the mudbloods who destroyed Malfoy Manor would have killed the kids, not sent them to the infirmary.”

“So you think the Slytherins did it?”

“I told you, I haven’t investigated the incidents. And it doesn’t look like I ever will. So, I’m not going to speculate.” Unlike him.

“You might get your chance. Fudge will change his opinion as soon as the next batch of kids get hurt and their parents call on him,” the other Auror said, grinning.

“Do you want to see more children hurt?” She stared at him.

“Of course not. I’m just being realistic.”

He had been a Slytherin as well, she remembered. Maybe Dumbledore had been correct. “Well, there’s paperwork waiting for me. Good day, Parkinson.”

“Catch a mudblood, Brocktuckle.”

She scoffed at him, and headed to her desk. Her partner was sitting there. He had finished all his paperwork already, she knew that - the rookie still came in early.

“Hi Martin.” She sat down and started to sort through the memos and scrolls.

“Hi Brenda.”

She looked up. “You don’t sound as happy as a rookie should, having such an important assignment. What happened?”

“I knew Karen Blinings. We were in the same year.”

Damn. “I’m sorry.”

“They haven’t found a body yet.”

She nodded, though both of them knew though that the odds of his friend being still alive were very small.

“Damn mudbloods,” he said.

She nodded again. Damn mudbloods indeed.

*****​

Cumbria, Britain, September 30th, 1996

“Well, you’re not the sorriest lot I ever had as recruits,” Sergeant Boones said, staring at the Muggleborn resistance lined up in the middle of their camp. “But don’t think for a moment that you’re soldiers! You barely know enough to not kill yourself with your weapons!”

“Yes, sarge!” the group yelled.

Hermione thought the dour mercenary was smiling, for an instant. At least his lips twitched. Then she turned her attention back to Major Kolen, who was sitting at the camp table with her. The man had realised that Justin wasn’t their leader about a week into their training.

“He’s right. You’ve learned a lot, but you haven’t any experience. You don’t know how you will react when the shooting starts for real. Whatever you’re planning, you need a few veterans to lead you,” the major said.

Hermione smiled. “Don’t worry. We know that.” She pulled out a bag and put it on the table. “The second part of your payment.”

He snorted while he started counting the money. “I don’t know what you’re planning. But you are up to something. I’d have pegged you for communists, but you lack their rhetoric, and you’d have hired Cubans or former Soviets to train you.”

“Whatever we will be doing, you won’t be affected.” It was eating him, she knew, to not understand what they were planning. She could understand that - she hated mysteries herself. It couldn’t be helped though.

He snorted. “You keep saying that, and you sound like you even believe it, but it makes no sense. The gear, the training, the group - you’re not some stupid kids playing war. If you were, you’d have dropped out of training after the first week. The money you spent would have paid for professionals to solve whatever ‘problem’ you have, but you plan to deal with it yourself. Yet you’re not stupid.” Kolen was grinding his teeth at the end. “It doesn’t add up. The only thing that makes a bit of sense is that you’re forming a guerilla group, but I haven’t yet met any political fanatic who didn’t start trying to convert me after a week or two working together.”

“I could tell you, but then I’d have to wipe your memory,” Hermione said. It wasn’t telling him anything. It was simply a joke, unless...

Kolen laughed, then suddenly stopped and stared at her, then at the tents of the group. Tents neither he nor the sergeant had ever entered, without ever wondering why. She could almost watch how he connected the dots. “I’ve seen things, in Africa.”

Hermione nodded.

“I would have never expected that. Not here.” He snorted. “I guess I don’t want to know what you’ll be fighting.”

She smiled. So, the tales of the African countries not being quite as strict with upholding the Statute as the rest of the world were true.

“Well, good luck, Miss. If you need some more help, you know how to contact me.” He stood up and offered his hand to her.

She shook it. “Thank you, Major.”

*****​

“We should have obliviated them. We could have taken back most of the money too,” Allan said, after the two mercs had left the area. “They might betray us.”

“We’ll move the camp, and they know nothing else,” Hermione said. “Betraying people just because it’s convenient is not a habit we should develop.” She would have chosen sharper words, but she didn’t want to make things even more awkward between her and Allan - it wasn’t often she had to turn down a boy who was interested in her. Not that Allan looked as if he had taken the rejection that hard. He was acting as if nothing had happened.

“Besides, we can afford paying them,” Justin added.

Allan sighed. “I just worry. Martin trusted that traitor, and he died for it. I want us to be safe. Well, as safe as possible, now that we can start fighting back,” he added with a grin.

Hermione nodded. “Yes. We have to plan our next operation. And we need to meet Clifton and Chadwick.” They had finally convinced the former Hit-Wizard to meet them - which hopefully meant that they believed them that they were not purebloods trying to trap them. They would still take precautions, of course. But so would the Resistance.

“Our next mission is clear: Killing Beckett,” Allan said.

Most of the group nodded.

“We should also look into killing Malfoy,” Allan continued. “He tried to massacre children at Hogwarts.”

Once again, the muggleborns nodded. Hermione agreed as well, though she had some small misgivings. She shouldn’t though, she told herself - For as long as she had known Malfoy, he had been a cruel bigot. She had no doubt that if he wasn’t already a Death Eater, he’d soon be one. And he had, as Harry and Ron had told her, tried to kill the Gryffindor third years. He deserved death.

She nodded. “He’ll be hard to find though.” She’d ask Sirius if he could help - Harry’s godfather was related to the bigot, after all, and had enough gold to pay bribes and informants easily. “But we’ll deal with Beckett first.”

Everyone around her smiled.

*****​

Hogwarts, October 1st, 1996

Hogwarts felt different with most of the Slytherins gone, Harry Potter thought while walking back to the Gryffindor Dorms. They were still confined to their dorms, but the lessons had resumed. The tension that had filled the school for the last month seemed to have lessened as well - but that might just be the absence of the worst bigot and his cronies.

“Don’t get lost in your thoughts,” Ron said. “There are still bigots around. Constant vigilance, remember?”

Harry snorted. “Just because I’m not jumping at shadows doesn’t mean I’m oblivious.”

Lavender giggled. “You’re a bit too handsome to be a younger Moody, Ron.”

Harry saw Ron frown before his friend answered: “You can’t be too paranoid, not with the Dark Lord out there.”

Harry nodded. “And with most of the Slytherins gone, Voldemort’s Death Eaters don’t have to be too careful about collateral damage, should they attack the school.”

That had been a bit harsh, he realised when he heard the others gasp. Neville said: “D-Do you think they’ll attack the school?”

“I don’t think so. They fear the Headmaster,” Harry said quickly. “But we should keep our guard up - there are still bigots around.”

“Yes,” Parvati said. “The Ravenclaws are still split, though their bigots are now more nervous, and don’t act as badly anymore.”

“I wish all of them were gone!” Ron exclaimed. “And the muggleborns were back!”

Harry nodded. “I’d trade all of them for Hermione.”

Harry caught Neville glaring at him. He glared back. “She’s worth a dozen pureblood families full of bigots.”

Ron laughed. “A dozen, or more!”

Neville trembled, then pushed his chin up. “She’s wanted for murdering an Auror! What would you say if she had killed a relative of yours?”

Harry scoffed. “If they had tried to arrest her? I’d say ‘good riddance’! If you arrest muggleborns, you might as well wear your Death Eater mask openly.”

“You can’t take the law into your hands!” Neville said.

Ron snorted. “And why not? Because you should buy it instead, like Malfoy and the other rich bigots did? Dad’s in the Ministry, he knows all about how the Wizengamot handles the laws.”

Harry nodded. Sirius was very vocal about the corruption of the Ministry as well. “If you have enough gold, you can buy your acquittal. If you don’t… it’s Azkaban for you. Even if you’re innocent.” He looked Neville straight into the eyes. "You should ask your gran what she thought when your parents joined Dumbledore and took the law into their own hands."

Neville didn’t say anything after that and went straight up to his room once they reached their dorms.

*****​

“You know, Lavender seems sweet on you,” Harry remarked half an hour later, sending a pawn to threaten Ron’s knight.

“I know,” his friend said, moving his bishop.

Harry blinked. Had Ron missed his threatened knight? But if he had, why wasn’t the figure protesting the lapse? He took it anyway. “You don’t seem to be sweet on her though.”

“She’s pretty enough, and she’s nice, and she’s in Gryffindor, so she’s brave, but…” Ron moved his rook. “Check.”

Harry stared at the board. If he moved his king, Ron’s queen would … and if he blocked the rook, then the bishop would… and his figures were glaring at him. Sighing, he tipped his protesting king over, conceding. “But?”

“She’s no Hermione,” Ron said. Harry glanced at him. His friend wasn’t looking at him.

“No, she isn’t. No one is,” Harry said. He didn’t know how to react to this. Hermione was their best friend. But if Ron felt something more for her… He imagined the two together, and felt jealous. And not just because he might be left out. He wanted to ask Ron if he fancied Hermione, but he wasn’t certain if he wanted to know the answer.

Ron looked at him, but didn’t say anything either. After about a minute, he gestured at the board. “Another game?”

“I’ve got map duty in a bit, but OK,” Harry said.

Neither of them mentioned girls for the rest of the evening.

*****​

London, East End, October 1st, 1996

“Home sweet home!” Seamus declared when the Resistance sat down to eat at the table in their safehouse.

“You know, we didn’t exactly rough it in the camp,” Sally-Anne remarked, shaking her head slightly at his antics while she put down a big bowl of spaghetti.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Seamus said, grinning. “It’s what you say when you get home from camping.”

Hermione almost said that they were in a safehouse, not home, but snorted instead. She didn’t know where her home was, anymore. She had had to leave Hogwarts, her family had had to leave their house… this safehouse might as well be her new home, even though she knew it should be temporary.

“The armory’s finished,” Justin said as he arrived. He took a seat next to Sally-Anne, and Hermione noticed the witch smiling a bit too much. Had they become a couple? Had she missed that? First Allan approaching her, then this - what did that mean for their group, if people started to pair up?

Seamus was already heaping pasta on his plate while Dean brought the sauces, causing Mary to berate him for not waiting until everyone was seated.

“Yes, mum,” Seamus said, flippantly, then winced. “Sorry.”

No one liked to be reminded that they all had left their families. Some had visited them during their trips back to London while they were at boot camp. Hermione hadn’t. There had been too much to do, she had told herself. But she would visit them, properly, soon. As soon as she had the time.

The rest of the meal was spent chatting about the latest news from muggle Britain. After observing Justin and Sally-Anne, Hermione was certain they were a couple. She felt a brief flash of jealousy. Justin had been the one she had been closest to too, among the Resistance. It wasn’t that she was interested in him, not like that, but him being with Sally-Anne just made her feel even more lonely, without her best friends. She told herself she could have returned Allan’s ‘offer’, if she had really wanted a boyfriend, but… they simply lacked chemistry. There was no spark, some of the heroines in those books she didn’t want anyone to know she read would say. Which was weird - Allan was smart, mature, and dedicated. She would have thought she’d fall for such a man. And yet…

After the table was cleared and the dishes were done - magic made both easy - Allan spoke up. “Now that we’re back, and have moved the camp in the woods to a different location,“ Allan started, “What do we do about Beckett?”

“We could blow his shop up!” Seamus said. “Everyone would know it was us. And they’d know we did Malfoy Manor too.”

That would help their reputation with the former hit-wizards they hoped to recruit, Hermione knew. But the Ministry would also know they were the ones responsible, and would focus their efforts on them. Hermione would prefer to leave the Aurors guessing. It would make it easier to fight the Death Eaters without having to fight the Ministry too. On the other hand, the Ministry was still hunting them, even though all they had done was defending themselves and hiding, as far as the Aurors knew. And they had murdered Martin.

“Blowing up the shop risks collateral damage, but I do not think sniping is a better option. And a fly-by shooting has to deal with the wards too,” she added, with a smirk at the image that conjured in her mind.

“Machine gunner on a broom?” Dean grinned. “That sounds wonderful!”

“Apart from the wards Hermione mentioned, it’s also dangerous,” Justin said. “If there are Aurors waiting for us, not even disillusionment will protect us that well.”

“The wards are the real problem. A blast powerful enough to go through them will lay waste to half the street if we use the same bomb that we used before...” Hermione had done the math and arithmancy. “That’s not an acceptable price to pay; we’d risk alienating those half-bloods and purebloods who support us or at least are neutral towards us.”

“Most of the half-bloods are no better than purebloods, and many are worse,” Allan said. “We all knew them at Hogwarts - you couldn’t tell who was a half-blood and who was a pureblood, most of the time.”

“Unless you saw who the Slytherins were sneering at more,” Dean cut in, grinning.

“That’s because most half-bloods are raised in the Magical World,” Hermione said. “They can’t exactly spend too much time in the muggle world until they understand how to keep magic a secret. It’s natural that they would identify with Wizarding Britain.”

“We can’t let Beckett live just because we are worried about how people who did nothing when the Aurors started persecuting us and hunting us might react,” Allan said.

“We won’t,” Hermione said. “But we need to take the wards into account. And I think I have a way to do that.”

She leaned forward and started to explain her plan.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, October 4th, 1996

Hermione Granger made a mental note to have the Resistance get some tunnel combat training when she, Allan, Justin, Seamus and Dean entered the maze of old, abandoned sewers and tunnels that criss-crossed beneath London’s magical alleys. The assault rifles they were carrying were not exactly ideal for this. Though if all went well, they’d not have to fight.

Stopping at the first intersection, she pulled out the map she had acquired from the muggle offices yesterday, and checked their position. “We’re on the right track. We’ll take the left for about a hundred yards. If the map is correct.” Which, given the age of some of those tunnels, and the fact that the map didn’t show the magically concealed area, was not given.

But after about a hundred yards, Allan held up a hand. “Ward ahead.” He waved his wand. “Looks like an Anti-Muggle Ward. A weak one.”

“We’re at the boundary then,” Hermione said, marking the position on her map, then stuck a small spool of yarn down on the ground with a sticking charm, then grabbed the thread sticking out from the spool.

“Here there be dragons, deep dragons!” Seamus said.

Justin shook his head, but was chuckling. Hermione refrained from glaring at the boys’ D&D reference. “There is a possibility that we’ll encounter magical pests here. Creatures that won’t flee from us like the rats we saw.”

“Not all of those rats fled from us. A few were so big, they were eyeing us as if we were their food,” Dean said.

“What are the kind of creatures we could encounter here anyway?” Allan asked.

“Vampires come to mind,” Hermione said. “Most creatures would not find enough prey here, and those who did wouldn’t be dangerous to humans.”

“Great. We should have taken a flamethrower,” Seamus complained.

“We’re not giving you a flamethrower,” Dean said. “You can set them on fire with your wand.”

“They might not be hostile,” Hermione said. “Though most of them joined Voldemort in the 70s,” she added.

“Fry first, ask questions later, got it,” Dean said.

Hermione nodded. She didn’t like it, but the odds of a vampire that wasn’t a criminal hiding in such a place were low. And those vampires who were criminals were likely to prey on humans - muggles - at least from time to time. “Keep your eyes open and on your sectors,” she said.

Allan nodded, and took point. Seamus was behind him, keeping an eye on the ceiling. Hermione, who was casting the Four-Point Spell she had invented for Harry in their fourth year, and Justin followed, with Dean bringing up the rear. Fortunately, they were not in a sewer that was actually in use, so they didn’t have to keep an eye on murky water.

They saw more rats - bigger ones, the size of cats - flee when the flashlights mounted on their weapons and headbands caught them, but didn’t encounter any magical creature until they passed the ward again. Hermione checked the map, marked it, and checked how much yarn she had dragged with her. She smiled at the group. “It fits my estimate, and corresponds to our map of the Alleys.”

It took another half an hour and two more tunnels to map out the entire area enough to pinpoint the location of Beckett’s shop from the aerial picture they had taken two days ago. If not for Cleaning Charms they’d all have been covered with dust and dirt and rather wet. And complaining more than they already were. If Hermione didn’t know better, she‘d think some of them would prefer to bomb all of Knockturn Alley just to avoid the effort of finding the right spot. At least Seamus stopped complaining as soon as they took out the Semtex.

While the former Gryffindor prepared the bomb, Hermione transfigured the stone and earth above them into air, creating a vertical shaft until she hit the shop’s warded basement. A quick Levitation spell later the Semtex with the timer running was in place and a few conjuration spells filled the shaft with stone.

“Let’s move it,” Hermione said. “We don’t want to be here when the bomb goes off.”

“I thought you had calculated the blast’s power,” Seamus said.

“For the effect on the building and ward,” she answered. “I couldn’t really calculate how the underground will take it.”

With that, she apparated away to their rallying spot.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, October 4th, 1996

‘Don’t buy from Beckett’s Potions! He’s a traitor to muggleborns! And he’ll pay for his crimes!’

Brenda Brocktuckle shook her head, skimming over the latest propaganda leaflet. The mudbloods had almost filled the alley with them.

“Do you think that’s a warning, or a threat?” Martin Runcorn asked.

“I don’t know if this means they will try something. But we know now that the mudbloods haven’t forgotten nor forgiven Beckett.” Brenda dropped the parchment and looked through the window in their flat.

“Or they simply want us to think so, and want Beckett to flee so he can be killed without us protecting him.” Martin joined her at the window.

“That’s a bit too clever for the mudbloods - they’re all too young to have enough experience to think like that. They’d also need inside information and surveillance to track Beckett should we move him,” Brenda said. “No, I think this is a cheap attempt to hurt Beckett’s business because they can’t get to him. Unless they are actually as foolish as trying to attack Beckett with us ready for them.”

“Unless they drop a bomb from the air that takes out the Alley.” Martin said what Brenda and anyone with any brains in the corps feared.

“I doubt that.” If the mudbloods went that far, no one would be safe in public.

“Well…”

Martin was cut off by a massive explosion that shook the building they were in.

“Merlin’s arse!” Brenda cursed, casting a Shield Charm. Where Beckett’s Potions had stood a giant dust cloud had been thrown up, shrouding half the Alley. She quickly cast a Bubble-Head Charm as well and ran towards the stairs.

The street was covered with debris, some on fire. Next to the door she saw the remains of a witch, smashed to pulp by parts of the front of the shop. She gasped, then saw it wasn’t a witch, but a hag when the cowl hiding the ugly face of the creature fell off. Then she heard the screaming. A wizard in a torn robe was staring at the bleeding stump of a leg, cut off above the knee. Probably by glass, she thought. A spell later, he wasn’t bleeding anymore.

Nearby, more Aurors were coming out from the other flat. Martin, next to her, was guiding two coughing, stumbling elderly witches out of the slowly settling dust cloud. Brenda spotted another wizard, on the ground, coughing. She cast a Bubble-Head Charm on him. He kept coughing though. Then she saw blood dripping from his lips. A quick spell didn’t show any injury though. But why...

“Damn!” She grabbed one of the bezoars she kept on her, and stuffed it down the man’s throat. “Martin!” she yelled, “The dust cloud is poisonous as well!” And it had spread over half of the alley, and part of Diagon Alley!

Martin cursed, and pulled out his bezoars to help the two old witches with him. Brenda floated the still coughing, but also still breathing wizard towards him as well, then checked on the one missing a leg. He was coughing, but maybe just from the dust. She stuffed another bezoar into his mouth.

The Auror didn’t see many other survivors. Whoever had been closer to the shop had been killed. And Beckett… he had been inside his shop. She doubted they’d find any of his body parts.

Wiping dust from her face with a quick spell, she stared at the destruction. There was but a crater left where the building had been standing. Most of the alley around it had been destroyed as well, and the rest was covered with debris, some of it on fire, or contaminated with ingredients. She saw more people moving through the still settling cloud, and from the looks of it, none of them were smart or skilled enough to cast a Bubble-Head Charm. St. Mungo’s would be packed with people needing treatment. At least the wards on the neighbouring buildings had held, if barely.

She ground her teeth and vowed that she would bring the monsters responsible for this to justice.

*****​

Kent, Greengrass Manor, October 5th, 1996

Daphne Greengrass winced when she saw the headline of the Daily Prophet: ‘Knockturn Alley blown up and poisoned!’ She quickly skimmed the article. Apparently, the mudbloods had destroyed half of Knockturn Alley with explosions and poisoned dust, just to kill one mudblood who had betrayed them.

“Monsters. They are monsters.” Astoria was shaking her head. “Mad beasts we need to take down before they kill us all.”

Daphne nodded. All that destruction, all those deaths, just to kill one traitor? They had to do something. “But you’re too young for this.”

“What? I blew up the Gryffindors!” Astoria stood up.

“That was an exception.” Daphne stared at her sister, then slapped her hand down on the newspaper, scaring some of the wizards in the pictures away. “The mudbloods who did this are experienced, not some third year students.”

“Potter won the tournament and faced the Dark Lord as a fourth year!”

“You’re not Potter!” Daphne snapped. When she saw the hurt look on her sister’s face, she took a deep breath to calm down. “Astoria… I don’t want you to get hurt. The Gryffindors already want to attack you. What do you think would happen if you were caught outside our Wards by this mudblood ‘resistance’?” She stood up as well, and moved around the table, to hug her sister, but Astoria turned on her heel and ran away.

The witch sighed. That could have gone better. She’d have to tell their uncle to keep an eye on Astoria. And she’d have to call Tracey. And Draco.

*****​

London, East End, October 5th, 1996

Hermione Granger had miscalculated the explosion’s effect. That much was obvious after reading the Daily Prophet and seeing the pictures Mary had taken. She hadn’t considered the effect of a shop full of potions ingredients getting spread over half of Knockturn Alley. And probably overestimated the wards on the shop.

“Wow! Better than I hoped!” Seamus said, spreading his own copy out on the breakfast table. “Look at the crater!”

“People think we deliberately poisoned half the alley,” Hermione pointed out. “That’s not exactly good for our reputation.” She shook her head. “We’ll need to counter that with another leaflet. Knockturn Alley is filled with people and creatures unhappy with the current Ministry. Many of them would be natural allies for us.” And many would side with Voldemort, but that was better than everyone siding with Voldemort.

“Blame the Ministry for laying a trap?” Justin asked.

Hermione nodded. “I somehow doubt that number of poisoned people too. There weren’t that many ingredients in the shop, and a lot of it would have burned. Unless the Aurors prepared something, I think the article is lying.”

“The Daily Prophet, spewing Ministry lies - how shocking!” Allan said, with exaggerated expressions.

Hermione chuckled, then grew serious. “Too bad there was collateral damage.” Four passers-by or customers of Beckett dead.

“We warned them.” Allan shrugged. “And we didn’t use another bomb to kill the Aurors investigating the bombing.”

Hermione looked at him, and just knew he’d have liked that. At least Seamus and Dean seemed satisfied with having blown up Beckett. She pursed her lips. “We need to focus on the Death Eaters and their supporters. And for that, we need to find the their manors and hideouts. And for that, we need information only they can give us.”

“We need them to find them? That’s a dilemma,” Allan said.

“Not all of them will be hiding in their hidden houses. And even those will want some contact with others. Or services. We’ll have to gather information carefully. Probably kidnap a few people to interrogate. If we obliviate them and release them quickly enough, they won’t even know they spilled their secrets,” Hermione explained. They would need a way to infiltrate the Ministry as well - if they could get access to the Floo Network…

“That’s a drawback of the Slytherins leaving Hogwarts. We could have tracked them to their homes,” Justin said.

Hermione nodded. “If the Headmaster had let us.” She didn’t say that Dumbledore might have some of the information the Resistance needed to strike at the Death Eaters. She’d have Harry and Ron ask him.

“We could blow up the Ministry next!” Seamus said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “No, we can’t. It’s in the middle of muggle London. Any explosion powerful enough to wreck the Ministry with its old wards would lay waste to a big part of London as well. And,” she added with a glare, ”if we did that, we’d have to deal with getting hunted by the muggle authorities as terrorists.”

“It’s not that bad. I’ve got relatives who are wanted,” Seamus claimed.

Hermione scoffed. “And how well do you think we could fight, hunted in both worlds?”

No one answered her, though Seamus looked mulish.

“What about Clifton and Chadwick?” Sally-Anne said.

“We’ve got a meeting tomorrow, it’s still on schedule,” Hermione said. They’d need to be very careful, of course, but they could finally recruit experienced hit-wizards. If all went well.

*****​

Hogwarts, October 5th, 1996

“How fares the Ministry?” Albus Dumbledore asked, sitting behind his desk in his office.

“They’re running around like a headless chicken. Bones is convinced you’re close to declaring war on the Ministry. And that second bomb spooked most of the employees.” Nymphadora scowled. “They now fear getting poisoned as well. I’ve heard that the Aurors who had helped the first victims couldn’t replace all the bezoars they had used, because everyone in the Ministry grabbed as many of them from storage as they could.”

Albus chuckled. “All for naught. This wasn’t an organised poisoning.”

“It wasn’t? But the reports from St. Mungo’s…”

“They reported the symptoms of poison, but the Healers did not investigate the circumstances. Nor did they, after the first few cases, check everyone thoroughly.” He had studied the reports, just to check if Miss Granger had actually used poison on that scale. That was a line he sincerely hoped no one would cross.

“But…” Nymphadora looked thoughtful - or confused. Her hair colour flickered between shocking pink and pitch black.

“The ‘poison’ was likely ingredients of the shop that were not completely destroyed. Or simply dust thrown up that caused coughing.” He smiled. “I’m rather certain that should the muggleborns start to use poison, they’d not pick one that’s easily countered.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring,” the young metamorphmagus mumbled. Then she looked at him again. “The Ministry’s making another effort to get muggleborns to stay inside the building ‘for their own protection’. They are asking the parents of half-bloods working for the Ministry now.”

“Such as your father.”

Nymphadora nodded. “But moving to the Ministry might make the Resistance mark dad as a traitor. And if they’re killing traitors without a care for others…”

“I honestly doubt Ted Tonks will seek the dubious safety of the Ministry.” Albus couldn’t imagine the man brave enough to risk retaliation from the Black family for ‘seducing’ their daughter choosing to serve as a hostage. Unless someone threatened his daughter - but that would enrage Andromeda. He was a bit worried about the means used to kill this Beckett, but there had been an effort to spare innocents. Still, it was more ruthless than he had expected.

“My parents won’t, no. They’re not happy with the Ministry and mum doesn’t trust them. And they’re not the only ones. Many of the half-bloods in the corps have parents with similar views.” Nymphadora sighed. “But going into hiding is a big step. The Ministry might consider that treason. More than enough Aurors think if a muggleborn flees from them, it’s proof that they are guilty.”

“An attitude Amelia shares, sadly.” The Head of the DMLE would have made a great ally against Voldemort, if things had gone differently. As it was, she was too fixated on hunting down muggleborns. That would make working together with them nigh-impossible.

“So, is it true? Will you fight the Ministry?” the young Auror asked. Once again her hair color flashed between different shades.

“If they continue with their present course, I fear this will happen. I cannot let them target children, even if I could stomach their actions against muggleborns.” Albus spread his hands. “Despite my efforts, they do not want to accept that Voldemort is their true enemy, and that their own folly has brought the muggleborn resistance down upon them. And the worse this war gets, the less people will care about individuals. Only which side you have taken will matter.”

Judging by her expression, Nymphadora understood what Albus was saying. He didn’t feel guilty about his implications either - it would be useful if Nymphadora decided to stay in the Auror Corps and continue spying, but she had to know the risks.

*****​

Dorset, Britain, October 5th, 1996

Draco’s living arrangements had certainly changed, Daphne Greengrass thought upon stepping out of the Floo connection. If that was his current home, and not a temporary meeting spot that Tracey and she had just entered.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Draco was smiling at them. “Despite the circumstances, I’m glad you chose to visit.”

“There’s not much choice. Someone has to do something.” They had had to flee Hogwarts, they couldn’t let the mudbloods drive them from Diagon Alley as well.

“I’ve been saying that for a long time, but few, too few have listened.”

He led them in an expanded living room. Crabbe and Goyle were there already, as was Nott and of course Pansy. Most of the Quidditch team, but not the former captain were present as well. No surprise there - Draco didn’t tolerate any other leader. With one obvious exception.

Draco stood in the center of the room, smiling widely before growing serious. He was happy, she realised. Daphne almost turned around and left again. Then she told herself that there was no choice. If she wanted to do something against the monsters that had taken her parents, Draco was the best choice. And, she added, he probably was just happy that he could do the same - avenge his parents.

“You’ve all heard the news from Knockturn Alley. Another explosion, like the one that took our parents and relatives from us. Another blow from the mudbloods. So much destruction wrought, even on their own, to kill a single mudblood who had had the sense to remain loyal to the Ministry. If they will do this, what else will they be doing next, left unchecked?” Draco scoffed. “The Ministry’s useless, worse than useless even, trying to hunt down those who had seen and fought the mudblood threat twenty years ago already while ignoring the real danger to Wizarding Britain! The blood traitors do their utmost to protect the murderers waiting in the shadows to strike at us! My family’s Manor was just the start, after Knockturn Alley, Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade are at risk as well - if we let the mudbloods and blood traitors act as they please. Will we do that?”

“No!” shouted Pansy at once, and the rest of the room joined her, including Daphne. She wanted to strike back at those mudbloods, the ones responsible for the murder of her parents.

“We have to be smart and cunning, though. Blindly lashing out would make us no better than Gryffindors. Fortunately, we’re not alone. You know who else is fighting for Britain.”

This time, not one answered verbally, and even the nods were a bit shaky. The Dark Lord. Daphne had heard stories about the Blood War from her parents that had given her nightmares as a child. But then, the Dark Lord hadn’t killed her family. Mudbloods had, and blood traitors were helping them.

Draco smiled widely. “We might not be able to strike at the mudbloods themselves until they have been found, but allies have provided me with a list of blood traitors.”

*****​

 

Chapter 10: Meetings

‘With most of House Slytherin fled from Hogwarts, one might have expected the Ministry to put more pressure on Albus Dumbledore in response, since many of those students were relatives to influential Wizengamot members - some, like Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass, had even inherited seats but were not yet of age to exercise their rights. And yet, if such attempts were made in the wake of the flight of the Slytherins - records differ - they came to naught. They might even be responsible for the increasingly stiff resistance Dumbledore showed towards the policies of the Wizengamot and the Ministry.
However, the Second Blood War entering a very active phase at around the same time makes it hard to determine just what influence the events at Hogwarts had on this - other than the obvious consequences, of course.
- Excerpt from ‘The Second Blood War’ by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

London, Southwark, October 6th, 1996

A meeting on the Tower Bridge sounded like something straight out of a spy novel, Hermione Granger thought. On the other hand, it offered more ways to spot and escape an ambush than a building, or a crowded area. And given its prominence in muggle London, the chance of a pureblood attack was very low, especially if you considered the threat to the Statute of Secrecy any magical battle in such a public spot would be. So, she could understand Clifton’s choice.

She still felt very exposed, waiting on the pavement, acting as if she was watching the river below and feeding the seagulls and pigeons while she was keeping an eye out for threats and the Hit-Wizard she was meeting. Justin was on top of the tower, disillusioned and with a broom and rifle. Allan was watching from the Southwark approach, Seamus was on the other side of the river, and Dean was a bit away, peddling religious literature as a cover. And if the worst happened, she could pull out a broom of her own and fly away. Or splash into the river and swim away, courtesy of a Bubble-Head and Cushioning Charm.

But there shouldn’t be a problem. She had spent weeks on this meeting, asking and answering questions until finally, both her and Clifton had agreed on meeting face to face. She was even in disguise, though given that she was wearing a jacket with the logo of the “Arsenal Gunners” on the back as a recognition sign, her disguise wouldn’t be of much use. And the wig itched.

“Disillusioned person approaching on the other side of the bridge,” Dean told her and the rest through their radios.

“Covering the area. If you mark him, I’ll shoot him,” Justin answered. He could easily shoot the person from his vantage point, as soon as Dean either dispelled the Disillusionment or simply marked the person with a hex - a flock of birds attacking them would provide a decent enough target.

Just one? That wasn’t enough for an ambush, she thought. Though you never knew with the Ministry - they could surprise you with their stupidity. Then she saw an older woman slowly walk towards her, carrying a bag with a flower pot in it - the agreed recognition sign. When the woman stopped next to her, Hermione mumbled “Louise Clifton?”

“Yes.” The woman pulled out a loaf of bread and started to feed the birds as well.

“Is that Chadwick disillusioned on the other side of the road? Or does my backup have to shoot him?” Hermione asked, throwing a bigger piece of bread into the air, which was attacked by two seagulls at the same time in a loud and violent struggle.

“That’s him, yes,” came the answer. “Shoot him?”

“Sniper’s covering us. We spotted Chadwick on the approach already. As the Ministry’s most wanted muggleborns, we have to be cautious.” Hermione turned around and leaned on the railing. “And that’s why you wanted to meet here; to see how we’d approach the situation. Right?” There was not much of a point otherwise for this - if this was a Ministry trap, they’d wait until they had a location for a safehouse to spring it.

Up close she could see that the other witch’s disguise wasn’t the best. Thick makeup, and a rather obvious wig. Probably padded clothes as well, unless the fitness standards for Hit-Wizards were worse than she thought.

“Well, we wanted to see how you’d approach such a situation. Anyone can claim anything on the internet, after all.” The slightly sheepish tone was replaced with a more confident one. “And you’d not lead us to your headquarters straight away either, would you?”

“We’ve safeguards against betrayal,” Hermione said. “And no, they aren’t Legilimency, nor an Unbreakable Vow.”

That surprised the other witch. “Who’s backing you? That’s not the kind of resources teenagers have.”

“We’re no one’s tools,” Hermione said. “No one tells us what to do.” She stared at Clifton. “I’ve been fighting Voldemort and his ilk since I started at Hogwarts, together with Harry Potter. I’ve organised this group. We moved our families to safety before the Ministry could catch us. Malfoy Manor? We did that because we had a chance at the Dark Lord himself, but we were still preparing for this war back then. Now we’ve finished the first stage of our preparations, and we’re ready to start waging war.”

She saw that the other witch was surprised, and taken aback. As planned - Hermione wouldn’t let anyone waltz in and take over. Especially not some adults who had done far, far less than she had done to battle the Dark Lord.

She smiled widely. “Now, let’s collect your friend, and move to a slightly less public space, so we can check if you’re trustworthy.”

*****​

London, Bexley, October 6th, 1996

The two former Hit-Wizards were taken to another safehouse - the upper two floors of a defunct radio and television business the Resistance had appropriated. Conjured furniture provided some comforts, but Hermione knew that no one would be fooled into thinking the muggleborns were staying there.

Neither Clifton nor Chadwick said anything about it, though they were looking around, and assessing the other Resistance members present, or so it looked like to Hermione. Mary and Tania met their gazes with some of their own. The two witches, as well as Allan and Justin, were holding assault rifles. Just in case.

“Here’s the contract,” Hermione said, putting the parchment down on the table. “It’ll ensure you can’t betray us.” Most of the questions they had had been answered through e-mail already. But the Resistance hadn’t revealed their security measure.

“What exactly does it do?” Clifton asked, eyeing the document with some wariness.

“Wipes your mind of all our information,” Hermione said. “Anything you will have learned since joining us.”

“Don’t think that it will save you if the Ministry catches you - Martin lost his memory, and they executed him anyway,” Allan added.

“It’s to protect the rest of us,” Hermione said, hiding her annoyance at the interruption - she would have covered that in the next sentence.

“I’d have expected something more drastic,” Chadwick said, “after what you did to Beckett.”

“Beckett sold one of us out. He paid for it,” Hermione said. “But we can be put under the Imperius Curse, or dosed with Veritaserum. We don’t kill victims.”

The wizard exchanged a glance with Clifton and nodded. “Fair enough.” He reached out for the pen, but his friend was faster and signed first.

“Welcome to the Resistance,” Hermione said, smiling and shaking hands.

“Glad to be here.” Clifton smiled. “Call me Louise then.”

“And I’m Jeremy,” Chadwick added. “So… what’s with the guns? I haven’t heard of any wizards getting shot.”

“We haven’t used them yet. There was no need to,” Hermione explained. “We prefer not to give the Death Eaters advance warning of what we can do. But we’ve access to a wide range of firearms.”

“And you’ll get to be trained in their use as well!” Sally-Anne said, grinning. “Boot camp!”

“Boot camp?” Jeremy asked.

Hermione grinned. “Not a real boot camp, but if you want to use a firearm, you’ll have to get the necessary training.” She grew serious. “We don’t fool around with weapons.”

“We don’t fool around, period,” Allan said.

Hermione wasn’t certain if that was a dig at her refusing his advances. Sally-Anne winced though, and so the witch added: “Not in combat or ‘on the job’.” They weren’t some order of chaste knights. She really wished she could do all the talking. At least Dean and Seamus were providing security outside, instead of quipping inside. “You know our enemy is Voldemort. He and his Death Eaters are behind this whole war. We blew up Malfoy Manor, and while we managed to kill a lot of the Dark Lord’s supporters, the rest became very cautious. So, our priority is finding the Death Eaters. They are hiding, but their supporters are still interacting with wizarding society. Even though the more intelligent of them stick to the Floo Network for travel, and live in secret manors as well, they are not untouchable. We will need to reach them when they are visiting public or semi-public areas.” She grinned. “And I think your experience as Hit-Wizards should be useful there.”

Louise grinned back. “Oh, yes. We’ve guarded those spots often enough.”

Jeremy nodded. “I think the Ministry might soon regret that they kept us on security detail.”

Hermione smiled. She had a feeling that these two would fit in nicely with the group.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, October 6th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle entered the Auror offices and didn’t flinch when for a moment, everyone seemed to stare at her. She’d gone through this before, when that mudblood bitch had stunned her and murdered her partner. Everyone had blamed her. And now everyone was blaming her for getting Beckett killed on her watch. Literally.

She held her head high and met their eyes. It hadn’t been her fault back then, and it wasn’t her fault this time either. Nor her partner’s, or the fault of the other Aurors with her. The only one at fault was the mudblood bitch. She pulled out a leaflet and slapped it on the desk of Martin Runcorn. “Check this.”

Her partner picked the sheet of parchment up and read it. “The Muggleborn Resistance claims responsibility for the attack on Beckett, in retaliation for his ‘betrayal of Martin Cokes to the blood-robed thugs in service of the Ministry’s oppressive and inhuman policies’. Well, that’s a new moniker for us…” He chuckled. Then frowned when he read the next part. “They’re blaming ‘a Ministry plan to poison muggleborns’ for the disaster?”

Brenda nodded. “Hogwash, all of it, but the Alley trash is eating it up. I caught glares galore when I visited earlier.” The scum shouldn’t be that daring.

Martin muttered a curse. Then he smiled cynically. “At least the case’s solved thanks to the leaflet. It’s as good as a confession.”

Brenda scoffed. “No case is solved until the guilty are caught or dead.”

“That might be a problem,” her partner agreed. “The mudbloods are too good at hiding. Can we ambush them when they drop the leaflets?”

Brenda shrugged. “If they’re smart they’ll portkey them in, or banish them at the street from high above while disillusioned.”

“We could block portkeys, and then cover the air above the alley with ambushers,” Martin said.

She snorted. Her partner was no longer a rookie, but he hadn’t yet fully understood just how the Ministry worked. “No chance of that. After our stake-out blew up in our face, we won’t get the approval for another attempt. Even if it might be a good plan.”

“Might?”

“If we can spot them, they can spot us,” Brenda quoted her old instructor. “According to our latest estimates, there are about a dozen members of that mudblood group. If they all come at us at once…”

“They’re mudbloods, they won’t be that good on brooms. And they don’t have our training; most are students.” Martin wasn’t easily deterred. Another good quality for an Auror - sometimes you had to be too stubborn for your own good to solve a case.

“Soaking up curses is what Hit-Wizards are for. We’re Aurors.” Brenda shook her head.

“We could get Hit-Wizards for this. They are trained for that.”

This time Brenda laughed out loud. “Hit-Wizards on an unsanctioned Auror mission? They barely ever cooperate when Bones makes them work with us at wand-point!” And the Ministry kept most of them around the Ministry building anyway.

“They’ve lost a number of their own. They are bound to be looking for some payback.”

“That’s true, but most of them want to avenge Azkaban,” Brenda said.

“Most, not all,” Martin said, in a lower voice.

Brenda knew what he was hinting at. Or who, to be precise. “Taking that kind of help means you might find yourself blackmailed into joining later.” And she didn’t want to end up a traitor, or an expendable wand.

Her partner frowned, but slowly nodded. “But what can we do then? We have to do something about the mudbloods!”

She had thought about that, a lot - even before Beckett had been killed. “I know. What we need is a spy.”

*****​

London, East End, October 7th, 1996

Louise and Jeremy had been impressed, or at least had acted impressed, by the real safehouse of the Resistance - mostly the armoury. But to Hermione Granger’s delight they not only understood the need to keep the Resistance hidden and safe in the muggle world, but also that Voldemort was the real enemy. Even though, the girl admitted to herself, the ex-Hit-Wizards might also prefer not to fight all of their former colleagues at the Ministry.

She glanced at Allan, who was frowning a bit more than usual, before she continued their planning session. “Now, I’ll be looking into Death Eater info later today. The list of pureblood bigots you have compiled will be a great help,” she added with a smile to Louise. “But now that we have finished boot camp and have dealt with the traitor, we need to step up our propaganda.” She stood at the head of the table. “The key to winning this war is the half-bloods. So far, the Death Eaters and their sympathisers haven’t as much as sneered at them in public.”

“That’s because most of the half-bloods act more pureblood than the purebloods,” Allan said, scoffing.

“Some might. Others might play along, hoping to get overlooked while the bigots go after us. But every half-blood has muggleborn family. They may be raised in the magical world, and they don’t know the muggle world as well as they could,” - Hermione had heard enough stories about Nymphadora Tonks’s forays into muggle London’s clubbing scene from Sirius to know that - “but the main reason the bigots have not gone after them - yet - is that there are so many of them, and that Dumbledore is among them.” She met Allan’s eyes. “If we can make them see that the Ministry’s policies will sooner or later cause harm to their families, then we’ll gain not just allies for us, but will force the Ministry to either change, or lose the support of a third of the population.”

“They didn’t exactly care about muggleborns when the Nazi laws were passed last year,” Dean said.

“They didn’t. But a lot of people wanted to avoid war back then. Now that the Dark Lord’s openly fighting the Ministry, things will have changed.”

Allan snorted. “Such cowards won’t do us much good.”

“Even cowards can fight when backed into a corner,” Hermione said.

“But as you said: The Death Eaters are not attacking them. They won’t, as long as we’re there to fight,” Justin said.

“There were a number of half-bloods among the Hit-Wizards killed at Azkaban,” Louise said.

“But they were killed because they were guards there, not for their blood status,” Allan said.

Hermione cleared her throat. “We just need to make half-bloods think - realise - that their families are in danger as well, and that they themselves will be next if the muggleborns are dealt with. Playing up the half-blood victims of the Death Eaters will help there.”

“It would be more helpful if some Death Eaters would attack half-bloods. Torch a shop or two,” Allan said.

Hermione knew what he meant, and scowled. “Trying to fake attacks by the Death Eaters is too risky. One mistake, and they’ll be able to blame their real attacks on us. We can’t afford to lose our credibility.”

Allan shrugged. “If we’re careful enough, no one will be able to prove we did it.”

“We’re not attacking innocents while acting as Death Eaters,” Hermione said through clenched teeth. “We’re better than that.”

“Having the moral high ground won’t help us if we lose this war,” Seamus shot back.

“Having the moral high ground is the best way to win this war,” Hermione replied. “We need the support of the population; that’s how civil wars are won.” She stared at Allan, then went on: “And for that, we need to step up our propaganda. Leaflets are an easy and effective way to spread our message, but we’ll need to reach more people - especially those who left the magical world.”

“That’s hard. They’ll be hiding.”

“I know. But many of them will be keeping some contact with Wizarding Britain. Newspapers, or the Wizarding Wireless.” Hermione leaned forward. “We need to be able to interfere with those two channels, and set up our own.” She smiled. "I've a few thoughts for that."

*****​

Hogwarts, October 7th, 1996

The office of the Headmaster hadn’t changed in the years since his first visit, as far as Harry Potter could tell. Of course he didn’t have a photographic memory, but the weird and exotic knickknacks on the shelves looked the same. And the office smelled the same as well. The Headmaster though looked different, somewhat. More tired, or more serious.

Or maybe that was Harry projecting. Keeping an eye on the map at all times meant taking shifts, and Harry and Ron had taken more than their fair share of late night vigils. Mostly because they tended to share their shifts so they could talk and keep each other awake.

“I suppose you are wondering why I have called you to my office,” the Headmaster started.

“Yes, sir,” Ron said. He looked as anxious as Harry felt, even though both knew that if there had been an emergency with either their family or friends, then Dumbledore would have called them at once, and not asked them to visit him after dinner. At least they were reasonably certain he’d do that. Hence the slight anxiety.

The old wizard sighed, then smiled. “You’ve shown remarkable ingenuity, courage and moral fibre during your time at Hogwarts. Always ready to do what’s right, not what’s easy - or legal, even. True Gryffindors, if I do say so as a member of that house myself.”

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Harry said. “We’ve just done what we thought was needed.”

Dumbledore winced at that. “I know, and I am sorry that such a duty fell to you so often. I have failed you in the past. You and your friends.”

Harry knew which friends the Headmaster was talking about. And which friend in particular. He would have said something about nobody being perfect, but it felt too cliched. Ron snorted, but didn’t say anything.

“You both have learned Occlumency,” Dumbledore continued.

Harry scowled. “Thanks to Hermione. Snape’s lessons were useless.” He wondered if the Headmaster had spied on him or tested his Occlumency himself. On the other hand, Sirius might have told the man.

“That was not his fault. I told him to choose the quickest method to teach you, knowing it was both painful and had a smaller chance of succeeding than other methods.” Dumbledore sighed. “It was a gamble, which did not pay off.”

“And caused a lot of pain to Harry,” Ron said.

“I am sorry for that, but I deemed it more important to protect his mind from Voldemort. Another plan that did not succeed. The last year has not been a good year. If I hadn’t checked, I would think I had been cursed.” The old wizard chuckled without humour. “On the other hand, others have had more success with their endeavours. Your friend has formed a resistance group and dealt the Dark Lord a heavy blow. You two have helped her, and protected your house, and I dare say, the school as well.” He leaned back and glanced at Fawkes, who was preening himself. “You know about the Order of the Phoenix.”

“Yes,” Ron said.

Harry nodded. He hadn’t expected that to come up.

“I suppose you also are aware of what we do.”

“Somewhat,” Harry replied. Sirius had been at times more vocal about what the Order wasn’t doing.

“Most of what the Order members do is kept secret. Even from most of the other members.” Dumbledore frowned. “A lesson learned in the last war, at great cost.”

“Pettigrew,” Harry growled. The traitor who was responsible for the murder of his parents.

“Secrets you do not know you cannot betray - willingly, or under duress.” Dumbledore looked at Harry. “Even Occlumency only goes so far.”

“I’d rather die than betray my friends!” Ron spat.

“I do not doubt you. But sometimes, you are not given that choice, and sometimes, it is not your own life that is on the line. But I digress.” The Headmaster folded his hands over his stomach. “I would like to recruit you for the Order of the Phoenix.”

Harry blinked. He hadn’t expected that. He glanced at Ron, who seemed just as surprised.

“Blimey!” Ron’s smile didn’t last long though, turning into a scowl. “Mum’s never going to allow that. She threw a fit when Charlie and Bill joined.”

“Molly lost her brothers in the last war. She is understandably unwilling to see her children risk their lives, even though she did not hesitate to do so herself when I called the Order up again,” the Headmaster said. “In any case, I do not think she should be told about this, nor should anyone else but Sirius, and maybe a few others, should their help become necessary.”

Harry stared at the old wizard. Ron was gaping.

Dumbledore nodded. “Secrecy is safety.”

“Yes. Mum would kill us all if she knew,” Ron said, wincing. “But what do you need us for, sir? We’re already watching Hogwarts through the map, so you’d not need us in the Order for that.”

Harry nodded. And once Sirius and Remus had the map copied, Dumbledore wouldn’t need them for that either. Not that he truly needed them, Harry knew - if the Headmaster asked, they’d give him the map.

“You are correct. And while you have proven your resourcefulness and dedication, and would make very valued additions to our ranks just for that, there is another reason you are needed.” He looked at Harry. “You know that you and Voldemort have a link. What you do not know is that your fates are tied together far tighter than you could imagine. There is a prophecy about you and the Dark Lord.”

Ron cursed while Harry clenched his teeth. He just knew he would hate what the Headmaster was about to tell him.

*****​

Hogwarts, October 7th, 1996

“... born as the seventh month ends.”

Albus Dumbledore looked at the two boys sitting in front of his desk. Harry was rigid, clenching his jaw together, and staring at the wall behind the Headmaster. Mister Weasley was glancing at his friend, biting his lower lip, and fidgeting.

“Blimey…” he muttered, shaking his head.

Harry took a deep breath. “So… that’s why my parents died? Why he is so fixated on me? Why he needed my blood to revive himself?”

Albus smiled gently, and nodded. “To be precise, Tom’s belief in the prophecy is what drove him to attack your family. He didn’t need your blood to be resurrected; he chose it so he would be immune to the protection your mother had granted you.”

“The blood protection,” Harry said.

Albus nodded. He didn’t know what Lily Potter had done to protect Harry. All her notes had been lost - or deliberately destroyed. He had his suspicions, of course. Harry thought, like most of Britain, that it was his mother’s love that had protected him. From a certain point of view, that was correct. Lily’s love for Harry had driven her to take such measures. And it wouldn’t do to let Britain know that the Boy-Who-Lived had most likely been protected by highly-illegal blood magic.

“So… I’ll have to face him.” Harry took a deep breath. He was being brave.

His friend put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Not alone, mate. We’ll be with you all the way.”

Albus smiled. “Actually, you have the power to vanquish him. That doesn’t mean you have to face him like I faced Grindelwald. Or even meet him on the battlefield.”

“But…” Harry trailed off.

Mister Weasley blinked. “Oh! You mean it’s something more abstract. Like his fame, or influence.”

He nodded at the boy. “Prophecies are notoriously vague. ‘Power’ has a lot of meanings. We can but hope that Tom will keep thinking it is the kind of power he knows best - the power from spells and curses.”

“It’s not that then,” Harry said.

Albus shook his head. “No, it’s not. I do think I know what it is, but to be certain, I need to do more research. Assuming instead of knowing could be a fatal in this case.”

“So… that’s what you need me for.” Harry looked resigned.

“Not entirely.” Albus sighed. “The Dark Lord has taken measures to cheat death. To cling to life even after his body died.”

“As a shade.” Harry shivered, no doubt remembering his past encounters with the Dark Lord.

“That is the result, not the cause of his unnatural existence.” Albus paused. He had the full attention of the two boys now. “He has created Horcruxes. Anchors, of sorts, for his soul. Creations of the darkest arts that keep his soul from passing on after death.”

“The diary!” Harry exclaimed.

Dumbledore nodded. “That was one of them. His first, and somewhat different, if I am correct. I will not tell you how he created them; suffice to know that the very act of creating a Horcrux irrevocably stains your soul. Even with his Horcruxes gone, Tom will be doomed to never pass on. To never find peace. To suffer a half-existence in the realms between life and death for eternity. A fate worse than death.”

The two boys shivered. Ron swallowed. “And we’ll have to hunt them down?”

Albus nodded. “Harry’s link to him will help there.”

Harry nodded slowly.

“You will need training. Horcruxes corrupt people. They attack your mind and soul, inserting doubts, weakening your resolve, and encouraging selfish desires. You have learned Occlumency, but you will have to master it to hunt Horcruxes. I will train you, but I have to warn you: It will be painful, exhausting and frustrating. More so than you can imagine.”

“Can’t be worse than Snape’s lessons,” Harry muttered.

Albus suppressed a wince at hearing that. If the boy knew why Severus had taught him like that… Out loud, he said: “It is time for you to retire to your dorm, and think about this. Discuss it. Even with your friend, though in person, with no one able to listen in.”

That surprised the two, but it pleased them as well. As Albus had known it would. They left his office in higher spirits than they had entered, or so he assumed. His own smile vanished as soon as the door closed behind them, and he closed his eyes as he fought his guilt.

If they knew the full prophecy… he remembered it, as clearly as the day he’d first heard it.

… and he and the Dark Lord will be one, and either will crush the other, for neither can let the other survive or they will lose what they hold most dear. The one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month ends.

Albus sighed. He was certain that he knew what the prophecy meant. What Harry would have to do. But to tell the boy could ruin it. And if the Dark Lord found out… no, it was better to let everyone think that the Horcruxes were the key to Tom’s defeat.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, October 8th, 1996

Hermione Granger apparated straight to the entrance hall of Sirius’s house. She had contacted him beforehand to check that he had no visitors, but she was still tense. Between the Imperius and Polyjuice, a trap remained a possibility. But if she didn’t take any risk at all, she’d never be able to win this war.

Sirius was waiting for her, leaning against the wall opposite the door. She checked her sides and the ceiling at once for a possible ambush before smiling at him. “Good afternoon.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are we getting paranoid?”

She snorted. “A month dodging ambushes in the woods leaves an impression.” It had also left her behind on her personal studying schedule, but that she could make up. Even though she doubted she would take exams or tests any time soon, she tried to study as if she could return to Hogwarts any day. She’d not abandon her education completely. She’d not grant the pureblood bigots that victory.

Sirius shook his head. “The things you kids get up to…” He gestured to the door leading to the living room. “I assume you’re not here hours before Harry and Ron can sneak out of Hogwarts because you’ve got designs on my body.” He leered at her and added. “Though if you have I will, of course, do my utmost to accommodate you!”

She chuckled. “You’re correct. I need information and help.”

They sat down on old, soft armchairs, and Kreacher arrived with the tea and snacks. The house-elf glanced at her briefly and vanished quickly. He hadn’t forgotten the lesson she had taught him.

“So… what do you need?” Sirius asked, his cup in hand.

“Information about Death Eater sympathisers. We need to interrogate them to find where the Death Eaters are hiding,” Hermione said, putting her own cup down. She didn’t need to tell him what they would do to those Death Eaters they found.

Sirius nodded. “Their sympathisers in the Wizengamot are well-guarded. They’re scared of sharing Malfoy’s fate, and would apparate directly into their seats for a session, if they could.”

“I expected that. But they’ll have younger relatives in the Ministry. Aurors. Hit-Wizards. People who can’t stay behind wards all day.” Hermione bit into a small cucumber sandwich.

“That they do. Though their elders might not share many of their secrets with them.” Sirius sipped from his cup. “And with the recent disappearance of a few Aurors, they have increased their own security as well.”

Hermione frowned. Another unexpected wrench in their plans. She told herself that the Aurors deserting was a good thing. And even if they were killed it would mean that someone else was fighting them. “That can’t be helped. We will be careful, and quick, so no one will be the wiser. If needed we can create a distraction. But we need names, and a way to identify them.” She didn’t have access to the patrol schedules of the Aurors, but the Wireless Ears Harry and Ron had placed in The Thin Red Line gave them enough information about patrols - it was amazing how often Aurors complained about their shifts.

“I’ll see what I can do. Nymphadora might be able to help there, but I’d rather not risk her.” Sirius refilled his cup. “You’re going on the offensive then.”

Hermione nodded. “We’re still not as prepared as I’d like, but some of the boys are getting restless.” She frowned. If only Allan, Dean and Seamus had more patience!

Sirius grinned. “The boys not listening to you?” He ignored her glare. “Not like Harry and Ron then.”

She scoffed. “Harry and Ron would push for action as well.”

“But you’d not give in.”

“I’m not their mum.”

Sirius chuckled. “Definitely not. Although you might be as scary as Molly. Maybe even scarier.”

She blinked, then scowled. “What do you mean?” She wasn’t that much of a nag.

“Molly doesn’t like to talk about it, but she was a right terror in the last war. After her brothers were murdered by Death Eaters, she paid them back. With interest, if you get my meaning. Of course she might be rusty after all these years, and she has gained some pounds on her hips, but she’s not a witch many want to cross.”

Hermione wasn’t certain if Sirius was pulling her leg or not. To imagine Ron’s mum on the battlefield… on the other hand, she was an impressive witch, with a temper to match. She’d ask Ron later, to confirm the story. “There’s another thing. We need information about the Wizarding Wireless Network. Preferably from a maintenance wizard or witch.”

“What are you planning? It’s based in Hogsmeade.”

Did he think they’d blow up the village? “We want to create our own wireless broadcasting station.”

Sirius whistled. “That’s ambitious. But to imagine their propaganda shows getting hijacked…” He grinned widely. “You’ll need some specialised equipment too.”

“Yes. That could be tracked if purchased legally. We plan to steal it from the Network, or purchase it abroad.” She finished her cup. “But we need to understand how it works first. Hence the need to interrogate a maintenance wizard.”

Sirius nodded. “Shouldn’t be too hard. They won’t be expecting to be kidnapped.”

“It’s still Hogsmeade. Lots of patrols there,” Hermione answered.

“They might be watching out for Dumbledore more than for muggleborns, these days.” Sirius chuckled.

“Oh?”

“Our dear Headmaster is losing his patience. He all but told Fudge and Bones that if the Ministry kept trying to push Voldemort’s agenda, he’ll react accordingly.” Sirius grinned. “Took him long enough.”

Hermione frowned. On one hand, Dumbledore opposing the Ministry was a good thing, on the other hand… “If he fights the Ministry, Hogwarts will suffer. They’ll try to take it over, and he can either let them, or turn the school into a fortress.”

Sirius scoffed. “That’ll happen anyway. The Ministry won’t change. The purebloods have too much power, and they are too afraid. Dumbledore can only delay the inevitable. And Hogwarts is too important to be abandoned to the enemy.”

Hermione hissed. If Hogwarts was turned into a battleground, then Harry and Ron…

“You know they’ll fight anyway, don’t you?” Sirius asked, smiling sadly.

The young witch frowned. She didn’t like that she was so easy to read.

“You can’t keep them safe. And it would be hypocritical to risk your own life, but not let them risk theirs.” Sirius took another sip, then put his cup down.

She glared at him. He held up his hands. “I don’t like it either. But do you honestly expect them to stay of the fighting? It’s a miracle they didn’t found their own resistance group months ago. And if they hadn’t been able to spy on the Aurors, they’d probably have run off to join yours.” He grinned. “They might still do that.”

Hermione smiled, imagining it, then frowned. She didn’t think the other Resistance members would like that. Allan would be insufferable, Dean and Seamus probably as well. They’d see her friends as interlopers, trying to take over. And the others… She shook her head. “That wouldn’t work out.”

Sirius looked at her, then nodded. She didn’t know what he thought, and didn’t want to ask.

She grabbed another sandwich. “So… I’ve got a few things I’d like to check your library for.”

The wizard chuckled. “Ah, that’s why you came so early!” He stood up. “I’m not about to get between you and books - as everyone tells me, that’s far too dangerous.”

She scowled, but he just laughed. Then she smiled. The banter felt almost like when she had visited the house for the first time. Before Wizarding Britain had decided to persecute her and the other muggleborns.

Then she remembered what she was researching, and her smile faded.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, October 8th, 1996

Harry Potter stumbled out of the Floo Connection and barely managed to avoid falling down. As far as Floo travel went, it was one of his better trips, even if Sirius was shaking his head at him. Ron stepped out of the fireplace as if he was walking through a door.

“Harry!”

Hermione was chuckling at his wobbly entrance. He felt a brief spark of anger at his problems with magical travel, and some jealousy at others’ mastery of it. Then he took a closer look at his best female friend. She looked different. Not just because she had cut her hair short. She looked a bit leaner too, in jeans and a t-shirt. And when she hugged him, she felt… fitter, kind of.

“Blimey, Hermione! You’ve cut your hair!” Ron said. “Looks good though.”

She released Harry and hugged Ron, smiling. She didn’t blush, as far as Harry could tell. “It’s more manageable that way. And I can wear wigs more easily.”

Harry grinned. Of course Hermione would have practical reasons for the change. He embraced Sirius.

Ron shook his head. “You kept your hair long while you were living in the woods, and now you cut it when you’re back in London? Mental!”

Hermione pouted. “It was a matter of pride. Our instructors wanted me to cut my hair. Said I couldn’t manage.”

“Well, charms don’t care how long your hair is. Although yours might have given them pause.” Ron grinned, then held up his hands when Hermione glared at him.

“We missed you,” Harry said, before his two friends could start a row, or something else. “How are you doing?”

The witch sighed as they walked towards Sirius’s living room. “I’m behind my study schedule. I want to keep pace with the material for sixth year, but I didn’t get much studying done last month.”

“Which means you’re just a month ahead, not two?” Ron snorted.

Hermione didn’t answer that, so his best mate was probably correct. “I’ve been reading up on counter-curses in the library here. There are a number of dark curses that normal healing spells won’t work on.” Her expression left no doubt that she thought Harry and Ron should do the same.

Harry nodded. She was right, of course. “I guess between Bellatrix and Malfoy’s mother, the Death Eaters are bound to have learned some of those curses.”

“Exactly.” Hermione smiled at him.

“I doubt that they have taught the more exotic spells in our library to everyone. They were raised very traditionally, as you know. But they’d have taught them to family members, like the Lestranges, and of course Draco,” Sirius said.

“And Malfoy’s probably planning another attack right now,” Ron added. “Not on Hogwarts though.”

“Voldemort might not let him do as he pleases. And there haven’t been many attacks by Death Eaters,” Harry said.

“Not many that we know of,” Hermione corrected him as she sat down on the couch. Harry sat down next to her, grabbing a sandwich from the plate on the low table, while Sirius and Ron took the seats across from them.

“They might be behind the vanished Aurors,” Sirius said. “At least some Aurors suspect that.”

“Well, it wasn’t us,” Hermione said. “But some other muggleborns could have done it. We’re not the only ones hiding. We’re focusing on Death Eaters anyway.”

“Aurors are easier to find than Death Eaters,” Sirius said.

“The Ministry’s not the real enemy. Once Voldemort has been killed and his followers dealt with, the Ministry will fall in line. We can’t waste our efforts on spineless worms when there are murderers to deal with.” Hermione’s expression made Harry suspect that if the Ministry didn’t change rapidly after the Dark Lord’s defeat, then there would be hell to pay.

He didn’t care. The Ministry hadn’t done anything for him, and the Aurors had tried to kill his godfather and his best friend. Though there were some people in the Ministry he did care for, he added to himself with a glance at Ron.

“Shouldn’t underestimate them. Dad says the Ministry can be very stubborn and even more stupid.” Ron grabbed a sandwich himself, and opened a butterbeer.

“I know. But if we start attacking the Aurors, we play into Voldemort’s hands. He can just wait and build his forces up while we weaken each other.” Hermione scowled. “And we’d push more people into his camp.”

Harry patted her shoulder. “They’re hunting you though.”

“I know.” The witch sighed. For a moment, she looked tired and very vulnerable to Harry. He wanted to hug her. Pull her into his lap. “And I know there’s a lot of Death Eater sympathisers in the Ministry. And more in the Wizengamot. But the real enemy is Voldemort.” She pushed her chin up. “And we’ll go after him and his. It’s too bad the Slytherins fled from Hogwarts. If we had found a way to tag them with trackers…”

“That would have been nice. I’m certain Fred and George could have whipped something up.” Ron smiled.

“We can still use such things. Electronic trackers don’t work correctly. And the spells I’ve found are well-known,” Hermione said. “Their counters will be common as well.”

“I’ll ask the twins,” Ron said. “It’ll have a silly name, and it’ll look silly as well, but it’ll work. Probably.”

“Thank you Ron.” The witch smiled at him. Harry felt some jealousy again, and fought it down. Both were his best friends. And Hermione wasn’t flirting with Ron.

“Be very careful. If your tracking method gets discovered, you’re bound to run into an ambush. Voldemort’s smart,” Sirius pointed out.

“Speaking of Voldemort…” Harry took a deep breath. “There’s something Dumbledore told us that we didn’t want to tell you through the mirrors.”

*****​

When Harry had finished telling them what he had learned, Sirius was pacing in the living room, cursing loudly in several languages, and Hermione looked like she wanted to jump up and scour the library for every bit of information about Horcruxes.

“The Headmaster’s working on it already,” Harry said, trying to make them feel better.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t work on it as well,” Hermione said.

“Of course not… but you’ve other plans as well. The Resistance is counting on you, right?” Ron asked. “Wouldn’t do anyone any good if we fixate on the Horcruxes while Voldemort takes over Britain. In fact, if we could kill him again, finding ways to deal with the things might be easier since he’d be busy trying to come back again.”

That was a good point, Harry thought. Even his godfather and their best female friend agreed, if slightly reluctantly and after a while. At least neither had issues with Harry and Ron getting recruited into a secret Order cell, as Hermione called it.

“Your parents don’t know about that, do they?” she asked, with a grin.

Ron winced. “No, they don’t. Mum’s going to explode once she finds out.”

“If she finds out,” Harry said.

“She will,” Ron said. “She always caught the twins. And you know how sneaky they are.”

“That’s hard to prove. If she didn’t catch them, you’d not know about it,” Hermione pointed out. “Although judging by what Sirius told me, she might have caught them every time.”

Harry looked to Sirius, and a quick glance told him that Ron looked as confused as he felt. “What do you mean?”

“Molly went on a rampage after Ron’s uncles were murdered,” Harry’s godfather said. “Killed her fair share of Death Eaters.”

“You’re kidding!” Ron said. “Mum did that?”

“You didn’t know?” Sirius looked surprised.

“Of course not! She never told us anything about the war. Neither did Dad.”

“Ah… I better not spill the beans then. No more than I already did. Wouldn’t want to get her mad at me,” Sirius said with a grin, and Harry couldn’t tell how serious he was. To think of the witch who had taken him in as a…

“We’re dead then. Dumbledore, and us,” Ron said, staring at the floor. “Mum’s going to kill us all.”

“We’ll blame Dumbledore,” Harry said. Though he hoped that they wouldn’t have to do that until after the war.

“Well… he did recruit you,” Hermione said.

“We just don’t have to mention that we were already helping you months ago,” Harry said.

“Do you already know what you’ll be doing?”

“Just that we’ll be hunting the Horcruxes.” Harry shrugged. “Nothing more than that, yet.”

“I’ll have a word with Dumbledore about that,” Sirius said. Before Harry could protest, he continued. “Not to make him change his mind. But I want to be informed, and I want to help.” Sighing, he added: “It’s not as if I expect you to sit this war out. James and I were the same. Well, almost the same. James was chasing desperately after Lily in our sixth year and I was playing the field, so to speak.” Harry’s godfather chuckled.

The discussion was moving into areas Harry would rather not talk about. At least not right now. He glanced to his side. Hermione was pursing her lips.

Sirius must have noticed as well. “What’s wrong, Hermione? Boyfriend trouble?” he added with a grin.

“No,” the witch said, maybe a shade too quickly. “I just had to turn a boy down recently, and imagined how awkward that would have been if he hadn’t accepted that I was not interested.”

“Who was it?” Ron blurted out what Harry was wondering. “I mean… you don’t have to tell us, of course.”

It had to be one of the muggleborns, Harry was certain. Justin, or that Allan, maybe. Or Seamus or Dean.

“That’s right. I don’t ask you about which girls you turned down, do I?” Hermione said.

“Lavender.” Ron said, then winced. “Err...”

“You…” Hermione started, then shut up.

This time she was blushing, and Harry felt another bout of jealousy. Was she blushing because of Ron? He wasn’t certain what he should say.

Fortunately, Sirius came to his rescue. “Well, in my time, we didn’t talk about who we had turned down, but who we had kissed, you know!” The older wizard shook his head. “Kids these days.”

That broke the awkward mood.

*****​

Hogwarts, October 8th, 1996

Ron Weasley knew something was up with his best friend before the two apparated back to Hogwarts, or rather, to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Harry had been acting a bit odd during the evening, moody despite visiting his godfather and Hermione. But the forest, even if you were not that far in, was no place for a discussion. So he waited until they were back in their dorm and sitting on Harry’s bed, protected by a privacy spell in case Neville wasn’t asleep yet, before he asked.

“Mate, what’s eating you?”

“I’m fine.”

Ron had expected that answer. Harry said that every time he was asked how he was doing, no matter if he was actually fine, or lying in the infirmary. “And I’m Malfoy.”

That made Harry chuckle. Once.

“Seriously, mate. What are you brooding about?” Ron had an inkling, and a feeling he wasn’t going to like it, but he was certain that letting such stuff fester was the worst thing he could do. He had learned that himself, in fourth year.

“Do you really want to know?” Harry asked.

He didn’t. “Yes.”

“Hermione.” Harry stared at him with that expression that dared Ron to make an issue about of it.

Ron winced. Just as he had suspected. Known. Sighing, he let himself fall back on the bed and stared at the canopy over them. “You fancy her.”

“Like you.”

“She’d tell us that the middle of a war was no place for fancying anyone.” Ron thought so at least. Though she had been… not flirting, he couldn’t call it that. But a bit more open, maybe. Or he was just seeing things he wanted to see.

“She doesn’t exactly know much about that, though.” Harry snorted. “I’m certain there are books about it, but…”

“Yes.” Ron snorted. Books didn’t help much with feelings, in his experience. Although he wasn’t Hermione. Maybe they’d work for her. He doubted that though.

“Someone already asked her to become his girlfriend,” Harry said. “Probably that Allan.”

“He looked rather annoyed at us, when we met him,” Ron agreed. “Though I think Dean or Seamus could have asked her out as well.” Those two had bragged about girls for years. Mostly, but not entirely, hot air.

“She knows what they are like, and would have told us with a grin,” Harry said. “Probably said something about how they are getting desperate.”

Ron closed his eyes. That would have been like her. He could see her joke about it, but he knew she was rather insecure about her looks. Fourth year had taught him that. “So… Allan or Justin.” Justin was rich, for muggles, and Allan was a Ravenclaw and older. Like Krum.

“She turned whoever it was down.” Harry didn’t sound that reassured.

“He had the guts to ask though.” Which meant they might well ask again. Wear her down. That was, according to Sirius, how Harry’s father had won his mother over. Ron winced. He shouldn’t think about such things as winning. Hermione had commented about that once.

“He isn’t her best friend,” Harry said. Less to lose, in other words.

“Things were awkward today, for a while,” Ron said. He didn’t want to imagine every meeting feeling like that.

“Yes.” Harry agreed, or so Ron thought.

They stayed silent for a while.

“Let’s focus on beating Voldemort and his scum,” Ron said.

“Alright, let’s.”

Ron wasn’t expecting that to work for long. But it might be long enough.

*****​

Hogsmeade, October 11th, 1996

Albus Dumbledore didn’t like visiting his brother’s inn. Or his brother. Too much bad blood. Too many bad memories of past rows. Angry words. Painful wounds. He had resigned himself long ago to the fact that they would never reconcile. But needs must - there were more important things than pride, and past pain. Or not so past pain, he amended mentally, remembering his meeting with Aberforth a day ago. Or rather, the fight. Not an actual duel, of course - neither of them, not even at their worst, would use curses on each other. Not after Ariana had died to one. But it had been a spectacular blow-up, until his brother had seen reason, in private. For all the pain it had caused, it was also a good cover. No one would expect the headmaster to calmly sit in the inn but a day later, disguised with Polyjuice.

No one would expect the Muggleborn Resistance to be present, disguised by muggle means either. At least Albus was reasonably certain of that. He was here in case he turned out to have been wrong - with him involved, a fight between Aurors and the Resistance would be quickly over, and hopefully without loss of life. It was the least he could do for the young muggleborns, even if it would not absolve him of his guilt for failing to save Mister Coke.

He glanced at the witch at the bar. Tania Dennel. Gryffindor. She would have had her N.E.W.T.s now, if not for the MInistry’s folly, and would probably be working in Diagon Alley, or at the Ministry - she was skilled in Charms, and in Defense. And the Hit-Wizards, as well as, if slightly less so, the Aurors, had been good places for muggleborns to start working. Or so he had thought. He might have been wrong about that, in hindsight.

Now she was wearing a rather risqué robe, a very blonde wig, and a face that looked too old for her while talking to Cory Briston, a half-blood employee of the Wizarding Wireless Network who was a regular of Aberforth’s pub. Talking and touching, or letting herself be touched.

Albus didn’t like seeing that, but it wasn’t his plan. The Resistance had devised this. A ‘honey trap’, Miss Granger had called it. At least it was an actual trap. Miss Granger and Mister Emmet were waiting in one of the rooms upstairs. Mister Briston wouldn’t be enjoying the night he obviously hoped for. Even though he’d have the memories.

Miss Dennel’s hand had been on the wizard’s arm for minutes now. And his on her thigh. Aberforth grumbled something, and the two jerked, Briston was even blushing. Then the witch took hold of his arm again, dropped a few coins on the bartop, and guided her mark upstairs. To her waiting friends.

Quite fortuitous timing, Albus thought, since a few minutes later two Aurors entered the pub. Or maybe the witch had received a notice from her friends keeping watch on the streets outside. The Aurors didn’t seem to have noticed that they had passed under the wands of the very muggleborns they were hunting outside. The Headmaster wondered what they would do if they actually found a wanted muggleborn inside the inn. Aberforth and most of his regulars had despised the Ministry long before the recent events, and while his brother was not quite as talented as Albus himself, he was head and shoulders above the Ministry’s finest. Although that was not well-known outside Albus’s own constantly shrinking generation.

The two Aurors didn’t look too closely at the guests though, and ignored the hostile stares they received before they left. He relaxed a bit. Now all he had to do was wait until Miss Granger and her friends were done and gone, and he could return to Hogwarts.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, October 12th, 1996

Hardy’s Hardy Hats was a traditional business in Diagon Alley. Hyacinth Hardy was the fourth Hardy to run the shop and craft hats with various enchantments. The first half-blood too, though that hadn’t seem to matter when she had taken over the shop a decade ago from her pureblood father. These days, it mattered very much. Her shop was located in the midst of pureblood businesses, and there had been a few comments by passers-by that she hadn’t liked at all.

But her neighbours knew her. Most of them had known her since she had been a little girl, sitting on her father’s knee and trying to mold a hat by herself. Some of her childish attempts her parents still brought out for family gatherings. And one hung directly over her bed, in the flat above her shop. The first hat she had created that she had been able to wear.

And the first thing she grabbed when she was woken up by the alert from her wards that someone was trying to tear them down - after she had frozen for a moment, filled with fear. She was no Gryffindor. She was a hatter! She wasn’t about to confront whoever was breaking into her shop.

A few shaky wand movements had her clothes and other belongings stuffed in her old school trunk, expanded since her Hogwarts days, and after two tries - the wards were falling - she managed to shrink it down as well. Then she ran down the stairs. Her fireplace was on the ground floor, and she didn’t trust herself to apparate right now.

She was grabbing a handful of floo powder when the wards fell, and shrieked when the door was blown open and a dark figure appeared in the entrance. A robed figure with a white mask! She almost missed the fire when she threw the powder, she was shaking so much.

“H-Hardy’s Home!” she yelled, stepping inside. The wards on her parents’ home would keep the Death Eaters from pursuing her.

Behind her, her shop went up in flames.

*****​

Outside Buxton, Derbyshire, United Kingdom, October 12th, 1996

Daphne Greengrass didn’t like muggles. They dressed either like scarecrows, or indecently. None of them wore proper robes. And they walked or rode everywhere, instead of apparating or taking the Floo. And they were everywhere. Even out here, far from the next muggle town, two women were running in far too tight clothes on the street.

“Have you seen them? Silly muggles,” Tracey said next to her. Both were disillusioned, sitting near a thick, old tree, studying the house of Nigel Nye, a blood traitor member of the Wizengamot, across the street. The man had proposed a motion to pardon mudblood criminals, ‘to focus on the real enemy of Britain’. He had limited his proposal to those mudbloods who had run from the Aurors, but Daphne knew that was just the beginning. They always started small, and then built up.

He would be stopped though. As soon as they found a way to get past his wards. Which was the reason the two witches were out here, observing the blood traitor’s house. Studying the wards. Looking for a weakness.

“Look, Daphne!”

Tracey tugged on her arm. Daphne turned her head, and saw a muggle vehicle approach the house.

“He has no Anti-Muggle Wards?” Daphne couldn’t believe it. To go that far…

They saw the muggle get out of the vehicle, put down a basket on the doorstep, pick another basket up and leave. A minute later, the door opened, and Nye grabbed the basket.

“A delivery. By a muggle.”

They had found the house’s weakness.

******​

 

Chapter 11: Spies

‘Historians still debate if and which of the atrocities committed by the Dark Lord’s forces were actually so-called ‘false-flag’ operations by the Muggleborn Resistance or the Order of the Phoenix. The attacks that did not kill their targets are a particular point of contention. Those who suspect such subterfuge point to the fact that the attacks ultimately hindered the Dark Lord’s cause more than they helped it, serving to galvanise some of the flagging opposition to the Death Eaters into supporting Dumbledore out of fear for their own lives. Others are of the opinion that the Dark Lord had shown such short-sightedness before, which had arguably cost him the peaceful takeover of Wizarding Britain before the Second Blood War started.
- Excerpt from ‘Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century’ by Albert Runcorn

*****​

London, East End, October 13th, 1996

Hermione Granger frowned when she saw the headline of the latest Daily Prophet. ‘Death Eaters attack shop in Diagon Alley’. She quickly read the article below it. Death Eaters attacking a half-blood owned shop in Wizarding Britain’s shopping mile. That sounded very… convenient. Too convenient.

She glanced at Allan, who was reading over Seamus’s shoulder. The Ravenclaw was smiling, though that could just be his reaction to the news - Seamus was grinning wildly as well.

“That was a rather sloppy Death Eater attack,” Dean said. “The shop owner escaped with her life. The Dark Lord must be furious.”

“If it was a Death Eater attack,” Hermione said. “There wasn’t a Dark Mark floating in the sky.”

“Who else would be attacking half-blood shops?” Dean shrugged.

Hermione had a pretty good idea who would do such a thing. Someone who had proposed exactly that less than a week ago, for example. She stared at Allan. “There might be people who think that such attacks would drive the half-bloods into fighting Voldemort.”

Allan met her eyes. “My proposal was not accepted. Even though the results speak for themselves.” He pointed at the newspaper. “Besides, we were interrogating the Wireless maintenance wizard that night.”

“We finished and returned to London before this attack,” Hermione pointed out. “Someone could have snuck out to do this.” She saw Seamus frown at that.

Allan shook his head. “I didn’t do this.”

Hermione nodded. He sounded honest. And she shouldn’t suspect him. And yet… she couldn’t shake her suspicion. Not completely. “In any case, this attack makes it harder for us to kidnap an Auror patrol without being noticed. They’ll be more alert.”

That had Allan scowl in response. It might just be anger at a complication, or at a mistake of his. Hermione still couldn’t tell. She continued: “We might have to look for other targets who expose themselves. Or wait until things have calmed down. Though that would mean we’d have to depend on the Dark Lord stopping those attacks.”

“We could sabotage a Floo connection in a shop or flat, then nab the maintenance wizard who arrives,” Justin proposed.

“We’d be vulnerable, waiting for quite a long time in a shop or flat,” Hermione replied. “The chance that others came by would be too great.”

“We should be able to easily overpower a patrol,” Allan said. “Especially if they are inexperienced Aurors.”

“But without anyone noticing? They’ll be on the lookout for that. Especially with other Aurors having gone missing.” Hermione shook her head. “We can do it, but we’ll have to be very cautious.”

Louise nodded. “They will be waiting for any sign of an attack, with a ready element and reserves. Even with all of us there, we could have trouble escaping.”

“You could ask your friends for the addresses of some likely targets,” Seamus said. His tone clearly indicated who he meant.

Hermione pursed her lips. “They’re not exactly on speaking terms with the kind of purebloods we want.” Which Seamus should have known. Sirius could give her some addresses, but that would run the risk of exposing him. She sighed. “I have a plan to get us the locations of some homes, but I need to ensure it can be done.”

And she might pick up something that would help her find out the truth about this attack on the hatter at the same time.

*****​

Dorset, Britain, October 13th, 1996

Draco was very happy about the information they had brought back, Daphne Greengrass found out. “That’s exactly what we needed! That traitor will soon pay for his deeds!” The wizard was grinning widely.

“So, how do we do this?” Tracey asked. “Use Polyjuice and change into the muggle to get through the wards?”

Draco shook his head, shuddering. “There’s no need for such a disgusting tactic. I’ve just the thing to put into that basket.”

“Poison?” Daphne was curious. Draco was good with potions, even discounting the fact that Snape had been favouring him, but poison seemed to be a rather obvious attack.

The wizard shook his head. “No. I’ve acquired an object that will curse anyone who touches it. Nye will not suspect that.” He grinned. “His death will be slow and painful, as he deserves to die.”

Daphne felt a shudder run down her spine at the sight of the glee Draco showed at this prospect. Then she remembered her parents’ corpses, shriveled, burned, looking anything but human, and nodded. Anyone who made common cause with the monsters responsible for that atrocity deserved the worst. “Good.”

Tracey nodded as well. “We can place it in the basket tomorrow.”

It would be easy to slip it in; a brief Confundus Charm would deal with the muggle, if that was even needed. A Compulsion Charm should be enough to make him stop the vehicle.

“No.” Draco’s refusal interrupted Daphne’s planning. “I’ll do it. I know how to handle the object. I would never forgive myself if you came to harm,” he added with a smile.

Daphne suspected Draco simply wanted to do it himself, but she agreed. Handling dark objects was dangerous, after all. There would be other occasions to take a more personal hand in avenging her parents.

*****​

Hogwarts, October 14th, 1996

“Please have a seat, Severus.”

Albus Dumbledore had expected the visit from the Head of House Slytherin ever since he had heard from Nigel.

The Potions master nodded curtly, and sat down. He didn’t look comfortable, but then, Severus never did. “There are rumours going around that the Dark Lord struck at Nigel Nye.”

Albus nodded. Once again, the speed with which news spread, even to Hogwarts, without using official channels, was surprising. And worrying, should he ever have the need to keep something a secret. “He was attacked with a dark curse this morning.”

The younger wizard sneered. “And how did the fool fare?”

Albus knew what he was asking. “Your counter-curse worked as expected.” He sighed. “Nigel was hurt, yes, but he’ll make a full recovery.” It would take him a long time, of course. Longer than needed, actually, and spent at his home. “The Dark Lord should be pleased - a blood traitor was removed from the Wizengamot, even though he survived the attack.”

Severus scoffed. “Unless the counter-curse was applied too late, and he will end up suffering from long-term effects.”

“He knew the risk, and volunteered.” Albus inclined his head slightly.

“After you asked him to. I doubt he came to you and offered to serve as a target in your scheme.” The man narrowed his eyes.

Albus didn’t deny that. “Your position at the Dark Lord’s side will be strengthened by this, and your influence on Mister Malfoy will grow as well.”

“And how many more of your old friends will you risk for those goals?” Severus snarled. “Draco’s not a misguided young wizard. I have taught him for five years. The death of his parents has only served to radicalise him further. Mark my words: He will murder people.”

Albus nodded. The young Mister Malfoy was no James Potter, who had changed for the better after his parents’ death. “He will try. But your influence will make it more likely that he will fail. And, should the need for action arise, make it easier to deal with him.”

“That is a surprising answer from someone who went to great lengths to protect another student. A student who just failed to become a murderer, though not for any lack of effort on their part.” The accusation was clear in his voice.

Albus smiled gently. “If I thought that Mister Malfoy was merely acting out of fear for himself and others, I would not contemplate this course of action. But he is not, is he?”

The younger wizard sighed. “No, he isn’t.” And his Occlumency was not quite as strong as the child believed.

The Headmaster nodded. “Which is the difference between him and others in a similar position.”

“That and the fact that he’s a supporter of the Dark Lord and believes in pureblood superiority.”

Albus nodded once more, conceding the point. “It is easier to forgive people who are trying to do the right thing, and possibly going overboard, than to forgive those who support evil.”

“You were not that ruthless in the last war,” the Potions master said, shaking his head.

Albus chuckled, without humour. “I was more ruthless than you knew, but, in hindsight, not ruthless enough.”

Severus stiffened, then nodded and stood up. “I will keep you informed of any developments.”

“Of course,” Albus said. The man had more time now, as well, with over half his students gone from Hogwarts.

He sighed once the door had closed behind the younger wizard. This time, his plan had worked. But as this war had taught him so thoroughly, his plans wouldn’t work all the time. He was juggling too many balls, one might say. Unless the Ministry drastically changed soon, he would be faced with the choice of either having to abandon Hogwarts, leaving his students without his protection, or turning the school into a fortress for the Order, inviting attacks by the Ministry or the Dark Lord. Neither option would be beneficial for the children under his care.

And yet he couldn’t shake the thought that he should have made this choice long ago. But back then, he had still hoped to turn the Ministry around.

*****​

Dorset, Britain, October 14th, 1996

“Welcome to my humble abode.”

To Daphne Greengrass’s surprise, Draco was in a good mood when she arrived at his home. He greeted her and Tracey with a smile, acting the perfect pureblood host.

Tracey apparently couldn’t help herself, and looked around. “Be it ever so humble,” the witch said, looking pointedly at the furniture of the room they had followed Draco to.

The chairs and couch looked decent, but Daphne could spot some imperfections that told her they were transfigured. She glared at her snarky friend, and saw that Draco frowned briefly.

The boy quickly smiled again though. “The necessities of war demand much of us. I would prefer to live in lodgings more appropriate for my standing, but that would needlessly endanger my remaining family.”

The blunt reminder of what had happened to their parents shut Tracey up. Daphne tried not to let the pain she felt at remembering her own loss show.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said. “I did not wish to bring up such painful memories.”

He sounded sincere, and he had lost his own parents, so Daphne nodded at him, believing and accepting his apology. “It’s why we are here,” she answered. “To prevent others from suffering the same fate.”

“Exactly!” Draco smiled again. “And we dealt the blood traitors a heavy blow!”

“The Daily Prophet claims that he survived,” Tracey said.

“He is alive… so far. He will succumb to the curse over the next few months, lingering in pain as his body slowly rots. The attempts to help him will only prolong his suffering.” Draco grinned widely. “A fitting fate.”

Daphne shuddered at the thought, then remembered her dead family. And what would happen to her little sister if the mudbloods had their way. They and their traitorous helpers needed to be taught a lesson they’d never forget. “Good.”

“Did you see the curse strike him?” Tracey asked.

“No. The traitor took the basket inside. But we have friends at St Mungo’s.” Draco shook his head.

Daphne couldn’t tell if her friend was relieved or disappointed that Draco’s description of the curse’s effect was not from first-hand experience. “What do we do now? You mentioned a list of blood traitors.”

“I did. But our … ally… has yet to provide me with another cursed object. So, we will have to pick a target we can strike at more easily.” Draco smiled. “We can scout out the blood traitors, and prepare in the meantime.” He snarled. “There are a few blood traitors I want to personally deal with.”

“Potter?” Tracey asked. Everyone knew that Draco considered the Boy-Who-Lived his nemesis. Even if, as a half-blood, he was technically not a blood traitor.

“No.” Draco shook his head. “I’ve been told that to strike at Potter would anger the Dark Lord.” His expression clearly showed that he was unhappy about that. “And apparently, someone close to him wants to deal with my former aunt’s family herself. But the Weasley family has been a particular thorn in my family’s side for years. It is time they pay for that.”

*****​

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

Harry Potter managed to avoid falling flat on his face when exiting the Floo connection in his godfather’s home - in his home, he corrected himself. He still wasn’t entirely used to having a home. He landed on his knees, mostly. Progress!

“Harry!” Sirius’s beamed at him, using his wand to clean the dust and soot off.

Harry stood up and hugged his godfather. “Hello Sirius.”

“Sneaking out of Hogwarts just to visit me? I’m flattered!” Sirius said, laughing, though he didn’t sound as if he was entirely joking.

“I didn’t exactly sneak out. Dumbledore knows I’m gone for the evening,” Harry said. “He’s been quite accommodating since Ron and I joined the Order of the Phoenix.” Though to be honest, Dumbledore had covered up worse than sneaking out of school in the past.

Sirius wrapped an arm around his shoulder and led him to the living room. “And I’m still not too happy about that. It’s too dangerous!”

Harry glared at him. “More dangerous than being Voldemort’s prophesied nemesis?” Sirius hadn’t opposed Harry being recruited when he had been told.

His godfather nodded sagely. “Hiding that her child joined from Molly… that’s more dangerous. Far more dangerous.”

Sirius was grinning, but once again, Harry had the impression he was a bit serious as well. And he should stop trying to make those awful puns in his head. “You already know we’ll blame Dumbledore,” he said.

“And rightly so!” Sirius chuckled.

Once sitting in the living room - which could really do with a telly, Harry thought, no matter what the original purpose of that room - and Kreacher having served them some beer, real beer, not butterbeer, Sirius leaned forward. “So… what made you seek out your old godfather?” At Harry’s look, he added: “If I wait until you get around to mentioning it, we’ll not have enough time to talk about it.”

Harry sighed. But he was a Gryffindor. And he needed advice. And while Sirius wasn’t exactly the best source of this kind of advice, he was the only one Harry could trust with this. For a certain definition of trust. Remus was too… well, the man had too many issues with this kind of problem himself, and if he couldn’t solve his own problems, how could he help Harry?

Sirius was looking at him, faintly smiling. Patiently waiting, but for that hint of eagerness and concern.

Harry sighed again. “I may have feelings for Hermione.”

“Yes.” Sirius said, taking a sip from his beer.

“What?”

“Yes, you have. Feelings for her.” Sirius grinned. “It was rather obvious last week.”

Harry groaned. “Can you be… “ he trailed off. He wouldn’t give his godfather that kind of opening.

Sirius chuckled. He had spotted Harry’s near-lapse. “Of course you have feelings for her. She’s a pretty witch and you’re a boy. I know how James and I were at your age.”

Harry glared at him. “It’s not like that!”

Sirius snorted. “I know,” he said, then went on with less levity. “She’s also your best friend, and you’ve gone through far more together and far worse than any children should have. Of course such feelings will develop under those circumstances.” His eyes seemed to lose their focus. “It happened to Order members too, of course, but we were older.”

Harry resisted the urge to ask who Sirius had developed such feelings for. And he decided not to mention his first crushes. On Cho, for example. Or Fleur. He was past wanting a girl just for her looks.

“So, it’s perfectly normal to feel that way about her.” Sirius grinned. “Now, are you planning to ask her out?”

“Not exactly.” Harry drank from his own beer. “There’s some… complications.” He cleared his throat and took another sip. “I don’t know how she feels about me. If she doesn’t like me that way… I don’t want things to become awkward between us. Especially not now.” Not in the middle of a war, not when Hermione was hunted by the Ministry and the Death Eaters, and they could only meet in secret and talk through a mirror. “And,” he added, “Ron fancies her.”

“Oh.” Sirius blinked. “I should have seen that.”

Harry waited, pushing his bottle around on the low table.

“Well… there was a girl James and I both had the hots for,” Sirius began.

“Mum?”

“Lily?” Sirius shook his head. “No, that was before James fell in love with her. We were crushing hard on Emily Frickerton. Prettiest witch in Hogwarts.”

Harry thought his mother had been the prettiest witch at Hogwarts, but didn’t comment on that. “What did you do?”

“We settled it like Gryffindors, of course!”

“What did you do?”

“We agreed to both ask her out, and let her choose,” Sirius said. “And we did!”

That sounded… well, Harry wasn’t certain how Hermione would react, but the open, honest approach should appeal to her. And it would avoid, well, some hard feelings. “How did that end?”

“She laughed at us both and told us she already had a boyfriend, and even if she hadn’t, she would be looking for a man, not a boy.” Sirius snorted, but he was smiling.

Harry gasped. “She sounds like…”

His godfather shrugged, grinning. “We were second years, and she was in sixth. In hindsight, it was a funny moment.”

Harry closed his eyes. Maybe that wasn’t such a good plan.

“Well, Hermione doesn’t have a boyfriend, unless she acquired one since last week. So, there’s that.”

Harry grumbled. “Unless Justin or that arrogant berk Allan ask her out again.”

“You know them?” Sirius asked.

Harry nodded. “Justin’s a Hufflepuff in our year.”

“No competition then,” Sirius said at once.

“He’s rich,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. Cedric had been a Hufflepuff as well, and he certainly had been ‘competition’.

“Hermione doesn’t strike me as the type of witch to look for gold. And as my godson, you’re richer anyway. I think.” Sirius frowned. “I don’t know much about muggle wealth.”

“No, you don’t,” Harry said, earning a pout from his godfather.

“And you don’t have a high opinion of Allan, I take it.”

“He didn’t impress me or Ron when we met him.” Harry frowned, remembering that day. “Looked jealous even then.”

“That’s a good sign,” Sirius said. “But your real competition is Ron, isn’t he?”

Harry sighed and nodded. “He’s my best friend. My other best friend. Best mate. I don’t want to hurt him, or Hermione.”

“I’d say you should settle things with him first. But if you do, Hermione might feel as if you’re trying to decide for her.” Sirius emptied his beer. “She’s the type to get prickly about that, no matter how groundless it would be.”

Harry didn’t want to, but he had to agree there. And he wondered just how well his godfather knew Hermione. “So… cursed if I do, cursed if I don’t?”

“Yes. Welcome to relationships, Harry!”

*****​

London, East End, October 15th, 1996

Hermione Granger looked at the Wireless Ears she had acquired from the twins through Sirius. They were bigger than the muggle surveillance devices she knew about. But they would work even inside warded areas. Like their safehouse.

She didn’t have to do this. Sirius would be placing more ears in various shops frequented by the kind of purebloods they knew to be supporters of Voldemort. Thanks to them, they would find out about planned appointments. Hear the addresses of those who travelled through the Floo Network. Know about special orders that could be tampered with. The Resistance would soon be able to strike at their real enemies, instead of at the Ministry and traitors among the muggleborns.

She didn’t have to use the ears herself. Against her comrades. Her friends. And yet she had to. This attack on a half-blood shop in Diagon Alley was just too convenient. Too close, no, identical to what Allan had proposed. She had to know if Allan was behind it. And if he was planning more such attacks without the approval and knowledge of the Resistance.

She picked up one of the ears, studying the design. It would change colour to match wherever it was placed, which would make it very hard to spot. Or so Sirius had told her. She thought a disillusionment effect might be more effective. Maybe a Shrinking Charm, to reduce its size. Unless that was already implemented. Though she doubted that. It was more likely that the twins hadn’t thought of that. They were very creative, and good with charms and potions, but they were not that skilled at optimising their designs. They were artists more than craftsmen. She had enough to take one apart and study it, hadn’t she?

She forced herself to drop the ear on the table. She hadn’t the time to indulge her curiosity. Hermione had to decide if she was going to spy on Allan. Violate the trust between two members of the Resistance. It was a step she didn’t want to take. But if she didn’t… she knew the doubts would only grow. She’d become more and more suspicious. She had to know. Even if she already felt guilty for planning this.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was just another example of something she didn’t like to do, but which was needed. And, if she did it correctly, no one would know, or be hurt.

Other than her conscience.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, October 15th, 1996

Inside the dinky thrift store half-way down the shady alley, Brenda Brocktuckle leaned on the wall, twirling her wand while her rookie partner spoke to the witch behind the counter. Neither of them was wearing their official red robes, of course. They weren’t officially here. Even if they hadn’t made a secret of their occupation as soon as they had entered the shop.

“Do you have all the permits you need to sell this kind of merchandise?” Martin Runcorn asked, holding up a slightly-dented broom. “It looks quite unsafe.”

“B-but… it’s a used broom. I’ve been selling used things for years,” the witch, Jane Mills, a half-blood, stammered.

“You’ve been flaunting the law for years then,” Martin said, scoffing. “Endangering the public. Probably selling stolen goods as well.”

“No! I only sell honestly obtained goods!” The witch shook her head, her dirty-blonde hair flying wildly, obscuring her face for a second.

Brenda snorted. In this part of the alley, half the merchandise, or more, was shady at best. The witch glanced at her, and the Auror grinned, showing her teeth.

“I think your shop should be shut down until you comply with the regulations,” Martin said.

Mills gasped. Then she closed her eyes, and seemed to gather herself. “Alright… how much do you want to let this slide?” she asked in a resigned voice.

Martin snarled. “Are you trying to bribe us? That’s a serious crime!”

The witch flinched. “No… I mean…”

“Don’t bloody lie to us!” Brenda’s partner yelled. “You just offered a bribe! Probably with stolen gold! That’s Azkaban for you!”

Mills paled. Martin was getting good at this, Brenda thought as she pushed off the wall and stepped up to the counter. “Well, we should arrest you. Open and shut case. But…”

“But?” The other witch asked, trembling. She had good reasons to be afraid, Brenda knew. Everyone had heard about the attack on Azkaban. Those prisoners not freed had been kissed when the Dementors ran rampant.

“We might let this slide, if you help us out.”

Mills shook her head. “Snitches die in the alley. Slowly. Might as well send me to Azkaban.”

She was crying now. Brenda almost felt pity for her. Then she reminded herself where they were. The middle of Knockturn Alley. No decent people would be living here, or doing business here. Mills was scum. But the weak kind of scum. The kind Brenda needed.

“We’re not interested in the regular kind of scum here. We want the mudbloods.”

Mills stared at her with wide eyes. “They’ll kill me! They’ll wreck the entire alley!”

“Only if they find out what you did. We won’t arrest anyone near you.” They wouldn’t make that mistake again. “No one will know.”

“Of course, if you don’t want to help us, we won’t help you.” Martin added. “And it looks like you want to protect mudbloods...”

“Helping mudblood murderers… that’s a capital crime,” Brenda whispered. “But helping to catch them… there’s a reward for that.”

“I don’t know any Resistance members! No one in the alley knows them!”

“But you know other mudbloods. Older ones. Those married to half-bloods.” Brenda smiled.

“They haven’t done anything! They are just hiding!” Mills was still crying. Pathetic.

“Then they shouldn’t have anything to fear, right? Like your father.” Brenda twirled her wand as if she was a cocky rookie again.

The witch froze, and glanced at the floor for a second. The Auror smiled.

“We don’t really care about every mudblood, you understand?”

Mills nodded, shoulders hunched.

“Good. If you see any other mudbloods, I want you to give us the memory. You don’t have to do anything else. Just conceal it as a potion.”

The broken witch nodded again.

“We’ll be in touch.”

The two Aurors threw up the hoods of their dark cloaks and left the shop. A few steps into a side alley, they apparated back to the Ministry.

Once in their office, Martin sat down, sighing.

Brenda looked at him. “You did good today. Played it perfectly.” Picture-perfect performance as a young, eager and by the book rookie.

“I know, but…” He made a vague gesture with his hand.

“Taking pity on Knockturn Alley scum?” Brenda sat down on her desk and summoned a cup of tea.

“No. But I still think we’d have done better by posing as sympathetic half-blood Aurors warning them of sweeps for mudbloods.” Martin frowned.

“That wouldn’t have worked. We don’t have the authority to do such sweeps. And if we did, some half-blood probably would have leaked it as well. Or even a pureblood.” Brenda scoffed. “The Department is riddled with traitors.”

“I know. But scaring the scum only works if they are more afraid of us than of the others.”

“That’s why we add some carrot to the stick. If she can protect her father and get a reward, she’s more likely to stick with us.” Brenda leaned forward. “And of course, once she delivers the first memory to us, she’s ours for good - we can let her name slip anytime we choose, and she’ll know that.”

“Ah!” Martin grinned.

Brenda smiled. Her partner was getting better, but he still had some things to learn.

*****​

London, East End, October 16th, 1996

Hermione read the transcript of the Wireless Ears she had placed near Allan’s room.

‘Off to see your sweetheart again?’

‘Yes. Can’t go for too long without, you know.’

‘Of course I know. I should get a muggle girlfriend as well. Mary’s being difficult and Sally’s with Justin.’

‘Nothing’s stopping you.’

‘You’re right. You’ll have to cover for me on the next supply run then.’

‘If you think you can find a bird who wants you in a few hours….’

‘Hey!’

‘Dean, we’re off!’

The witch bit her lower lip. That had to be Allan and Seamus. Both were off to buy muggle goods that evening. And spend some time in London to relax. So, Allan had a girlfriend. A muggle girlfriend. He had moved fast then, after she had turned him down two weeks ago. Unless… no. She shook her head. She wouldn’t assume that he had been looking to two-time his muggle girlfriend with her. But to meet a muggle girl, and start a relationship, with everything else they had been doing… Allan had been lucky then. And she had been wrong to suspect him of … burning down shops or vanishing Aurors.

She sighed. It was a bit of a blow to her pride, how fast she had been replaced, but they were fighting a war. She couldn’t begrudge Allan that kind of happiness. Even if she might be a bit jealous. Not of Allan’s girlfriend. But of him having a relationship.

Not that she had the time to commit to a relationship. Or was the kind of girl to casually sleep with someone. Though sometimes… She shook her head again. She had more parchment to sift through for information about Auror movements, and pureblood intel. This war wouldn’t be won if she slacked off.

*****​

Hogsmeade, October 16th, 1996

Hogsmeade hadn’t seen much trouble so far, Axton Runcorn knew. Close to Hogwarts, with the Headmaster - Dumbledore, he reminded himself, he was no student anymore - so close, you’d have to be a very ballsy wizard to try anything in it. But that didn’t mean that the town was safe, of course. Patrols like the one he and his partner were on were still needed.

But it was safer than Diagon Alley or - he shuddered at the thought - Knockturn Alley. The houses were not quite as closely built together, the streets not as narrow and dark. And the residents were honest people, not scum. With the possible exception of those who frequented the Hog’s Head Inn. Shady people, straight out of the lessons from Auror training. No patrol he knew spent long in there. Just long enough to let them know the Aurors were keeping an eye on them.

“Nelly?” he asked when he passed Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, closed at this time of the evening, and noticed his partner wasn’t following him anymore.

The witch scowled. “My name’s Nellwyn, not Nelly.”

He snorted. “Nellwyn Selwyn? That sounds far worse than ‘Nelly’.” Her parents had to be on some potion when they had named her, he thought. “Anyway, what’s the hold up?”

“I thought I heard something.” She hadn’t moved from the mouth of the side alley she was staring into yet.

“Of course you’ve heard something. Probably a rat.” Unlike muggle restaurants, there was no edible rubbish attracting the rodents, and wards keeping them out, but the rats would still smell the baked goods inside.

“Didn’t sound like a rat,” Nelly said. “Lumos!”

The tip of her wand lit up, and Axton cursed and closed his eyes. There went his night vision! Hadn’t Nelly learned that lesson in training?

He blinked when he opened his eyes again. “Nelly, damn it…”

She was on the ground, stunned or…

A red flash hit him before he could react.

*****​

Hogwarts, October 17th, 1996

Ron Weasley dropped to the ground when Harry cast, and the Stunning Spell passed over his head with a foot to spare. He rolled to the side, sending a pair of Slug-vomiting Charms at Harry, then followed it up with a Stunning Spell of his own. It splashed harmlessly against Harry’s Shield Charm, and Ron had to roll to the side once more, to escape his best mate’s retaliation. A Jelly-Legs Curse hit him, but he didn’t need his legs to cast. His Bludgeoning Curse dealt with Harry’s shield, and his next Stunning Spell would… be dodged by Harry at the last second. Ron dispelled the jinx on his legs, but Harry used the opportunity to hit him with a Disarming Charm.

“Good match,” Harry said, handing him his wand back.

“Yeah,” Ron said, standing up and dusting himself off.

“Why didn’t you cast a Shield Charm?” Neville asked, from where he was nursing a hand that had been stung a bit too often by Lavender in their bout.

“I wanted to practice dodging. A Shield Charm won’t do a thing against an Unforgivable.” Ron met the other boy’s eyes until Neville looked away.

Ron walked over to the basket with the refreshments the house-elves had prepared for the Gryffindor self-defence lesson and grabbed a butterbeer for himself. He took a sip while Harry was showing Ginny how to improve her Disarming Charm.

“Neville’s still not coming round, is he?”

Ron glanced to his side. Lavender was filling a cup with tea. He shook his head. “No, he isn’t.”

“He’s been asking his gran, you know,” Lavender said in a low voice.

“Oh?” Ron remembered that comment from Harry.

“And his gran apparently told him that his parents would still be fine if they hadn’t joined Dumbledore.” The witch sighed. “I heard it from Fay.”

“Great,” Ron spat. “And she still thinks the Ministry’s going to beat Voldemort?”

Lavender shrugged. “I didn’t talk to him.”

Ron scoffed. “Well, I’m not going to talk to him either. I’ve better things to do.”

Lavender nodded. “Like training?”

“Yes.”

“All work and no play…” Lavender grinned, then patted his hand. “It doesn’t suit you, you know.”

“I wish I didn’t have to,” Ron answered. “But things being as they are, we better be ready. For anything.”

Lavender frowned, then sighed. “I guess so.”

Ron nodded at her, then rejoined Harry for another match.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, October 17th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle knew something was wrong when she saw Martin’s face upon entering their office. So she swallowed her cheerful greeting, put down the box of cauldron cakes she had bought on the way in Diagon Alley, and sat down behind her desk. “Are you having second thoughts about the half-blood?” If he was, she might need to teach him the ropes for a bit longer than expected. There were things Aurors had to do to do their duty that were not mentioned in training manuals, but were understood in the corps.

Martin looked surprised, then shook his head. “No, no.” He took a deep breath. “My cousin, Axton, and his partner didn’t return from a patrol in Hogsmeade last night.”

Brenda hissed. “He wasn’t the kind to desert, was he?”

“Of course not. Eager to serve, even - though he was glad to get the Hogsmeade shift, instead of Knockturn Alley.” Martin sighed.

The Auror pursed her lips. That didn’t sound good. “Who’s on the case?” So far it had been treated as an internal affair, but now that would have to change.

“Parkinson.” Martin all but spat the name out.

Brenda closed her eyes. “He’s a good Auror.”

“But he’s a git too,” Martin said. “He’ll expect me to owe him one for sharing news.”

Brenda nodded. Parkinson was a mover and shaker. “We could try to get the case. If this was the work of the mudbloods.”

“Well, it could be,” Martin ventured. “Even mudbloods would be familiar with it from the Hogsmeade weekends at Hogwarts.” Unlike other wizard settlements, he meant.

“Parkinson will claim otherwise though. He likes having a case like that.” Brenda stood up and paced. “And Dawlish won’t want more work added to his case.” That Auror hadn’t made any progress as far as she knew. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to make any progress in hunting down the escaped Death Eaters.

“It wasn’t Death Eaters,” Martin said. “Axton and his partner were the right sort.”

“Ah.” Brenda nodded. Purebloods who, if not supported, then at least didn’t mind the blood purists. They were rather common, with the way the wind was blowing from the Wizengamot. “We still can say we have some inkling of a connection with our case. Just so we can look at the files and evidence.” Martin perked up, but she continued. “It’ll mean he’ll have access to our files though.”

Which meant they’d have to either sort through their files to remove the more delicate parts, or the intel would be spreading, and someone might leak it to the mudbloods.

Martin knew that as well, and cursed under his breath. “Is there nothing we can do?”

Brenda grinned. “Well… I think we have to look into the possible infiltration of Hogsmeade by the mudbloods. And we’ll have to ask a lot of questions.”

“They’ll buy that?”

Brenda shrugged, leaning against her desk. “Parkinson might grumble, but what can he do? We investigate our own leads, like he’s doing.” And it would annoy the git. A fine revenge for his comments after the ‘Beckett blunder’, as he had called it.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, October 17th, 1996

Daphne Greengrass hated Polyjuice. She had taken almost an hour just to learn how to walk without stumbling in her new body, to the amusement of her traitorous friend Tracey, who had managed the same feat in a few minutes. Daphne blamed the samples Draco had provided - hers was from a rather ‘top-heavy’ young woman, quite different from her own body. She was rather lithe, if she did say so herself. Tracey’s new body was closer to her real one, if also curvier.

But now, with another dose in their bellies, both girls were walking through Diagon Alley. They saw their destination from far away - the garish, ugly giant floating ‘WWW’ sign couldn’t be missed.

“Smile, dear,” Tracey said in a low voice. “We’re two witches out shopping. You’re not here to burn holes into people with your glare.”

Daphne scoffed, but put a fake smile on her face. “I wish I could do that. It would make things easier.”

The shop’s entrance was surrounded by lights flashing in different colours. “Where did they get the gold for the shop anyway?” Tracey asked in a whisper as they approached. “Everyone knows the Weasleys are dirt poor.”

“According to my uncle,” Daphne said, “Sirius Black is a silent partner in the business. Threw his weight around to smooth their applications for permits as well.”

“Blood-traitor,” Tracey hissed. “He didn’t even show up to his cousin’s funeral.”

Daphne felt the wards when she passed through the entrance. Starting trouble would be a very bad idea. Those wards had to have cost a small fortune, if they were that strong. How much gold had Black spent on these two?

“Watch out!”

Tracey’s warning came too late. Daphne was hit in the face by something soft, and shrieked.

“Sorry!” came the shout from one of the Weasley twins. “That was a Pouncing Poultry.” He summoned a rubber chicken that was struggled in the grasp of the spell. “Very popular item if you have an annoying little sibling. Release it in their bedroom, and watch the mayhem. The deluxe version comes with a camera built in, cushioned against impact of course!”

Tracey giggled, and Daphne glared, then forced herself to smile. At least her new cleavage easily distracted the blood-traitor, and her scowl could be blamed by her face having been hit.

“I’ve a very annoying neighbour, very nosy, and I want to teach her a lesson about minding her own business. What products would you recommend?” Tracey asked, leaning forward in that familiar way that had the Slytherin wizards at Hogwarts adjusting their robes in short order. Daphne didn’t want to, but followed her friend’s example, putting her hand on the wizard’s arm, and letting him get a good look down the front of her robes when she stepped closer.

Dazzled, the stupid twin was easily taken advantage of, showing them around the whole shop while distracted by their borrowed bodies. Daphne even caught a few glimpses of the workshop in the back when the other twin came out to see who his brother was flirting with.

The two girls left the shop with a bag full of joke items, paid for with Draco’s gold, and detailed knowledge about the shop’s layout and defenses - which, sadly, were very strong.

*****​

Dorset, Britain, October 17th, 1996

“... and the wards of the shop are very strong. Strongest I’ve seen, outside those on old manors,” Daphne said. She wasn’t a Warder, or a Curse-Breaker, but she was familiar with the wards on her home. She didn’t mention that the wards were stronger than the ones of Draco’s new home, to which she and Tracey had travelled to report. That would have been gauche - their friend already knew that.

“Sirius Black must have paid a small fortune to protect his investment,” Tracey added.

Draco frowned. “Wasting my gold on blood traitors!”

“At least it’s a sound investment,” Tracey pointed out. “Business must be good judging by what we saw during our visit.”

Daphne scoffed. “Joke items for a joke family.” She had disposed of the items on the way back. To think that she had supported those blood-traitors with gold, even for spying on them… It made her sick, knowing that this sham of a family prospered while so many proper families had been decimated.

That made Draco chuckle. Not for long though. “So, you’d say an attack would be unlikely to succeed.”

“Yes.” Daphne nodded. “The Aurors would be upon us before we took down the wards, and even torching the shops next to it would probably not be enough to affect them.”

Draco mumbled something about Aurors that Daphne didn’t catch, then leaned back in his seat. He folded his hands over his stomach, as if he was calm, but she saw his foot twitch.

“On the other hand, the two Weasleys were quite easily fooled by our disguises,” Tracey said. “That might be their weakness.” She grinned. “Typical young wizards.”

“Who exactly were we impersonating, Draco?” Daphne asked. “We might have to reuse those disguises, should we want to exploit this, and it’d not do if someone who knows them saw us.” Draco had assured them that was impossible, but you never knew.

“The hairs were taken from two French witches,” Draco said.

“French witches?” Daphne wondered for a moment if Draco had contacts at Beauxbatons.

“French Courtesans, more likely,” Tracey said, giggling. She stopped giggling though when Draco cleared his throat. “Seriously? We’ve been impersonating…” She shook her head.

“Whores,” Daphne said, glaring at Draco. “You made us look like whores!” How dare he do that to them!

Draco flinched. “It was the easiest and safest way to acquire hairs for disguises.”

“I bet you found it funny too!” Tracey spat.

The wizard shook his head. “I assure you, I chose them for ease of availability and security, nothing more. The chance of a Weasley being able to afford a French Courtesan is nil, after all.” He winced when Daphne glared at him, and added: “And even if someone recognised you, he’d not be too surprised if those kinds of witches acted as if they didn’t know him, or used fake names in Britain.”

“You seem to know a lot about whores,” Daphne said.

“I bet you collected the hairs yourself!” Tracey exclaimed.

Draco blushed slightly, which was answer enough.

“So, you turned us into witches you had sex with!” Daphne’s friend shook her head. “That is… perverted!”

“It wasn’t like that!” Draco protested. “It was the safest option! I’m very sorry for not informing you, but let’s focus on the blood-traitors. There are far more important things to worry about than this… misunderstanding.”

Daphne scowled. If Draco thought he would ever get anywhere with her, he was sorely mistaken. But she listened while he started to plan the next step of their operation.

*****​

Hogsmeade, October 18th, 1996

The Hog’s Head Inn hadn’t changed since Brenda Brocktuckle had visited it last. It was still a filthy dive catering to scum, run by the black sheep - or should that be ‘black goat’? - of the Dumbledore family. The Auror had hated to visit it back when she had been patrolling the village as a fresh Auror, and she wasn’t keen on repeating the experience. But the two missing Aurors had last been seen inside that pub.

Conversation inside the pub stopped as soon as Brenda and Martin entered. Everyone seemed to glare at them, some with such hatred that the Auror had to fight the urge to cast a Shield Charm. Scum indeed, kept at bay by their fear of the retribution the DMLE would visit upon them, should they attack Aurors.

Of course when she met their eyes, the scum looked away. Martin was already halfway to the bar though. Obviously, this was too personal for him to keep a cool head. She followed him as fast as she could without looking like she had to hurry.

“Good evening, Aurors,” Dumbledore’s brother said, in a tone that made it clear that he didn’t mean it at all.

Martin nodded at him, then glanced at her. It seemed her partner was not so worked up that he wanted to take the lead here.

That was fine by her. “Good evening, Mister Dumbledore.” She leaned against the bar, but tried to keep an eye on the rest of the room. Martin might not be as observant as he usually was. “Last night, two Aurors came by.”

“As every night,” Dumbledore said. The old wizard was even polishing glasses with his wand while talking to her, as if he was a character in a cliched novel.

“They disappeared shortly after leaving here,” Brenda said. “You’re the last ones to have seen them.”

“Really? They disappeared?” The owner of the pub shook his head. “I didn’t notice anything suspicious when they left here.”

She hadn’t even asked him a question yet, and he was already stalling her. “Did any of your guests pay special attention to them?”

The old man shrugged. “I’d not know. I respect the privacy of my guests. They come here to enjoy a pint or two in peace, not to be spied on.”

“And they certainly don’t have anything to hide,” Brenda said in the most sarcastic tone she could manage.

“Exactly.” The man’s smile was just this side of patronising.

Brenda controlled herself though. “We suspect that muggleborns are behind this disappearance. Did you see any around?”

“How would I be able to tell a muggleborn from a pureblood? It’s not as if there’s a difference.” The old wizard shrugged. Before she could say anything, he went on, with an insolent grin: “Nor do I care about people’s parents. I’m breeding goats, not purebloods, you know.”

Martin hissed next to her, but her partner managed to control himself. Brenda let the implied insult wash over her. She stared at the man. “How many guests do you think will keep visiting if we start to pay close attention to them?”

To her annoyance, he snorted. “See, that’s the kind of threat and petty bullying that makes Aurors so popular among the people.” Dumbledore’s brother shook his head. “Maybe if you acted less like thugs, and more like Aurors should act, people would see and remember more when you ask for help.”

Brenda hissed through clenched teeth: “If you’re protecting the muggleborns doing this, then that will end badly for you. Very badly.”

“Is this another threat? Are trying to tell me that you’ll try to frame me for a crime if I don’t act as your snitch?” The old wizard stopped smiling, and Brenda found herself fighting the urge to take a step back when he glared at her.

“Do you think your brother will protect you?” She knew the two Dumbledore brothers were not on speaking terms.

He scoffed. “Do you think I need his protection? Girl, I may not be my brother, but I fought Grindelwald, and lived.” He glared at her, and Brenda shuddered, taking a step back from the sheer amount of hatred he displayed. “And I’m rather sick of this blood purity hogwash. Now get out of here! This inn is no place for Death Eaters, whether they wear black or red robes!”

That insult made Brenda angry enough to stand up to the old wizard. “Are you calling me a Death Eater?”

“That’s the wrong question, girl. The question you should ask is: What difference is there between an Auror and a Death Eater for a muggleborn?” The old wizard had stopped polishing glasses with his wand, but hadn’t put it away. A fact of which Brenda was very aware. And she noticed that the room had fallen silent once again. She didn’t need to glance around to know that there were more wands ready.

Lifting her chin, she turned around and headed to the door. This visit hadn’t gone as she had hoped.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, October 18th, 1996

“Welcome to my humble abode. How’s my favourite muggleborn mistress doing?”

Hermione Granger rolled her eyes at Sirius’s greeting. She was once more wearing a wig and a robe as a disguise, in case he had surprise visitors. A robe that might be a bit too revealing for her taste. No wonder, since Sirius had bought it. “I’m doing fine.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “You sound like Harry. So, what problem ails you?”

“That I’m one of the Ministry’s and Voldemort’s most wanted?”

The wizard waved that away with a snort. “That’s been the case for months now.”

“It’s personal.” Hermione said, pursing her lips.

“Oh.” Sirius managed to insinuate all sorts of lurid and lewd meanings with his tone. And her glare didn’t impress him at all. “I’ve prepared the first transcripts from the ears I placed,” he went on, grinning. In a small box - expanded on the inside - a few dozen scrolls waited for her.

“Did you read them?”

The wizard nodded. “I did. A few Floo addresses - though they will likely be blocked for visitors - and some gossip by Aurors. Looks like another patrol went missing.”

“Another patrol? When was that?” Hermione had a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Let me get the scroll…” Sirius rummaged inside the box, then pulled out a few scrolls and sifted through them.

Hermione made a mental note to catalogue the scrolls better. And to consider who she trusted enough to screen the transcripts - she couldn’t spend too much time reading them all, but if they missed some crucial piece of information in the glut of transcripts that could be a catastrophe.

“Here!” Sirius handed her a scroll.

It was a transcript of two Aurors chatting about a patrol which had gone missing in Hogsmeade. During the time Allan had been visiting his girlfriend.

She must have not schooled her features enough, since Sirius asked: “I take it you consider this a bad thing.”

She nodded. There was no point in lying about that. Not to him. “I suspect that one of the Resistance members is waging his own war, in secret. Or maybe more than one member.”

“And that is a bad thing?” Harry’s godfather sounded honestly puzzled.

“It is, when things happen that we decided shouldn’t be done because the possible consequences are too dangerous.” Hermione put the scroll down. “Like torching half-bloods’ shops and framing the Death Eaters.”

Sirius nodded. “I see.”

“And if he’s vanishing Aurors, then that means the Ministry thugs will be more careful, which makes our plan to interrogate a few of them without anyone knowing much harder, if not impossible.” Hermione scowled. ”Short-sighted foolishness like that can cost us a lot.”

“Maybe they are interrogating them in secret?” Sirius offered.

“That’s even worse. How can we trust them if they do not share such information? That’s no way to wage war.” Hermione sat down, sighing.

“Well, they might want to keep it secret for security reasons.”

Hermione scoffed. “We’re one cell. We’re not big enough to split up.” She shook her head. “No. This is something else. Something more.”

“Are you certain this is not you taking offence at someone not following your lead?” Sirius asked in a rather careful tone, as far as Hermione could tell.

She narrowed her eyes. Was she like that? Offended that others were not following her plans? Disobeying her? Maybe a little. But she knew she was right about the risks. And the majority of the group had agreed with her. “You can’t fight a war without coordination. And you can’t trust your friends if they keep such secrets from you.”

Sirius winced, and Hermione wondered for a moment what he was thinking, before realising that he had to remember distrusting Remus Lupin, and hiding that they had switched the secret keeper from the werewolf. She didn’t say anything about it though, and busied herself with the next scroll.

“So… “ Sirius trailed off.

“I have to find out if and why such things are being hidden from me and the others.” Hermione also wanted to know, but dreaded to find out, how many knew about this. The possibility of having been used, fooled, by the Resistance…

The wizard nodded. “More ears?”

She nodded. “More ears.” She hated it, but she had to know. She couldn’t fight a war without trust - theirs and hers. Sighing, she added: “I don’t know why they’d hide one of them having a girlfriend from me. Unless they think I’d act jealous even after turning Allan down.” And Allan couldn’t be that stupid, could he? Seamus… well, he and Dean had some rather peculiar notions about witches.

“The first thing that comes to mind is that they think you’ll not approve of the girl.”

She shook her head. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s not as if a pureblood would be able to find a muggle girl and then through her, Allan. Unless… it’s not a muggle girl.” But would they expect her to want to meet the girl? Certainly, they couldn’t think she would want to control their love lives… not all of them. She wasn’t that bad, was she?

Sirius frowned. “If he is in a relationship with a witch, then that’s a risk.”

“I need a way to track him.” She couldn’t really interrogate Allan with Veritaserum. That would be… it would be worse than spying on him. Even if not that much worse. “That’ll be difficult. Especially since we’re planning to track the purebloods through the shops.”

“If he’s as arrogant as I’ve heard, then he might not suspect that anyone would track him, least of all you,” Sirius said.

She wrinkled her forehead. “You’ve heard he is arrogant?” She hadn’t talked about Allan to Sirius, not describing him like that, and who else… She groaned. “Harry?”

Sirius winced.

“What did I miss?” Were even her best friends keeping things from her? Sirius’s reaction let her fear the worst. But… Harry and Ron were different. They’d not hurt her. Not intentionally, at least.

“I can’t tell you that. You’ll have to ask Harry.” Sirius grimaced.

She huffed. “Oh, believe me, I will!”

*****​