Divided and Entwined (Harry Potter AU) (Complete)

Chapter 12: Love Trouble

‘Many think of bombs and battles when they hear of the Second Blood War. The destruction of Malfoy Manor, or the riots in Diagon Alley certainly left a lasting impression, and were followed by similar events throughout the war. Even some historians tend to focus on those incidents. All of them fail to see that the war was not decided by bombs or battles, but by intelligence and logistics. That you cannot attack an enemy you cannot find is something so basic, everyone should know it, yet many overlook how it applied to this war. The Muggleborn Resistance went underground at the start, hiding in muggle Britain. The Death Eaters had their safehouses, some dating back to the First Blood War. And the Old Families started to hide after Malfoy Manor, quite a few abandoning their ancestral homes for secret lodgings. In order to fight their enemies, everyone but those warring against the Ministry therefore had to find them first. And that meant spying, scouting, and subterfuge. Something at which the muggleborns, to the surprise of many Slytherins, excelled.’
- Excerpt from ‘The Second Blood War’ by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

Hogwarts, October 19th, 1996

Ron Weasley recast the privacy spell surrounding Harry’s bed in their dorm. It was almost time for the scheduled call from Hermione. It wasn’t exactly scheduled, officially, but their friend almost always used the communication mirror at this time of the evening.

“You know… we still gather on your bed for a secret meeting, like in first year,” he commented.

“Without Hermione though,” Harry said, nodding.

“Well, she wouldn’t really fit. We’ve grown since.” Ron gestured at the bed, which had seemed very large, especially for him, when he had seen it for the first time, but now looked rather normal. The two boys took up most of the space it offered.

“Yes,” Harry said. He didn’t make a comment about how Hermione had grown in the right places, which is what Ron’s brothers would have done. Well, not Percy.

Ron was about to say something else to pass the time when the mirror vibrated. Harry whispered the activation word, and Hermione’s face appeared. Ron slid up a bit, next to Harry, so both could watch the mirror, and be seen by their friend.

“Hermione!” the two chorused.

“Harry! Ron!” Hermione smiled at them. “How are you doing? And don’t say ‘fine’,” she added with a mild glare.

Ron saw Harry close his mouth, and chuckled. “We’re doing well. Mostly training.”

The girl nodded. Her new haircut suited her, even though Ron was missing the wild mane she had sported for years. “We’re training as well.”

“We’ve heard rumours about Aurors going missing,” Harry said.

Hermione frowned. “That’s not the Resistance’s work. We’ve other plans.”

“So, someone else’s fighting the Ministry?” Ron asked.

“Probably. Might be someone acting on his own.” Hermione sounded not quite as happy as Ron would have expected about others taking the initiative.

“Do you think it’s the Death Eaters?” Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. “There’s no Dark Mark, and no mutilated corpses. That’s atypical for Death Eaters.”

“True. Did you get the transcripts from Sirius?” Harry asked.

“Yes, I did.” The witch nodded. “There are some promising leads, but we’ll need to be careful in going after them.”

Harry hesitated, then asked. “How dangerous is that?”

Hermione bit her lower lip. “We’re playing it as safe as we can.”

That didn’t sound very safe to Ron. He glanced at Harry, trying to be subtle, but he wasn’t subtle enough, as a familiar exasperated sigh from the mirror told him. “Honestly, we’re not taking unnecessary risks! You should be more concerned about Sirius.”

“What did he do?” Harry asked quickly.

“He’s been the one touring the shops and placing the ears.”

“Well, that’s done with now, right?” Harry asked.

“He might want to help us with the next step too,” Hermione said. “And we can use his help.”

“Padfoot’s?” Ron asked. The animagus form of Harry’s godfather was quite useful in many possible missions.

“Not just Padfoot.” Hermione took a bite from what looked like a muggle Mars bar. “He can visit places we cannot. Though his political views are well-known, so some might suspect him, even without any proof.” Ron heard Harry hiss under his breath. Hermione didn’t seem to have noticed though. “We’ll do our best to avoid that, of course.”

“Thanks,” Harry said.

“We can help as well,” Ron cut in. “I’m a pureblood, and he’s Harry.”

“You’re the poster boys for Dumbledore’s Junior Order,” Hermione said in a flat voice.

“There is no such thing,” Ron said. They were full Order members, even if they kept that secret.

“You know what I mean,” Hermione sniffed.

Harry grumbled something about fame that would have earned Ron a Cleaning Charm to the mouth had he said it in the Burrow.

“Anyway, we’re still preparing. Training. Like you.”

Ron nodded. Safe then.

“Though…” Hermione frowned suddenly. “What exactly did you tell Sirius about Allan?”

“What?” Harry sounded as surprised as Ron felt.

“Sirius told me that he heard that Allan was arrogant,” Hermione looked from Harry to Ron. “And he didn’t want to tell me anything else. Just said I had to ask you, Harry.”

“Oh.” Harry was not quite as eloquent as he should have been, Ron thought.

“‘Oh’? What do you mean?” Their friend was not letting this go. “Did something happen between you and Allan?”

“Why do you think that?” Ron asked.

Before she could answer, Harry said: “He was the one who asked you out, right?”

Hermione blinked, opened her mouth, then took a deep breath with closed eyes. “For your information, technically he didn’t ask me to be his girlfriend. He asked if I was in a relationship, and when I told him I had no time for a relationship, he accepted that.”

That wasn’t what Ron had wanted to hear. Not at all. Not only hadn’t she, technically, turned the guy down, but she also didn’t have time to be in a relationship? He hoped his face didn’t show his reaction.

“You’re working too hard!” Harry blurted out.

“Because I don’t have time for a relationship?” Hermione sounded incredulous.

Harry nodded. “If you’re working yourself too hard… you remember third year?”

Ron winced then. Reminding Hermione of that particular period wasn’t a good idea.

Hermione glared at them. “Now, did you talk to Allan or what?”

“No! Why would we want to talk to that git?” Ron said before Harry could make their friend even angrier.

“If you haven’t talked to him, and have met him but the one time…” Hermione blinked. “What’s going on?”

“He didn’t leave a good impression when we met,” Harry said.

Ron saw that their friend was close to blowing up. He cast in the dark. “Look… he seemed jealous. A bit possessive too.” He smiled at her.

Harry nodded. “He didn’t like us at all.”

Hermione sighed. “He probably was jealous of my friendship with you.”

Ron kept smiling with an effort. That didn’t sound like the kind of friendship he or Harry wanted. “That doesn’t sound good.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and he winced. “I’m just saying what I heard from Charlie. If a girl, or in this case, a bloke, wants you to stop hanging out with your friends, that’s a bad sign.”

To his surprise, Hermione didn’t contradict him. “Yes, I understand that.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just a bit stressed.”

Ron exchanged a glance with Harry. “We should meet and hang out again then. Relax.”

Harry nodded. “We can sneak out of Hogwarts easily now, with Dumbledore covering for us.”

The girl was biting her lower lip again. Ron pushed on. “You know, no one can go on without relaxing.”

“I guess. Even professional soldiers need rest and recreation,” Hermione said.

“Great! So… when do you have time?”

“Well… tomorrow is Sunday…” Hermione turned away from the mirror and started to flip through her notes.

“Sunday afternoon? We don’t have to skip classes then. But we’re fine with that too!” Ron exclaimed.

Hermione turned back. “Honestly, Ron! You…” She broke off when she saw him grinning.

“Tomorrow then?” Harry asked.

“Alright, alright,” Hermione said, pursing her lips. “Tomorrow then,” she added with a smile.

Deciding where to meet took a few minutes. Ron didn’t really care, and neither did Harry from what he could tell, but Hermione didn’t seem to accept that without asking both of them several times for their preferences.

That was typical for their friend, of course. If she thought they had to do something, even if if it was just voicing their opinion, she’d nag them incessantly. And he wouldn’t want her to act any other way.

*****​

After Hermione had switched the mirror off, Ron turned to Harry. “You talked to Sirius about her?” Harry’s godfather was… Hermione would call him ‘opinionated’ when it came to witches. Or sexist.

His friend nodded. “Who else could I talk to?”

Ron had to agree with Harry. There were not many he could talk to about this, not with Hermione being a wanted witch. Usually he’d expect Harry to talk to him, but with both of them interested in the same witch… He nodded. “Right. So, what did he say?”

Harry hesitated, and for a moment, Ron wondered if Sirius had told him a secret way to charm witches. Then he told himself that Hermione was not likely to fall for that. His friend cleared his throat. “Well… he said that if we settled things between us, she might think we’re trying to decide for her.”

Ron nodded. That seemed to fit Hermione. She was very prickly when it came to anyone making decisions for her. When Harry didn’t go on, he asked: “And?”

His friend shrugged. “He didn’t have any really useful advice. He just said that she’d not be the type to go for a rich wizard.”

Ron was torn between being happy about that statement, and wondering if that was a slight against him. “So, Justin’s not in the running.”

Harry shook his head. “He’s a Hufflepuff.”

Ron thought Hermione was likely to take offense at stereotyping, as she called it, but he didn’t think Justin was her type of wizard either. Too used to following instead of leading. Although he might have changed in the Resistance. War changed people, Ron knew that. “And Baker’s a Ravenclaw. And asked her out.” And he was older than her. Like Krum.

“And he’s jealous of us.” Harry grinned. “Hermione wouldn’t stomach anyone trying to tell her who she should be friends with.”

Ron nodded. “That still leaves us with the question of how to handle this.” The longer they waited, the bigger the chance that someone else, someone close to Hermione, would make a move. Maybe even someone who didn’t push all the wrong buttons of their friend. A braver Hufflepuff, maybe. Hermione liked it when they worked hard. And Hufflepuffs were all about working hard. Curse it! Justin was competition!

“I don’t think she’d like it if we simply told her we fancy her, and want her to choose.” Harry said.

Ron snorted. “No, that would not be a good idea.” he frowned. “On the other hand, asking her to a private talk is kind of…” ‘Unfair’ came to mind. At least for the one who didn’t get to go first. And if they did it right after each other, it wouldn’t be that much different from telling her together. He sighed. He really wished he could talk to someone, ask for advice, but… Sirius was Harry’s godfather, and the only ones who knew about them meeting Hermione were the twins, and Ron had learned long ago not to ask them for advice, much less follow it. Ginny knew as well, he was certain of that, but she hadn’t been told, and to ask his little sister for advice… he winced.

“What are you thinking of?” Harry asked.

Ron looked at him. “Just thinking about how it’s funny that Sirius is the best choice for advice.”

“He has been spending almost more time with Hermione than we have lately,” Harry said.

“And if that’s not wrong, then I don’t know what is,” Ron muttered.

“At least he’s not her type,” Harry said. “I’ve heard rumours that Tonks fancies Remus.”

Ron would have made a comment about Sirius not being mature enough for Hermione, but held his tongue. “She does?” That was news to him.

“Sirius told me.” Harry nodded.

“Remus is a lucky wizard.”

“He doesn’t fancy her. Or so he says, Sirius says. Claims he would be too old. Sirius disagrees, but hasn’t yet decided if Tonks is good enough for Remus. So he hasn’t said anything.” Harry shook his head.

“At least someone else has love trouble too,” Ron said.

Harry glared him for a moment, then reluctantly nodded.

*****​

Dorset, Britain, October 19th, 1996

“You want us to seduce the Weasleys?”

Daphne Greengrass crossed her arms and stared at Draco. Mainly so she’d not hex him.

Draco coughed. “Not seduce. Just lure them out of their shop, into a trap.”

Tracey had her wand out and scoffed. “They’re not that stupid. How often did they get caught when they did something at Hogwarts? If we had to gain their trust, we’d have to do more than just flirt.”

“Well, they’re purebloods,” Draco said.

“Do you think that makes seducing them acceptable?” Daphne asked through clenched teeth.

“No, of course not.” Draco smiled, though it looked more than a bit forced to Daphne. Had he really expected them to spread their legs for the Weasley twins? Did he think Polyjuice would mean it didn’t count? Tracey didn’t look like she believed him either. “They’re Gryffindors.” Draco held a hand up. “I know they are cunning - for Gryffindors.” He sneered. “They are tending to a shop. Making joke items.” He shook his head with obvious disdain.

“They were involved in the riot,” Tracey added. “Stood their ground.”

“Yes. Typical for Gryffindors.” Draco’s smile grew. “So, if they think you’re friendly, if they like you, then they’d certainly rush out to help you, if you appeared to be in danger.”

Daphne hated to admit it, but Draco was on to something there. “That could work.”

Tracey nodded as well.

“But,” Draco said, “preparing an ambush in the middle of the day is dangerous. Too many witnesses, and Aurors might react quickly.”

Daphne nodded. “Or others might intervene.” Unlikely, but not impossible.

“Exactly.” Draco smiled. “It would be better if this happened in the evening.”

Daphne again had the urge to hex him.

*****​

London, East End, October 20th, 1996

Hermione Granger checked her appearance in the mirror. Her short hair was hidden beneath a blonde wig, her wand was in a holster on her forearm, covered by her sweater, her mobile phone was clipped to the belt of her jeans. She looked just like any other muggle girl out to meet some friends. Or, she thought with a giggle, a girl out to meet her boyfriend. No one should suspect anything.

She left her room and walked down the stairs, passing the living room and the kitchen. “I’m off for a few hours, to Greenwich Park!” She would have preferred to leave without drawing attention, but no one left without informing the others where they were going, just in case. But if she had timed it right, then Allan, Dean and Seamus would still be in their rooms, sleeping in - Hermione’s proposal to train and exercise every morning had been shot down, and Sunday was now “R&R” day. She had exercised some anyway. But not that much either - the time could be used to study too.

“Hermione! Are you going on a date?”

Hermione turned around and saw Sally-Anne peeking out of the kitchen. The girl stepped out with a grin. “If you are you should wear tighter jeans and a sweater one size smaller. Or two.”

Hermione smiled. “I’m not going on a date. I’m meeting friends.”

“Oh!” Sally-Anne’s smile grew. “Harry and Ron?”

Hermione nodded, instead of asking the girl who else she could be talking about - it wasn’t as if she had a plethora of friends. And even if she had close muggle friends left, she couldn’t meet them for security reasons.

“Have fun!” Sally-Anne’s grin seemed to indicate something rather more lurid.

Hermione knew Sally-Anne was still walking on clouds in her relationship with Justin, and the girl saw romance everywhere. Though implying - however faintly - that Hermione had a romantic relationship with both Harry and Ron went a bit far. It would make for a funny anecdote to tell them, though. So she just shook her head, smiling wryly, and waved as she left the safe house.

Once more she pondered warding some spots with anti-muggle wards in convenient locations, so they could apparate in London without risking upsetting muggle witnesses, but decided against it. If a wizard stumbled over them, they would make prime ambush sites. Or traps.

Though the added security meant she had to travel for some time on the bus and tube to reach her goal. Maybe she should look into getting a provisional driving license - she was 17 now. Although that would leave tracks in the system, and given London’s traffic, she might not be that much faster. And in a pinch, she couldn’t take a car with her by portkey or apparition. A motorcycle on the other hand…

She sat down at the bus station and pulled out a book to read while waiting.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, October 20th, 1996

“Oh, Harry Potter graces us with his presence! And there’s Ron as well.”

“Oi, cut it out, you lot.” Ron Weasley rolled his eyes at the greeting by Fred or George while Harry smiled. Then he frowned. “Did you try out a new product on yourself?” His brother’s hair looked different.

His brother nodded. “Heavenly Hairstyles, for those among us who don’t know how to use styling charms. As our brother, and a person in dire need of it, you’ll get a rebate!”

“You’ll need to work on the name,” Ron said.

“And on the charms… unless that’s the prank product version,” Harry added, “and you have charmed it so the user doesn’t notice how ugly it looks.”

“Hey!” the twin exclaimed, in an indignant tone. “That’s… actually, that’s a great idea! Prank style products! We’ll call it ‘Harry Hair’!” He laughed while Harry gasped.

“Don’t give them ideas!” Ron said, shaking his head.

“But… what brings you to us, on a Sunday? Skipping out of Hogwarts too?”

Ron shrugged. He didn’t want to say that he missed his family, especially with the Death Eaters out there. “We left a bit too early, and decided to visit you.”

“Oh… too early for what? A secret mission? A date with a hot witch?”

Ron sighed. “We’re meeting Hermione.”

“Hm. Does that count as a date with a hot witch? Or would that be hit-witch?” His brother cocked his head to the side, tapping his lips with one finger.

“It’s not a date,” Harry said.

“Alright.” Ron’s brother nodded. “So… apart from giving us new ideas, what news do you have from Hogwarts?”

Ron was a tad suspicious at the sudden change of topic - usually, his brothers milked any joke or teasing opportunity far past the point it was funny - but obliged him. “Not much has changed. We’re focusing on training, and enjoying a safe school without the Slytherins.”

“Some Slytherins are left,” Harry added, “but they are the younger ones, and don’t dare to start trouble now. Not even with Snape looking over their shoulders.”

“Must gall the git something fierce. He’s been taking points left and right,” Ron said. “But who cares? Points are meaningless in a war.”

His brother gasped and pressed a hand on his chest, as if he had just been hexed. “Blasphemy! You don’t know how much pride we took in all the deductions we earned!”

“Yeah, right.” Ron sniffed. “Are you wearing perfume?”

“Eau de Cologne, you barbarian!”

“What?”

“That’s like perfume, but for men,” Harry said.

“I know that,” Ron said. He had looked into such things, recently. Just in case. “I’m wondering though why my brother would be wearing it. Unless… is there something you don’t want mum to know? Or someone?”

“Ah… I’ve met a lovely girl. A pair of girls, actually. Visions of beauty and grace.”

“Actually,” Ron’s other brother cut in, standing at the door, wearing the same haircut, “Two lovely witches endured his brutish attempts to charm them three days ago without fleeing in terror, and he’s been hoping for their return ever since.”

“You’re just jealous!”

The two twins glared at each other. Ron exchanged a glance with Harry. At least they were not the only ones with such troubles.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, October 20th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle frowned when she saw a mudblood propaganda leaflet stuck to the wall near a side alley. It was bad enough when the things littered the street, but now those were displayed on the walls? She vanished it with a flick of her wand.

“They are getting bolder,” Martin remarked, “if they are spending the time to put them up. A night patrol might catch them.”

“Or they might walk into a trap,” Brenda said.

Martin hissed. “You mean…?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think they’d do this to ambush us. But night patrols are already very dangerous.” Doubly so since the youngest, most inexperienced Aurors were doing those.

They passed a defaced Ministry poster. Where the original text called on people to stay calm and cooperate with the Ministry, this one called on people to ‘rise up and overthrow the fascist government’.

“What does fascist mean?” Martin asked.

Brenda shrugged. “I’ve no idea. Some muggle insult, probably.” She didn’t care either. She aimed her wand at it and cast another Vanishing Spell.

They were close to Knockturn Alley now. Brenda noticed people moving out of her way, avoiding eye contact. And others glaring at her. “I don’t like this,” she muttered. “The attitude is getting worse.”

Martin nodded. “Sometimes I feel as if I’m walking down an alley populated by mudbloods.”

Brenda scoffed. “The sick thing is that we’re risking our lives for them. We’re all that stands between them and another massacre. And yet they hate us for that.”

Her partner agreed while he glared at a shady old wizard. “Remember Aberforth Dumbledore? Bloody prick.”

Brenda snorted. “Damned fool. Protecting murderous scum.”

“He probably knows who murdered my cousin,” Martin muttered.

“He knows, or he strongly suspects. And yet he won’t tell us anything.” Brenda ground her teeth. She’d love to take that arrogant scumbag down. But without proof they couldn’t do anything. And, Brenda suspected, even with proof they would not be allowed to make a move. Lately, the Ministry had been stepping very lightly around Dumbledore.

“What’s that?” Martin said, interrupting her frustrated thoughts.

Brenda blinked. “Mud.” The street in front of them had been turned into mud.

Martin pointed his wand at it, but Brenda stopped him before he could cast. “Don’t!”

He looked at her. “What?”

“It could be a trap. Shield and Bubble-Head Charm, and then let’s get to a safe distance,” Brenda ordered.

Martin’s eyes widened, and he nodded. “Sorry… I wasn’t thinking.”

She waved it away. He was still young, and frustrated. The two Aurors retreated ten yards and cast the charms. “Everyone, get away from this patch of mud!” Brenda ordered the audience.

Then Martin aimed his wand again. “Finite Incantatem!”

The mud turned back into cobblestones. Brenda cast another charm to check. “It looks safe.”

“Oh… our brave Aurors are afraid of a bit of mud!”

That had come from behind them. Brenda turned around, but couldn’t spot who had said that. A number of people seemed to find this very funny though.

“They’re afraid of getting dirty!” Another voice called out. More laughter followed.

“You’d not be laughing if this had blown up!” Martin exclaimed.

Scoffing sneers answered him.

“We should make them cancel those spells!” Martin said under his breath.

Brenda nodded, despite knowing that would never happen. “Let’s go on. We’re on the clock,” she said.

They encountered more mud on the way - a transfigured cart, and another part of the street. Someone was having fun, it seemed. Or someone was trying to make them complacent, so they’d slip up. Brenda shook her head. Patrols had just become even more dangerous and frustrating. Sooner or later, one of the rookies would not check carefully, and end up hurt, or worse.

*****​

London, Greenwich, October 20th, 1996

Hermione was looking nice, Harry Potter thought when he saw his best friend - his best female friend - sitting in the café she had picked. The blonde, straight hair didn’t fit her, though. In his opinion at least.

“Blimey,” Ron muttered next to him. “I’m still not used to her hair.” Apparently, his best mate had similar thoughts.

“Harry! Ron!” Hermione had stood up when she saw them enter the café, and went on to hug both with a beaming smile. Up close she looked happy, but tired. She didn’t feel too thin though, not like in third year.

“New hairstyle again?” Ron asked.

“Disguise,” the witch answered, sitting down. “I doubt any pureblood would be looking for a blonde.”

“I doubt any pureblood would be looking here,” Harry said. “Though we might have to disguise ourselves a bit more too.”

“Probably. I can get you wigs,” Hermione grinned. “You’d look good as a blond.”

“We could use Colour Charms,” Ron said. “And Hairstyling Charms.”

“You learned those?” Hermione blinked.

“Well… we could learn them,” Ron said.

“Not from Lavender though,” Harry said. Ron glared at him and he quickly added: “She’d not be able to keep it quiet.”

“She would,” Ron said. “But only if we told her it was an important secret. And then that would mean she’d know we’d plan to use them for disguises.”

Hermione snorted, but didn’t comment. Harry knew she was not that fond of Lavender. Or rather, she didn’t think much of the girl’s abilities.

Further discussion was interrupted by the arrival of the waitress, who took their orders. Once she had left their table again, Ron spoke up. “She’s training as well. Most of the house is training. Not daily though.”

Hermione sighed. “Well, not even the Resistance is training daily.”

“Really?” Harry was surprised.

“They voted to take Sunday off.” Hermione sounded rather vexed.

“And do you train anyway?” Harry narrowed his eyes. He knew her, after all.

She smiled. “Just a bit of exercising, to keep in shape. I use the time to study.”

“And you look in great shape,” Ron said, flashing a smile at her. “Could be playing Quidditch now.”

Harry couldn’t tell if Hermione had been about to blush, since she sniffed at Ron’s joke. “I prefer to stay on the ground, thank you very much, unless it’s really necessary.”

“It’d be good training though, for when it’s needed. Dodging bludgers helps with learning how to dodge spells. Teaches you situational awareness too,” Ron explained.

“Someone’s been studying,” Hermione teased, though Harry thought she sounded pleased.

He quickly cut in. “We’ve been doing our best. Our focus is on Occlumency though - we need to master it, Dumbledore said.”

“And learning that is a pain,” Ron added. “You’ve mastered it?”

Hermione nodded. “I think so. I can’t really test it, though.”

“Dumbledore will want to test you, I reckon,” Harry said. “He knows we tell you everything.”

Their friend nodded.

“Dad said the Ministry’s been rather cautious lately. Dumbledore has them spooked. I’m not certain if that’s a good thing though.” Ron shrugged.

“Scared people tend to act rashly.” Hermione sighed. “Is Hogwarts still divided?”

Harry nodded. “The worst of the Slytherins are gone, but there are a number of bigots left in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. They keep their heads down though, at least outside their dorms. Like the gits in our house.” McLaggen, for one.

“Typical for the Slytherins - they save themselves and leave the rest to rot.” Ron scoffed, and grabbed a biscuit from the small basket on the table.

“So, it’s back to normal then. Like Wizarding Britain as a whole, it looks fine from the outside, but still rotten on the inside.” Hermione shook her head.

The mood started to get gloomy. “Let’s talk about something else,” Harry said.

“Yes. Apparently, Fred’s fallen in love with one or two girls that visited his shop a few days ago. He keeps hoping they’ll return.” Ron snickered. “He’s been changing his hairstyle and even wears perfume. And George has to match him, of course, even if he doesn’t want to. They’ve been arguing about it a lot.”

The witch shook her head. “Boys…”

Harry shrugged. “He’s in love, what do you expect?”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Love renders people foolish, it seems.” That wasn’t exactly what Harry wanted to hear. Nor Ron, he supposed. They exchanged a glance while Hermione continued. “Justin and Sally-Anne are acting like lovebirds. Drives Dean and Seamus wild, the two are jealous, but try to hide it.”

“Are they in love with Sally-Anne as well?” Ron asked.

Hermione snorted. “She’s a pretty girl. I don’t think you can call their feelings ‘love’.”

“Ah.” Ron nodded. “Did they ask you out too?”

Hermione grinned. “They know I’m not a foolish girl falling for their lines. But Sally-Anne is trying to play matchmaker.” The witch shook her head. “She sees couples everywhere. My parents told me that their friends acted the same when they were freshly in love. The friends. My parents were more sensible when they tied the knot.” She laughed. “Sally-Anne even implied I was dating you two.”

Harry forced himself to laugh at that, as did Ron, but he could tell by the way Hermione’s grin faded, replaced by a puzzled reaction, that they hadn’t fooled her.

“You don’t think that’s funny, do you?” their best friend asked after a brief pause.

Harry was shaking his head before he realised what he was doing. He glanced at Ron, who was wincing. The mood was suddenly very awkward.

*****​

Hermione Granger stared at her two best friends. They didn’t think Sally-Anne’s teasing was funny… she blinked. Did they have love trouble? Both of them? She bit her lower lip, not certain what to say. She reached up to twist her hair, then remembered she was wearing a wig. The silence was becoming uncomfortable. None of them was saying anything. She could see Harry and Ron glance at each other. What was going on?

When their eyes flicked back to her, she realised she had said that out loud.

“Err…” Harry winced.

She knew that expression. They were keeping something from her. Something they thought might upset her. She glared at him, then at Ron. “What is going on?” she said, carefully pronouncing each syllable.

Ron sighed. “Blimey…” he said, with another glance to Harry. He returned his attention to her though, before she lost her temper. “It’s like this…” he trailed off, swallowing. Hermione almost snarled at him. What was he waiting for? Why couldn’t he just tell her? What were they hiding from her?

Ron cringed - her feelings on the matter must have been quite clearly visible on her face - and took a deep breath. “We, well, we both fancy you.”

What? Hermione blinked.

Harry nodded. “Yes.”

“You… both?” She didn’t know what to think, much less what to say.

“We didn’t want to tell you like this, but…” Ron shrugged.

“You’re just too perceptive.” Harry smiled weakly.

“But… I mean… both?” They couldn’t mean… she tugged on a strand of hair, almost pulling her wig askance. Hadn’t she told them she had no time for a relationship? Was this why they had asked her to meet them?

Ron actually blushed. “Not like that!”

Harry nodded.

The relief that brought was short-lived. Her two best friends, wanting her… as a girlfriend. That was… there would be trouble. She knew it. Their friendship might not weather this. Love made people act like fools, and jealousy was worse. Hermione took a deep breath. She had come to meet her friends to relax, not to… get stressed. She had to be calm.

Ron muttered a curse. Even though she didn’t admonish him, he apologised. “Sorry.” He grinned, but it looked fake to her.

“What did you have planned then?” she asked, as much to gain time to think as out of a desire to know.

“We don’t know, actually,” Harry said. “Telling you privately… well, it would have been unfair, or worked out the same.” He shrugged. “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, you know.”

“How long?” she asked. They stared at her. “How long have you… thought about this?”

“Two weeks? Three?” Ron looked at Harry, who nodded.

“After you turned Lavender down.”

“I turned her down, because well, she wasn’t you.” Ron sighed.

“But why now?” Why did they tell her now?

“We don’t know.” Harry shrugged. “We didn’t plan this.”

“It just happened?” It figured. All her plans lately seemed to suffer from coincidences and such. She came to relax with her friends, and found herself confronted with potential boyfriends. A love triangle, with her in the middle? Ridiculous!

“Love usually just happens,” Ron said.

She almost snapped that this wasn’t love, just teenage hormones. But she didn’t. There were prettier witches at Hogwarts. Like Lavender. If it was just hormones, Ron would be dating her. She suppressed the small voice in her mind that whispered that Ron might date the witch anyway. He’d not do that to her. And Harry wouldn’t let him do it either. She looked from one of them to the other and back. “What do you expect me to say?”

“I don’t know.” Harry winced. “We didn’t plan this.”

“Do you expect me to choose?”

“Well...” Harry trailed off.

“We wanted to avoid exactly this situation,” Ron said. “We didn’t want to pressure you. We hoped, well, I hoped, that… things would work themselves out. Somehow.”

Hermione chuckled, though she felt like crying. The expressions of her friends showed that they noticed. “What a bloody mess!” she muttered. She closed her eyes. She didn’t rub them. She wasn’t crying. A few deep breaths later she opened them again. Harry and Ron were looking at her. “Let’s deal with this like adults. You fancy me. You told me. You talked about this with each other before. I therefore assume you don’t want to see our friendship ruined.”

Both boys nodded.

“Good. Now this comes as a surprise to me.” Which should have been obvious to them, by her reaction. “I don’t know how to react.” She needed more time to consider this. Think this through. And their expressions, half-hopeful, half-dreading, didn’t help. “Let’s just talk about something else, and… just enjoy the day? Relax? Order some more tea?” She hated how uncertain she sounded.

And yet Harry and Ron nodded in response to her asinine proposals. She clenched her teeth. They needed to talk about something, anything. Anything but love. And the war. “What are you currently doing in Transfiguration?”

“We’re working towards Human Transfiguration. We’re still learning the basics though,” Harry said.

“No ferrets yet,” Ron added, with a slight grin.

“You’re using ‘A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration’, right?” Hermione knew they did; she had read the book list, after all, to get copies herself. And they knew she knew. This wasn’t working. She shook her head and stood up. “Sorry. I can’t… I think I better go home. This is too much right now.” She forced herself to smile. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s our fault. Sorry.” Ron’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. Harry didn’t even try, he simply nodded.

Hermione pulled out her purse, but Harry held his hand up. “We’ll cover it.” For once, she didn’t argue, just nodded at them and left.

She managed to walk normally until she could duck into a side alley. Then she leaned against the wall, and sighed. She didn’t want to return to the safe house yet. Not so soon. Sally-Anne would know at once that something had happened. Hermione didn’t want to deal with questions, or worse, help. She kicked the wall with her left heel. She had been looking forward to an afternoon with her friends, not this!

How could she deal with this? Pick one, pick none? She wanted to keep her friends. Both of them. And if she picked one, the other would be hurt. And jealous. Not that she even wanted to pick one. Not like this, at least. Love should happen naturally, she thought. Not mess up all her plans, and deny her even her most cherished friendships. The whole affair had messed her up, she couldn’t even think of things to talk about with them!

This time she did wipe her eyes.

*****​

London, No. 12, Grimmauld Place, October 20th, 1996

“She didn’t take that well,” Ron Weasley said as soon as he and Harry had reached Sirius’s home.

“No she didn’t.” Harry looked at him. “We scared her away!”

Ron sighed. “We expected that.” Or feared that. “She didn’t reject us, at least.” Either of them.

“Because she was too shocked. She’s probably writing a letter now.” Harry sounded morose, leaving no doubt as to what he expected to read in that letter.

Ron shook his head. “I doubt that.” Hermione wouldn’t do that. “She just needs time to figure things out.”

“Figure things out?” Harry scoffed. “If she fancied either of us, she’d have said so, wouldn’t she?”

“If she fancied neither of us, she’d have said so,” Ron countered. “It would have been the easiest answer. She would have said she has no time for a relationship.” It would have kept both Harry and him from being jealous.

“Do you think so?”

“Yes.” He hoped so, at least.

“She doesn’t really go for the easy answers.” Harry sighed.

“Who? Hermione?” Sirius asked. Harry’s godfather had arrived in the entrance hall. “I didn’t expect you.”

“We kind of told Hermione that we like her as more than just friends,” Harry said. “She pretty much fled.”

Sirius winced. “That’s a bit harsh.”

“She was surprised,” Ron came to to the defence of their friend.

“And she’s under a lot of pressure, with the war,” Harry said.

“That’d be a reason to have sex. It’s a very good way to relax.” Sirius nodded. “Trust me, I know!”

“She’s not like that!” Harry said.

Sirius shrugged. “You never know. I personally hoped she’d want a ménage à trois.”

“A what?” Ron didn’t speak French.

“You know, an arrangement between all three of you,” Sirius explained.

“Are you … do you really think that?” Harry had to be as surprised or shocked as Ron felt; he usually didn’t come that close to giving his godfather an opening for that awful pun.

“Always!” The wizard grinned. “More seriously though, the Quaffle is in her hands now. Let’s hope she doesn’t drop it.”

“She hates Quidditch,” Harry mumbled.

“We should get back to Hogwarts,” Ron said. They could train, or fly, or something. Anything to take their minds off this debacle.

Harry looked at Sirius, clearly torn for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”

Sirius looked hurt for an instant, then smiled. “Don’t forget to tell me what Hermione decides! And consider the ménage à trois!”

Ron was still rolling his eyes when they apparated back to the Forbidden Forest.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, October 21th, 1996

Daphne Greengrass frowned when she saw yet another mudhole in the street. Couldn’t the shop owners deal with those puerile annoyances? She drew her wand and aimed it at the patch of mud. A simple Finite should be enough to...

“Stop!”

She jerked and whirled around, wand aimed at the shouter. Next to her, Tracey, once again wearing a French courtesan’s form, like herself, had done the same.

A middle-aged witch standing in front of a shop held up her hands. “Don’t curse me!” When neither of the two girls cast at her, she relaxed some. “You’re new here I take it?”

“We haven’t been here for a few days,” Daphne said in a cautious tone.

“The Aurors said not to touch the mud. It could be trapped,” the witch, probably the shop owner, explained.

“Trapped?” Tracey gaped at the mud. “Why hasn’t that been announced in the Prophet then?”

The older witch shrugged. “It started yesterday. It should be announced tomorrow, I reckon.”

That sounded quite fast for the Ministry, Daphne thought. She eyed the mudhole with some anxiety. “So… the mud will just be left?”

“No. The Aurors deal with it, but… they deal with the bigger mudholes first. Those that block traffic.” The witch shrugged. “The smaller patches…”

“How many of these mudholes are there?” Daphne asked.

“A few dozen last I heard. It’s hard to tell.”

“Bloody mudbloods making fun of us!” Daphne muttered. The other witch frowned for a second, then nodded, and stepped back into the shop.

“Do you think that’s the work of the mudbloods?” Tracey asked as they continued towards the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

“Who else? Purebloods and half-bloods certainly wouldn’t do this to Diagon Alley, they’d harm their own businesses and make shopping a chore!” It had to be mudbloods. Which meant…

“So, at least some of them will be trapped.” Tracey said what Daphne had just thought.

“Yes.”

The two carefully kept their distance from every mudhole they saw from then on.

*****​

This time, Daphne ducked when she entered the joke shop, and the ugly rubber thing missed her. She was tempted to blow it up with a Reductor Curse, but that would not have fit her role.

“Mary! That was a good reaction! And hello Cassandra!””

Daphne forced herself to smile when she saw one of the twins - with a hideous haircut that made Potter’s hairstyle look great - bear down on her and Tracey. “Hello… George?”

“It’s Fred!” the twin smiled. “I’m the handsome twin.”

“Ah!” Tracey twittered.

“Says he.” The other twin, by exclusion, George, cut in, shaking his head at them from a few yards away. He had the same haircut.

“He’s just jealous,” Fred said, smiling brightly at the two witches. “So, how did your families like our products?”

Jealous? That could be exploited, Daphne thought. She flashed a smile of her own. “They didn’t quite appreciate them as much as we did. It was very entertaining.”

“Yes. We’d like to buy a few other products,” Tracey said, sounding eager.

“We have a shop full to choose from. Now… how did the Galloping Glasses work out? How long did they chase them? Did the anti-tampering enchantments hold up?” Fred rapid-fired questions at them while guiding them through the shop.

They might have to use some of the products they bought today, Daphne thought while making up answers. Just to keep their cover, of course. Draco would certainly volunteer for the cause.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, October 22nd, 1996

“The plan worked then,” Hermione Granger said, looking at the map Sirius had just handed her.

“It did.” Sirius grinned. “I sneaked the tracker into Petra Rowle’s order, and the family’s own owl came to fetch it. I could follow it easily - I wouldn’t even have had to use the tracker.”

“Will anyone be able to connect you to this?” Sirius sounded confident, but the wizard was sometimes more than a bit overconfident.

He shook his head. “I borrowed Harry’s cloak. No one saw me, inside the shop or outside.”

“Good.” Hermione smiled, remembering the things she and her friends had been up to with that cloak. Harry and Ron… she frowned, and suppressed the memories. She had no time for a relationship.

“Love trouble?”

She glared at the older wizard. “They told you.”

“Of course. I’m Harry’s godfather. Who else could he ask for advice?” Sirius shrugged in an almost French way. “All of you are being silly about this, by the way.”

“What?” She wasn’t silly. She was responsible. She was leading a resistance group in a civil war against a genocidal group of terrorists and their ignorant but willing helpers in the Ministry. “I have no time for a relationship.”

“Which is what you told them.”

Technically, she had told them so. Just in another talk, a few weeks ago, and relating to another wizard. She looked away and clenched her teeth.

Sirius’s chuckle just oozed with amusement. “I knew it.”

“And pray, how exactly am I being silly?” She glared at him again, hands on her hips.

“Not just you, all three of you.” Sirius conjured an armchair and sat down. If he hadn’t been a pureblood, Hermione would have thought the similarity of the chair to ones many psychiatrists were depicted on was no coincidence. “All that drama, all that angst, over such a small matter!”

“Small matter?” Hermione scoffed. “This threatens our entire friendship!”

“Only if you mishandle it. Besides, it’s not the romance that you have issues with, but the choosing, right?”

“What?” What was he hinting at?

“If only Ron or Harry would have asked you out, with the support of the other, would you have reacted like this?” Sirius rubbed his chin as he looked at her. “If one hadn’t shown any romantic interest in you?”

She blinked. That would have been different, probably. “It still would change our friendship. Teenage relationships rarely last long, and if we break up, things could be difficult.” Like after a divorce.

“You’re afraid of the relationship - whatever relationship you choose - ending,” Sirius said in a softer tone. She didn’t detect any trace of amusement in his tone. “Being afraid of failure is not a good way to start anything, much less a relationship.”

“Being prepared for the consequences of failure is just being smart,” Hermione snapped. “I’d rather have friends than a boyfriend.” It wasn’t as if she had too many friends.

Sirius shrugged. “Then you just have to tell them that you don’t love them like that.”

“Yes.” She’d do it.

“And things will stay the same. Until they pick other witches as girlfriends. And spend time with them. And not with you. Witches are often rather jealous of female friends of their boyfriends.”

Hermione pressed her lips together. She wasn’t jealous of whatever witch picked Harry or Ron. Unless it was Lavender. Or that slut Romilda. Or the Patil twins - they had had their chance at the Yule Ball, and dumped her friends.

Dear Lord, she was jealous!

“Anyway,” Sirius continued. “Think it through. And look up ménage à trois!”

She knew what a ménage à trois was! And it was something best left for the kind of romance novels she didn’t read! She changed the topic. “We’ll need to take down their wards without killing everyone.”

“You think they’ll know more Death Eaters?” Sirius asked.

“Possibly. You said that Rowle has been proposing to shift Aurors from hunting escaped Death Eaters to hunting muggleborns multiple times.”

“She did, as proxy for Parkinson. That doesn’t mean she’s in contact with the Dark Lord.”

Hermione knew that. She shrugged. “It’s a possible lead. That witch wants muggleborns hunted down like animals, and more freedom for the Death Eaters. That makes her a valid target in my opinion.”

“No argument here. Her brother was a Death Eater in the last war. He was killed attacking Molly’s brother.” Sirius frowned.

Hermione nodded. Focusing on the war was easier than trying to deal with her friends’ romantic interest. “We’ll deal with her.” She just had to calculate the blast well enough to leave part of the house standing, but wreck the wards.

*****​

London, East End, October 22nd, 1996

“... and that’s the location of Petra Rowle’s home. We’ll have to recon the area, find good positions to observe the house and study the wards, so I can calculate the exact bomb load to wreck the house without killing everyone inside.” Hermione looked at the other Resistance members assembled around the table.

“No big loss if we use too much,” Seamus said.

“We need information about Death Eaters. Given her family’s past and her political leanings, she’s likely to know more of them.” Hermione saw Louise and Jeremy nod at her words. Justin too.

“We can now use our camouflage training!” Sally-Anne said, grinning. “Those hours spent covered with mud will not have been wasted!”

“Speaking of mud…” John raised the latest issue of the Daily Prophet. “What’s up with those mudholes in Diagon Alley?”

“Someone’s making a statement,” Hermione said. “Non-violently too. It’s a good way to annoy the Ministry, and tie up their Aurors as well.”

“Indeed. But we should trap some of those patches with curses, or they might grow complacent, and stop treating them with all that caution,” Allan said.

He was correct there, Hermione knew, and yet… “It also means that whoever is doing those transfigurations will be blamed for it. That could be fatal if they’re caught.” Especially if it was a kid.

Allan shrugged. “The Ministry will execute them anyway if they catch them. Just like they executed Martin.”

He was, unfortunately, likely correct there as well, Hermione knew. Many among the Resistance, especially Seamus and Dean, nodded and their expressions told her that they considered Martin’s death still not avenged. And yet… “Let’s wait a bit. We can trap a patch of mud, or curse a mudhole, when the Aurors start ignoring them. Until then it’s a waste of time. Time better spent on preparing our attack on Rowle.”

That proposal received general approval at the table, as she had known it would. The Major had been right - idle soldiers were trouble makers, it was always best to keep them busy.

And if she was busy, she had an excuse not to deal with the trouble in her private life. As much as she still had a private life.

*****​

Hogwarts, October 23rd, 1996

While the rest of the Gryffindors who had been training Defence with them filed out of the room, headed back to the dorm, Ron Weasley stayed back. So did Harry. Ginny glanced at both of them, but followed the others out when Ron started casting cleaning and repair charms on the floor.

Harry joined him, restoring the room to how it had been before the training session. “We should train a bit harder.”

“Not everyone will be able to keep up,” Ron answered, fixing a small crater in the floor.

“So we just take the ones who can.”

Ron nodded. “Recruiting?” He erased a butterbeer stain on the wall.

“More like creating reserves,” Harry explained.

“Ah.” Both knew that without mastering Occlumency, none of their housemates would be able to help with their missions.

“She still hasn’t talked about us,” Harry said after a pause.

He didn’t have to say who he was talking about. Ron nodded. Since Sunday, Hermione had avoided talking about relationships, though she was still calling them each day.

“Do you still think that’s a good sign?” Ron’s friend asked.

“It’s not a bad sign.” Ron thought so. Had to. “If she didn’t feel anything more than friendship, she’d have said so.”

They fixed the rest of the room in silence. Before they left for the dorm though, Harry spoke up again: “Did you ever think about this ‘ménage à trois’ thing?”

“You’ve been talking to Sirius,” Ron said.

His mate nodded.

Ron sighed and leaned against the wall. “I don’t really think such a thing could work. Hermione would probably make a schedule to split the time spent with each of us.” His elder brothers had been quite clear - well, Charlie and Bill - that spontaneity was needed in a relationship. Though neither had yet dated a girl like Hermione.

Harry chuckled, though it sounded a bit hollow. “Oh, yes.”

Ron didn’t say why he didn’t think it’d work. At least not for him. He didn’t want pity, he wanted to be loved for his own sake. And next to Harry, what could he offer? To think Hermione would, out of her own sense of fairness, force herself to spend time with him, instead of Harry… “No,” he muttered.

“What?” Harry looked at him.

“Nothing, mate. Just remembered some homework.”

Harry nodded. His mate had to know he was lying, but didn’t pry.

Ron knew things would be easier if he gave up and dated Lavender, who wanted him. But he didn’t want to lose Hermione either.

*****​

Hogsmeade, October 25th, 1996

Hermione Granger stopped feeling guilty for spying on Allan when the spell tracking the coin she had slipped into his pocket showed that he had apparated north from London. A few apparitions and spells later, she knew he was in Hogsmeade, or nearby.

He could be visiting a wizard girlfriend, of course. But Hogsmeade was patrolled by Aurors, and they had become quite vigilant since the disappearance of two of them. Meeting anyone there was a risk the Resistance should have been informed of.

Of course, she shouldn’t be heading into the village herself, if she was following her own advice. On the other hand, she was wearing the single best invisibility cloak she had ever heard of. The usual spells wouldn’t reveal her presence.

And she really needed to know, to see with her own eyes, what Allan was doing.

Silently recasting her tracking spell several times, she soon found the wizard, hiding in a side alley between two shops. The former Ravenclaw was not using magical means to hide - which would have been worthless in the face of the standard precautions the Aurors were likely to take these days - but had colour-charmed his clothes to fade in the shadows.

He hadn’t noticed her - her stealth training had taught her well - and was obviously waiting for something. Probably the night patrol to pass. She shook her head under the cloak. If they were diligent and checked the side alley properly, they would spot him. On the other hand, their patrol would take them hours. And as the Sergeant had told them, the later at night, the less careful were the soldiers.

True to her prediction, the four Aurors passed the side alley with the barest glance. No wonder they hadn’t caught any Death Eaters!

Allan remained still for another ten minutes, before carefully moving to the front of the alley. And now she realised he hadn’t charmed his clothes - he was wearing black robes. And putting on a white mask.

She controlled herself, didn’t cry out, didn’t hex him. But she wanted to. The damn fool was doing what she had feared and forbidden - framing the Death Eaters for atrocities. And if he was as careful doing that as he was in obeying orders, the Aurors would be back soon, in force. And Apparition would be blocked.

She had to head back to the safe house, right away. And consider how to deal with Allan.

*****​

 

Chapter 13: Offensive Action

‘Despite a few claims to the contrary, the so-called ‘Mud Attack’ was, at the start, a non-violent way of protesting the Ministry’s policies. That mud was used may not have been intended simply as irony, but might also have been an attempt to turn an insult - ‘mudblood’ - into a term used by the minority in question for themselves, though we lack the sources to prove or disprove this hypothesis. Its effects, though, were clear: With a simple spell, daily life in Diagon Alley was greatly hindered, and the Ministry was forced to delegate many Aurors to deal with what was, at this point, a nuisance on the level of a childish prank. Although, owing to the pressure put on the DMLE by the Wizengamot to deliver results, it was also clear from the start that no matter how non-violent the ‘attack’ was, the Aurors would deal with it using harsh measures.’
- Excerpt from ‘Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century’ by Albert Runcorn

*****​

London, East End, October 25th, 1996

Hermione Granger apparated back to her room in the safehouse and quickly checked the telltales she had left at the door and on her desk. Neither seemed disturbed. It looked like her own excursion had not been detected as yet. She pulled off the cloak and sat down on her bed.

She was in a quandary. A quandary of her own making, at least in part. She now knew that Allan was acting not only against orders - the decision of the group - but also against the people the Resistance had been formed to protect. At least indirectly, though she couldn’t be certain now that Allan wouldn’t attack muggleborns either, should he think that would result in increased support and recruitment; he certainly knew as well as she did that atrocities by the government generally strengthened resistance movements.

She froze for a moment, wondering if he had arranged Martin’s capture, then shook her head at herself. Allan wouldn’t go that far. Or he wouldn’t have gone that far, back then. But now?

She pressed her lips together. She could understand - if not excuse - his attacks on shops in the guise of a Death Eater, but if he was also attacking Aurors, and she thought he was, then what was his plan? His actions were hindering, harming the Resistance’s efforts. With the Aurors using four-wizard patrols, there would be no practical opportunities to kidnap and interrogate one of them in secret. Which had been the core objective of their strategy.

Allan had to be stopped before he ruined even more of Hermione’s plans. But how? If she confronted him in public, she’d have to reveal that she had spied on him. Planted a tracker on him. Even if he didn’t exploit that - and he would - many members would wonder if she was spying on them as well. At best, those who supported Allan’s plans would split off with him, at worst, Hermione would lose her leadership of the Resistance. Reduced to a supporter and researcher, so they’d not lose her contacts to Sirius and Hogwarts. Unless they lost all reason, and went even further than that.

She bit her lower lip, hard. She couldn’t let Allan keep doing this. But she couldn’t confront him either. Even in private, he could use her own actions - no matter how necessary they had been to find out the truth about him - against her. And even if she managed to turn the group against Allan, neutralise his support - Seamus and Dean, mostly, but he had known Louise and Jeremy, at least enough to contact them - what then? Punish him? How? Confinement to quarters? She snorted. The Major had told her some stories about the need for discipline, and they had made sense. In theory. But now, confronted with an actual problem, she found that the solutions presented were far harder to choose. Execution was not an option.

Could she cut him loose? He wouldn’t stop, she was certain of that. And he’d do even more damage to the Resistance’s plans. At least he couldn’t betray them, not without losing his memory. That was an option, she supposed. Remove his memory. But he’d know it had been done to him, and she doubted he’d forgive, much less forget that. And he’d be smart enough to figure out who had done it. She, and the Resistance, would have made an enemy. An enemy who could live and fight in the muggle world, who knew them, knew how they fought, where they trained, where they lived, and was more than willing to kill innocents. In theory, her contract would prevent betrayal, but if it wasn’t a betrayal if she dealt with Allan, then Allan might not be affected if he went against her, or others, as long as he thought it was for the best of the group.

She sighed, and let herself fall back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. What could she do? How could she solve this? No matter what she did, she’d compromise her morals, and probably hurt the Resistance. But to leave things as they were would be worse. Would be the worst decision she could make.

Allan dying in combat would be the perfect solution. The major had mentioned that as well. But to arrange that… it would be the worst betrayal of trust. And even if it remained a secret, it would likely damage the trust of the group in her decisions, if they led to his death.

She closed her eyes. There was an alternative, of course. Without those ‘drawbacks’. Not one she liked to contemplate. But there was more to consider than her own morals.

*****​

Hogwarts, October 25th, 1996

“Ah, Severus. Thank you for coming.” Albus Dumbledore smiled. “Please have a seat.”

The Potions master sat down.

“Did you find out anything more about the Dark Lord’s plans?”

The younger wizard stiffened at the small reminder that Albus was aware of his excursion last night. “He is still undecided whether or not he should bind his supporters closer to him. He seems flattered that there are some who will do his work unbidden, but he also seems annoyed at their lack of obedience.”

“Tom was always focused on control.” The robes and masks he had chosen for his followers made that clear - he did not tolerate any rivals near him; everyone had to be a faceless minion at his side. The only exception was Bellatrix Lestrange, but the dark witch was a special case - her loyalty was unquestionable. She might even be his mistress as well.

“He’s also concerned that some of those supporters might be traitors.”

Albus nodded. Tom, being willing to betray anyone at any time it served him, obviously expected the same of everyone else. “Any concrete plans?”

“The Death Eaters he broke out from Azkaban have received new wands. They have also mostly recovered from their time spent there,” Severus said.

“Which means they will be available, and eager, for attacks.” Albus leaned back. And the obvious targets, with the muggleborns in hiding, were half-bloods and ‘blood traitors’.

Severus shrugged. His feigned indifference was betrayed by the tension in his body though.

“And what of Mister Malfoy? What are he and his cohorts up to?” Albus studied Severus’s reaction while he picked up a lemon drop.

“He hasn’t asked me for any support or information so far. I assume he’s keeping his ‘followers’ busy with meaningless tasks.” The younger wizard sneered.

“What does the Dark Lord think of their efforts?”

“He is pleased, but does not consider them worthy of important missions, yet. Their monetary and political support, however, is most welcome,” the Potions master said.

“And most bothersome for us.” Albus frowned. Cornelius being the Minister had one advantage: The man was obsessed with remaining Minister, and could be counted on to oppose the Dark Lord, as long as he remained convinced that his office was in jeopardy.

“Maybe the muggleborns will blow up a few more mansions, send the rest fleeing from Britain.”

Albus raised an eyebrow at the other wizard. That was a very unlikely outcome, given the pride and power of the Old Families. “Did the Dark Lord mention his intentions towards the muggleborns?”

“Apart from decrying their cowardice, no.”

Albus chuckled. “I assume he considers his own hiding as a cunning move worthy of House Slytherin, and not as cowardice.” He didn’t miss the faint stiffening of his Potions master posture at the dig against his own house’s hypocrisy. Severus was a Master Occlumens, but there were still telltales. Hopefully, the Dark Lord was not familiar with them. Of course, the Death Eaters’ own masks helped with concealing their feelings.

“He isn’t in the habit of questioning his own actions,” Severus said.

“A habit he hopefully will keep.” The Headmaster smiled. “Is there anything else?”

The wizard shook his head. “Nothing of consequence.”

Albus nodded. “Good evening then.”

“Good evening, Headmaster.”

Once his spy had left the Headmaster’s office, Albus rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had hoped for more time to prepare for this. The Order of the Phoenix was divided into several cells, to protect them against treachery. But that meant they couldn’t be gathered together to counter a major attack by the Death Eaters without losing that security. For a moment, he considered having them wear masks of their own, then chuckled at the thought. That would bring problems of its own.

But it meant that either he had to take a more active role in the field - which would mean that the Dark Lord could lure him away more easily, to strike when he was engaged - or hope that the Ministry’s Aurors and Hit-Wizards could serve to counter the Death Eaters. Which was a very faint hope, given the political leanings of so many of them. And with the Ministry still hunting her, Miss Granger’s Muggleborn Resistance was not an option either.

That left the most difficult option of them all. At least for Albus.

His brother.

*****​

London, East End, October 26th, 1996

‘Family dies in Death Eater attack in Hogsmeade!’

When Hermione Granger read the headline of the Daily Prophet, she felt as if someone had hit her in the guts with a Bludgeoning Curse. A quick skimming of the article confirmed what she already knew - a half-blood owned shop had been burned down in the village. The Dark Mark had floated above the scene of the crime. Allan had killed three people, including a child one year from Hogwarts. And it was her fault - she could have stopped him, that night. Should have stopped him. She ground her teeth in anger and guilt.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned her head. Sally-Anne. The other girl looked angry as well. “We’ll avenge them, Hermione! Those damn Death Eaters will pay!”

The muggleborn witch nodded, aware that her reaction had been obvious to others, but fortunately they didn’t know the real reason. “We will.”

“Burned alive… we’ll make those bastards pay!” Seamus muttered, bent over the issue.

Hermione risked a glance at Allan. The former Ravenclaw - the murderer - nodded.

“We will avenge those poor people.”

He was a very good actor, she realised. Anyone, even those who knew him - or thought they knew him - would think he was barely controlling his anger. And this threw yet more doubts onto all his actions.

She looked around. Everyone, even Louise and Jeremy, were angry, and determined to avenge the dead family. Some, especially Seamus, were too angry to think rationally. She spoke up before Allan could exploit this. “That’s one more reason to proceed with our plans. We need to find those murderers so we can end them. And the key to that is information from pureblood supporters of the Dark Lord. We can’t waste our time and efforts striking at random targets.” She looked at Seamus. “The scum who did this want us to be angry, enraged, so we make a mistake. They want us to strike at some random pureblood family, so they can get more support. But we’ll not make that mistake. We’ll hit them where it hurts them!”

She brushed some hair away from her face, and used the gesture to sneak another glance at Allan. He nodded, together with the rest of the group, but she thought the anger he showed was aimed at her words.

*****​

East Suffolk, Britain, October 26th, 1996

The home of Petra Rowle was smaller than Hermione Granger had expected. Of course, it probably used Extension Charms, and the fenced-in area around it was large, but still - the proxy of Pansy Parkinson, living in such a modest house?

She lowered the binoculars and turned to Justin, who was lying next to her under the bush they had chosen. “What do you make of this?”

The muggleborn wizard hadn’t lowered his own binoculars. “Small house. Probably four rooms in total on two floors. Two entrances. Small windows, curtains prevent looking inside. Well-tended garden, fence is no real obstacle.” He looked at her. “Do you think it’s just a decoy? A place the witch passes through when traveling to her real home?”

Hermione bit her lower lip. “It’s possible, but it would require her to set up a private Floo connection.” Arthur Weasley had done that for Harry, once. “Those are some strong wards though,” Hermione said. “Very strong, in fact.”

“If it’s a choke point, then we’ll have to reconsider our plans.”

Hermione agreed. If it was a choke point, then they would have to take down the wards and lay an ambush. But if it wasn’t, such an attempt would alert the inhabitants. Which wasn’t exactly a bad thing. She smiled. “I think I have the solution. We’ll need to dig though.”

“The Sergeant said that a shovel saved more soldiers’ lives than any rifle,” Justin said.

“Wands make better digging tools,” Hermione pointed out. “But the saying makes sense.” She studied the house again. “It’ll be a bit dangerous though. It’d be better if we had a Curse-Breaker.”

“Fat chance of that.” Justin snorted. Muggleborn Curse-Breakers were snatched up by Gringotts, even before the Ministry had started to persecute all muggleborns.

“We’ll have to make do with what we know. Louise and Jeremy have had some basic training.”

“And you’ve studied the matter,” the wizard said.

“A bit,” she admitted.

“Which means you know more about this than anyone else in the Resistance.” Justin grinned.

“Which, unfortunately, doesn’t mean that much.” Hermione sighed. “It would be so much easier and safer if the Aurors hadn’t switched to four-man patrols.” She shook her head. “Whoever has been attacking them really wrecked our plans.”

“Well, it’s not us, and the Death Eaters would leave a calling card, so it’s probably some other muggleborn taking revenge. Or another group.” Justin shrugged. “There’s not much we can do about it. We need to stop the Death Eaters.”

Hermione was certain she could do something about it, but nodded. “At least the Death Eaters are behaving foolishly. Murdering half-blood families will make more people hate them.”

“And fear them,” Justin said. “But I know.”

“At least with them acting like this, Allan’s no longer pushing for us to attack half-bloods to frame the Death Eaters,” Hermione said, maybe a bit too casually, while looking through her binoculars again.

“What are you implying?” Justin asked after a moment.

“It’s rather convenient, isn’t it? The Dark Lord doing what will help us.” Hermione looked at him.

Justin met her eyes and frowned.

“The dates of the attacks match with Allan’s absences.” Hermione nodded slowly.

“He was with Seamus.” Justin sounded unsure though. Unwilling to believe this of their comrades.

“So Seamus says.” Hermione snorted. “He’d say a lot for a mate who wants to ‘score with a bird’,” she added, imitating the Irish muggleborn’s wording.

“If you’re right then… what can we do? This could tear us apart. There are a number who agree with his plans, even if they were outvoted. I don’t think they’ll agree with killing our own.”

“I know. We’ll have to proceed very carefully.” She stared at him. “But we can’t let him murder more innocents.” Or wreck their plans further.

Justin muttered a curse under his breath. “Just when we can finally go on the offensive, we have to deal with this.”

Hermione nodded. “Hopefully, he’ll be too busy with this mission to murder anyone else.” And as he had proven to be able to break the wards of those shops, he’d be the best choice to attack the wards of this house.

“It’s still mere suspicion though.”

“Yes. But we’ll find out the truth.”

*****​

Hogwarts, October 26th, 1996

Ron Weasley rubbed his temples. It didn’t help with his headache. The Headmaster’s mental probe had been rather painful.

“I did tell you that it would be very painful.” Dumbledore sounded regretful.

“It’s alright,“ Ron pressed out through clenched teeth. “I can take it.” Harry had suffered for weeks through such, and with Snape, to boot.

“You did make significant progress,” the Headmaster added. Then he turned to Ron’s best friend. “Harry?”

The young wizard grimaced, but nodded. “I’m ready.”

Dumbledore pointed his wand at him. “Legilimens.”

Harry hissed in pain, but didn’t even try to look away. Ron winced in sympathy - he knew how that felt. His own headache was slowly fading. He longed for a potion to deal with it, but that would defeat part of the training - pain was helping them to master it, or so Dumbledore had said. No wonder he had picked Snape as a teacher for Harry!

After a few minutes, Harry was making a strangled noise, and Ron’s headache had lessened to the point of being an annoyance. Dumbledore lowered his wand.

“Very good. You’re close to mastering Occlumency. I did have far more trouble probing your mind than last time. Did you train?”

Harry groaned. Ron glanced at him, then answered: “Not exactly. But with how things are going, we are very motivated.”

“Ah.” Dumbledore smiled faintly, and Ron wondered if he had seen what the two boys were trying to hide. Or Ron, in any case.

The Headmaster leaned back, and offered them lemon drops. Ron took one. He wasn’t that fond of them, but sweets were sweets. Even if these were sour.

“Is there anything we can do while we master Occlumency?” Harry asked.

“Apart from the training you already do, I do not think so.” Dumbledore sighed. “The Order is not yet that pressed for wands. The calm before the storm, you might say.”

Ron knew what the Headmaster wasn’t saying - that once the war heated up, and the Order clashed with the Death Eaters, the Order would be taking losses. He fervently hoped none of his family would be among them. He had lost two uncles already.

“I just feel so useless!” Harry spat out. “Hermione is fighting, Sirius is fighting, and I’m not doing anything.”

“That is not true,” Dumbledore corrected him. “You two have done a lot already. And once you have mastered Occlumency, you will be hunting Horcruxes, a very dangerous task.”

“How will we be doing this?” Harry asked, rubbing his forehead - though not his scar, Ron noticed.

“Horcruxes, like almost all enchanted items, tend to lose their power over time. That is the reason Magical Egypt is not still ruled by immortal priest-kings, by the way - their soul anchors’ magic faded in the millennia since the old dynasties.” The Headmaster ran a hand over his beard. “Few wizards chose this route anyway, knowing that for a few hundred years more, they would give up an eternity in the afterlife. Though not so few tried to find ways to solve this fatal flaw. They found a way, or so they thought. If a Horcrux was enchanted so that it would anchor itself to other enchantments in its vicinity, leeching off their magic to renew its own, it would not degrade.”

“And yet it must have been flawed, or they’d still be around,” Harry said.

“Exactly. Their method had two weaknesses. First, no enchantment is everlasting. Even the strongest wards have to be renewed and maintained.”

“Couldn’t they just recast those themselves?” Ron asked.

“They could. They did. But the second weakness was the inherent effect of a Horcrux on its environment. Those foul items twist and corrupt everything they touch. Items, plants, animals, people. Even the very magic they rely upon. Coupled with the need to recast enchantments or wards, and the often visible effect, many dark wizards found that their soul anchors were not easy to hide from their enemies.”

“If we’re looking for corrupt people, I think we should start in the Wizengamot,” Harry said, snorting.

Dumbledore chuckled. “An apt observation.” He sighed. “Alas, Voldemort made a breakthrough there - he managed to create Horcruxes with a diminished effect on the environment. And, even worse, he apparently decided to solve the problem of degrading soul anchors by creating multiple Horcruxes over the years. No one has dared to split their soul several times before him.”

“How do we find them then?” Ron asked. “There has to be a way.”

“His soul anchors need to be hidden in areas saturated with magic. Strong wards, lots of spells being cast regularly, lots of enchantments,” Dumbledore explained. “There are not that many areas that fulfill those criteria.”

“Hogwarts.” Harry said.

“That is one of the locations I think he’d have chosen, although my own presence might have dissuaded him from choosing this area.” Dumbledore sighed. “But Diagon Alley, and even the Ministry or Gringotts are very probable locations for his Horcruxes. In Britain. There are similar areas outside our country.”

“Blimey!” Ron exclaimed. “How do we search them all?”

“With great diligence, Mister Weasley,” Dumbledore said. “And with some magic.”

*****​

Ron saw Harry sigh and rub his forehead once they had left the Headmaster’s office.

“Does your head still hurt?” he asked his friend. “Or is it…?” He cast a privacy spell, then tapped his forehead.

“It’s not the scar,” Harry said. “I’m just tired. And tired of not doing much of anything.”

Ron frowned. “What’s eating you?” Dumbledore had told them a lot about their mission, and they were making progress. It didn’t make that much sense for Harry to be that down. “Is it about Hermione still not telling us what she feels about us?”

Harry shook his head. “No.”

Ron narrowed his eyes. “What’s the problem?”

He saw Harry clench his teeth, and for a moment, wondered if his best mate was getting angry. Then the other wizard deflated, and sighed. “I’ve been thinking.”

Ron nodded.

“About this whole thing.” Harry tapped his scar. “This, and the prophecy. And the rest.”

“Mh.” Ron wondered what Harry was going to say.

“I just… can I really have a relationship, with all that hanging over me?” Harry snorted. “You know what Dumbledore said about me and Tom.” The Gryffindor looked at Ron with a pained smile.

For a short but terrible moment, Ron was tempted to agree with his friend. Tell him he couldn’t risk dragging Hermione down with him. Then Ron wouldn’t have any competition for her feelings.

The moment passed. “Mate!” He grabbed Harry’s shoulders. “Do you honestly think Hermione will care? Do you think she’ll accept it if you suddenly tell her you can’t have a relationship with her?” Ron scoffed. “She’ll know something is wrong, and she’ll hound you until you admit it. And then she’ll be angry at you, probably hex you some, and then she’ll tell you not to act stupid.” He shook his head. “You don’t really think we’ll abandon you? Hell, she’s Britain’s most wanted witch, and did that make us back off?”

Harry stared at him, then slowly shook his head. “No. I guess not.”

“Besides, she hates it if people try to decide for her. Whatever it is.” Ron sighed.

“Unless of course she wants us to decide something,” Harry grumbled. But he wasn’t looking that down anymore.

Ron slapped his friend’s shoulder. “There you go! Now let’s head back, and get some sleep. I’ve got the early shift for map watch.”

“Sirius said he and Remus are almost done with the new map.”

Ron snorted. “He said that last week already. I’ll believe it when the new map’s here and we can sleep in again.”

“As if. There’s still training.” Harry grinned. “Though first thing you need to learn would be to get up without anyone helping you.”

Ron rolled his eyes at him. “Hermione said she was told that a veteran soldier can sleep anywhere, anytime. I’m obviously ahead of you.”

“When it comes to doing nothing, yes.”

The two bantered on their way back to the dorm. Ron almost didn’t feel guilty about his moment of weakness anymore.

*****​

Hogwarts, October 27th, 1996

“You wanted to talk to me.”

No greeting, no small talk. Just some gruff words and a grim expression. His brother hadn’t changed, Albus Dumbledore thought. And yet he had - a few years earlier, Aberforth wouldn’t have come to Hogwarts. He wouldn’t even have accepted the message Albus had sent by owl. “Please have a seat,” the Headmaster said. “Thank you for coming.”

Aberforth sat down and stared at him. Waiting.

“The Dark Lord has finished rebuilding his forces. The Death Eaters he has broken out of Azkaban have recovered from their ordeal,” Albus said.

“He’s been attacking half-bloods already. I guess with the muggleborns all hiding from the Ministry, those were next on his list.” His brother scoffed.

“I fear you are correct.” Albus nodded.

“And you think as a half-blood myself, I’ll be in danger.” Aberforth stared at him.

Albus suppressed the annoyance his brother’s antics caused him. Aberforth was deliberately goading him. “As my brother, you are a target. But I trust your wards, and your other defenses.” And their estrangement was quite well known in Tom’s circles.

Aberforth snorted. And waited.

Albus kept smiling. “I will not mince words.”

“That’d be a first!” his brother interrupted him.

The Headmaster ignored the comment. “With the Ministry riddled with spies and traitors, and more focused on hunting muggleborns than Death Eaters, it falls upon others to face the Dark Lord’s followers.”

“Your ‘friends’, you mean.”

“My friends,” Albus said. “Though there’s a problem.”

“What problem? Did you make friends with another Dark Lord?”

Albus couldn’t help but glaring at his brother for that remark. Aberforth sneered at him, not backing down. The Headmaster kept his temper in check. “After the problems with spies in the last war, I’ve compartmentalised the Order.”

“Finally.” Aberforth had been in the Order, back then. And had been a vocal critic of some of Albus’s decisions.

“While that minimises the risk of one traitor exposing all members, it also makes massing forces to meet Death Eater attacks more difficult,” Albus explained.

“And you want me and my friends to help you out. Risking our lives while your Order plays it safe.” Aberforth glared at him.

“I just want you.” Albus said. If Aberforth brought friends with him, so much the better, even if they had questionable morals. Or even because of that - Mundungus certainly was not a law-abiding upstanding wizard, but he was quite useful to the Order.

“I see.” Aberforth’s glare didn’t weaken.

Albus waited, smiling politely. There was no need to argue much - his brother, for all his disdain towards Albus, wasn’t the kind of wizard to let innocents die when he could help it.

“You’re a bastard!” Aberforth spat out.

Albus inclined his head.

“I’ll not be sparing the Ministry’s thugs if they interfere.” His brother frowned.

“I do not expect you to. While I still hope the Ministry will come to their senses, there is a non-negligible chance that they will take offense at civilians protecting themselves and others against Tom’s forces. Amelia, sadly, is quite fanatical about the letter of the law, and often ignores both its spirit and common sense.”

“She’d have arrested her own brother, had she known about his actions before he was killed.” Aberforth shrugged. “So, you’ve finally decided not to play the good little teacher anymore?”

“I have decided to do what is right, even if that puts me against the Ministry.”

“Well, it looks like you are able to learn from your mistakes. Too bad it took you so long. Again.” Aberforth stood up. “You know how to reach me.”

His brother disappeared through the Floo connection without a further word. Albus closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. That hadn’t been pleasant, but in this case, the result was all that counted. Aberforth would be fighting in this war.

*****​

London, East End, October 27th, 1996

Hermione Granger looked up when she heard the knock on her door. She hoped it wasn’t Allan. Just thinking how he had sat on her bed some evenings, how they had talked almost intimately, made her skin crawl. She didn’t think she’d be able to hide her thoughts from Allan in a similar situation, and she didn’t want him to suspect she knew about his actions.

“Hermione?”

That was Justin’s voice. She relaxed. “Come in.”

The former Hufflepuff entered, carefully closing the door behind him. He looked at it, then at her.

“I’ve improved the privacy spells in my room,” she told him. “If anyone asks it’s because I don’t want to hear what you and Sally-Anne get up to,” she added with a grin.

Justin actually blushed. “You heard us?”

She shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”

She sighed with obvious relief, before growing serious again. “Allan’s out again. Seamus said they’d go to the pub for a few beers.”

Hermione closed her eyes and cursed silently. “What about Dean?”

“He’s preparing the next leaflet.” Justin sat down on her bed.

For a moment, Hermione contemplated conjuring a seat for him, that would have been rude. He didn’t know about Allan’s visit, anyway.

“Do you think there’ll be another attack tonight?” Justin asked.

She bit her lower lips. “If he’s smart, he’ll not do an attack everytime he goes out.” She hoped he’d be that smart. To think he might kill another family…

“You sound convinced that he’s doing this.” Justin stared at her.

“It fits him.” Hermione met his eyes. “He’s been charming and friendly, but he always pushes for attacks on Aurors. And he had the plan to attack half-bloods and frame the Death Eaters.”

Justin nodded slowly. “He’s been talking to Louise and Jeremy as well. And to Mary and Tania. I don’t know what he’s been saying, or how they reacted.”

Hermione rubbed her temples. “I had hoped our resistance movement wouldn’t have to deal with internal plotting like this.” She didn’t want to end up like Michael Collins. Or Trotsky.

“If he’s doing this, then we can’t let him go on. You know what the Major taught us - if the soldiers start to go native, they’ll soon lose all control.” Justin pressed his lips together. He had to remember what else the Major told them.

“We can’t make an example out of him without knowing where the others stand,” Hermione pointed out. “Even using Veritaserum is risky.”

He understood what she was alluding to. “We can’t kill him just because we suspect he might be murdering people.”

Hermione knew he was killing people. “If we catch him doing this...”

“That’s dangerous. We all learned how to spot trails, and detect disillusioned people.” Justin grinned. “You’re not bad, but you’re not good enough to follow him undetected.”

Hermione couldn’t tell him about Harry’s special cloak. “That’s true. But there are people who can help with that.” It was misleading, but if he thought she was hinting at the Headmaster getting involved… The Resistance knew she was in contact with Dumbledore, though not how exactly. Nor did they know what she was doing with Sirius and Harry and Ron.

“Ah.” Justin nodded. “But… is it wise to involve him in this? He’s an outsider.”

She hadn’t exactly planned to involve Dumbledore, but now that she was thinking about it… “If Allan is murdering people he could simply disappear. That way, we’d avoid a lot of the potential trouble he could cause.”

Justin was surprised. She could tell how his mouth opened, then closed again without a word. “I see. That seems… “

“I don’t want some bloodthirsty murderer on the loose, nor do I want his punishment to cause problems for us in the middle of a war.” She leaned forward on her chair. “If he killed that family, just to frame the Dark Lord, what else will he do? How far will he go? And would we be any better than him if we let him continue? And what else could we do to stop him? Without endangering the Resistance?”

“I want to know he’s guilty before...” Justin clenched his teeth together.

Hermione nodded. “You will.” She didn’t know how exactly to achieve that, but she would do it. Allan would pay for his crimes. Without wrecking the Resistance she had worked so hard to organise.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, October 28th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle angrily vanished another one of leaflets while she was walking through Diagon Alley. The nerve of those mudbloods! They dared to warn the Aurors not to support or protect the Wizengamot members responsible for ‘the criminal persecution of innocents’ and the ‘blatant support of Death Eaters’, and threatened to kill them! At least they didn’t use weird muggle words like ‘fascist’ in that one.

Martin glanced at her, but didn’t say anything. Her partner vanished another one, not that it would do any good - there were hundreds of them covering the street, almost covering up the patches of mud still defacing the Diagon Alley. When she caught the mudbloods doing this…

The two reached the burned out ruins of a second-hand shop. The area was crawling with Aurors from Dawlish’s task force. Dawlish himself was standing a bit away, staring at the ashes and rubble.

“Morning John,” Brenda greeted him. “Another Death Eater attack?” She had heard rumours, but no details in the office.

“Morning Brenda, Runcorn.” Dawlish nodded at them. “Yes. Dark Mark floating above it, wards taken down, Floo and Apparition blocked, building set on fire… text-book Death Eater tactics.”

They must have already taken down the Dark Mark then. “No Fiendfyre?” Martin asked.

Dawlish shook his head. “I think they didn’t want to endanger the neighbouring shops.”

Which were owned by purebloods, Brenda knew. “How considerate of him,” she said, snorting.

“Not so considerate for the Wilkinsons.” Dawlish nodded towards the ruins. “Both died in the flames.”

“They weren’t able to cast Flame-Freezing and Bubble-Head Charms?” Martin sounded incredulous.

Dawlish shrugged and glanced at Brenda. Both knew how quickly people forgot what they had practised for their exams.

Martin noticed, and added: “I’d have expected any half-blood family to practise, after the first two attacks.”

“Maybe the fire was enchanted or something, or cursed,” Brenda speculated.

“We’ll look into it,” Dawlish said.

Brenda wondered if the Auror hadn’t considered that possibility. But there were more pressing questions. “Why didn’t our patrols notice this?” Breaking wards and throwing up jinxes had to take some time, and fire didn’t cause instant destruction either.

“With the four-wands minimum size for patrols, they cut the frequency of patrols in half to compensate,” Dawlish explained.

“That’s…” Brenda shook her head. “What idiot decided that? And why didn’t Bones step in?”

Dawlish shrugged. “Selwyn ordered it, or so I heard. And he has the backing of his uncle in the Wizengamot.”

The Head of the Patrol force… of course. “Let’s hope this disaster will give Bones the clout to set things right. We might as well stop all patrols if we’re cutting corners like this.” Brenda scoffed.

“We might lose recruits if they have so many night shifts,” Martin added.

“We were losing Aurors on patrols before this,” Brenda countered.

Dawlish snorted. “Rookies get the night shifts. It’s been like that forever. If they get those shifts a bit longer, who cares? We’re at war. Speaking of the war…” Brenda frowned when the other Auror held up a familiar leaflet. “What’s up with this? Just some posturing, or do we need to worry?”

Brenda hated to admit her ignorance, but there was no way around it. She wouldn’t lie to a fellow Auror. Not about this, at least. “Anyone can create such filth. If that’s from the mudbloods who wrecked Malfoy Manor and blew up Knockturn Alley, then yes, we should worry. As far as we can tell, they need time to prepare their attacks, but that’s just speculation.” Before Dawlish could make a comment about her lack of success, she nodded at the ruins. “Any plans to guard the half-blood shops?”

“Too many of them around for that.” Dawlish sighed. “Well, time to continue my work.”

“Good luck,” Brenda said. “We’re off to investigate our own case.”

*****​

“And here’s your Pepper-Up Special,” Jane Mills said, handing an opaque vial over to Brenda, who was once again using Polyjuice to disguise herself.

“Thank you,” the Auror said. Mills looked a bit nervous, but not overly so. And as a half-blood shop owner, she had reasons to be nervous, so it wouldn’t look suspicious anyway. Brenda pocketed the vial and paid the witch - her reward for the memory she had handed over. For all her original reluctance, the witch had come around rather quickly. The gold she received for the memories helped, of course. As did the knowledge that she was committed now - if the Aurors let slip what she was doing, the Mudblood Resistance would kill the witch.

Brenda walked slowly through Knockturn Alley. There was no mud here, as far as she could tell. Maybe the ones behind the mud transfigurations were living in this alley? It would fit them, in her opinion.

She ducked into a side-alley, and apparated to the safe house - or safe room, rather - Martin and she were using. She would have to wait out the Polyjuice, of course, before she could return to the Ministry. Too many spies there to risk detection. But she’d have the face of another mudblood to look for in Knockturn Alley. Sooner or later, they’d find someone with the right contacts.

*****​

London, East End, October 29th, 1996

Two more people dead in a fire. Hermione Granger put down the Daily Prophet. She should have done something about Allan before this. Clenching her teeth, she looked at Justin. He frowned as well. Was he angry with himself, for not believing her? Or with her, for not doing anything? If he knew that she had tracked Allan, the latter would be the case, or so she thought. She certainly was guilty enough to deserve it.

The others at the table were muttering about Death Eaters. They were angry. Some were furious. And they wanted to lash out. If Hermione tried to delay things further, she’d lose them. As much as she hated it, she had no choice but to go ahead. Ride the tiger.

“Alright!” she spoke up. The Resistance members turned towards her. “We’ve scouted out the location for Rowle. We’ve mapped their wardline, and we located good positions for the ambush or attack. We’ll have to compromise so we can both attack or ambush relief forces, but it’s not too bad - we need to surround the area anyway to prevent her from fleeing, if she is around.” If Rowle wasn’t there, and no Death Eaters or Aurors arrived once the wards were under attack, then they could break in and lay traps at least.

“But we don’t have a Curse-Breaker. So we’ll need the next best thing.” She smiled at Allan. “I know I’m asking a lot of you - it’s very dangerous - but you’re the best at taking down wards.”

Allan nodded. She couldn’t tell what he really thought about serving as bait, or if he suspected anything. He looked like the rest - dedicated and brave. “I can do it. Provided the bunker is strong enough.”

“It’ll be,” Hermione assured him. It had to be - as much as Allan dying in the upcoming mission would suit her, it couldn’t be her fault, or the group would lose trust in her leadership.

“Good.” He smiled at her. “We should have started to attack them long ago.”

“That would have been difficult, without knowing where they live.” Hermione didn’t roll her eyes, but she couldn’t mask her annoyance fully. And judging by Allan’s slow nod and faintly smirking expression, he noticed.

“Remember Seamus: You need to check the bomb carefully. We can’t use too much explosive, or we’ll blow up our target.” Seamus’s grin showed he didn’t really care about that. It vanished though when she continued: “Or Allan.”

“Louise, Jeremy - you’ll be on Anti-Apparition, Portkey and Floo duty.” The two former Hit-Wizards weren’t as trained with rifles and other weapons as the rest of them, but had more experience and training with magical combat so they were natural choices for that task. “You’ll not be alone of course.” Just at the start.

“When do we strike?” Dean sounded as if he wanted to go out right now.

“Friday the first,” Hermione answered firmly. “There’s a Wizengamot session, so odds are she’ll be home afterwards.” And Tonks wouldn’t be on duty. Hermione wasn’t quite certain just how dependable the metamorphmagus was, but she was giving her the benefit of the doubt. So far.

“Now,” she addressed the whole group again, “we need to train for this operation. Some of us have been slacking a bit.” She glared at them. She’d not let them get killed for lack of preparations.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, October 30th, 1996

“There was an interesting article in The Quibbler, Miss Granger,” Albus Dumbledore said, sitting in Sirius’s living room.

The young witch met his eyes. “Are you referring to the article covering our leaflets?”

“Indeed I am.” He summoned the magazine in question. “One might wonder if the Resistance is redirecting their efforts towards the Ministry.” An understandable reaction, in his opinion, yet a clear mistake.

Judging by the way the witch winced, she knew that. “We’re planning a strike at one of Voldemort’s suspected supporters. But we might face an Auror response. We wanted to warn them that if they helped Death Eaters and their supporters, they’d be treated as Death Eaters and their supporters.”

“If you cannot avoid such a response, is the attack worth the effect it might have on the Ministry? Dead Aurors will drive more to demand revenge and propose harsher measures against muggleborns.”

Miss Granger scoffed. “It’s not as if the Wizengamot can do much worse, not without showing their true colours.” She sighed. “Waiting any longer will cause even greater trouble. My group is becoming restless, and the constant attacks on half-bloods might drive them to do something rash.”

“Ah, I see.” He did. While he disapproved of this kind of reasoning, he knew that sometimes, the lesser evil had to be chosen. And young people, training for a war, were bound to act in a rash manner if left too long to their own devices.

“Incidentally, you might check with some of your sources Friday night.” The girl pressed her lips together.

He nodded slowly. The attack would happen this Friday then, and he would have to ensure his spies were not at risk. “Thank you. I think I shall.”

The witch bit her lower lip, apparently debating something with herself. But, as expected of a Gryffindor, she soon raised her chin. “There’s another thing. I suspect - or rather, I am almost certain after some observations - that one of my allies has started to commit rather questionable acts in an attempt to frame the Dark Lord. I might need some assistance in dealing discreetly with him.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh?” Did she mean that some of the latest attacks by Death Eaters had been false flag operations? Severus had mentioned some followers of Tom showing initiative. Maybe he was mistaken?

Miss Granger nodded. “He’s been absent during a number of attacks attributed to the Dark Lord. And I’ve observed him wearing the robe and mask of a Death Eater.”

He took a deep breath. “Do you think he might have joined the Dark Lord?” Wearing the Death Eater garb was quite damning either way. And the measures Miss Granger had taken to ensure the security of her group might not stand up to the knowledge of the Dark Arts Tom had accumulated.

She shook her head. “We’ve taken precautions against such betrayals. And he has been arguing for the actions he is now - probably - taking.”

Albus nodded. “And you have decided not to call him out and voice your suspicion?”

“The risk of fragmenting the Resistance is too great, even if I can prove his actions.” The young witch frowned. “Him disappearing seems to be the best solution - provided he turns out to be guilty. An extensive interrogation will be needed for that.”

He almost smiled. Of course Miss Granger would both want to be certain of the young man’s guilt, as well as find out what exactly he had done. “I will of course provide any assistance needed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Though, maybe, not by himself.

*****​

East Suffolk, Britain, November 1st, 1996

Hermione Granger watched the small house through her binoculars. The moon had risen two hours ago, but it was not a full moon, and the clouds reduced visibility further. That would help the Resistance, since they were using enchanted goggles to see in the dark, and not every Auror or Death Eater might be equally prepared, judging by what Sirius had told her. At the very least, the muggleborns wouldn’t be at a disadvantage.

“Do you think the Aurors or Death Eaters will spot Allan?” Justin, lying prone next to her, asked in a whisper.

She studied the area where she knew Allan was, underground, in the transfigured tunnel. Even having helped creating it - and hadn’t those hours spent spelling a tunnel from the forest’s edge to the wardline been a pain - she couldn’t spot the periscope-styled slits through which Allan would be able to see and attack the wards. Good enough, in her opinion. “I doubt it.”

Justin didn’t say anything, and she didn’t glance at him to gauge his reaction - they hadn’t spoken about Allan since that night.

She checked the spot Louise and Jeremy were hiding in. They were in a similar tunnel, if not as long, or close to the house. They too had to be close enough to cast and prevent their target from escaping. She couldn’t spot them either.

She switched the headset radio she was wearing to speak. “Leader to groups. Ready check.”

“Curse-Breaker ready.” Allan’s voice had a hint of sarcasm. Or she might be imagining it. He had mentioned a few times that he wasn’t a real Curse-Breaker.

“Jinxes ready.” Louise sounded calm and collected.

“Bomber ready.” Seamus sounded excited. Originally, Hermione had planned to put the bomb in place before starting the attack, so it would simply have to be detonated, but even disillusioned, it could have been detected, and the reinforcements might avoid or destroy it. So Seamus was carrying it, far up in the air, ready to drop it.

“Fire Team ready.” Dean sounded eager as well. He and the rest of the group were near Hermione, in concealed firing pits - foxholes, the Sergeant had called them. Just like herself and Justin. She would have liked to spread them out further, fully encircle the house, but since they didn’t know where reinforcements would be arriving, scattering the group would have been a bad idea.

She checked her watch. Almost midnight. There was no need to delay any further.

“Jinxes, go!”

Fifteen seconds laters, she heard Louise on the radio. “House covered, spreading out.” The two former Hit-Wizards had learned the jinxes needed to disrupt the Floo Network from Hermione, who had learned them from Sirius. In their former line of work, that task had been done by the Floo Network Authority, and not that well.

Hermione nodded, even though no one but Justin could see her. “Curse-Breaker, go!”

She couldn’t see Allan casting, but with the help of a spell she could see the wards, and they showed the signs of Allan’s work, their strength slowly degrading.

Her rifle was still at her side. She didn’t plan to use it, unless things went drastically wrong. She was the commander of the group, and she had to focus on leading, not fighting. Unless circumstances dictated otherwise, of course - sometimes, officers had to lead by example. Or so she had been taught.

Minutes passed. She heard a few comments over the radio, and had to remind the group not to distract the Curse-Breaker. And to remain vigilant, not talkative. If Rowle had noticed the attack on her wards - and if she was present, she would have - then she’d have called for help.

If she could call for help. If she relied on the Floo Network, or owls, then the Resistance would be capturing the witch before any help could arrive. Provided she was present in the house. But how probable was it that a Wizengamot member would lack a way to call for help in an emergency? Everyone knew how raids went.

“Movement up north!” Seamus announced through the radio.

That was almost opposite their own position. Hermione focused on the forest’s edge … there! “Three, no four humans, moving through the forest. About 20 yards east of the tall oak.”

“Got them.” Justin said.

“Two on brooms, but far below me,” Seamus alerted them.

Hermione saw four more people emerge from the woods. And she could see the first four more clearly. Dark robes and white masks. “Death Eaters,” she said, and felt a shiver run down her spine. Finally, they’d face those murderous beasts in open combat. Or as open as was needed.

Four of the Death Eaters moved forward, towards the house. The rest hung back. Smart of them. Hermione hesitated a moment. Should she wait with the bomb, in the hope the rest of the Death Eaters would close as well? No. The risk of them detecting Louise and Jeremy, and Allan as well, was too great. “Fire Team, once the bomb goes off, suppress the Death Eaters at the back and take out those in the air. Jinxes, if the wards go down, secure an entry into the house.”

She took a deep breath. “Bomber, go.”

“Yeah!” Seamus’s answer was far from professional, but Hermione didn’t call him out on it. She stared at the Death Eaters, obviously searching for the Curse-Breaker attacking the wards, for a few more seconds, then scrambled back into her hole.

“I was about to drag you…” Justin’s words were cut off by the explosion of the bomb Hermione and Seamus had prepared. She scrambled up again, binoculars ready. The sight that greeted her made her hiss.

The splinter mantle she and Seamus had created had worked as planned. The four Death Eaters who had been at the house, searching for Allan, had been ripped to shreds. The house had lost part of its front, and the rest was peppered with holes. Screams caught her attention, and she saw one of the Death Eaters on brooms crash.

Then the Resistance opened up with the assault rifles and light machine guns. Tracers followed the second broom rider. He didn’t try to evade, probably still shocked by the blast, and was hit several times, slumping over and then falling off his broom… no, he was stuck to his broom, now hanging upside down, and twitching from more bullets hitting him.

“Switch fire from broom to forest!” Hermione ordered.

“They’re fleeing!” Dean shouted into the radio.

“I can cut them off!” Seamus announced.

“Don’t fly too close, harass them from above!” Hermione ordered. “Fire Team - suppress the Death Eaters and move half to the house. Jinx, secure the entry. Curse-Breaker, support if able.”
Allan didn’t answer. For a moment, Hermione was tempted to ignore him. If he had been hurt, or killed by the backlash from the wards collapsing… She shook her head. “Curse-Breaker, status?”

Still no answer. Louise and Jeremy were at the wrecked door to the house now, flinging spells inside. Dean and John were rushing towards them. The rest were firing. Hermione cursed. “Dennis, Colin - check on Allan.”

She saw more spells flashing inside the house.

“We need help here if we want to capture them alive!”

That was Louise. Hermione didn’t hesitate. “Mary, Tania - move to the house.” That left Sally-Anne, Justin and herself at their original position. Not much of a reserve, if anything went wrong now.

“Justin, keep an eye on the sky. Sally-Anne, watch the northern forest. Seamus?”

“I got one of them, but the rest escaped as soon as they left the area we had jinxed.” Seamus’s voice was tinged with annoyance and frustration. “Check if that one’s alive.” Any Death Eater prisoner would be a good source of information.

*****​

East Suffolk, Britain, November 1st, 1996

Petra Rowle née Parkinson was reeling - someone was attacking her home. No, mudbloods were attacking! The giant blast that had caved in the front of her house proved it. While she blasted her way through the hallway filled with the contents of two expanded rooms which had collapsed, she thanked all the gods that the mudbloods hadn’t managed to level the entire home, as they had done to Malfoy Manor. But why had they waited with the blast? She gasped, and froze for a moment, her wand aimed at a broken cabinet blocking her way. They had waited for her fellow Death Eaters! They had known she had called for help! This was a trap! And she had to escape! But not without her husband!

When she finally managed to clear the way to the entrance hall - or what was left of it - she found Alvin crouched behind a toppled pillar - marble, imported from Italy - firing curses at the remains of the door.

“We need to escape!” she yelled, taking cover at his side.

“They’re waiting for us!” he responded. “They want us to try to flee so they can ambush us!”

“We can’t stay!” Petra said, sending a Reductor Curse at the wall next to the door. The explosion should make the mudbloods shy away. “They’ll kill us if we wait!”

“They want us alive!” her husband answered. “They tried stunners first!”

Petra felt the blood freeze in her veins. To be captured by those animals! Inconceivable! They had to escape such a fate. One way or another.

Alvin sent a volley of curses down at the mudbloods. Plaster fell from the walls next to the door as the door’s frame was utterly obliterated, but there weren’t any screams or other signs that the mudbloods had been hurt.

She followed her husband’s spells with a Blasting Curse aimed right outside. Earth and stone were thrown up, but the mudbloods responded with curses of their own. If those were mudbloods - they were too competent for the cowardly rabble making up the Resistance according to the DMLE. “We need to get out!” she yelled once more.

Then the wall at her back blew up, and fragments showered her and Alvin, battering their Shield Charms. She whirled around, raising her wand, when two figures appeared in the dustcloud. Before she could curse them, her shield shattered and she found herself on the floor. Then she felt the pain from her wrecked legs, realised she was lying in a pool of blood. She had lost her wand. While she grasped around for it, Alvin fell next to her, his legs bleeding from multiple wounds. Then a red flash blinded her and everything went dark.

*****​

 

Chapter 14: Disillusionment

‘At the time the Second Blood War had started, much of the focus of both the Ministry and the public was on the devastating effect of muggle explosives. Even now, some authors tend to focus on the bombs. When rumours spread of nuclear weapons, a fortunately short-lived panic spread through parts of Wizarding Britain - the culmination of the bomb scare that had sent so many pureblood families fleeing their manors. It is not surprising that, given those circumstances, the Ministry put a lot of effort into finding ways to counter bombs by any means possible. For many, bombs seemed to be the greatest threat to Wizarding Britain.
And yet they were wrong. For muggle explosives were just a result of the real threat to Wizarding Britain, which was muggle tactics and strategy. While the Muggleborn Resistance was founded by students who started the war as a group of teenagers, they were trained by experienced muggles - veterans of several wars and revolutions. Further, they had access to all the works muggles had written about insurrections and asymmetrical wars. As events proved, this was what ultimately turned a group of teenagers who had not even graduated from Hogwarts into a credible threat to both the Ministry and the Death Eaters.’
- Excerpt from ‘The Second Blood War’ by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

East Suffolk, Britain, November 1st, 1996

“We’ve got Rowle and her husband!”

Hermione Granger smiled grimly. They had the objective, but they still needed to get away. “Jinxes, move back to our position! Colin, Dennis, get Allan back as well! Fill up the tunnel too as you leave. Seamus, fly up and keep an eye out for new arrivals! Justin, move south in case the Death Eaters try to get behind us.”

She kept an eye on their flanks while Louise and Jeremy levitated the Rowles and started to sprint back towards her own position. Mary and Tania covered them. Colin was doing the same for Dennis with Allan. As soon as they had reached the line of foxholes, they took over covering the area while the other three moved back. Classic leapfrogging tactics.

“Jinxes, search the targets for portkeys and other surprises!”

They had to leave the area as fast as they could. The Death Eaters would be back. Hermione just hoped they’d take a few minutes longer to assemble a larger force, and to decide on where they’d go. Long enough for the Resistance to get away. Otherwise they’d have to hide in the foxholes, have Seamus drop the second bomb, and hope for the best.

“South is clear,” Justin reported.

“Airspace’s clear too,” Seamus announced. But Hermione knew that the Anti-Disillusionment Jinxes didn’t reach that high.

“The targets have been searched.”

“Cancel the Anti-Apparition Jinxes! Everyone else - wipe out the foxholes!” They wouldn’t leave those for the purebloods to find out about. She should research a spell to create and fill foxholes instantly. If only she had the time.

“Done!”

“Everyone, apparate!”

Hermione experienced the typical squeezed through a straw feeling, then she landed in the safe house they had prepared for the interrogation. The witch quickly took a headcount, and, once satisfied everyone had made it out, she issued more commands.

“Mary, Tania - guard the house entrances! Colin, Dennis - lookout on top! Louise…” She briefly paused. They had stripped the Rowles naked. Probably vanished their clothes. Well, it worked as a way to search them for portkeys. And it had exposed the witch’s Dark Mark. “Secure them in the cells after Sally-Anne has treated their wounds so they don’t die.” That they wouldn’t let a Death Eater live long went without saying. She turned to the only casualty of the Resistance. “How’s Allan doing?”

If John, who was looking the other Ravenclaw over, noticed that she hadn’t cared about Allan until everything else had been organised, then he didn’t comment. “He’s unconscious. Probably some backlash when the wards were destroyed by the bomb.”

That wasn’t exactly news, but Hermione nodded. “No internal bleeding?”

“None that I could detect.”

“Alright. Put him up in a spare room, and keep watch on him. Seamus, Dean - get some rest. And Seamus, I’ll need the second bomb back.”

The Irish wizard handed the shrunken bomb over with a pout that Hermione suspected wasn’t quite as fake as he made it appear, then left with his friend.

That left her and Justin. She conjured a seat and sank down into it.

“That went well,“ Justin said.

“We were lucky the Death Eaters didn’t return before we left,” Hermione retorted. “Bombing our own position isn’t something I’d like to have to order.”

“They were surprised, and couldn’t have known how many of us there were.” Justin conjured a seat for himself.

“Can’t count on the enemy making mistakes,” Hermione quoted the Major. “We also suffered one casualty.”

“He’ll wake up, right as rain.”

“Yes.” Unfortunately.

“You kept a cool head in the battle,” Justin said.

“I tried my best.” She already was making a mental list of what mistakes she had made, and where she and the rest of the Resistance needed to improve.

But she’d have to interrogate their prisoners first, as soon as they were ready. Keeping a marked Death Eater prisoner for long didn’t strike her as a good idea, not as long as they didn’t know what the mark allowed Voldemort to do.

Which was why this house had two escape tunnels ready in the cellar.

“But you’re right - this went well.”

And yet despite her earlier rejection of this thought, she still wasn’t certain if it wouldn’t have gone even better if Allan had died.

*****​

East Suffolk, Britain, November 2nd, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle stared at the ruins of the Rowles’ home. Temporary home, to be exact - they had a bigger villa, abandoned after the attack on Malfoy Manor. It hadn’t saved them from the mudbloods, or so it appeared - the entire front of the house had caved in.

Parkinson was present, of course - it had been him who had called it in. She walked over to the other Auror. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Parkinson squeezed out. He looked angrier than she had ever seen him. Understandable, given that his aunt and her husband - who had raised him after the death of his parents in the last war - had disappeared, and likely been murdered. “What do you make of this?” He gestured at the conjured sheets covering the gory remains of four wizards.

“Death Eaters.” Easy to determine, their garb was very distinctive, even after getting ripped to shreds.

Parkinson glared at her. “Yes, they were Death Eaters. What were they doing here? And who did this?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “The destruction of the house looks like the work of mudbloods,” she went on before he could get angrier. “But the damage done is both less than what happened at Malfoy Manor, and different. It looks like a lot of Piercing Curses hit everything around here. Including the Death Eaters.”

“So, who took my family?”

“Mudbloods. The Death Eaters would have taken their dead with them.” That had happened in the last war too. The Dark Lord didn’t want others to know that his followers had been killed. Though even so, why hadn’t they recovered the corpses anyway? They would have had ample time to remove the dead before Parkinson’s night shift had ended.

The Auror nodded. “Curse that filth!”

“We’ll get them,” Brenda said, and regretted it at once.

Parkinson bared his teeth. “We haven’t caught any of them in months! You haven’t caught anyone! They kill our families with impunity, and it looks like not even the Death Eaters can stop them! What are you going to do, comb through Knockturn Alley again?”

Brenda felt her own temper rise in response to this, but controlled herself. Parkinson had just lost his parents in all but blood, who were probably being tortured to death right this moment. She’d react the same, she told herself. “I will not spill details about my case in public. Suffice to say, we’re making progress. But the kind of murderers who can do this are not easy to track.”

Parkinson glared at her, but before he could say anything else, Martin approached them. “I found these!” He held up several brass cylinders.

Parkinson glanced at them. “What’re those?”

“Muggle cartridges,” Martin answered. When Brenda stared at him, he added: “They are needed for guns.”

Ah. She knew the kid had read up on muggle weapons recently. “So, another sign that this was done by mudbloods.”

“Yes.”

Which meant this mess was her case. Unless the boss fired her for failing to catch the most dangerous murderers Britain had ever seen. Merlin’s balls, even the Dark Lord hadn’t killed as many at the same time as the mudbloods did at Malfoy Manor!

“I want in.”

Brenda turned her attention back to Parkinson. “What?”

“I said I want in. They took my family. I’m hunting them down. If you don’t let me, I’ll get you fired and take over.”

Brenda stared at the Auror. She heard Martin take a deep breath, and held up her hand to stop her partner. “Alright.” It was against regulations, but Brenda knew no one would care about regulations. Not with another member of the Wizengamot and her husband murdered by mudbloods in her own home. “Now let’s see what else we’ll find here.”

*****​

London, East End, November 2nd, 1996

Hermione Granger pressed her lips together, watching while the bound witch drooled on herself, still under the effect of Veritaserum. The things this woman had done…

“I don’t know if her actions in the last war, or her actions this year are worse,” Justin said with a grim expression. Sally-Anne, standing next to him, nodded. She looked queasy, though she had held up well during the interrogation.

Hermione glanced at the transcripts. “It’s not a competition.” Privately, she thought the woman’s efforts in the Wizengamot were worse. Rowle had personally tortured half a dozen muggleborns and blood traitors to death, but the bills she had proposed would have doomed far, far more. “In any case, we now have more names of Death Eaters and their supporters.” Granted, most of them were already suspects, but confirmation was always good. And they knew of a few who had not shown their allegiance to the Dark Lord so far. Unfortunately, Rowle didn’t know anything about the current plans of the Dark Lord - apparently, Voldemort was practicing operational security.

“We also have more addresses,” Sally-Anne said.

“They’ll be deserted as soon as the Death Eaters hear about her having been kidnapped.” That was why Hermione had wanted to kidnap and interrogate people without anyone noticing. A plan Allan had pretty much sabotaged, if her suspicion was correct.

“We’ll achieve that sooner or later.” Justin smiled. “Though we have to decide what we should do with the witch and her husband.”

“We still have to interrogate the husband.” Hermione glanced at Justin. “We already know about some of his actions from Rowle, but she might not know everything.” The witch certainly hadn’t trusted her husband with everything she did and knew.

“That’s true, but we already know that both are Death Eaters and murderers.” Justin met her eyes. “What do we do with them?”

“We can’t let them go!” Sally-Anne spoke up.

“Of course not.” Hermione did her best not to sound condescending. “But we can make them disappear, or use them for propaganda.” They’d be dead either way though.

“Drop them off with their Dark Marks exposed, in Diagon Alley?” Justin asked. “Might cause some trouble for the Ministry’s bigots.”

Hermione nodded. “That’s a good idea. Though we have to pick the location and the time carefully, so the Death Eaters or the Ministry can’t cover this up.” Which meant taking some risks to drop them off.

“We could transfigure them to mud and drop them in the middle of the street.” Justin grinned.

“That would frame whoever does those mud holes. I’d rather not do that.” Hermione wouldn’t want to have that on her conscience should the Aurors catch those people.

“The Ministry will execute them anyway!” Sally-Anne said, sounding surprisingly fierce. “Just like they murdered Martin!”

Hermione nodded. “I think so as well, but still… there are other options. We’ll have to resort to simply dropping them off in the early morning, together with leaflets I think.” If portkeys would work in Diagon Alley it would be easy, but the Ministry wasn’t so inept as to risk a bomb getting portkeyed in.

“Seamus can do it. He loves to drop bombs,” Justin joked.

Hermione made a mental note to make more people train with brooms, just in case they lost their best flyer. Best was relative, of course - Seamus couldn’t hold a candle to Ron. Or any other Weasley, probably - there was something to learning how to fly as a child, instead of getting a few lessons in school. Apart from Harry, who was an exception - unless having a toy broom as a toddler counted.

“Alright. You two, secure her again, then interrogate the husband. I’ll talk to Dean and Seamus about the drop-off and the leaflets. And I’ll check up on Allan.” Hermione nodded at the two.

“How do you want to… deal with them?” Justin asked, gesturing towards Rowle.

“You mean, how will we kill them?” Hermione wasn’t in the mood for euphemisms.

“Yes.”

“Bullet to the head.” Hermione had thought about this. Torture was out - the Resistance was better than that. The Killing Curse was not an option either; the Ministry propaganda would have a field day. A bullet was quick, and very muggle. It was a statement in itself.

Justin narrowed his eyes. “Some might not like it. Too easy for them.”

Sally-Anne nodded, though reluctantly.

“Too bad for them. We’re not Death Eaters. We’re not going to stoop to their level.” Hermione stated. That was a line she’d not let anyone cross. The Major had been quite clear about that as well.

If one day anyone absolutely had to do that, it would be her. No one else.

*****​

Dorset, Britain, November 2nd, 1996

Pansy Parkinson was in tears. The girl was sobbing in Draco’s arms, hours after she had heard of her aunt’s disappearance. Not disappearance, death, Daphne Greengrass reminded herself. The mudbloods wouldn’t let a pureblood prisoner live. They had proven that more than once. Filthy murderous animals.

She hadn’t really liked Parkinson, but the girl had lost her parents, and now her aunt and uncle. Daphne went over and patted the witch’s back. Tracey followed her example, if a bit more reluctantly.

The girl didn’t react, but Draco smiled at them, before addressing Parkinson again. “You need to rest, Pansy,” he whispered.

Daphne glanced at Tracey, and nodded. “We’ll be in the living room,” she said in a low voice, before leaving with her friend.

Outside the room, she leaned against the wall. “That could have been my uncle…” she muttered.

“That could have been us,” Tracey said.

Daphne looked at her.

“They found four Death Eaters there, shredded,” her friend explained.

“What?”

Tracey nodded. “My cousin in the Aurors told me. They don’t know yet what they were doing there. Officially, that is.”

“They went there to help the Rowles.” Daphne knew Parkinson’s aunt was - had been - a marked Death Eater. And the Dark Lord protected his own. He had broken them out of prison, too.

“Yes. And if Parkinson had been there, she might have called us, and we’d have died.” Tracey grimaced.

Daphne swallowed dryly. That was not a far-fetched scenario. That was all too likely. “Merlin’s balls,” she muttered.

“We knew we were in danger,” Tracey said. “But…”

“... joining was supposed to make us safer,” Daphne completed the thought. Leaving… they couldn’t leave. She shook her head. “I doubt anyone is safe from the mudbloods. The Rowles were in hiding, but they found them.”

“But how?” Tracey asked.

“Someone must have betrayed them.” That was the most likely explanation. Daphne didn’t think the Rowles had made a fatal mistake. “Someone at the Ministry.”

“A blood traitor,” Tracey said.

Daphne nodded. No mudbloods were left at the Ministry. Half-bloods were a possibility as well. “Like the Weasleys.”

Tracey gasped. “Arthur Weasley?”

Daphne nodded. “He’s an expert in muggle items and an avowed blood traitor.”

“He’s not in the Floo Network Authority though,” Tracey said. “The Ministry has him sidelined.”

“He’s the father of the twins.” Daphne scoffed. And those two had been a terror at Hogwarts.

“We need to abandon the Floo network,“ Tracey said.

“Yes. It’s too dangerous.” They would have to apparate everywhere. Daphne frowned. She didn’t like Apparition.

“And we’re trying to gain the twins’ trust…” Tracey winced.

Daphne nodded. “We’ll have to talk to Draco.”

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, November 2nd, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle sighed, staring at her report. She had written a scroll of parchment, added all the information they knew about the attack, and yet despite all the details about muggle weapons and the bomb, the important questions hadn’t been answered yet.

“How did the mudbloods find the Rowles’s home? And what was the role of the Death Eaters?”

“What?” Martin’s question made her realise she had spoken out loud.

“I’m wondering how they managed to find the Rowles,” she explained. “They should have been in hiding, safe Floo connection, wards - we know those stalled the mudbloods for some time - and I doubt they invited anyone but those they trusted with their lives.”

“Traitor in the Floo Network Authority?” Martin speculated.

Brenda shook her head. “Everyone with access to the records gets screened heavily. And Bones had everyone in the department dosed with Veritaserum today.”

“How did she manage that?” Martin sounded shocked,

“The Wizengamot granted her special authorisation.” Brenda smiled thinly. “They were all afraid that their hideouts might have been betrayed as well.”

“Does that mean we’ll be able to go after suspected traitors as well?” Martin smiled widely.

Brenda scowled. “No. This was explicitly limited to the Floo Network Authority.”

“Why not?” Martin stood up. “Why the hell did they do that?”

“Think it through, kid.” Brenda stared at him. “You know Bones. What would she do?”

Martin blinked, then sat down. “She’d purge the Ministry of spies and corrupt employees.”

Brenda nodded. “Yes. And that’s something neither Dumbledore’s supporters nor the rest of the Wizengamot want.”

“Fudge could fire Bones. Replace her with someone who is less rigid.”

Brenda glared at him. “He’d have replaced her long ago, if he had been able to.” Either she had enough dirt on the Minister to blackmail him, or Dumbledore was supporting her, in order to avoid a worse successor.

“We’re back to blindly grasping in the shadows then.” Martin sighed.

“Exactly,” Brenda said, her voice full of faked cheerfulness. “Welcome to the Auror corps.” She paused. “Although… things might be changing. The Death Eaters left those dead for a reason. Something’s up.”

Martin nodded. The kid was still too inexperienced to last without her help, but he was getting better. Soon he’d be holding his own even in the dirtier parts of their job.

And, speaking of dirty... Brenda had an idea of how to get the drop on those mudbloods. She just needed to convince Bones.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, November 2nd, 1996

Albus Dumbledore carefully avoided smiling, despite the urge to do so when he saw how frightened some of the Wizengamot members were. A number of them would be having second thoughts about their stance towards muggleborns, he was certain. And yet, a bigger number would be looking to the Dark Lord for protection.

Even now, Augustus was touching on that subject, if quite subtly: “And what about those four wizards found dead - brutally killed - wearing the robes of the followers of the Dark Lord?” The wizard ignored the ‘call them Death Eaters!’ and ‘good riddance!’ comments from some of the more vocal of Albus’s allies, and continued. “Why were they there? Contrary to the ugly rumours spread by some, they wouldn’t have have attacked the Rowles.”

“Because they were Death Eaters!” Arlene Abbott shouted. Albus thought the witch should have been in Gryffindor, not Hufflepuff.

Augusts once again ignored the witch. “Madam Bones, can you answer this?”

Amelia stood up, not bothering to hide her disdain for Augustus. “We’re still in the first stage of the investigation. At this point, any comment about the motives of the Death Eaters found there would be pure speculation.”

Augustus frowned, but nodded. “Despite Madam Bones’s reluctant admission of the lack of progress in her investigation, every one of us knows that the followers of the Dark Lord are no friends of those muggleborn criminals trying to murder us. They have been warning us about the dangers those people present to our society for a long time, and now seem poised to take action to protect others.” He looked at Amelia again. “And I have to ask you a question again: Why weren’t Aurors present there, fighting those animals attacking an esteemed member of this body? Why does it look as if it fell to others to defend Mrs Rowle, instead of the Ministry’s finest?”

Amelia sneered. “I would say because Mrs Rowle called them, and not us, for help. Unless you want to assume that the Death Eaters knew about the attack on her, and didn’t warn her so she’d serve as bait.” That caused quite a few murmured comments. Amelia scoffed while she continued. “Not that their presence did anything for Mrs Rowle. They were all killed instantaneously.”

Albus once again didn’t smile when he saw how this caused quite a few whispered conversations, and some openly concerned expressions. Hopefully, this would make more Wizengamot members doubt Tom’s ability to protect them. Albus needed all the help he could get to keep the Ministry from adopting a neutral stance towards Death Eaters as a result of this attack. Even though he feared it would be just a temporary success - the Wizengamot’s policy towards the muggleborns showed far too many similarities to Tom’s ideology.

Albus knew that was why the dead Death Eaters had not been recovered before the Aurors had arrived. Tom wanted the Wizengamot to see his followers as allies against the muggleborns, not ruthless murderers trying to take over Britain. Unfortunately, there were already a great many members of the Wizengamot who would welcome such a takeover. Enough of them were just driven by their fear of the muggleborns, though, that any doubt in the Death Eater’s ability to protect them might tip the balance in favour of Albus’s faction.

He’d have to talk to Severus, and find out if there was a weakness of Tom’s forces he could exploit. Or have exploited - Albus was quite certain Miss Granger would jump at the chance to attack Death Eaters.

But he’d have to ensure that this would not threaten Severus’s cover.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, November 2nd, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle’s day wasn’t going well. Not only was she doing overtime on a Saturday, but she had a meeting with the Head Auror. And Scrimgeour wasn’t in a good mood.

“I’ve just been questioned by Bones about the progress in our hunt for the Muggleborn Resistance. Or rather, the lack of progress,” the wizard said, scowling. “Apparently, several members of the Wizengamot are very concerned about the lack of arrests, after the Rowle incident.”

Brenda was quite certain that Scrimgeour had not as much been questioned as reamed out. And that he was now passing it on to her and her partner. She snorted. “They’re afraid they’ll be next.”

“Of course they are! And they have plenty of reasons to be scared.” Scrimgeour stood up from his desk and started pacing. “And they demand results. If we can’t deliver them, they’ll look for someone to blame.”

“Like us.” Brenda stared at him. If she was getting demoted, or fired because of this… first she loses her partner, now her career, maybe her job? All due to that mudblood Granger?

“Like you. So, what results can you deliver?”

Brenda clenched her teeth. She hadn’t much. “They’re hiding in the muggle world.” They had eliminated Knockturn Alley as a hideout early on. There were muggleborns there, but those were the older ones. Not the Resistance. “We can’t find them there. Which means our best chance is to catch them when they venture into Wizarding Britain. We know they are active - they are plastering their leaflets over Diagon Alley, they transfigure the alleys to mud, and they have to be scouting out their targets.”

“Are you saying our patrols are inept, since they haven’t seen them?” Scrimgeour asked, with a glint in his eyes.

Brenda knew better than to answer that directly - she would find herself posted on patrol duty in a heartbeat. “I think they know our schedules. It doesn’t help that we cut the numbers of night patrols in half, of course.” She shrugged. “But the main problem is that by the time we arrive where they have struck, they have left already.”

“The Death Eaters arrived more quickly than that.”

“They were quick enough to get killed,” Brenda retorted. “And they were probably called by Rowle, or were already present.”

“Are you insinuating that the honoured member of the Wizenagmot, Petra Rowle, has ties to the Dark Lord?” the Head Auror asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Of course not. Idle speculation.” Brenda snorted. “But it shows that even if we arrived in time, we’d run the risk of getting ambushed and killed - with one of their damned bombs.” And she had no intention of becoming another casualty in this ugly war.

“We could prepare for that though,” Martin cut in. “Turn the ambush against them. If we’re right on top of them, they can’t use a bomb without killing themselves. And we could prepare secure positions.”

Brenda exchanged a brief glance with Scrimgeour. Martin was still not that experienced.

The Head Auror shook his head slightly. “That’s a lot of preparation you’d need.”

“It’s possible,” Martin insisted.

“That it is. But we’d need to know in advance where the mudbloods will strike,” Brenda said.

“We can lay a trap for them. Evacuate the home of a Wizengamot member as bait.” Martin wasn’t giving up on his idea easily.

“Yes, we could,” Scrimgeour admitted. “But how would we make them attack that location without making it obvious that it was a trap? The muggleborns aren’t as stupid as some purebloods claim.” He shook his head. “We don’t know how they found Rowle’s home. So, we can’t feed them the information to lure them into a trap.”

“If it’s not one of the Floo Network Authority workers, then it’s probably a traitor in the Wizengamot,” Brenda said.

“Lots of them there,” Scrimgeour said, snorting. “Finding the ones working for the muggleborns might be difficult - those working for the Dark Lord certainly wouldn’t tell any of Dumbledore’s open supporters where they live.”

“They might have stumbled upon the home by chance. Caught the Rowles in Diagon Alley, and tracked them,” Martin said. “Somehow.”

“That’s not a practicable way to feed them the information then,” Brenda said. “We need more spies.” They needed spies, period - at best, they had informants among the questionable part of the population.

“Those mudbloods we can reach don’t know about the Resistance,” Martin said. “We’ve been looking into the ones hiding in Knockturn Alley without success so far.”

“I have an idea, but it will take more time,” Brenda said.

“So far, we’ve lost a lot of time without success, and it doesn’t look like we have many other viable solutions yet.” Scrimgeour looked at her. “What do you have in mind?”

“The dangerous mudbloods are hiding, from us and from the other mudbloods. They have no reason to trust the ones who are not fighting. But what if there was another mudblood resistance group?”

“There probably is,” Martin said. “There have been a number of incidents the Resistance hasn’t taken credit for.”

“Yes. But what if there was another group who carried out some well-known attacks? The mudbloods might at least contact them. After a while,” Brenda added.

“Are you suggesting that we fake a muggleborn group? Launch attacks on purebloods?” Scrimgeour sounded shocked.

“Not the kind of attacks the mudbloods are doing. But if we stage some flashy actions, that might catch their interest.” And if that wasn’t enough, then Brenda had an idea about further actions. “But we’d have to use trusted half-bloods, or capture a few muggleborns and use Polyjuice.”

“That’s a very dangerous plan,” Scrimgeour said. “And it might not work at all.” He sighed. “But I don’t see anything with more promise. I’ll talk to Bones about it.”

Brenda nodded. She didn’t smile until they had left the Head Auror’s office.

*****​

London, East End, November 2nd, 1996

Hermione Granger managed not to frown when Sally-Anne informed her that Allan had woken up. She didn’t want to, but she had to go and visit the wizard, of course - it wouldn’t do to show her true feelings for the murderer.

Allan was already sitting in his bed when she entered his room where Seamus and Dean were telling him about the fight he had missed.

“Hello Allan.” Hermione managed to smile at him.

Allan returned the smile, though it lacked his usual charm. “Hello. I hear we caught the two purebloods, but half the Death Eaters escaped.”

“We completed our objective without permanently losing anyone,” she corrected him. “The Death Eaters were driven off before they could interfere or rescue the Rowles.” She wouldn’t let him cast doubts on the success of the attack.

“I would think me getting knocked unconscious for two days was a loss.”

It had been a gain, in her opinion. “We expected that, as you know.” That was stretching the truth a bit. Hermione had expected a backlash, not the exact consequences though.

“That was a fault of the plan,” Allan said. He didn’t have to say ‘your plan’ - everyone knew it had been hers.

“No plan’s perfect.” Hermione didn’t quite shrug, but her shoulders twitched. “In any case, you agreed to the plan, and you’re our best Curse-Breaker.” He should be, given how he had broken the wards on half-blood shops. “But I can reassure you: we’ll not be using that plan again.” The Death Eaters would be expecting it, anyway.

“We have to keep attacking the purebloods!” Allan spat out. Seamus and Dean nodded vigorously in agreement.

She noticed that he wasn’t at his best; he hadn’t recovered that much yet and was making more mistakes than usual. “Of course. But we’ll use other means to deal with the wards next time.” She smiled at him.

“What other means? Did you have an alternative and not tell me?”

“I hoped you’d be able to weather the backlash. As I recall, you said so yourself. But it’s obvious you cannot.” She sighed. “Which means I’ll have to get some outside help.”

“What kind of help?” Allan leaned forward.

She shook her head. “I’d rather not say at this point. There are a few options I want to explore first. Security is a concern.”

“They aren’t muggleborns,” Seamus said. “Are you picking them over us?”

“Don’t you trust us?” Allan stared at her. He must have been affected more than she suspected, to drop his facade that much.

“I’d be violating their trust if I informed others without their permission. You’d be rather angry too, should I share information about you, wouldn’t you?” Hermione met his eyes. “Trust goes both ways, and we need these people’s help.”

Allan scowled, but looked away first, then closed his eyes and sank back onto the bed. Rather theatrically, Hermione thought. Out loud she said: “I’ll leave you to get some needed rest, Allan. It’s good to have you back with us.”

The lie made her want to bite her tongue, but she kept her expression friendly until she had left the room.

*****​

Justin was waiting for her near her room. He didn’t say anything, just winced when he saw her. Hermione nodded at him. “Have you prepared the drop-off?”

“Yes. I can show you the schematics.”

“Come in,” she said. It was a shame that they were acting like this in their safe house, covering up their meetings, hiding what they were doing from the other members. They shouldn’t have to do this, she thought. It wasn’t a good way to run a resistance movement. Quite the contrary. It made her feel ashamed and guilty.

But it was necessary.

“Allan’s back to normal, or almost. He’s already complaining that we ‘let half the Death Eaters escape’.” Hermione shook her head. “And Dean and Seamus seem to believe him. I doubt rational arguments will be heard by them anymore.”

The wizard nodded. “So…”

“I’ll track him when he goes out again.” She had a feeling that Allan would want to continue his private campaign. “I’ll be meeting with one of my contacts at the same time.” So he’d have no cause to suspect she’d be tracking him.

“You’re not doing this alone.” Justin looked at her,

“I’m not. I’ll have help.”

“Alright. But I want to be there when you interrogate him.” Justin seemed to accept her word, without asking for more information. She didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign, all things considered.

“You will. We won’t have too much time though, so you’ll have to be able to come quickly.” And he’d need to have an excuse himself.

“I’ll claim I’m checking out a possible safe house.”

“At night?” Hermione raised her eyebrows.

He sighed. “This would be easier if I could bring Sally-Anne with me.”

Hermione shook her head. Sally-Anne was a nice witch, but she couldn’t keep a secret. Justin knew that.

“We could claim we’re meeting muggle sources.”

For a moment, Hermione was tempted to agree. It was a good cover, and fit with what they had done before. But she didn’t want Justin to meet Dumbledore. It was part petty, and part caution. “You could claim you’re meeting with a friend of your father, to find a safe house.”

Justin seemed to mull this over. “That’ll only work because none of the others has an idea about how my family handles things.”

“Not even Sally-Anne?” She was surprised.

Justin winced. “We don’t really talk about our families.”

“That’s…” she trailed off. Sally-Anne was from middle class stock, as Hermione’s mother would say. But lower middle class. Justin’s parents might not look favourably on such a relationship.

“Yeah. I figure we might die any day, and if we survive this war, then we can deal with it.”

Hermione nodded. Enjoy life as much as you could when fighting in a war - it was a sound philosophy. But she prefered to look ahead. Plan ahead. Consider the future.

She wasn’t Justin though. But sometimes, she wished she was.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, November 3rd, 1996

“Merlin’s rotting corpse!” Brenda Brocktuckle shook her head, staring at the two bodies.

“Those animals!” Martin muttered next to her.

“Auntie… uncle...” Parkinson, standing a bit to the side, was shaking. Whether with rage or grief, or both, she couldn’t tell. She tried to ignore him - seeing a veteran Auror like that was embarrassing at best, and dangerous at worst. Instead she focused on her work.

The corpses of Petra Rowle and her husband had been dropped in Diagon Alley, in the middle of the day. The gruesome sight had drawn a crowd at once, before the Aurors had been called, and all around Brenda, wizards and witches were muttering. ‘Death Eater’ and ‘Dark Mark’ were the most common words she heard. No wonder - both dead had been stripped down to their underwear, and the Dark mark on Rowle’s left arm was easily spotted. Which was what the mudbloods had intended, Brenda knew.

“That’ll cause some trouble,” she commented, more to herself than to anyone else. Out loud, she asked: “Did anyone see how the corpses arrived here?” It couldn’t have been a portkey, not with the Jinxes over the entire Alley.

“They were dropped from the sky!”

“Yes, they floated down.”

Brenda looked up before she could help it. Of course the sky was empty but for clouds - and those were too high for a broom. If the mudbloods were now flying during the day, the Ministry would need patrols up there. Or they might drop bombs next.

“Why are you looking up now? They’re long gone!”

“Aurors! Always late!”

Martin hissed, but Brenda ignored the comments. She crouched down next to the corpses. They had been killed by Piercing Curses to the face. Probably. It might have been a dagger too, or a gun - mudbloods liked muggle weapons. A clean death, or so it seemed. But the legs of the bodies… she shook her head. Animals.

“Shut your traps! That’s my family!” Parkinson yelled suddenly. Brenda looked up and saw he had drawn his wand and was aiming at a passerby, who was backing away and paling.

“Parkinson!” she yelled. “We need you to take the bodies back!”

That shook the Auror out of whatever violent mood he was in, and he turned back towards Martin and Brenda. “Yes… of course.” He wiped his eyes with his free hand.

“I’m sorry,” she said, in a low voice, when he was closer.

“Thanks,” he pressed out, his eyes once again on his dead aunt.

“We’ll get the mudbloods,” Martin said.

“And they’ll get the kiss,” Parkinson agreed.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, November 3rd, 1996

“I’ve heard about the Rowle attack,” Sirius said. “Good work.”

Hermione nodded. “Thank you.” They were in his study, or what he called a room decorated with Quidditch and pinup posters he claimed were motorcycle ads.

“Did you get the information you wanted?”

“We have confirmed names of Death Eaters and their supporters, as well as a few addresses. Those will be vacated now though.” Hermione frowned. She had hoped for more.

“Don’t underestimate the arrogance and stupidity of purebloods!” Sirius grinned. “Some might very well not think you’d attack them.”

“And some might try to use this to ambush us.” She shook her head. “I’d rather not risk that.” Some in the Resistance would, of course. But she couldn’t let them get killed like that. If it was just Allan…

“I’d say who dares, wins, but you’re winning so far.” Sirius leaned back in his seat and summoned some drinks for the two of them.

“We’ve just started.” Hermione grabbed a butterbeer. “And Rowle didn’t know anything about Voldemort’s plans.”

“Plenty of Death Eaters around to go after.” Sirius shrugged. “And each one you kill weakens the Dark Lord.”

Hermione had her doubts, but nodded. She handed the list with the names over. “Any addresses for them would be helpful. But even better would be ways to kidnap one of them without anyone noticing his absence. Or a way to hack into the Floo Network.”

“Hack?” The older wizard looked confused.

“Sorry. It means penetrating and taking over the network so we can track who uses it, maybe divert them,” Hermione explained.

“Oh!” Harry’s godfather rubbed his chin. “That’s not something I thought of. I doubt anyone has so far. Although if you altered an Anti-Apparition Jinx, maybe…”

She snorted. “Spellcrafting? That would take a long time. Time I don’t have right now.”

Sirius nodded. “So you said to Harry and Ron.”

Hermione stiffened and narrowed her eyes. “Yes. And it’s true.”

He cocked his head sideways. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” she pressed out.

“It’s not just an excuse so you don’t have to decide if you like them as more than friends?” He was smiling faintly, but his eyes sought hers. He wasn’t really teasing her, she realised.

She ground her teeth. “Did they ask you to prod me?”

He chuckled. “Of course not! Harry has asked me for some advice, but you know him - he’d not want me to get involved.”

Hermione knew that Ron at least hadn’t minded Harry lining up his date for the Yule Ball, but she had to agree with Sirius. “And yet you’re doing this.”

“Of course. He’s my godson, and terribly inexperienced with witches, while I have a lot of experience.” He grinned, then grew more serious. “And I’ve some experience with teenagers in times of war struggling with love trouble.”

She stared at him. “It’s none of your business.” She wanted to hex him, but that would be immature. And she wasn’t immature.

“It’s Harry’s business, and he’s my business. So to speak.”

“I’m telling him.”

“If you do that you’ll have to talk about the topic. Which you’ve avoided for quite some time. Procrastination isn’t exactly typical for you, is it?”

“I don’t have time for a relationship.” She was repeating herself. Maybe he’d get the message.

“That’s what you think. But you can’t really ignore this.” Sirius leaned forward, the last remains of his smile fading. “And you owe it to the boys to be honest with them.”

“Honest? I’m not lying to them!” She wasn’t.

“Then why not tell them how you feel about them? Are you afraid they’ll stop being your friends if you don’t want to be their girlfriend?”

Yes. She didn’t say that, of course. “I don’t want to hurt either of them.” If she picked one, the other would be hurt. But even if that wasn’t the case, things would change. They’d not be three friends anymore, but a couple and their friend.

“Do you love one of them?”

“I love both, but not that way!” She bared her teeth at him. Maybe that would impress his dog-side.

It didn’t. “Well, if you did love both that way, it would simplify things greatly. A ménage à trois would solve your problems.”

She gaped at him. “What?”

“A ménage à trois is when…”

She cut him off. “I know what it is!”

“Ah, good.” He smiled. “I thought you knew French.”

“How can you come up with anything like that?”

“Through logic and reason, of course.”

“Logic?” She raised her voice, a bit.

He nodded. “It’s the easiest solution to avoid breaking up your trio. And - but don’t tell anyone I said this - it’s also the most efficient. Wizards usually don’t last as long as witches, and two wizards and one witch works better than two witches and one wizard. Unless of course the witches like each other as well.”

Hermione blinked. He couldn’t be serious. They hadn’t even had one real relationship between the three of them, and he was proposing a ménage à trois? She opened her mouth twice, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Finally, she managed. “Love, emotions, they don’t work like that.”

Sirius shrugged. “You never know what works and what doesn’t unless you try it.”

Of course he would say that. She ground her teeth again.

“Just think about it!” He smiled at her. “Another drink?”

She was both relieved that they were changing the topic, and annoyed at what he had said. “What drinks do you have?”

She needed something stronger than a butterbeer right now.

*****​

Hogwarts, November 3rd, 1996

“You know, I haven’t been down there ever since… that day,” Harry Potter said, entering the defunct bathroom. He hadn’t even thought about it in years. Outside nightmares.

Ron shrugged. “Well, we both almost died there, multiple times. Ginny almost died there. And the ceiling almost caved in.”

“Didn’t keep us out of the Forbidden Forest,” Harry answered. Though if he was honest, he had to admit that they only ventured there if they had to. Moaning Myrtle didn’t seem to be around, which was a blessing.

“I am glad you showed some restraint,” Dumbledore said. “Although I also took some precautions to prevent accidents.” The Headmaster waved his wand, and Harry caught the glimpse of a spell hitting the room.

He didn’t know what had been cast. It didn’t matter though. He bent over the faucet he still remembered clearly, and whispered “Open!” in Parseltongue.

“No one has cleaned up here,” Ron commented, glancing down the dirty ramp. “Is basilisk poo poisonousl, by the way?” He grinned.

Harry chuckled. “We slid down the ramp just fine last time. We did send Lockhart down first though.”

“A hopefully amusing experience,” the Headmaster said, chuckling.

Harry didn’t ask if he meant the sliding, or throwing Lockhart down the chute. He nodded, and jumped in. A short but wild ride later, he slid over the equally uncleaned floor. It wasn’t that different from his usual way of traveling through the Floo Network, and he was on his feet before Ron and Dumbledore had arrived.

“Blimey…” His friend shuddered. “That brings back memories.”

Harry nodded. “So… welcome to the Chamber of Secrets, sir.”

Dumbledore looked around with open curiosity. “Marvelous. Even though I wish we were here for a less serious reason.”

Harry agreed with that. “So… I just walk around, and hope my scar starts hurting?”

“With the help of a modified Supersensory Charm, yes. You didn’t feel any pain when you were near Tom’s diary, so this is unfortunately needed.” Dumbledore smiled apologetically and cast the mentioned spell.

“Let’s just hope Tom didn’t decide to visit his old secret cave tonight, or I’ll probably die from pain before he even notices me,” Harry muttered, rubbing his scar.

Ron chuckled at that, but it felt forced.

“I can assure you that Tom would not be able to approach Hogwarts without the wards detecting him, and informing me - at the least. Ample time to cancel the spell.” The Headmaster spoke with quiet assurance, or so Harry felt. “Which is why I am certain he has not placed one of his items in Hogwarts proper - the wards would inform me if that was the case. But they do not cover this area.”

He nodded, and started walking around in the antechamber while Dumbledore fixed the cave-in. After a few minutes he started a running commentary: “Nothing… nothing… still no pain… nothing here either… dust and what looks like dead rats, but no twinge.”

“I think I found remains of my old wand.” Ron held up some splinters.

Harry bit back a barbed comment. He was playing mine detector, and Ron was hunting souvenirs?

“The way to the main chamber is clear now. And safe - it was quite unstable. Even if we do not find what we are looking for - and I do not think we will - this has made this excursion worthwhile, I think.” Dumbledore was smiling.

“Well, it certainly will be the safest such search,” Ron said.

Harry walked past them, through the newly created tunnel. “Still nothing.” The stench of decay his his nose, and he quickly cast a Bubble-Head Charm. He shivered when he reached the place he had fought the basilisk in… and the remains of the basilisk. There was not much left but decayed skin, rotten flesh and bones.

“Blimey! That was… I bet it could have swallowed a troll whole!” Ron exclaimed.

“Be careful not to touch it,” Dumbledore said. “Even the remains are still poisonous, as countless rats have found out over time.” He pointed at the skeletal remains of rats.

“I thought rats were smart enough to never eat from the same thing until they know it’s safe,” Ron remarked. Harry looked at him. “What? I had a rat as a pet. Percy told me all he knew about rats when he gave me Scabbers.”

“Ah.”

“We can ask Hagrid about this… once I have dealt with the most dangerous parts,” the Headmaster said, waving his wand at the head of the corpse.

Harry didn’t want to see what the old wizard was doing to the thing, and walked away, covering the rest of the room. Without success. Not even the secret chamber in the Chamber of Secrets yielded anything but shed skin and what looked like snake poop, as Ron called it.

“I must confess,” Dumbledore said, after about two hours of fruitless searching, “I did hope to find something. If only to be certain our method works.” He sighed. “Nevertheless, war is seldom glamorous, and often tiresome, if not boring.”

“Boring’s good,” Ron said. “It means we’re not fighting for our lives.”

“Ah, Mister Weasley, I fear you are mistaken. While the urgency might not be readily apparent, we certainly are in a life or death struggle with the Dark Lord,” Dumbledore said, “something your friend is quite aware of.”

“Well, she gets to capture and blow up Death Eaters,” Ron said. “We wade through dirt and dust and snake remains, and hope Harry gets a headache.”

Harry nodded.

“Are you so eager to kill?” Dumbledore asked. He didn’t sound that disapproving. More … concerned maybe.

Harry frowned. “I don’t exactly want to kill. But I don’t want the Death Eaters free to kill others. And I want to do something useful.” Though, if he was honest with himself, there were a few people he would like to kill. Pettigrew, most of all.

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “I know that this is important. That we’re working on destroying the Dark Lord. But it doesn’t feel as real as ensuring that there are a few less Death Eaters around doing his bidding. And as we have seen, imprisoning them doesn’t work.”

“And, aren’t we doing all we can to kill Tom?” Harry shrugged. “If we’re willing to do that, why wouldn’t we want to kill his followers?”

“I see.” Dumbledore looked weary, and more than a bit sad. “Let us return to Hogwarts proper. I dare say we all have earned some rest.”

Harry exchanged a glance with Ron. His friend didn’t seem to have any idea what the Headmaster was thinking either.

“Though speaking of that… I have asked an old friend to help train you. While Sirius and Remus are quite skilled, he has far more experience, even if he does tend to overdo it a bit.” Dumbledore smiled at them.

Harry blinked. Who could… “Moody?”

“Indeed.” The Headmaster nodded.

“Blimey. We’ll need all the rest we can get,” Ron muttered.

Harry could not help but agree with the sentiment.

*****​

Hogsmeade, November 5th, 1996

Allan had picked Hogsmeade again. Not surprisingly, Hermione Granger thought - he wouldn’t want to develop a pattern. Although, given that the Resistance had just dumped the Rowles’ remains in Diagon Alley, others might consider this a pattern. But she knew from Sirius that patrols had been increased in Diagon Alley, which meant they had likely decreased in Hogsmeade.

Once again hidden thanks to Harry’s cloak, she didn’t think she’d have trouble surprising Allan. But as the Major had taught her: There was no overkill if your life was on the line and you could spare the money. Which was why she wasn’t alone, but with Aberforth Dumbledore.

That the Headmaster had a brother hadn’t been a surprise - Hermione had found that out in her first year, when she had been researching Flamel. That Dumbledore trusted his brother, and called him one of the most dangerous duellists in Britain on the other hand… all Hermione had known was that the two had had a falling-out, and that Aberforth Dumbledore was a wastrel, the black sheep of the family. Both of which had been proved wrong.

“Found him yet?” The whisper from her enchanted earring interrupted her thoughts.

“Not yet. He’s in the eastern part,” she answered.

“There’s a half-blood-owned shop there, Michael’s Magic Plants and Seeds.”

“That’s a likely target.” Hermione started walking - carefully - towards that shop. If she wanted to attack their wards… “He should be in the side alley, the eastern one.”

She sped up. She wouldn’t let another family be killed by Allan. She reached the mouth of the side alley. It looked empty, but… there, movement! She spotted a wand, and almost took cover, before reminding herself she was hidden from view. Instead, she sneaked closer. Black robe, white mask. A Death Eater. Or a Death Eater disguise. She had her wand out, but couldn’t aim well under the cloak. It wouldn’t matter though, once he started attacking the wards.

Suddenly, she heard a noise from the back of the alley. Allan whirled around, leading with his wand. As they had trained. Hermione slid her own wand out from her cloak. If Allan was spooked… she couldn’t let the wizard escape.

Her whispered stunner hit him right in the back of his head, and he dropped down. That left whoever or whatever had made that noise.

“Good work, lass.”

She knew that voice. From the end of the alley, Aberforth Dumbledore emerged. “A bit of a distraction. I thought you’d like to hex your own dog, so to speak.”

Hermione shivered a bit, when the tension started to lessen, and nodded. She appreciated the gesture, but the plan had called for him to attack. She wouldn’t bring that up though. Not now, at least. “Let’s get him and leave.”

*****​

London, November 5th, 1996

When he woke up, bound to a chair, he knew he was already dead. He had been caught in a Death Eater robe, trying to attack a half-blood shop. No matter who had caught him, he’d be killed. And yet when he saw his captor, he was surprised. It wasn’t the Ministry, or the Death Eaters. It was Hermione, staring at him. And next to her stood Justin. Of course! He knew that those two were much closer than they claimed. The witch was probably sleeping with the Hufflepuff. Just as she was sleeping with Potter and Weasley. And she had refused him? Bitch.

“Hello Allan.”

He looked around instead of addressing her. He didn’t recognise his surroundings, but they looked muggle. A safe house then. “I’ve underestimated you. I didn’t think you’d be that ruthless.”

“Ruthless?” She cocked her head sideways, acting as if she was confused.

“Ambushing me. Capturing me. No one but you two knows you did this, right?”

She nodded.

“Was all that drivel about not striking at purebloods and half-bloods an act?” If he had known she was like that, he might have taken her into his confidence. “Did you oppose that simply because it was my idea?” She wouldn’t have wanted him to impress more of the group.

The witch scowled. “That’s how you think, right?” She shook her head. “You think you’re ruthless, making the hard decisions, doing the dirty work needed to win the war.”

“Of course! Someone has to! You can’t win the war acting as if this was a cricket game!” You had to kill people to win a war. Kill as many of the enemy as possible. And some of your allies too, sometimes.

She snorted. She snorted at him. “It’s not about you being ruthless, it’s about you being an idiot. A stupid fool who is endangering us all. You’ve wrecked our plans and strategy, just so you could kill a few Aurors and two innocent families.”

“In a war you have to kill the enemy!” he spat.

“So, half-blood shopkeepers and their children are now our enemies?” She glared at him.

He scoffed. “Necessary sacrifices. Their deaths will drive more half-bloods into fighting purebloods.”

“Until someone catches you, and then they’ll come after us.” She shook her head. “Stupid and short-sighted. And arrogant. It fits.”

“What?” The witch dared to call him arrogant? She was acting as if she knew best, forcing the entire group to follow her plans just because she had the contacts and the gold!

“Just something I read.” She sighed. “We have wasted enough time.” She pulled out a familiar looking vial from her pocket. Veritaserum.

“You know the group will follow me. I’m doing something against our enemies, instead of holding us back. They’ll kick you out.” Or worse, he mentally added while the bitch and her lackey stepped closer.

“You really think you’ll leave this room alive?” She opened the vial.

He suddenly understood just how ruthless she was. He wanted to curse her, but Justin, the traitor, was forcing his mouth open with a ring gag, fixing his tongue in place, and so Allan could only make incoherent noises until the potion took effect.

*****​