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Patron (Harry Potter AU) (Complete)

Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by Starfox5, Feb 26, 2015.

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  1. turbinicarpus

    turbinicarpus Formerly 'Pahan'

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    Thinking about it some more, part of what taints their relationship is not just that they feel what they feel because of magic but that their feelings --- even if genuine --- were prompted and encouraged by their magical circumstances. In other words, magic can't create true love, but it can certainly create circumstances for this one of the less malevolent instances of the Stockholm Syndrome. For all that I enjoy this story, I view their relationship as fruit of a poisoned tree of Life Debts and Patronage system.
    I hate to contradict Word of God, but any sense of "against all odds" evaporated the moment the Life Debt situation occurred, and doubly so once the Patron Oath was sealed. Their relationship, though condemned by society on some level, is also the path of least resistance day-to-day.

    "Against all odds" (within reason) would be Hermione marrying a pureblooded family heir like Neville.
    Nothing? I don't presume to know the state of affairs at the end of the story, but if it's going where I think it's going, they will have survived adolescence, despite having the greatest villain of the past half-century after them personally, overcoming said villain and his followers; they will have defeated the Imperius-lite that is a Life Debt and societally imposed magical shackles of a Patron Oath; and they will have accumulated magical and social power that gives them freedom to do what they will with their relationships. If even half of that is true, how would that be nothing?
    And when they choose to fight for each other completely of their own free will, as opposed to because they "need to", how would that be bad?
    Like I said, it's pureblooded heir of a family, or bust! Or, maybe her status is sufficient to start her own dynasty. Harry can marry Susan Bones, with them tossing a coin to decide which of their children will take which family name. :p
    I don't see these two scenarios as similar at all. Perhaps the difference is that I see the extrinsic forces pushing them together as more powerful and more pernicious than those keeping them apart. Therefore, I see the hypothetical ending that you describe as life-affirming: a victory of reason and free will over insidious magic and ignorant society, and two people who've been stuck with each other for almost a decade realizing that they don't have to be.

    I know that I'm almost certainly not changing any minds here, so I'm going to see if I can turn this into constructive criticism... I suggest making the forces keeping them apart feel more powerful and pernicious. Day-to-day, their main effect seems to be that they can't kiss in public and Hermione has to put up with random girls flirting with Harry, and some looming Year of Discovery stuff that's distant and, ultimately, something that they can choose not to engage in without much cost that we've been shown. Otherwise, the Patron-Retainer relationship actually makes it easier for them to spend time together than for any other Hogwarts students of opposite sex outside of their Year of Discovery.
     
  2. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    I think you are forgetting that their feelings were at least as much hindered by the knowledge of the life debt, as they were helped along. Hermione took a long time to overcome the very fear that their feelings were artificial.

    The path of least resistance would be to simply accept their different statuses, and do what everyone expects: live a (superficial) lie.

    That's not more difficult in any way than her and Harry, as far as society is concerned. She could become his retainer, for example.

    It wouldn't be nothing, but it'd not be enough (apart from the fact that they'd have had a lot of help battling Voldemort). It's not just about overcoming external obstacles, it's also about overcoming internal ones. The fear of not having genuine feelings. The fear of the other not having genuine feelings.

    I think you overestimate the effect of magic on their will by a vast amount when it comes to fighting for each other. Or limit it to armed conflict. The Patron Oath doesn't turn people into eager, even suicidal warriors (that's more like the life debt's effect, given a chance).

    They know that they do not have to be "stuck with each other". They knew that from the start. The life debt was canceled with the Patron Oath. No one expects them to be lovers just because they are retainer and patron. They know they can marry others - most do that. They know they do not have to be lovers - patrons and retainers do not have to be lovers. There's no magic compelling them to stay together; the effects of the Patron Oath are what every muggleborn and patron go through.

    Oh, yes, the patron-Retainer relationship makes it easier for them to spend time with each other. Not that the 6th year is so distant anymore, anyway, at which point that's moot. But I think you miss the actual problem: It's not about keeping them apart now. It's not that society is trying to keep them from shagging each other. If that was all they wanted, then there would be no problem. At this point in the story, they have dealt with their own fears as well.

    It's about having a future together as equal partners, without living a lie. It's about having children who won't be considered third-class citizens unable to inherit the position of head of family. Hermione is looking ahead, and what she sees, she doesn't like. The same goes for Harry.

    Their problem is not whether a teenage romance is easy to live or not. It's the life as adults they worry about. And that life is but 2 years away.

    I think you are fixated on seeing a teenage romance started by magic. Not a teenage romance started despite magic. You see two teenagers who can have sex as they want, not two teenagers expecting to have to live a lie.
     
  3. turbinicarpus

    turbinicarpus Formerly 'Pahan'

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    OK, I think I understand what you are going for a little better now. I am now trying to get a sense of how well that would show through for someone binging the fic, rather than getting an installment a week.
     
  4. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    I'll probably add a line in the next chapter explaining that Hermione is not (just) jealous of purebloods hitting on Harry, but vexed since" they clearly think" she'll be the "other woman".
     
  5. steamrick

    steamrick Matter: protons, electrons, neutrons and morons

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    Hermione isn't a bisexual just waiting for the chance to build a harem around herself and Harry.

    How odd.
     
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  6. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    Even if she was a bisexual (there are at least faint traces of interest in Luna here), and if she wasn't raised in a monogamous culture, she'd not be the kind to share her lover.
     
  7. Ack

    Ack (Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)

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    There's far more interest shown in her by Luna.
     
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  8. turbinicarpus

    turbinicarpus Formerly 'Pahan'

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    Clearly, the fic is intended to end with a semi-reverse-harem, 'shipping Hermione with Luna and Harry but no meaningful relationship between the latter two.

    Or, maybe it's a chain: Luna - Hermione - Harry - Susan, possibly extended at ends in either direction with no individual having more than two partners (and, ideally, more gender-balanced).

    That would help; I think that it would work best if it felt like an ongoing problem. Part of the issue is that the problem you described in the spoilers is not an immediately actionable one, or at least not a major priority is while Voldemort is around, and since the PoV characters aren't really doing anything about it, it doesn't feel like it's something looming over their heads.
     
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  9. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    I can safely say that this won't be a harem.

    Well, Voldemort is currently the biggest of their problems, so they are focusing on that. When your life is on the line, your future marriage takes a backseat. But it'll come up more often, just not often enough to make people wonder why she's worrying about this, and not about surving the next two years in the first place.
     
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  10. macdjord

    macdjord Well worn.

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    The simplest solution I can see would be a marriage between Harry and Luna. Officially, they are in a relationship, with Hermione as Harry's (recognized and accepted) mistress - when, in reality, they're both actually in relationships with Hermione and not with each other.
     
  11. turbinicarpus

    turbinicarpus Formerly 'Pahan'

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    Does Hermione even want a relationship with Luna? I guess it could be a consensual application of Amortentia.

    Now that would be a twist on Lunar Harmony.
     
  12. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    Well, in this story that couldn't happen, since magic can't create love. Though love potions (consensual or not) would certainly be a possible explanation for the common "everyone loves everyone in the Harem" trope.

    While I am not planning to write a harem story - well, not in the sense of the trope, I do have plans for stories dealing with an actual harem, at least tangentally - I've been brainstorming a Luna/Hermione story.
     
  13. turbinicarpus

    turbinicarpus Formerly 'Pahan'

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    Oh, nobody's talking about creating love. I'm talking about using it as a magical Viagra of sorts: when Hermione and Luna want to spend a night together, Hermione takes Luna-keyed Amortentia so that she could enjoy the romantic and physical aspects of it... :eek: I think I'll shut up now.

    Oh? What sort of a premise do you have in mind?
     
  14. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    Its an AU, of course - my views of canon, especially the last three books should be clear by now - and starts in fifth year. POV Hermione.

    Plot: Hermione meets Luna. Both are outsiders - Hermione for her muggle views, Luna for her unorthodox views and life choices. (Xeno's a leader for a minority culture in Wizarding Britain, with the Quibbler. A wizard variant of Hippies, Dada, and Progressives. Very curious, open-minded, and always questioning the status quo.)

    Neither views are well-received in the rather conservative Mainstream Wizarding Society (which doesn't share that many views with conservative muggle parties). Luna's a free spirit, of sorts, following her heart and not others. She doesn't let the adversity she faces faze her. She says what she thinks. Hermione shares that trait with her - she is vocal about her ideals and goals. Both also share a distrust of official and accepted wizarding teachings.

    They develop a friendship, which turns into more. Luna doesn't hide her intent, Hemione though struggles with accepting what she feels, trying to rationalize it, trying to make sense of her own emotions, fearful of getting shunned by her family and friends (even though there's no bias against same-sex couples in Wizarding Britain). She's insecure, and has not really anyone she can freely talk about her problems.

    Meanwhile, there's a war going on. Dumbledore prevented the cover up by Fudge and the DE's identified at the Graveyard are exposed. The Ministry rushed into action, with Dumbledore at the forefront. Umbridge stayed at the Ministry, and goes overboard - as usual - in defense of her 'dear Cornelius', starting purges of pureblood bigots who seem to threaten her Minister, and of anyone else she thinks she can get rid of.

    The staff at Hogwarts has to scramble to cover for Dumbledore's absence while he leads raids against DE's and generally drives them underground. His taking down the Malfoy Mansion's wards is a drastic reminder for Wizarding Britain just who defeated Grindelwald, and who is feared by Voldemort. Morale significantly improves.

    Harry's kept safe, but not isolated during the Summer, and then at Hogwarts. His connection to Voldemort is used to track down Horcruxes, when Dumbledore has a lead on one.

    But Voldemort is not beaten yet. He's blackmailing the new Defense Teacher, Auror Dawlish, who resents having to leave his cushy Minister Protection Detail post to take a cursed position. All Umbridge's fault, of course. And Fudge's. And Dumbledore's. And the Death Nibblers are resenting the 'persecution' of their Death Eater parents, and the sudden decrying of all the ideals they have been fed since birth. They are safe at Hogwarts, protected from the purges, free to plot, and plan.

    And Luna and Hermione, two girls unwilling to tote the party line of mainstream society even when everyone expects them to, to close ranks and present a unified front to Voldemort, become mixed up in all of that due to their friendship with Harry.
     
  15. turbinicarpus

    turbinicarpus Formerly 'Pahan'

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    Some thoughts, if you don't mind...
    What does their "outsider" status entail? Do they have (platonic) friends, and if so, whom? Are they ignored/ostracized, or is there proactive bullying involved? How do they respond?
    That sounds like it could easily be a Mary Sue Society, if you know what I mean. What are its downsides? Hypothetically, what would be the negative consequences if it somehow became the majority culture?
    That works.
    Umbridge: I'm halping!
    Dobby: Me too!
    In what way? He doesn't teach, and it's not that big an institution as far as institutions go. Is it because he is needed to defend Hogwarts from incursion or infiltration?
    I know that you aren't fond of the relevant books, but his isolation is fanon in the first place. Ron and Hermione wrote to him in the Summer before OotP, they just didn't include any information about current events, which is perfectly sensible operational security, since owls can be intercepted and Harry had a mental link with the greatest Legilimens alive.

    I can understand the impulse to drop bits of canon to make it better, but I don't understand the impulse to drop bits of it to make it worse.
    Neat, but I think it shouldn't be too easy, even if most of the hard work is done off-screen. Earn Your Happy Ending, and all that.
    Interesting. I would suggest upping the difficulty of Dumbledore's work in order to make him largely a non-factor in within-Hogwarts conflicts.
    I don't know about this... Hermione and Luna, I can see as frenemies who learn to love each other; but, barring a big change in their personality and interests, a friendship between either of them and Harry... it doesn't feel seem like something that is likely to happen without canon-level contrivances, since they have almost nothing actually in common.

    Look at it this way... Suppose that on Halloween 1991, Hermione ran to a different washroom, and Harry and Ron just locked the troll in and ran away, i.e., no rescue. Would they become friends after? Why ever?
     
  16. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    As long as you accept that I don't give a damn about following canon where it contradicts my planned story.

    They are outsiders in highschool. Hermione has Ron and Harry as friends, but they have other interests (Quidditch) and other friends, and the other kids think she's uncool, weird, etc. She doesn't get invited to the other girls' homes and parties, they don't go to Hogsmeade with her, she doesn't really chat with them about anything. She generally attends social occasions with Harry and Ron, and most people see her as "Harry/Ron's swot friend".

    Luna has... no friend. And that is about as sad as it sounds.

    Mary Sue? Huh? They are Dadaist Hippies with some progressive ideas, not free-thinking progressives with a social agenda, plans, policies etc. They lack any organisation, for starters. If they managed to take over, society as known would collapse, in my opinion, at least the part that cannot be replaced with a wand and maybe some help from friends. If they were the majority of a society, it would be a conglomerate of self-sustaining tiny communities, and any serious Dark Lord would roll them all up before they could agree on a meeting to discuss a meeting to prepare an alliance against the Dark Lord. There wouldn't be any central authority, no taxes, and a lot would depend on private initiative.

    I assume that Dumbledore actually did something as Headmaster. Like handling the many, many things you need to have done to run a boarding school with a few hundred students and centaur neighbors (Organize food and other supplies, maintenance, magical and physical, deal with neighbors, etc. etc., apart from hiring new teachers, fund raising, keeping ties with other schools, overseeing his teachers and other staff (elves), filling in if someone can't make a lesson, and so on.)

    A school that big doesn't run itself. And the idea that McGonagall can teach a full course - and one taken by almost everyone even past the OWLs - and run a house and do all the administrative duties is, well... rather optimistic. In the Military we had one high-ranking non-com just handling the food and other supplies, and another just overseeing discipline, and that was just for a company of 120ish soldiers.

    I don't understand you at all. I just said he's not isolated - and you say not doing something you seem to think wasn't done in canon anyway, i.e., doing the same as in canon, makes it worse? Huh?

    All I plan to change is Dumbledore telling Harry the reason why he can't be told all that sensitive information. I think you really are a bit too blind when it comes to canon, to overlook that simple, sensible way to avoid Harry going crazy. Of course, he'll also not get Snape as an occlumency teacher, but someone who actually is not sadist scumbag with grudges from his childhood, who abuses children for the sins of their parents, and will start that training far earlier (further reducing the time he spends with Hermione. But on the whole, that's a really minor change.

    Who cares? Harry is not the main character here. He's a side character. It's Hermione and Luna who are taking center stage. Frankly, I've done the horcrux hunt once already in Spygirl, I don't plan to repeat it anytime soon. Most of those hunts will happen off screen, with hints of how tough it was spotted by Hermione, as appropriate.

    I already stated that he will be largely absent.

    In my opinion, two outsiders banding together is a perfectly valid way to start a friendship. Hermione has a weakness for outsiders and underdogs anyway, and I really do not think she'd not try to help Luna as soon as she notices how Luna suffers. And Frenemies? As I said, this Hermione doesn't trust wizard books. She knows, as she should, that they are biased. She also knows that the probability of an animal not existing simply because it's not been covered in a book is nil, given that we still discover new species all the time, and all muggle books would have claimed unicorns etc,. do not exist. Yes, I consider that a shitty canon plot hole and character assassination. And no, I won't budge on that.

    If Luna says she is looking for a mythical animal, Hermione will see that as a scientific approach, complete with expeditions.

    So, both are outsiders, both are the closest thing Hogwarts has to adherants to the scientific methods, Luna triggers a lot of Hermione's buttons (She was probably like her in Primary)... it's enough for me to justify how they become friends and more.
     
  17. Threadmarks: Chapter 28: Raids
    Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    Chapter 28: Raids

    “Ah, Mister Potter. Right on time for your detention.”

    “Good evening, Headmaster.” Harry Potter didn’t let his slight unease show when he entered the Headmaster’s office. At least he thought he didn’t. The trilling greeting from Fawkes was as cheerful as ever.

    “Please take a seat.” The old wizard gestured and a chair appeared in front of his desk. “I have not informed the other teachers about the real reason for this detention. Even though it was done without permission, Miss Granger’s curse is a rather clever way to protect yourself. I trust you will keep the secret as well.”

    Harry smiled, torn between pride and annoyance. “Of course, Headmaster.”

    “You might be asking yourself: ‘If it was a good thing, why I am still being punished?’” Dumbledore looked at Harry over the rim of his glasses.

    “Because we did break the rules, and such actions have to have consequences?” Harry answered.

    “That’s only partially true. One of the most important purposes of Hogwarts is to let children make mistakes without suffering drastic consequences - so they may learn from them. A detention should serve to teach rule breakers what they did wrong, and how to do better next time. Even if a few only ever seem to learn that they shouldn’t get caught.” Dumbledore smiled wrily and casually summoned the lemon drop bowl to his hands right when Fawkes was about to dive at it. The phoenix, bereft of its intended target, slid over the polished wood and launched itself into the air again, as if he had intended to do that all along. Not unlike Crookshanks, Harry thought, when the half-kneazle missed a jump from the bed to the window sill.

    “Well, I know what we did wrong. We should have informed you, Headmaster, and asked for permission before implementing our plan.” Harry smiled.

    “I see Sirius told you about his own school years, Mister Potter.” Dumbledore chuckled. “He tried to argue that each time he was sent to detention. And each time he was told that the fact he had earned another detention was proof that he had not learned his lesson, so to speak.”

    “I haven’t earned near as many detentions as he did,” Harry pointed out.

    “No, you have not. Fortunately, since you carry far more responsibility on your shoulders than Sirius did. Which is why you are here by yourself, for Miss Granger would be here as well, if not for your special circumstances.” The Headmaster popped a lemon drop in his mouth, which caused Fawkes to stick his head below his right wing.

    Harry’s smile grew a bit forced. He didn’t regret becoming Hermione’s Patron, nor did he think it had been a mistake. “My retainer and myself have already discussed her actions,” he stated formally.

    Dumbledore nodded at him, but did not comment on the matter. In a way, the occasional remarks from the Headmaster were much more annoying than Sirius’s reminder of what he could do with Hermione. His godfather at least made it clear he was mostly teasing, and didn’t really think Harry would follow his suggestions. Dumbledore though didn’t seem to have the same amount of trust in Harry’s handling of his duties.

    “Do you feel that I have failed in my duties as her Patron, or that I am likely to fail?” Harry asked, maybe a bit too sharply.

    “I do not think you have failed your charge, Mister Potter. But I found that past performance is not a perfect guard against future mistakes. On the contrary, complacency and overconfidence sneak up on even the most cautious wizard over time.” He smiled sadly. “A few reminders of our own fallibility often are the lesser evil.”

    Harry gathered that the Headmaster was speaking from personal experience, and nodded. He wondered what kind of mistakes the Headmaster had made, in his long life.

    “That said, it is time for your lesson. What kind of weaknesses does your scheme have?” Dumbledore leaned forward.

    “It’s centered on me. It won’t detect someone wishing to hurt Hermione. Or my other friends.” Harry answered. They had known that all along.

    “That is just one weakness. Your spell depends on the intent to do harm. Someone who does not realize that whatever they are doing will be harming you will not trigger the curse. And there are multiple ways to achieve that - even without magic,” Dumbledore explained. “Though, granted, Tom does tend to use magic for everything. And his followers, so blind in their belief in the superiority of magic, will likely do the same.”

    Harry was busy trying to think of ways to use a student as an unwitting tool. Most mental manipulation spells would leave some hint, changing the target’s behaviour partially at least. Though to spot that would require some familiarity with the target’s normal behaviour. He could not really claim he was close to most of the students visiting his lessons. But most of them came with friends as well, who would spot such changes. Especially if they learned about them in the next lesson. “I see. We might teach them about mind control spells next.”

    “That is a good idea. While many of the Dark Lord’s followers prefer more obvious curses, others like to control and dominate their victims. A few though are imaginative and cunning, and no strangers to the oblique approach. A truly dangerous foe would not send a spelled victim to your lesson, not if the purpose was just to spy.” Dumbledore explained with a smile.

    “They could enchant an item to record us… or to harm us.” Harry didn’t want to imagine what an Erumpent horn would do, if smuggled into the room and detonated.

    “The wards will take care of most of those ploys. Wizards thought of sending explosive or poisonous gifts to their enemies centuries ago, and counter-measures were created rather quickly.” Dumbledore didn’t smile. “But determined students could create dangerous items on the school grounds. While it would require great luck or skill to smuggle them past the various wards, it’s not impossible.”

    “The dorms are heavily warded.” Harry nodded.

    “As are other rooms.” Dumbledore sighed. “And yet, no defense is perfect. Students keep finding ways around the wards, if only to prank the other students.”

    Harry suddenly realized why the Weasley twins had been able to keep pranking for years, without a teacher stopping them for good. “Do they know they have been serving as testers for the school’s defenses?”

    Dumbledore simply smiled enigmatically.

    “Do you consider Hermione’s curse as a test as well?” Harry wanted to know if they had let them put a curse on students.

    “In a way. It was harmless enough to not trigger any ward - at least as far as the obvious effect is concerned. And yet, even a Wand-Lighting Charm can have deadly consequences if it reveals an enemy hiding in the darkness.” Dumbledore sighed.

    “Hermione wouldn’t go that far!” Harry stated.

    “I think we both know she would go even farther, if she thinks it is needed to protect you.” Dumbledore met his eyes again. “And so would you, for her.”

    Harry nodded, reluctantly. He didn’t like to admit it. “We both have survived several attempts to kill us.”

    “That is correct. It would be unwise to hold you two, and your friends, to the same standards as other students.” The Headmaster sighed. “Those are dark times indeed, when one has to contemplate students killing each other.”

    “We’re only defending ourselves,” Harry said.

    “Indeed. And yet, I fear the definition of ‘defending’ will end up quite stretched, before this war is over.” Dumbledore looked at the window for a moment. “But enough of that. I trust that in the future you will keep me informed about the measures you plan to take to defend yourself.”

    “Of course, Headmaster,” Harry answered. Their defensive measures, but not the other ideas they had been throwing around.

    He somehow doubted Dumbledore would approve of some of their plans.

    *****​

    Hermione Granger was waiting in their room for Harry’s detention to end. She felt slightly guilty - it was her fault that Harry was getting punished. Only slightly though, since it had been necessary, after all, and had been for his own good. She checked her watch, a gift from her parents, completely mechanical. She could have an electronic one now, thanks to the shielding ward she had developed, but she had gotten used to it. And not having to worry about a battery was nice as well. On the other hand, she also liked to know the precise time. Maybe she should get a radio-controlled clock with runes, to adjust her wrist watch to…

    The door opened, and she tensed, wand in hand, before relaxing. It was Harry, looking a bit tired. They embraced as soon as the door had closed behind him, and she could feel how tense he was. Tenser than she would have expected. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but controlled herself and placed a kiss on his lips instead.

    “Ron’s not here?” Harry asked.

    “He’s with Padma,” Hermione answered. She didn’t even feel slightly guilty about sending their friend to his girlfriend so she could be alone with Harry. It was for his and Padma’s own good too, after all.

    Harry grinned, then pulled her closer again. For a bit, they simply stood there, in each other’s arms. Then Hermione’s curiosity won out over her desire to enjoy the moment. “So, what did the Headmaster say? And what did you have to do?”

    Harry sighed, and went to sit down on the couch, summoning a soda on the way. Hermione followed him and slipped into his lap, leaning her head against his shoulder. He took a while to speak, gathering his thoughts. It must have been important then.

    “We spoke about the wards, and our security measures. We weren’t as clever as we thought.” He finally explained.

    “Oh? What did we miss?” Hermione asked, her pride stung.

    “The Dark Lord’ll probably use students as tools who don’t know they are harming us,” Harry explained.

    “Mind control? That can be spotted. We can teach the others how to spot it too.” She had to adjust the lesson plans, but they had been crafted with some leeway, to take unforeseen changes into account.

    “Yes. But the worst danger will be those who are not under a spell.”

    Hermione took a moment to consider that. “Duped. Or interrogated and then obliviated.”

    “Yes.”

    “Well, we can’t defend against that. But we can feed them false information that way.” Hermione started to plan. If they downplayed their skills, they’d be underestimated by the Death Eaters.

    “As long as it doesn’t impact the lessons for the students. They need to learn how to escape an attack.” Harry cocked his head to the side to meet her eyes. He was serious.

    Hermione sighed, then nodded.

    “Dumbledore was more concerned about dangerous enchanted items that might slip through the existing wards of the school, and the dorms. You wouldn’t have an idea about such things?”

    Hermione nodded. “I’ve had a few ideas.” More than a few. She’d been planning how to wipe out the entire Slytherin House quite often in earlier years, given her feelings on their attitude towards muggleborns. Some of her plans hadn’t been that impractical or impossible either.

    “Anything they could use against us?”

    “Hm. If they learn about muggle composite poisons, and explosives.” It wasn’t very likely, given their attitudes towards muggles.

    “Wouldn’t the wards spot that?” Harry frowned.

    “Not before the reaction gets going. And with explosives, the wards can be overloaded. With poison… some poison doesn’t trigger the wards. Like lead.” Hermione smiled at the sort of pun.

    “Are there any magical ways to duplicate this?”

    “I don’t know any offhand that would slip past the wards. Though if one used say one of the dueling areas in Slytherin, where the wards are less strict…” Hermione bit her lip as she was starting to plan that.

    “Or our own training area?” Harry asked.

    “Ah… yes. That’s a possible weakness too. But still somewhat protected, as long as we are present. Someone would spot it, probably.” Hermione nodded.

    Harry didn’t seem to be too reassured. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, until he was facing the ceiling.

    Hermione ran a finger over his lips, pulling back before he could snap at it. “I doubt any junior Death Eater has the knowledge to pull this off. Can you imagine Malfoy trying that?”

    Harry laughed. “He’s more the type to ambush you in a dark hallway.” Then he froze.

    “We’ll have to change patrol routes. If we’re too predictable we’re just begging for an attack. Or a trap.” Hermione shook her head.

    “The map will show us an ambush,” Harry stated.

    “But not a trap. Most of the traps are curses, and would be detected though. But if you combine enough weak, seemingly harmless effects…” Hermione trailed off.

    “Great. How many pureblood bigots are dumb enough to follow Voldemort, and smart enough to pull that off?”

    “Not many. Too much of a risk for the smarter ones.” Hermione answered.

    “Unless their family is held hostage.” Harry said with a grim expression.

    “Most of the families are moving to the old mansions for safety. And if we’re taking precautions, like moving in groups, we should be reasonably safe.”

    “Best we can do, I think.” Harry agreed. “At least the school’s security is better than I thought. The Headmaster explained a lot today.”

    “That was a useful detention then. I should break the rules more often. Or, I should get caught doing it more often!” Hermione joked.

    Harry huffed. “I should put you over my knee and spank you!”

    Hermione was reminded of a fantasy she had had, and hoped she didn’t blush. To cover it up, she leaned forward and kissed her boyfriend.

    For quite some time neither one spoke, and when they broke apart again, both readjusted their robes and had to calm down their breathing.

    “Dumbledore also asked about my, our plans for the time after Hogwarts and the war,” Harry stated suddenly, right when the muggleborn witch was about to doze off curled up against him.

    “Oh.” She didn’t say anything more.

    “He was talking about my parents, the difficulties they went through.”

    Hermione knew what ‘difficulties’ he meant. James Potter’s decision to enter a concubinage with Lily Evans, and his refusal to marry a pureblood wife to give him heirs had been very controversial. In the wake of their heroic deaths, and Harry’s subsequent adoption that made him a pureblood that had been covered up, but Hermione and Harry had dug it up researching his family. Letters. Articles. Testimonies. Sirius and Remus generally didn’t go into details, but Sirius had let a few things slip when he had drank a bit too much. It wasn’t a pretty picture. And she wasn’t looking forward to go through it as well.

    “He said heroic deeds could move mountains,” Harry went on.

    “He thinks you will defeat Voldemort, and then follow in your father’s footsteps?” Hermione asked, tensing up. Concubinage. Adopting his own children, so they’d be purebloods. They’d have to have children very quickly after Voldemort’s defeat, so the fame wouldn’t have faded and the Wizengamot could not refuse the petition. She would have to get pregnant quickly. Of course it all depended on beating Voldemort. But without defeating the Dark Lord, they’d have no future anyway.

    And yet… even so, she’d remain the muggleborn witch. Granted, other witches would stop trying to seduce Harry, once he had pureblood heirs. Well, most of them. Some wouldn’t. Like Greengrass. Hermione ground her teeth together. That stupid blonde had started the “Harry Hunting”, which painfully reminded her each day that everyone expected her to become Harry’s mistress while he married a pureblood witch!

    Harry pulled her closer again, and placed a kiss on her forehead. “We’ll find a way.”

    She nodded, even though she doubted it, sometimes. “We’ll find a way.”

    *****​

    Ron Weasley wondered what Harry would have had to do during his detention. Some boring lines? Or some special assignment by the Headmaster? He would have liked to await his best friend’s return in their private room, but Hermione had all but thrown him out. His other best friend had been rather stressed lately, so he had complied. And she had been right about his own girlfriend Padma needing him.

    “Father wrote that he and mother have moved into the Brendelson Mansion. Our head of family has put them up, together with other families. It’s more cramped than at home, but safer, or so he claims,” Padma explained, looking worried.

    “Lots of families are moving in with their heads. Even emancipated heads of their own families are moving back to their parents,” Ron answered. The Black-Tonkses, for example. Grimmauld Place would be a bit more crowded.

    “Your parents too?” Padma looked at him with wide eyes.

    “No. The Burrow’s pretty safe. That’s why it’s called the Burrow, despite being all above ground, my dad told me once.” Ron sighed. “But it’s crowded already, so Bill and his fiancée went to Sirius.” He was rather certain that Fleur had insisted - she didn’t get along too well with his and Bill’s mum - but that wasn’t something to be spread outside the family.

    “Oh. And your other brothers?” Padma sat down next to him, hands in her lap closing and opening nervously.

    Ron reached over and took her right and with his left, squeezing it gently. “Charlie’s still in Romania, but he’ll probably head back as soon as he settles with the preserve there.” Family came first, after all. “Percy moved in already.” And probably wasn’t happy about it - his girlfriend hadn’t come with him, or so Ron’s dad had written.

    “At least he’ll be safe.”

    Ron winced. The wards were good, but not that good. But the Burrow had a number of escape tunnels, dating back a few centuries before the current house had been built. They’d probably have to rebuild the house, after the war - they were rather prominent enemies of Voldemort. That wasn’t something to spread around either, not even to his girlfriend. She wasn’t family after all. Unlike Harry and Hermione. “But the real problem will be the twins. Can you imagine living with them in the same house?” Well, they were in the same Hogwarts house, but it was different with close to one hundred other students, or just one family.

    Padma winced, and he nodded and continued. “It’s not so bad during the vacations, but I think everyone was hoping their shop would take off as soon as possible, and they’d move out.” Even his mum, not that she’d admit it, of course. “On the other hand, it’s good training - Bill likes to joke he only became a curse-breaker because he had to avoid the twins’ pranks so often.”

    Padma frowned, and Ron almost sighed. His girlfriend really took her not so stellar performance in the self-defense lessons hard. She was like Hermione in that. He took her hand with his right hand, and wrapped his left arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “You know, it’s all about training. You’ve got to let your muscles learn the moves.” Hermione had said something about it, and she usually knew her stuff. He couldn’t say that to Padma though, she was jealous enough already.

    “It’s just so frustrating! I try and try, and I get hit all the time anyway. And it hurts!” The Indian witch complained. “And they mock me!”

    “That’s just their way of teaching. They don’t mean it,” Ron tried to placate her. Sirius and to a lesser degree Remus had a peculiar style, one that took some getting used to. Of course, Ron, as the 6th son, was used to pranks, teasing, and worse. Padma… not so. “And it’s better in the lessons with Harry.”

    “Marginally,” Padma grumbled. “Everyone expects me to be as good as the rest of you! Just because I am your girlfriend!”

    Ron briefly squeezed her against his side in response. ‘Everyone’ probably meant Parvati, or some of the Ravenclaws, or anyone else jealous of her.

    “And in those lessons, I have to see that snake making eyes at you!” Padma hissed suddenly. “I want to curse her so bad!”

    Ron winced, briefly. There she went again. And he had thought Hermione was the one who hated Parkinson the most…

    “Once she tries something, we all will curse her,” he reassured her. If only Hermione’s curse would trigger already!

    Padma huffed, then climbed into his lap.

    Ron smiled, before he kissed her. There they went again. At least something good was coming from that snake’s plot.

    *****​

    Kenneth Fenbrick smiled at the pretty witch in the daring robe passing him and and his partner Bertha Limmington on their way to lunch. She smiled back coyly, or so he thought. Was she instead just too polite to show her real feelings? Did she just see the red auror robes - and wasn’t it nice to wear them again, instead of some civilian disguises? - and an affair she could brag to her friends about? And why should he care about the real reasons she might want to sleep with him for, as long as she wanted to sleep with him? Why did he care?

    He sighed, then saw Bertha staring at him. “What?”

    She shook her head. “Nothing.”

    “You don’t do ‘nothing’, Bertha!” He stared at her.

    She simply continued to walk towards the tavern they had agreed on for their lunch. Huffing, he caught up to her. They didn’t talk until they had ordered and the food was floating towards their table, and even then they chatted about meaningless things. Not about the thing Kenneth had declared they wouldn’t speak of, ever.

    He didn’t think he would ever mind it when Bertha actually followed his wishes. ‘Cool, classy, smart’ had the spy-courtesan, Mathilda, called her. He was wondering about that, about her. And about himself. What was Bertha, to him, apart from being the best partner and friend he had ever had? What did he really know about her? Other than that she looked as attractive in really skimpy robes as he had hoped she would?

    And, more importantly, would he look at her the same way he did, if she had slept with him? Was he simply interested in her - and he was, he could admit that, now - because she was not falling for him? Was it just the challenge that drew him, like some clients were drawn to a aloof courtesan, as Mathilda had explained it?

    Life had been simpler before that ill-fated undercover mission. Easier.

    “Do you ever think about what she told us?” It was a dumb question, he realized it right after he had blurted it out. Bertha was always thinking.

    “That I act like a courtesan?” Bertha asked back, in a very cold tone.

    “That was my blunder;” Kenneth admitted. “No, I meant, what witches see in wizards. And wizards in witches.”

    “Well, I don’t see what they’d see in you,” she answered.

    He couldn’t tell if she was making one of her rare jokes, or if she was serious. And it hurt.

    “I don’t see what you see in them, either,” Bertha continued, after an awkward pause, and in different tone.

    “Them?”

    “The witches you sleep with,” she explained.

    Before that stupid mission, Kenneth would have answered the question with great, loving details about their bodies. Now he muttered “I don’t know anymore.”

    The rest of the meal passed in silence.

    *****​

    Draco Malfoy, Head of the Malfoy Family, smiled while he was walking towards one of the lesser used classrooms in the dungeons. Crabbe and Goyle were following him, as usual. “Stay outside, and don’t let anyone enter!”

    With a grunt, the two obeyed his order. Draco’s smile widened as he opened the door and entered the room. Power. He deserved it. He had it. He loved it.

    Inside the room, a smaller figure came out from the corner behind the armoire. Draco bowed politely to her. “Good evening, Miss Edgecombe.”

    He saw her stiffen, then she bowed as well.

    “Good evening, Mister Malfoy.” She sounded stilted, unable to hide her emotions. No wonder - she was but a lowly half-blood.

    He knew she wasn’t having a good evening. She didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to talk to him. And yet she had to. Because he wanted it. Because he could make her do it.

    He sat down on the desk in front of the room, looking down on the half-blood witch. She was standing there, jaw clenched, hands kneading her robes. Not her usual, quite daring robes, but plain, drab ones. Her lips moved, then she pressed them together again.

    He was waiting, enjoying the moment. Enjoying his power over her. She wanted to speak, wanted to get this done with as soon as possible, so she could leave, flee. But she knew if she spoke without having been given leave by him, she’d pay for it.

    “Did you do something with your hair? That’s a bold color,” he commented, apparently idly. She flinched. He knew the Weasley twins had pranked her, they had been called to McGonagall’s office. And he knew she hadn’t been able to get rid of the spell, yet. She would probably have to visit St. Mungo’s. Fortunately for her, the school would cover the cost.

    “I didn’t choose this, I was cursed,” she answered, stiffening.

    He grinned. “It’s a rather benign curse then. In my circles, we’d not even call that a hex.” That reminder of who he was, what he could do, sent her trembling. She was shaking, even, when he pulled out his wand and twirled it around his fingers.

    He’d have loved to draw this out for the entire evening, to do more to the witch, to teach her her place, but it was too much of a risk, here, under the nose of Dumbledore. And his absence would be noted soon. “So… what did you find out?”

    She swallowed, then began to report. “We trained dodging spells. And how to cast a shield spell. Point cast it.”

    “That’s it?” He frowned. That didn’t sound likely. “You didn’t learn how to fight, just how to run away?”

    “N-No. They said they want to train us to survive an attack, not to fight a war.” She was shaking again. His ire was impressive. She didn’t seem to be lying though.

    “So.” He paused. What was Potter up to? Why wasn’t he building an army? Maybe this was just a test, and he’d pick those who showed talent for the real, secret lessons?

    “So. You’ll train hard and be among the best in those lessons, understood?” She was a 6th year, she had ample time to study and train, as long as she cut back on the fornicating.

    Edgecombe nodded.

    “Good. Do this, and your family’s debts will not be called in.” That reminder of his power over her made her nod, again. For a moment he was tempted to keep her here a bit longer. She was a 6th year, experienced. He shook his head at the thought. He couldn’t take her as he wanted to anyway. And if he did, she’d have leverage over him. Not even obliviate would help - everyone knew that if you felt sore and didn’t remember why, you went straight to a teacher. He wasn’t that good with the spell to leave no traces.

    She was still standing there, too afraid of him to leave without permission. He gestured to the door, not bothering with the pretense of being polite anymore, and she left without a further word.

    He watched her leave, frowning. He really wanted to get a muggle girl, right then. It galled him that he couldn’t.

    Soon though.

    *****​

    Hermione Granger, sitting in her and Harry’s room, working on spell crafting, frowned at her notes. The Protean Charm Tracking Spell was working - with Protean Charms. It would offer a nice way to track stolen but marked goods. Or circumvent some of the usual counter-measures against tracking charms. But it wouldn’t work with the Dark Mark. At least as far as she could tell, lacking a Dark Mark to study and experiment with. And she wouldn’t get one either. She imagined asking the Headmaster for her very own Death Eater to experiment on, and giggled at the face Dumbledore would probably make at hearing that. Right before he called her a dark witch. She stopped giggling.

    She was doing Sympathetic Magic. Commonly associated with voodoo. It wasn’t illegal, at least not in principle, but it had a bad reputation, since it was most infamous for controlling and cursing others using a piece of them as a focus. It wasn’t part of the actual Dark Arts, the Ministry’s opinion notwithstanding. But it wasn’t a subject taught at Hogwarts. She’d had to check the Black Family Library for tomes on the subject. And tracking was just one possible use for such magic. She had another use in mind.

    One she’d have to study Harry’s scar for. See if the connection he shared with Voldemort would be enough to work magic through. But that wouldn’t be possible until she knew more about how such magic worked.

    But nothing changed the fact that ultimately, she’d have to find a way to destroy a soul. It was the only way to get rid of all of the horcruxes Voldemort had made. And such an act certainly fell under the Dark Arts. To destroy a soul… wouldn’t it anger the gods? If they existed, and cared. Would it stain her soul?

    She knew of only one way a soul could be destroyed: The dementor’s kiss. Wizarding Britain had used it as a way to execute criminals for centuries. Dozens, hundreds of decent wizards and witches had taken part in the destruction of at least one soul in their lives. No one, nothing, had cursed them for it. The Wizengamot certainly wouldn’t risk their own souls, and they were the ones who ordered such executions.

    So, at least the indirect destruction of a soul was safe. Had to be safe.

    She could work with that. Had to work with that. For Harry.

    *****​

    Keith Yennington observed the small cottage from afar. It looked like just any other house. Almost like a muggle one. But it was heavily warded, not quite on par with a mansion of an old family, but coming close. The DMLE didn’t skimp when it came to the safety of their employees, even if they were low-ranking ones like Timothy Brannigan.

    The Death Eater rubbed his left forearm. The Dark Lord had been generous after his punishment, and had provided him with information from one of his spies. Brannigan would be able to provide Keith with the names of the two aurors hunting him. Those responsible for his punishment! He still had nightmares!

    Normally, Brannigan would be safe. His wards were strong enough to last until reinforcements arrived and he didn’t leave his house, other than taking the floo to safe locations. But Brannigan had a weakness. A weakness Keith knew about.

    He took a last look at the cottage and apparated away. If Brannigan stuck to his schedule, he’d call the whore soon.

    Keith reappeared in a large and well-furnished room. A nude blonde witch was sitting on the big bed, nervously glancing at Hortensius Gimble, who kept his wand aimed at her. Others under Keith’s command would have indulged their urges. Not Hortensius though. He didn’t let the witch’s body distract him from his orders. Keith nodded to his man and sat down in the armchair in the corner, outside the the field of vision anyone making a floo call would have.

    The whore - she called herself a courtesan, but they were all whores - was known as ‘Claire’. It certainly wasn’t her real name, but Keith didn’t care. All he cared about was that ‘Claire’ was Brannigan’s prefered whore, trusted enough to visit him at his home. He narrowed his eyes, then gestured at the witch. “Move!”

    She jerked, then stood up, taking a few steps. “Move?” She asked, timidly.

    He frowned. “Just walk around the room. Seductively.”

    She complied, or tried to. He rolled his eyes. “Merlin’s balls, girl! I am not about to rape you. I simply need to see how you walk when you meet a client. Now walk like you mean it!”

    The whore started to strut, still too tense. If this was the ‘Pixie’, Keith would have her punished. But for this, it would do. It wasn’t really needed either, more like a way to pass the time while they waited for Brannigan to call. It wasn’t as if he’d be wearing her body that long.

    After a few minutes, the floo lit up, finally. A nod from Keith had ‘Claire’ kneel in front of it, talking to ‘her Timothy’. He didn’t see any overt sign of her trying to warn the wizard.

    “I’ll be right there, just let me fetch my new robe!”

    “I can’t wait, cherie!” Brannigan said, then ended the call.

    ‘Claire’ stared at him, trembling, as Keith strode towards her, pulling off his own robes and undergarments with a flick of his wand. Hortensius handed him a vial, and a hair. A sip later Keith was wearing the whore’s body.

    While ‘Claire’ stared at him, he slipped the robe he had brought with him on. He had taken it from one of the girls at the ‘Pixie’. A flick of his wand had it resized to his new curves. It would do. He glanced at Hortensius, who was looking him over. “Anything out of place?” Keith asked him, noticing how his voice had changed too.

    The other wizard shook his head. Keith nodded to him, then stepped to the floo. “Brannigan’s Bachelor Pad!”

    He stepped out of the floo into Branigan’s living room. The wizard was stepping towards him with open arms, but Keith stopped him before he could hug his temporary body. “Look at my new robe!”

    Brannigan did, and Keith turned around himself, making sure they were alone.

    “I’ve got another surprise for you!” he announced, taking out his wand.

    “Oh!” Brannigan’s eyes went wide. “Did you get a new…”

    Keith cut him off with a stunner and the man dropped like a bag of galleons. No auror material, that one. He went back to the floo and called Hortensius. The Death Eater was still searching the man when Hortensius and the nude witch arrived. She saw Brannigan and at once opened her mouth.

    Keith was faster. “Keep your mouth shut! He’s just stunned.”

    He didn’t find anything dangerous on Brannigan’s body, but stripped him nude anyway before binding him with a spell and waking him up.

    “Wha…“ Brannigan stopped whateve rhe had been about to say when he spotted two ‘Claires’ in his living room, and a man he didn’t know. “Polyjuice?”

    He wasn’t as much of a fool as he looked, then, Keith thought. “Exactly.” He smiled at the man, holding up another vial. “Now open wide up, we have a few questions to ask you.”

    Brannigan complied. He was either a coward, or smart enough to realize that he couldn’t avoid it anyway. Not bad qualities for a Ministry employee. If he was pragmatic enough he might keep his position, once the Dark Lord had taken over.

    The interrogation was a quick and complete success - his master’s spy had done well. Keith now had the names of his prey: Kenneth Fenbrick and Bertha Limmington. Veteran aurors both.

    “Administer the antidote!”

    While Hortensius made Brannigan drink another vial, Keith obliviated the whore. “You’ve just arrived, and your ‘new dress’ was a nothing more than few drops of perfume. Timothy loved the surprise.” Another spell took care of Brannigan. Keith and Hortensius left the cottage before the spells wore off.

    Back in the whore’s flat, Keith scoffed. “Another 45 minutes to spend in this body…” and sat down in the chair again. He hated waiting. Hortensius didn’t comment. He was Keith’s best wizard, after all.

    *****​

    “It’s already as bad as during the last war,” Sirius Black stated as he and his family walked through Hogsmeade. His extended family, to be precise - Remus, Valérie, Chantal, Eugénie and Laure, and Harry, Hermione and their friends. Nymphadora was around as well, providing additional security in various forms.

    “What do you mean, Sirius?” Harry asked, looking around. Slightly behind him, Hermione frowned, following his example.

    “The lack of students. Usually, more than half of Hogwarts is in the village on a Hogsmeade weekend. Now? Unless most of them are hiding in the private rooms in Madam Puddyfoot’s Teashop, then not even a quarter of the students are in the village. Maybe even closer to a tenth.” He made a sweeping gesture.

    “There are private rooms in Madam Puddyfoot’s?” Luna’s eyes lit up.

    Sirius nodded. “Yes. For a fee, you can rent a room there. There are a number of…” he trailed off as he caught Remus’s glare. “Well, its for 6th years and older.”

    “Bah!” Luna frowned. “That’s unfair!”

    Valérie giggled, and Sirius had a feeling she wanted to pat the blonde’s head. The four veela had taken a shine to the perky if quirky girl, despite, or maybe because, of all the questions she had posed them about the ‘secrets of the veela’.

    “Isn’t that why we’re out here? To serve as an example, to assure people that it’s safe?” Ron asked.

    “If we are, it doesn’t seem to be working. We seem to be scaring them away more than reassuring them,” Harry commented, nodding towards the people watching them from a distance.

    “Well, letting everyone crowd us would be too dangerous for you and your friends. You are a personal enemy of the Dark Lord, after all,” Sirius explained. “So, we do keep them at a distance. For their own safety as well as ours.”

    “That seems to defeat the purpose of the visit,” Hermione remarked.

    “It’s mostly for the press, not for the people in the village,” Luna claimed. “We can write up how Harry Potter and all his friends and family visited Hogsmeade for a relaxing afternoon in Madam Puddyfoot’s private rooms! We don’t have to mention that we’re more resembling an armed patrol than a family outing.”

    Sirius chuckled while Hermione and Harry groaned. “You’re right, Luna. It’s mostly a morale booster for the rest of the country. Hopefully, people will take heart, and visit Hogsmeade again - it is one of the safest places in Britain. Even if the population seems not to know that.” He shook his head. Those cursed fools, shaking in their robes from irrational fear. “Look at the houses - all closely built together. Old houses, with old wards. Not quite on the level of Grimmauld Place, but strong. And since it’s the only pure wizard village in all of Britain, it got a permanent auror presence, and it’s right next to Hogwarts, where Dumbledore resides. They are among the safest people in Britain. And yet, a few incidents on the streets have all of them cowed, hiding even. The shops must be suffering, those that can’t offer Owl Orders at least.”

    “Another reason to visit Madam Puddyfoot’s!” Luna piped up. The glances and even glares she received didn’t faze her at all.

    “The Dark Lord must have planned that. One attack, outside a pub, and the village economy takes a massive hit.” Hermione pursed her lips. “We should do something about this.”

    “We are. Luna’s not joking. The Daily Prophet will publish an article, and I assume the Quibbler will do so too,” Remus answered the muggleborn witch. Sirius refrained from speculating what exactly the Quibbler would publish, but he was fairly certain it would be amusing.

    “We should do a family outing in the muggle world,” Valérie stated as they made their way towards Honeydukes. “It’s far more relaxing.”

    “Ah… most of the family is a bit too young to appreciate the kind of outings you are talking about,” Remus started to explain.

    “That could be handled with a few fake IDs,” Hermione said.

    Remus stared at the witch while Sirius chuckled. She defended herself. “We wouldn’t visit the strip clubs, of course. But it would be nice to relax at a place not filled with frightened people and guards.”

    Sirius looked at the rest of the students. Not everyone seemed as enthusiastic as Hermione, who probably was well aware that she could be far more open with her affection for Harry in the muggle world, but no one seemed actually opposed to the idea. “I’ll see what I can arrange.” He ignored the glare from Remus; his friend should know that Sirius didn’t consider the school rules limiting the Hogsmeade weekend to actual Hogsmeade as anything more than a weak guideline for first years who were not yet officially allowed to leave Hogwarts at all.

    After all, once you were allowed to visit Hogsmeade, its attraction diminished by quite a lot.

    “Whee! An expedition!” Luna cheered.

    Sirius suddenly wasn’t certain that this had been a good idea.

    *****​

    “Welcome, Amelia, Have a seat.” Albus Dumbledore smiled at the Head of the DMLE. “To what or whom do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

    The witch sat down. “To the fact that your office is probably the best protected room in Britain, and I don’t want to risk getting eavesdropped on.”

    Albus nodded.

    “I assume you have heard from your brother about the events in Knockturn Alley? The ‘Pleasing Pixie’?” Amelia asked.

    “Indeed. A venue operated and probably owned by Voldemort’s followers,” the Headmaster confirmed.

    “More like a base. He’s shuffling kidnapped foreign muggles through it. Sacrifices for rituals and dementors, or so we assume,” she stated with a grim expression.

    “That is a likely, if horrible explanation.” Sadly, not everyone would consider stopping such as a priority.

    “So, closing it down has a high priority. But I suspect there are spies in the Ministry, and such an operation could easily end in a catastrophe, if any information was leaked prematurely,” Amelia explained. “I’ve picked out a group of my most trusted aurors and hit-wizards,” Amelia continued.

    He nodded, not pointing out that a number of his friends were among her most trusted aurors. That would have been a faux pas. “And you worry about Voldemort coming to the rescue of his men, once battle is joined,” Albus stated. That was the most likely explanation for the delay: The fear of running into an ambush by Voldemort himself. That could not just cost Amelia her best wands, but would also be a terrible blow to the morale of the Ministry.

    “Yes.” Amelia didn’t like to admit it, of course. She was a proud and capable witch.

    “I will of course do my utmost to deal with him, should he arrive. Though should my presence be confirmed, he might use the opportunity to strike at another location.” And yet, if he joined the fight from the start, it would be over far more quickly, and with less losses.

    “That’s all we need. We can handle his men, even his best Death Eaters. But we can’t handle the Dark Lord. Not least because people panic as soon as he shows up.” She sneered.

    “Voldemort is a formidable foe, Amelia. People panic because they know he can kill them easily,” Albus stated, gently even.

    “People panic at the mere rumor of his presence. Fear of him and the mistakes it causes probably kill more of us than any one of his most powerful followers. It’s a very good thing he never wore the mask his followers wear, or any Death Eater would be seen as the Dark Lord,” Amelia scoffed.

    “As long as they cannot even speak his name, I fear there is not much we can do about that.” Albus spread his hands. “Though I think that if Voldemort would try to use the tactic you mentioned, it would not work for too long, and might even diminish the fear of him some, if people mistaken for him would be seen fleeing.”

    “Well, we can do something about his followers. The more we reduce their number, the more we hound the Death Eaters, the weaker the influence of the Dark Lord, Voldemort, grows. We’ll strike tonight, at nine.” She stood up.

    “I will be there.” Albus nodded at her.

    *****​

    Keith Yennington had just settled in with his favorite drink at his usual tale on the second floor of the ‘Pleasing Pixie’, gazing down at the main room, when the wards of the building came under attack. “Matt, Killian, check who’s trying to crack the wards!” he shouted down. It could be the ‘old crowd’ of Knockturn Alley, but his spies hadn’t told him of any such plans, and he doubted they could prepare a coordinated attack without at least rumors getting to him. Hortensius at his side had his wand out already.

    Before the two men he had sent to check on the street reached the door, it and most of the windows blew open, showering the room with glass and wood. Only the fact that he habitually sat where he couldn’t be seen from the outside saved him from injury. Others were not as lucky. Pained screams and yells rose from the main room. Keith realized to his horror that the wards had been broken so quickly that the structures they had been anchored to had been destroyed as well. There were only two men in Britain capable of such a feat, he knew, and the Dark Lord wouldn’t attack his own. Not like this.

    He had to… but if he was wrong, the punishment… no, there was no other possibility! He pressed his wand tip into his dark mark, hissing at the pain this caused, then pulled out a small mirror. “My Lord!” he spoke quickly, “The ‘Pixie’ is under attack by Dumbledore himself!”

    The mirror lit up and the Dark Lord’s response was prompt: “Send your men into the fray. Stall him. Take hostages. Do what you can to keep him occupied for as long as possible, then escape yourself!”

    Keith stammered “Y-yes, milord!” but the mirror had gone dark already. The Dark Lord wouldn’t come to his aid. It made sense, of course - what use was a base that had been uncovered? Sooner or later it would fall, unless the Dark Lord managed to vanquish all of the Ministry’s forces. And Dumbledore. And yet… this was Keith’s fiefdom, so to speak. He had taken it, built it up, made it his. To abandon it galled him. But he had no choice.

    “Wands out, they’ll be coming at us! Cover the windows! Matt! Grab a few muggles and mudbloods as hostages!” Keith shouted down, and sent a spell through the remains of a window himself. Killian didn’t look like he’d be able to do anything other than bleed for a while.

    His men, not quite handpicked, but a cut above the usual scum found in the Alley, reacted. Spells flew from their wands, through the holes in the front wall. It was a good thing he had gathered enough to go after Fenbrick and Limmington. Vicious fighters, they’d stall Dumbledore’s forces. With or without Keith’s further direction.

    He rushed to the stairs, Hortensius on his heels. Matt was there, dragging a mudblood out of the private rooms. “Shout that we have hostages! We’ll get more!” Keith yelled, passing the thug. Matt nodded, not suspecting anything, and started down the stairs to the main room. Keith and Hortensius entered the next room. His man stunned the screaming young wizard there while Keith blew a hole into the floor. It wouldn’t do to let the curse fodder defending the brothel against the aurors see their leader flee.

    A drop later the two were on the ground floor, and headed to the basement, the young man floating after them - a hostage might be useful. Just as they were climbing down the stairs to the lower basement level, where the sewer access was located, the entire building shook, and the screaming from above grew in volume. Dumbledore must have entered the fray personally.

    Keith’s robe prevented the dust shaken loose from the ceiling from touching him, but the hands he had used to steady himself on the narrow stairs were covered with it, leaving a trail of dirt on the door when he pushed open. No matter - they were entering the sewers anyway.

    “Seal the door behind us!” he yelled to Hortensius, then pointed his wand at a particular stain on the wall next to him and muttered “Incendio”. Up front, the sewer tunnels lit up with dozens of fires as the curses laid down there went off. Screams told him there had been enemies ahead. Smiling cruelly, he led Hortensius down a side tunnel, past the smoking remains of two robed figures. One of them was still moving, but a quick piercing curse to the head ended that.

    Soon they’d be past the anti-apparition wards.

    *****​

    The Dark Lord Voldemort gazed at the ruins of what had been the ancestral house of the Cowden family. With Dumbledore engaged in Knockturn Alley, it had been ripe for the picking - wards weak enough for him to be taken down quickly, and filled with a family and their retainers that had escaped his wrath once before, in the First War. Back then the wards had withstood him long enough for Dumbledore and aurors to arrive, but the replacement wards put up since that day had not been nearly as strong.

    Bella was torturing a mudblood, her laughter drowned out by the girl’s screams. Rookwood and Travers had returned from plundering the family’s coffers. The Lestrange brothers were letting Fiendfyre loose all over the building. That might take care of those still hiding in the burning house. It didn’t matter, really - they had achieved what they had come for.

    Time was running short. Yennington wouldn’t be able to stall Dumbledore for long. It wasn’t even certain the Death Eater would manage to escape, but the man had proven to be crafty. Even if his real identity was now known to the enemy, he could take over as Greenbrand, and continue his good work. And if he failed to escape… well, one Death Eater and a few thugs were a small price to pay for wiping out a prominent family that had opposed him for decades.

    “Bella.”

    The dark witch stopped at once, and turned towards him. “Milord?”

    “We need to leave.”

    A Killing Curse ended the mudblood’s suffering, and his most loyal Death Eater apparated away. A glance to the other Death Eaters prompted them to follow her example. The Dark Lord looked at the burning ruins once more, smiling. This would show those who had lived through the First War that no one escaped his wrath.

    He raised his wand to the sky.

    “Mordsmordre!”


    Chapter 29: Traps
     
    Last edited: Sep 11, 2015
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  18. macdjord

    macdjord Well worn.

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    The way you stated it originally implied that you thought that he had been isolated in canon; I believe that part of Pahan's post was just trying to correct a bit of fanon, rather than part of his critique of the story idea.
     
  19. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    Harry was kept at the Dursleys, kept from any information other than propaganda which he didn't read, and no one told him why, or when he'd see his only friends and family. That's at the very least "kept in the dark", and a stupid mistake to boot. Also, it should be clear by now that I do not care about following canon. I don't care if I "lose face" for that decision, or fail to gain the respect of the kind of people I have on ignore anyway.
     
  20. turbinicarpus

    turbinicarpus Formerly 'Pahan'

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    Thanks for the reply. I know I'm not the most diplomatic of commenters.
    So, canon, basically. :D
    OK, that works. It's a common pitfall --- canon or not --- to postulate a magical society that has everything figured out. It is, unsurprisingly often, located in the magical US. (Edit: To be clear, that's not a matter of canonicity but of good taste. ;) )
    Good point. He needs a Muggle administrative assistant. (For that matter, Minister of Magic could be a Muggle. Specialization FTW!) ;)
    In one of other fics (Uncle Quentin's Spy, I believe) you invoked this exact fanon, hence my inference that you were doing it again.
    That works.
    Perhaps I wasn't clear in my comment. Luna and Hermione I can understand --- "frenemies" being an ironic way to refer to their possible relationship dynamic --- and it's the friendship of Hermione and/or Luna with Harry and/or Ron that I was questioning. Like you wrote above, they don't actually have that much in common, and it took a troll attack for them to become friends in canon and in Patron. What do you do in this AU?
     
    Last edited: Sep 4, 2015
  21. turbinicarpus

    turbinicarpus Formerly 'Pahan'

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    Oi, that post on SB was not intended as a personal dig, for the record; a lot of people --- particularly OP!protagonist and bashfic writers --- did that exact thing.

    Anyway, I do think that even if the vocabulary no longer in active use, the framework is still there in the way people think. Consider: you write a Continuation (or Divergence before Epilogue) fic like the Marriage Law Revolution with some dubious changes to the canon setting, and catch what you refer to as a "shitstorm". Then, you write a heavy and obvious AU with extra thought and worldbuilding, and level and the nature of criticism that you do get have been a bit different, no?
     
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  22. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    I don't care about diplomacy, as long as posters remain polite.

    Yes. I pick and choose from canon - I don't dismiss it entirely. I see canon as something enabling, not limiting. Inspiration, in parts. If I want to do something, I usually check if there's something in canon that does what I want, or comes close to. If I want a story with an aristocracy, I might take the Black Family (tapestry) and Malfoy's attitude and influence, and extrapolate from there. Or I might scrap both and do something that fits better. But if there's nothing in canon that fits, I make up my own stuff.

    Too many see canon as a limitation, and never seem to go beyond that. And their writing suffers when they try to fit a square peg into a round hole.

    I think I've already demonstrated that my societies are far from Utopias, in any story.

    He needs, in this planned story, a structure that can replace him at the drop of a hat, if he dies, falls ill, or is needed to fight a war.

    I invoked this exact fanon because it fit the story very nicely, and because it's close enough to canon to have traction. Harry certainly feels isolated. And my Version of Hermione wold resent being told what she can and cannot tell Harry if she doesn't get a sufficient explanation/reason. Seeing it as an attempt to isolate Harry is a small step from there. I consider the whole "don't tell Harry anything important. Especially not why you won't tell him" as a braindead plot twist that makes no sense, other than to create artificial anger and resentment, and delay the "I have him in my head" scene until halfway through the book. Another example of "plot dictates the action" - the sensible and in character action for Dumbledore would have been to inform him right away of what he was finally told at Christmas, when he started with occlumency lessons.

    I assume the plot until that point more or less happened like in canon, with most of the stupid stuff cut away. So, the troll incident happened, but I assume the details were less "what were the staff thinking?" and more like "well, damn, no one could have foreseen that. Shut up, Sybille. Next time, warn us more clearly." Or, to use the canon defender's words, most of the "satire" and "hyperbole" in canon replaced with less extreme stuff - or more extreme, where it fits. Just basically enough hinted at changes to cover any changes to characters I want to make.

    I see it as a personal attack, especially so short on the heels of me stating that I classified Marriage law Revolution as an AU to shut the canon nazi shitposters up. Though compared to be called, with full mod approval, a "cock-gurgling faggot" on another site, it's not too bad.

    I think you are mostly mistaken there. Once the shitposters were kicked out of the thread, the feedback for "Marriage Law Revolution" on SB was on the same level as for "Patron" here.

    Not surprisingly, because apart from a "less tell, more show" complaint - taken to the extreme, in that one poster wanted me to "show, not tell" how Percy rose through the bureaucracy - the shitposters' complaints were "The characters are OOC", "it's not canon" "There is no PTSD in canon (even though the time after the battle wasn't shown), so there shouldn't be any in this", "Purebloods are not nazis", "executing mass murderers is worse than mass-murdering children", culminating in "it was a good thing that the Nazis were not all tried and sentenced after WW2 but could live on and build up their lives again" and "you should have made Neville defend a law that condones rape more successfully because purebloods can't be totally wrong!" In short, the vast majority of the shitposters took offense at the purebloods getting tried, sentenced and executed by mudbloods, and it took three or four mod visits to finally stop them from breaking the site rules in their foaming at the mouth fanboy-induced anger.

    "Marriage Law Revolution" hit some wide-spread pet peeves on SB, like muggles not being useless, purebloods being nazis, Harry/Hermione, and generally not whitewashing bigots. That was what caused the shitstorm on SB. I've reposted it on Twisting the Hellmouth, and it's my most popular story there, easily beating "Uncle Quentin's Spy" on a site aimed at Buffy Crossovers and Buffy Stories. It remains my most popular story on FFnet.

    After reading the many posts that claim a story is shit for Sirius calling Harry "Pup", for having H/Hr, for "Muggle wank", or for any other kind of pet peeve, I am really not inclined to take SB's literary criticism seriously if they basically post "green cars are lemons, red cars are fast, because I experiened that it's true". I do have some standards for intellectual honesty, and that kind of posting fails them utterly.
     
    Last edited: Sep 4, 2015
  23. Photon

    Photon Getting out there.

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    Dumbledore and Voldemore are so powerful - so why there are not active more? Most likely they have things to do but now it seems that Voldemort would be able to kill unwanted part of magical community by himself in one week.
     
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  24. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    He can't take down the older stronger wards quick enough before reinforcements arrive. This mansion had weak wards - the stronger were destroyed in the first war, and they didn't spend the fortune on restoring them.

    As far as activities go, they are leading their respective groups, but they are not as active as front line fighters because of the need to be ready for the other's next move.

    That said, there's a reason Voldemort was so feared, at least in this story. And why Dumbledore was the only one he feared. If Voldemort and Dumbledore are simply wizards a tad more powerful than the rest, things would be different, and either would be likely to die in a prolonged engagement with competent enemies. Even so, the right group of wizards could take either out - but they'd Need strong, experienced people, good tactics, some luck, and no interference from others.
     
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  25. Threadmarks: Chapter 29: Traps
    Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    Chapter 29: Traps

    The Dark Lord Voldemort appeared in what was serving as his throne room, wand still in hand. The assembled Death Eaters, all of whom had been on the raid against the Cowden family, fell to their knees. “A wonderful strike against the enemy, Master!” Bellatrix exclaimed, her face showing the same elation as her voice. Most of the others shared her expression, the masks they had worn during the battle already gone. Only one stood there with his mask still covering his face.

    “You’ve done well, my faithful,” the Dark Lord stated, bidding them to stand up with a small gesture. “We’ve removed a thorn in our side. The Ministry and Dumbledore struck at what was barely more than a decoy, filled with rabble, while we removed an entire blood traitor family from their ranks, and have sown doubt and fear in many hearts.”

    The masked wizard stiffened, but didn’t voice any objection. He seemed to have learned his lesson. Most of it, anyway. “And yet your identity has been compromised, Keith.”

    The Death Eater bowed his head, then removed his mask. He was a sharp one. The man also ignored the looks he got from the others in the room, part curious, part scornful.

    “You’ll not be able to use your own name again, not until we have crushed our enemies and have taken our rightful place as Britain’s rulers. But like everyone else, you will have your own tasks and duties to perform until then.” Voldemort raised his voice again. “This was just the first blow! We will strike again and again, until our enemies weak resolve crumbles entirely, and they are scattered before our might!”

    His faithful cheered loudly, but Voldemort took note of who was not quite as caught up in the heat of the moment as everyone else. He had need of those who saw beyond the last battle, far more than of those who only longed for carnage and revenge. Rookwood. Dolohov. Yennington. And of course Bellatrix. His Bella.

    Those who understood without having to be told that tonight had been an exception. That the Cowdens’ wards had been far weaker than any other old family’s. If he was tied up in taking down old wards, especially those originally created by blood sacrifices, when Dumbledore or a large enough force arrived, the consequences would be dire. He didn’t doubt that the old man had plans for that, and other ambushes and traps.

    Voldemort had fallen victim to such a trap once before. He didn’t plan to repeat that mistake.

    No, he was taking steps to ensure his next encounter with the Boy-Who-Lived would end quite differently.

    *****​

    An hour later, in his private room, the Dark Lord ran a cleaning charm over himself before summoning his robes onto his body. Bella was sprawled out on his bed, watching him with the satisfied and devoted smile he was so familiar with. The dark witch was nude, tempting him to return to the bed, to her. He smirked. That was a game he never tired of.

    He walked over, and her face lit up in a sultry smile as she moved, reaching out with her arms to pull him to her. When he instead he gripped her arm, and pressed his wand into the Dark Mark, once, her smile shifted to a pout.

    Grinning, he turned away, facing the door. On the bed, Bella cast a cleaning and styling charm herself, then he saw her robe, dropped on the floor right after they had entered the room an hour ago, fly towards her. As expected - she only remained nude and on his bed when he was summoning her husband and her brother in law. The Dark Lord never tired of watching that taunting game either.

    Rookwood arrived within five minutes. Contrary to Voldemort and Bellatrix, he hadn’t bothered to groom himself, other than what the charms on his robes did automatically. The Dark Lord didn’t know if the man really didn’t care about his appearance past the most basic social standards, or simply carefully cultivated his image as a wizard too devoted to the study of the Dark Arts to bother with such spells. It didn’t matter.

    “Augustus.” He nodded his head at the wizard, who bowed in return. “I trust you have recovered the memories you hid before your arrest.”

    “Yes, Master.” Rookwood smiled widely. Unspeakables who broke the law - or rather, Unspeakables who broke the law so seriously that they were sentenced to Azkaban - routinely had all their knowledge of the Department of Mysteries obliviated. Rookwood had found that out during the first war, and had given a copy of his memories to the Dark Lord, and then had had the memory of that precaution obliviated. A precaution proven to be wise in hindsight.

    “Good. I require the prophecy about myself and Harry Potter.” He stared at the wizard.

    Rookwood nodded. Contrary to Bellatrix, he didn’t argue that the prophecy had been fulfilled in Godric’s Hollow, or that the boy could be handled by Voldemort’s faithful. The Dark Lord didn’t know if that was because the wizard didn’t share those views, or because he longed to show up his former colleagues.

    “Can you overcome the prophecies defenses?” Voldemort asked while he stared straight into the man’s eyes. This was too important to trust to a braggart.

    “Yes, Master. The charms are strong, but not foolproof.” Augustus started to explain. “It will be easy to work the loopholes left so the orbs can be moved should a situation arise that requires such an action. And my former colleagues would never really lock themselves out of accessing any kind of knowledge stored in the Department.”

    The Dark Lord would have said that no magic was foolproof, that everything could be countered, if one just worked hard enough on it, but his follower had sufficient reasons to be confident he could achieve his task, and that was all that counted. “Good. You may call upon any of the faithful for help, other than those already set on other tasks, but if your intrusion requires a sacrifice, I will choose it.”

    “Of course, Master,” Augustus bowed, but for a moment, the hint of a frown was visible on his face. Voldemort almost smirked - of course the man wouldn’t just hold grudges against his former co-workers, but also against some of his current colleagues.

    The Dark Lord nodded, dismissing the former Unspeakable. He didn’t bother telling the man to be careful, not to rush things, but also not to tarry. Wizards prone to such faults didn’t become Unspeakables in the first place.

    After the man had left, Voldemort turned back to Bellatrix. Yennington had yet to receive his new tasks, and his new identity - Greenbrand was compromised as well, sadly - so he could continue his work recruiting curse fodder and making inroads in Knockturn Alley.

    But when he saw Bella lying there, nude again, one slender finger trailing over her chest, he decided to reschedule that meeting until the next day. A flick of his finger sent his own robe floating to his chair as he joined his Bella in his bed.

    *****​

    Pansy Parkinson rubbed her aching rump. Those stinging hexes hurt. A numbing spell would help, but then she might be seen as cheating, and that would be bad. Not only would the instructors switch targets and spells - and who would have thought the quiet and always polite Professor Lupin had such a nasty streak? - but Ron Weasley would think she was cheating as well. And that would ruin her plans.

    Eager, honest, friendly. That was how she had to appear. After five years of hanging with Draco, the Gryffindors didn’t trust her at all. Her public break-up had helped her image with the house of the often suicidally brave some, but she was still on thin ice. Although she thought the redhead working as a teaching assistant was coming around, if very slowly. At least if she was correctly judging the dark glares his Ravenclaw girlfriend was sending towards her.

    Like now. She smiled at the fuming, jealous girl, then raised her hand. “Mister Weasley? Could you show me how to dodge and cast a shield at the same time, again?”

    The Gryffindor hesitated but for a second, then walked over to her. “We’re switching soon to another lesson.”

    “Even more of a reason to learn this right,” Pansy chirped. The slight frown on his face told her she was perhaps overdoing it a bit - Weasley had turned out to be smarter than she had thought. Pureblood from a very fertile family, best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived, famous as a Basilisk Slayer, and smarter than he looked. He was quite the catch. If she managed to become his girlfriend, that would be a coup. And Draco would be foaming at the mouth. That made her remember how her ex-boyfriend had changed last year, and she winced.

    “Is something wrong?” Weasley asked, raising his eyebrows.

    “No, no. I was just thinking about Draco’s reaction to me learning from you,” Pansy explained - truthfully, even if her words were misleading as well. “It reminded me that learning how to dodge curses is quite important.”

    “Ah.” The redheaded wizard nodded in understanding, and went on to show her a few ways to jump and roll to her feet again. Pansy paid great attention to how he moved, and how his enchanted robe moved. He really had a nice body. Hopefully he’d be showing more of it during their 6th year. His brothers had, at least the twins. If he shared their build...

    Pansy used the occasion to fail the first few attempts. Weasley cushioned her fall, as planned, with a few quick spells, and she thanked him earnestly.

    The Slytherin witch thought his smile was less forcedly polite when Potter called for a break before the next part of the lessons. A hidden glance at Patil confirmed it: she was making progress.

    *****​

    Ron Weasley sat down on a conjured seat next to his girlfriend when Harry started the lesson about mind control spells, and their tells. He felt a bit winded - teaching was strenuous, even if he was just assisting the others. He had to keep his eyes open, watch out for mistakes, and more importantly, for Slytherins trying to curse others under the guise of training. And it seemed half the class needed help with the most basic instructions. But he could relax now, while Harry taught the group. Ron’s friend was using Hermione’s notes, of course, but distilling it down to the most useful parts. The Gryffindor glanced at the muggleborn witch sitting next to the small stage and caught her slight frown when she noticed yet another deviation from her script.

    He smiled, slightly shaking his head. His best female friend knew Harry, knew what he was doing, and still felt irked that her text wasn’t being followed to the letter. Well, she could copy it and pass it out as cheat sheets. The Ravenclaws would take enough for their whole tower.

    Speaking of Ravenclaws… he smiled at Padma, then blinked when he caught her glare. “Is something wrong?” he whispered.

    Padma looked away, seemingly focusing on Harry, even though she had heard that lesson before. “Nothing.”

    He sighed. He had just spent an hour teaching a bunch of witches - too many of them Slytherins! - how to dodge and shield at the same time. He didn’t need this. “Come on, tell me, Did anyone hex you?”

    “No.”

    “What’s wrong then? You did well, I saw it. Better than most.” It was true - Padma hadn’t needed any help. Granted, she had had more such lessons, but still, it was a respectable showing.

    She briefly smiled, then scowled. “Maybe I should have asked for help.”

    “Well, I don’t think you needed help, but we can train after this. Just you and me.” He reached out and put his arm around her shoulder, then whispered into her ear: “And we don’t have to limit ourselves to Hermione’s lesson plan…”

    He felt the witch lean into his side, sighing - which caused her chest to move in interesting ways. “Parkinson was flirting with you for the entire lesson.”

    He chuckled. “She’s trying to pull one over on me, but I’m not going to be fooled by her. Don’t worry. She has about as many chances with me as Greengrass has with Harry.” He nudged her and pointed at the Slytherin witch, who had changed out of her school robes into in robes a 6th year might think twice before wearing. And Harry still wasn’t paying any attention to the blonde snake, or to her slightly less risqué dressed friend. Well, any attention past what was required by politeness.

    Strangely, Padma didn’t seem to find this as reassuring or funny as Ron. The Indian witch scowled even more. “I bet you that half the witches will copy that outfit for the next lesson. Especially Parkinson.”

    “Oh.” Ron hadn’t thought of that. A humorless chuckle escaped him. If anyone had told him a few months ago he’d prefer witches to show less skin in his presence, he’d have laughed out loud. He glanced over at Hermione. Maybe that was the real reason for the witch’s bad mood. But if it was, the next lesson would be ‘interesting’. Like juggling fiendfyre.

    “Bugger.”

    *****​

    “Remarkable.”

    Hermione Granger, sitting next to Harry Potter, smiled proudly at hearing the praise from Dumbledore. Her new ‘Protean Charm Tracking Charm’ obviously had impressed even the Headmaster. Harry held her hand, smiling as well.

    “The restriction to Protean Charms, while seeming to limit the spell, allows it to evade most of the ways to detect a standard tracking charm. Ingenious, Miss Granger.”

    She nodded. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

    “I trust you have thought about possible applications for this spell already.” The old wizard rolled up the parchment detailing the wand movements, and the brief description of the effect and its limits she had prepared, before duplicating it a few times with a wave of his wand.

    “Yes, Sir. It can be used to mark items the Dark Lord might want to steal, in order to track them,” Harry answered. “It can also be cast on small, harmless looking things a suspect might be tricked into picking up. Like coins. And if everyone on our side is carrying a few marked objects, they can be tracked and rescued, should they be taken prisoner.”

    Hermione didn’t think the likelihood of the Death Eaters taking many prisoner was that high, but they did kidnap people - mostly civilians though. Easy targets. It certainly wouldn’t hurt though. Unles the Dark Lord managed to track the items.

    “And without knowing the exact formula used for the charm to mark the item, it’s not possible to track it. A good safety measure,” the Headmaster continued. “Not perfect though, so it should be used sparingly I think.”

    A frustrating limit, Hermione would call it - her real goal was, after all, to find a way to track the Dark Marks. And this spell wouldn’t allow that, not without having unraveled their mysteries. But it would be useful. She had known that, Harry and Ron had agreed, and Dumbledore had just confirmed it. And knowing she was helping to fight Voldemort, knowing she was making a difference, felt good.

    “I am very impressed, Miss Granger. I would award you extra credit and house points, but that might compromise the secrecy needed to use your invention,” the old wizard stated, while smiling apologetically.

    “I understand, Headmaster,” she answered. She did, but she didn’t like it. It was another achievement of hers that would not be appreciated or even known as it should be.

    Harry squeezed her hand. He knew how she felt.

    “Rest assured though that once this conflict is over, your brilliant invention will be revealed, and…” Dumbledore suddenly stopped and pulled out a small mirror from his robe. His smile vanished and he looked at them with a very serious expression. “I have to leave at once. We will have to continue our discussion another time.”

    When he didn’t wait for her and Harry to leave before he walked to the floo, Hermione knew something important had happened. That she didn’t know what was happening, didn’t even know where the Headmaster had traveled to, seeing as the private floo had been under a privacy charm, was even more vexing than her invention remaining secret.

    She glanced at Harry, who slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “He’ll tell us later, I guess,” he stated. “But we should leave now.”

    “Yes,” she agreed. “There’s no point in staying.” It wasn’t as if they could peruse the books in the office, they’d be protected even in the Headmaster’s absence. She didn’t know what made her add, other than it was a delightfully naughty fantasy she had had for some time: “Unless you want to be able to tell your godfather that we made out on the Headmaster’s desk.”

    Harry gaped at her for a second, then he smiled widely. Before she could blink, he had pushed her back towards the desk, then kissed her. No spell threw them out, not even when she sat down on the desk.

    *****​

    Albus Dumbledore’s expression when he left the floo in the Ministry’s atrium was enough for the handful of aurors and hit-wizards who were arriving at the same time to scatter. This was fine by him - he was headed straight to the elevator to the Department of Mysteries.

    “Albus!” Amelia Bones’s call made him look at the head of the DMLE, who was also just leaving the floo, but the old wizard didn’t stop or shorten his stride. “What’s going on? Who sounded the alarm?”

    “There’s possible trouble in the Department of Mysteries. I am lending a hand.“ He heard her curse and order her witches and wizards to take up positions in the atrium while he entered the elevator. If what he feared had come to pass, they might stop whoever was responsible from leaving - but if whoever was responsible managed to defeat Albus, the chances of the DMLE’s finest wouldn’t be good. They’d still do their best, of course.

    Saul Croaker had called him a minute ago, alerting him that the trap guarding the entrance to the Hall of Prophecies had been triggered. If the Dark Lord had managed to break into the Department, if he had brought his Death Eaters along…

    The wards at the door still held though. Of course, they could have been bypassed, but without any trace of manipulation? He entered, wand ready and shield up, a few conjured slabs of marble floating in front of him. Three hooded figures were waiting for him.

    “Hello Albus.” One of them greeted him. His robe made his voice as unrecognizable as his face, but Albus knew that charm, and knew how it worked. This was Saul.

    “Unspeakable,” he nodded at his friend. With others present, no names would be used. “What is the situation?”

    “The alarms on the entrance to the Hall of Prophecies were triggered five minutes ago. You were informed as soon as possible, and the hallways were sealed up. We’re missing two of our co-workers.” Saul stated as they made their way to the hall. Behind them the entrance they had taken was sealed as well. If anyone was still around they would not escape without breaking through some of the strongest wards in Britain.

    They found the first missing Unspeakable in the hallway. Dead, with maggots feasting on the rotting body. Saul stopped a second, either identifying the body, or studying the curse. With Saul, one could not be sure.

    “No sign of a struggle. She was surprised.” Saul retook his place at Albus side.

    “That’s not one of his typical spells,” the Headmaster explained. There was no need to explain who ‘he’ was.

    “The Killing Curse is more his style,” Saul agreed.

    “Only if its use makes sense;” Albus qualified the statement.

    The second missing Unspeakable was near the end of the hallway. He or she had put up a fight. The walls, the floor and the ceiling were still torn up, the enchantments on them slowly working to overcome the effects of the spells that had been slung back and forth. The corpse was missing most of its chest.

    “Heartbuster,” Saul stated, naming a curse that literally made the target’s heart explode. It was slower and more difficult to cast than a blasting curse, but while a shield would stop it, most of the enchantments on a robe would be bypassed. Most, but not all. Another sign that this was not Voldemort’s wandwork.

    Then they reached the entrance itself - and another corpse wearing an Unspeakable’s robe. It was on the ground, almost touching the rune-covered door. Thin, atrophied hands and wrists were visible, the rest was still hidden by the enchanted garment.

    Saul cast a spell on the robes, causing them to briefly flicker, and grow slightly. A flick of his wand then drew the hood back, revealing a head that had lost all hair and was barely more than a skull covered by leathery skin, with shriveled, blind eyes staring at them.

    “The syphoning trap has worked as expected.” Saul sounded pleased and proud. Despite the fact that the lethal trap going off meant all the nonlethal ones meant to capture an intruder had already been bypassed or defused.

    “Augustus Rookwood,” Albus recognized the man, despite the horrible effect of Saul’s invention. Grindelwald’s prisoners had looked like that, but they had been alive still. Some had been friends of his.

    “What?” Saul bent down, running his wand over the corpse, then stood up and summoned its wand, leaving it floating in front of him. “Merlin’s grimoire, you’re right! That’s his wand.” He turned to Dumbledore. “But how is that possible? He was obliviated of all his knowledge of the Department right after his sentence. He should not have been able to pass for a member of the Department, much less manage to get through the entrance.”

    “He might have had help,” the Headmaster stated in a grim voice. If there was another traitor in the Department…

    “But if he had help, why wasn’t the body vanished? His presence would point us in that direction, and any of my colleagues would have known that.” Saul rubbed his concealed chin.

    “Nevertheless, you have to investigate this possibility. And another, equally disturbing: That Voldemort found a way to undo obliviations.”

    Saul hissed at that thought. “If he found a way to undo an obliviation, after 10 years have passed and the mind has changed so much…”

    “There are other possible explanations, I am certain of that. But we cannot overlook the more disturbing ones either.” The old wizard said, smiling faintly.

    “If I had known how much trouble this would cause, I’d have handed the prophecy over to the Dark Lord. This will set my research back by ages!” Saul complained, jokingly. At least Albus hoped his friend was joking.

    A quick investigation of the site didn’t reveal anything else. There was no sign of another intruder or a traitor. Which didn’t prove there hadn’t been one. No one was found in the other sealed areas of the department either. The Unspeakables would conduct a more thorough investigation, of course, but Albus couldn’t stay much longer. If this was a feint from the Dark Lord...

    “I will inform Amelia of this,” the Headmaster finally said, sighing.

    “I don’t envy you,” Saul chuckled - both knew how stubborn the witch could be. “She’ll be even unhappier than usual, after having had to play doorguard.”

    Albus sighed again.

    *****​

    As expected, Amelia Bones was not in a good mood. At least she didn’t start her interrogation until they both had reached the privacy of her office “Albus, what’s going on in the bowels of the Ministry? The alarm was sounded, but nobody or nothing was seen outside the Department of Mysteries.”

    “Augustus Rookwood tried to break into his old workplace. He did not survive the attempt. Security measures had been taken in expectation of such an event and proved to be effective, if lethal,” Albus explained.

    “One of the escaped prisoners dead… I’ll need the corpse. We can deduce a lot about where he was from his state!” She blinked. “Unless the ‘security measures’ used on him were a bit too violent.”

    “I am quite certain the Unspeakables will do what they can to help you,” Albus answered. He wouldn’t reveal the exact nature of the cause of Rookwood’s death, lest someone leaked it, and the Dark Lord could create a counter - or copy it.

    Amelia huffed. “So, we deployed for nothing, but the Dark Lord lost one of his best wizards. Quite a good trade, right?”

    She was fishing, Albus knew. “He didn’t reach his objective.”

    The partial answer didn’t mollify the witch much, but she nodded at least. “And I assume the Unspeakables will deliver the results of their investigation when they are ready, and you cannot give an estimate of when that will be?”

    Albus just smiled ruefully. It didn’t garner much sympathy, but reminded her that he, too, had to deal with the most eccentric and secretive department of the Ministry. “Speaking of results… did the raid on the ‘Pleasing Pixie’ garner any leads to other bases of the Dark Lord, or clues about his plans?”

    Amelia hesitated for a moment, probably tempted to act as secretive as Saul and Albus, but her professionalism won out over her pride. “Sadly, not much. We’ve found a few more names of possible recruits, but they do not look like inner circle material at all. Keith Yennington was the one we wanted, and he and his bodyguard escaped. Finnegan Greenbrand was the brothel owner, but he has only been around sporadically according to the staff we questioned, and his home has been deserted for months.” She used her wand to summon a bottle of Firewhiskey from her desk, as well as two glasses. The bottle filled the two floating glasses while she continued. “We have the names of a number of his clients from the prisoners and the prostitutes there. Those who used the kidnapped muggles. They might have ties to the Dark Lord, or at least share his views.” Her thin-lipped smile promised trouble for those men and women no matter what.

    “Did you find out where the muggles came from?” Albus asked in a mild voice despite his strong feelings on the matter.

    “Africa, mostly, and the Balkans. Some have been obliviated of any knowledge, others… have been broken. We’re looking for a way to get them back to their world, their families, if they have any left, but they’ll need a lot of help still.” Amelia raised her glass, then downed the drink.

    Albus followed her example. “Two areas where muggles in large numbers can go missing without anyone taking much notice. And two areas where our reach is somewhat limited.”

    “Yes. The Ottomans claim to reign over Magical Northern Africa, but their control is tenuous at best, and fictional in places. And the Balkans…” Amelia trailed off, wincing.

    Albus nodded. He was familiar with that area. “I have a few contacts still, dating back to the Intervention. I will ask them to look into stopping those kidnappings.” He didn’t have to add that there was not much of a chance this would help.

    “I’ll set a few of my aurors on tracking down and infiltrating the muggle traffickers. And we’ll have to work on stomping out the kind of businesses that deal in those ‘goods’.” Amelia cleaned the glasses with a twist of her wand, then sent them and the bottle back to where she had summoned them from. She snorted. “The other scum in the Alley might even help with that, as long as it gets rid of the competition.”

    “Some pressure on them to not stoop as low as the Dark Lord might improve their practises as well,” the Headmaster remarked. Amelia snorted again, but didn’t contradict him.

    Maybe some good would come of this, but despite his own words, Albus didn’t think so.

    *****​

    Usually, Harry Potter wasn’t that comfortable or happy when doing his prefect patrols. Having Hermione walking behind him while he was walking with a female prefect at his side felt wrong. It was one thing to keep up appearances in public, surrounded by other students, it was another when doing so while patrolling the dark, empty hallways of Hogwarts at night in a group of three. Hermione should have been at his side, not behind him. She should have been the other Gryffindor prefect, not Parvati Patil. The whole situation just demonstrated how unfairly muggleborns were treated.

    Today though things felt different. Harry couldn’t help smiling when he remembered them snogging on the Headmaster’s desk. Hermione’s proposal probably hadn’t been serious; she wasn’t usually that daring. But it had been the perfect opportunity to do something wild, something far different from the facade of proper conduct Hermione and he were forced into. He loved to see Hermione showing her mischievous side like this. Especially like this - pranking was nice, but snogging beat it.

    That it was also something his godfather hadn’t managed was just the icing on the cake. Harry was looking forward to casually mentioning what he had done the next time Sirius told stories about his 6th year exploits, and tried to edge him into similar antics.

    He glanced back to Hermione while Susan Bones checked a particularly dark corner with a Wand-Lighting Charm. She looked happier too. The two exchanged smiles, less wistful than usual, until their redheaded friend turned around.

    “Nothing. As expected. I wonder why we have to do those patrols anyway. We’re students, not guards,” the Hufflepuff complained.

    “It teaches us responsibility,” Harry answered with one of the reasons given to him when he had asked.

    Susan scoffed. “It robs us of our beauty sleep. Besides, it’s an open secret that the 6th year prefects use the patrols as an opportunity for some ‘exploration’.” The witch grinned at the last word in a rather lecherous way. Glancing back at Hermione, she added “Are you looking forward to that as well? The Prefect’s Bathroom could fit us three with room to spare…”

    Harry saw Hermione’s eyes widen at the implication, then turn to him. Pleading, warning… he wasn’t sure. He had to say something though - Hermione insisted on keeping up appearances since this was ‘an official function’. It often made a patrol rather awkward. Which, he realized, probably was her goal in the first place.

    He tried for a neutral answer. “That’s not a topic we have discussed so far.” That was true, even. The two of them talked about ‘Harry’s Hopefuls’, if they were using one of Hermione’s more polite terms used for the pureblood witches pursuing him, quite often - or rather, Hermione talked about them while Harry mostly listened. But their friends making such offers… they didn’t talk about that. Didn’t want to talk about that.

    It looked like they’d have to, though.

    “Mh.” Susan grinned, but didn’t comment further.

    He exchanged another glance with Hermione. Yes, they definitely had to talk about that. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

    *****​

    The Dark Lord Voldemort knew Augustus had failed the instant Macnair entered his throne room. The executioner for the Ministry was afraid, even if he was trying to hide it, and that meant something had happened at the Ministry that the wizard thought would anger him. “I see Rookwood has failed.” His words made Macnair stop, and he was certain the Death Eater was gaping behind his mask.

    “Y-yes, Master. There was an alert, last night, and the Department of Mysteries was sealed off. Dumbledore was seen entering, then leaving, and the aurors and hit-wizards were told to stand down. I heard from another employee that an intruder had been killed.” Macnair’s voice grew steadier as he spoke and realized he’d not be punished.

    Voldemort almost shook his head. Why would he punish one man for another’s failure? When he had enemies to vent his anger on, should he choose to? He nodded instead. “He knew what risks he was braving for me, and he will be remembered as one of my most faithful.” He smirked when Macnair trembled at that comment - the man knew very well that he hadn’t been as faithful as Augustus. Though he might yet prove to be useful as a spy in the Ministry. Or at least, able to spring an important prisoner from its cells, should the need arise. It wasn’t as if the man was born to be a spy - he was a brute who delighted in violence, but those were a sickle a dozen in the Dark Lord’s ranks, even with the recent losses.

    “Keep your eyes and ears open, but do not draw attention to yourself.” A gesture sent the man away, bowing and scaping.

    Once the door had closed behind the Death Eater, Voldemort leaned back in his chair. Bellatrix, never far from his side, stepped up to him. She didn’t touch him, nor spoke, but simply stood there.

    He took a deep breath, then another. It was a setback, not a defeat. Augustus would be missed, but his failure proved that he had not been as reliable and skilled as he, and Voldemort, had thought. “I might have to think of another way to get the contents of the prophecy.”

    “You will succeed, Master,” Bellatrix stated with utter conviction.

    “Of course. But the prophecy is well-guarded. I think I will have to take the Ministry to gain access to it, and once I have achieved that, there wouldn’t be much of a need to know the prophecy anymore.” Unless Potter was still alive. “The seer who made the prophecy is still alive, but safe at Hogwarts. And even if she could remember her prophecy, Dumbledore would have had obliviated her of the knowledge.”

    He stood up, pacing around. “No… the Ministry is the key still. They are bound to give anyone mentioned in a prophecy access to it. At least those not involved in a war against the Ministry. We need someone mentioned in another prophecy. Someone who will be able to enter the hall without raising suspicion. Someone we can influence without resorting to magic. A tall order, but not impossible.”

    It would be a long shot, but it seemed to be the only way to reach the prophecy. And he needed it. Without knowing what the prophecy said, he was too vulnerable and couldn’t plan properly. He had been defeated once, when he went after Potter without knowing the full prophecy. He’d not make the same mistake again.

    Of course, all that was just a backup plan in case the boy survived the summer.

    *****​

    Keith Yennington looked at his new body and sighed. If only Finnegan Greenbrand had not been compromised as the ‘Pleasing Pixie’s’ owner. That wizard at least had been young and handsome. The body of Francis Farseer though was old and less handsome. At least it was male. Though staring at his suddenly flabby stomach, stubby legs and wrinkled skin made him think that using a witch’s body might have been the lesser evil, even if he would have had to learn how to move and act.

    Hortensius at least was impersonating a younger wizard to play Farseer’s bodyguard, the lucky wand. Keith glanced at the man, and noticed just how carefully neutral an expression he was showing.

    “You know, having you pose as a female courtesan instead of a bodyguard would probably help with our disguise,” Keith stated, and grinned when the man flinched.

    “Farseer entering Knockturn Alley without at least one bodyguard would draw a lot of attention though,” Hortensius countered.

    “Right. It was just a joke,” Keith admitted. “I am not fond of wearing a body I cannot move quickly in when I need to.” He could cast well enough, but he wouldn’t be able to dodge much, or take cover easily.

    Hortensius nodded. He’d have to make up the difference as a bodyguard. Keith knew he would - he was one of his best men. A bit more experience, maybe a bit more initiative as well, and he’d recommend him as one to be marked. That would strengthen his own position among the followers of the Dark Lord as well. If the Dark Lord agreed, of course.

    “Let’s hit the Alley. We have some carousing to do.”

    *****​

    Mathilda Miller, wearing another muggle wig and tanned to a darker skin tone, felt another hand grab her butt when she walked past a crowded table. Her experience and training made it easy to giggle and smile instead of hexing the thug’s face off, even as she evaded his attempt to pull her onto his lap. He was a two-knut wand for hire, and she was after other targets this day.

    She made her way to the bar, walking slowly and provocatively, smiling at anyone in her vicinity so she had enough time and a cover for studying the tavern. She wouldn’t be caught by an ambush again. In a side booth, an old wizard was molesting a young witch while his bodyguard looked on boredly. Francis Farseer, looking quite vigorous for his age. But then again, as one of her first regulars in Paris used to say: ‘lechery keeps wizards young’. Until it didn’t anymore, of course. Farseer was a regular in Knockturn Alley, and had his fingers in a few of the businesses there according to rumors, but Mathilda didn’t think there was much truth behind those rumors - he didn’t look like a player. Not the kind of player that ran a business in the Alley, at least.

    The tavern looked safe - or as safe as the Alley got, these days, which was not as much as she would have liked. The ruffians and mercenaries were tense, on edge, and it was hard to tell who was working for whom. For most of the wands, at least. Some though were quite suspicious. Those who had more gold than usual, and didn’t spend it in the taverns of the Old Crowd, were likely to be working for the Dark Lord - knowingly or not. And Mathilda was dressed just classy enough to attract that kind of wand for hire looking for pleasures he hadn’t been able to afford until now.

    Like the one ogling her now, wearing brand-new robes and a lecherous expression. She tossed her hair back and slowly looked him over while licking her lips. Faking a pleased smile, she turned towards him, and let her robe’s neckline descend a bit more. His gaze followed, and she was certain he wouldn’t be able to tell the color of her eyes even after an hour of talking to her.

    Not that the man would spend that much time talking. Mathilda expected to be in a private room in half an hour, or less. Then all she had to do was make sure he thought keeping a piece of her clothes as a trophy was his idea all along.

    *****​

    Sirius Black was recasting the ‘Protean Charm Tracking Charm’ again. Hermione really needed some help with naming things. If she and Harry ever had children, he had to make sure she didn’t get to name them.

    “Any change?” Valérie asked.

    “No. The ‘item’ hasn’t moved at all so far,” Sirius couldn’t help but grin at the thought of what items exactly he had been marking with a Protean Charm for this mission.

    “It might be another safe ‘ouse.” Chantal remarked, staring at the house in question - more like a cottage - through her omnioculars.

    “Or it might be the mercenary’s own ‘ome,” Laure spoke up. “If we call in reinforcements, and it turns out to be just one mercenary…”

    “Not to mention that we’re supposed to keep the methods we are using to track them a secret,” Eugénie reminded everyone.

    “Beel and me can shred the wards though, and we can handle the typical raiding group.” Fleur claimed confidently. Her fiancé nodded - not, Sirius thought, that any red-blooded or redhaired wizard would disagree with his girlfriend if they were in his place.

    Everyone was looking at him, the wizard realized. He was the leader of their group. He had to make the call. Attack, retreat, call for help, or wait and hope they’d leave for a raid? He wanted to attack. To show that scum how it felt to be stuck in a cottage while the wards were breaking, unable to flee from certain death.

    But that would be reckless. The kind of stupid stunt he would have done in the last war, if not for more experienced people leading him. Had done, despite wiser advice. He’d not risk his family like that. Veela might be able to throw fireballs around at will, be able to transform and shred a wizard with their claws, but they were not invulnerable, and curses hurt them like anyone else. With the exception of giants and their kin, of course. And ambushing the Death Eaters in the middle of a raid would be safer than attacking them in their base. Less likely for enemy reinforcements to arrive as well. Always assuming that the thug even carried the marked item with him, instead of dropping it off. But Sirius was pretty sure he’d keep it on him - he had done the same, back in the last war, and many others he had known had done so as well.

    “We wait some more. We can always raid the cottage later, after further observation.” Hadn’t the Weasley twins created some items to peep and spy on people? Sirius could buy them in bulk, and with a legitimate excuse now!

    His group settled down to wait, safely hidden from view by the distance, and by the cover of an abandoned stable. No one tried to let it show, but everyone was tense. Bill and Fleur sat together, the veela in the wizard’s lap, whispering. Chantal kept staring at the cottage, only interrupting her vigil to briefly rub the bridge of her nose. Laure and Eugénie were watching their surroundings like hawks. And Valérie… was watching him pace.

    He flashed her a smile, then recast the Protean Charm Tracking Charm again. Hermione had mentioned something about comparing the times and locations of all attacks, to predict future attacks. Apparently muggles were that predictable. Sirius didn’t think it would work with Death Eaters - they were crazy after all. Like rabid animals. He knew it, After having spent ten years in a cell next to the worst of them.

    For a second he was back in his cell, cold and shivering from the effects of the dementors, tormented by guilt and nightmares. He didn’t notice he was trembling until he felt Valérie’s arms around him, her head resting on his shoulder and her chest pressed into his back. She was warm, safe, comforting. Everything Azkaban was not.

    Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and whispered “thank you” to her. She didn’t answer, just held him, but he knew she was smiling, just as he knew no one was looking at them right now and no one would mention his ‘episode’.

    An hour and a dozen tracking charms later - they lasted longer, but it gave him something to do while waiting, and was good training - he noticed the tracked man had moved. “Up and ready, they’ve apparated away!” he said loudly. Valérie was at his side, she hadn’t left him at all, and after a quick disillusionment spell he side-apparated her along to a location about 500 meters away from his target while the others were still getting up. They knew the plan.

    The animagus and the veela appeared in a small field, with low hedges on its borders. Sirius turned in the direction his wand was indicating, and spotted a small but sturdy looking house in the expected distance. Probably one of the dwindling numbers of older muggleborn homes that had not yet been abandoned in favor of their patron’s mansions.

    His own omnioculars showed dark-robed figures surrounding it. He reached out until his hand found his girlfriend’s invisible body, then took her hand and pointed at a corner of the field, where a bush was granting some feeble cover. “We’ll gather there.”

    “D’accord.”

    A second later, both of them were back at the stable, picking up their passengers for the next side-apparition. Not even 30 seconds later, all of the members of Sirius’s Sexy Strike Squad, as he liked to think of them, were assembled on the field, crouching down.

    “Alright, you know the drill,” he started. “They’ve surrounded the house, we will hit them in the back. Bill and Fleur, you put up the anti-apparition and portkey jinxes. Once you’re ready, fireball the closest one. The rest will strike as well then. They’ll have anti-disillusionment jinxes up, so don’t get too close. Go!”

    Invisible and silenced, they moved towards the house, spreading out as they got closer. Sirius wished he had a way to keep track of where everyone of his group was. Hermione and Harry had told him about enchanted glasses that could track others like the Marauder’s Map, but so far Remus and himself hadn’t managed to get that kind of enchantment working. Maybe with Hermione and Harry filling in for James...

    He reached his chosen spot, the farthest away from their original position, and took aim at the Death Eater guarding the left side of the house. The animagus could see people rushing around inside the house, panicking. Despairing. He snarled. They’d not be harmed, he told himself.

    Suddenly, two fireballs flew at one of the Death Eaters in the front of the house. Before they struck their target, eight more from the other veela were on the way, and the night turned briefly to day. Sirius saw the black-robed man in front of him jerk, then spin around, and let loose with a volley of curses himself. The masked man’s shield took two of them, and his robe’s enchantments flared as it absorbed the next two spells. The dark wizard was quick to retaliate, but Sirius, still disillusioned, had already moved to the side, and the Death Eater’s spells went wide.

    A Blasting Curse of his own aimed at the ground sent the man staggering and interrupted his attempts to recast his shield. A Piercing Curse was stopped by the robe, as was an Incendio, but his Bone-Breaking Curse got through the remains of the robe, and the man screamed when his leg snapped like a twig. He still managed to send a few spells back into Sirius’s direction, among them a Killing Curse, but aimed at an invisible opponent, they were easily dodged. The time that had cost him meant that his next bone-crushing spell was stopped by the robe’s recovered protection though. Snarling, Sirius rapidly cast a few of his family’s darker spells and didn’t stop until he had reduced the man to a glob of burning flesh.

    Meanwhile, the veela’s fireballs kept raining down on the Death Eaters, shattering shields and setting robes on fire as enchantments overloaded and failed. He saw one man running around, burning and screaming, before being hit by another fireball, and ending on the ground, mercifully silent now.

    Another Death Eater was faring better, having rushed to the house while only slightly singed. They couldn’t use fireballs without risking setting the house they had come to save on fire. Curses on the other hand were safe to use, and the Death Eater didn’t last long when two focused on him. His robes must have been weakened before by the fire.

    While Sirius was about to move around to the back of the house, he suddenly felt a tingling sensation, and noticed his disillusionment fading. He dropped to the ground and rolled to the side at once, then changed into Padfoot and sprinted around the corner while behind him, curses struck the grass and stone steps of the garden.

    He cleared the corner, and was snout to mask with another Death Eater. Without any hesitation he pounced, bowling the man over and causing his curse to go wide. They hit the ground, and his jaws closed around the man’s neck. A jerk of his head later, the dark wizard was missing most of his throat. Padfoot almost swallowed it while his enemy died, but remembered to spit the meat out. Changing back into Sirius he took cover at the corner, ignoring the warm blood covering his face and running down his throat and chest.

    He crouched down and looked around it. There was the bastard, sending spells up in the air - the veelas had taken to the sky in their bird form. Focusing on his attempts to hit the flying witches, the Death Eater didn’t notice Sirius’s spells until it was too late and his shield was shattered and his robe transfigured into a boa constrictor. Before he managed to finite that spell, two fireballs burned both him and the snake, and a Piercing Curse to the head from Sirius finished him off.

    Sirius quickly checked the sky himself, four veela were flying, but one of them, Laure, had trouble, bleeding from a wound to her leg. She didn’t land though. No more spells were flying, or at least Sirius couldn’t see any, but that didn’t mean the danger was over. He didn’t think the kind of thugs they had ambushed and decimated were the kind to hide and strike, risking their lives to deal another blow to their enemy. They were far more likely to flee. But he had to make sure the enemy was beaten, and everyone of his was safe.

    Padfoot ran around the house, past the mostly charred corpses of the Death Eaters. He neither saw nor smelled any living foe. Fleur and Bill were alive, though the redhead had taken a curse judging from the way he was holding his side and how the veela stood protectively in front of him. He looked like he’d live though.

    Padfoot changed to Sirius, and the wizard turned towards the house, speaking loudly: “You should be safe now, but remain inside until the aurors have arrived.” Hopefully, they hadn’t seen too much of the battle, and the information about their tactics wouldn’t leak. Not that they could use the same tactics again. Complete surprise on their side, and striking from an ambush while disillusioned, against a bunch of thugs, and still two of their numbers ended up hurt? That wasn’t exactly an overwhelming victory. He’d have to address that, but later. Merlin’s balls, he was starting to think like Remus talked!

    Laure had landed, and the cut on her leg was being taken care of by Eugénie. It wasn’t a dark curse - the thugs had cast remarkably few dark curses, as far as he could tell - and as a member of the Black family, he was quite versed in that kind of knowledge. Another sign that those men and women had been curse fodder, not marked Death Eaters. Chantal had blood dripping from her claws, she must have shredded an enemy in melee. Valérie was looking around, feathers fading and eyes blazing. Sirius felt something stir in him, watching the veela. Padfoot, he realized, recognizing fellow predators.

    He shook his head and cleaned his own face and chest, then tracked down the corpse of the wizard that had led them unwittingly, to the raiders. It was one of the heavily burned bodies, most of his the robe and his skin gone, leaving blackened, shriveled flesh. He vanished it anyway.

    Should the aurors find some knickers on a dark wizard’s corpse, Sirius was sure the news would spread through the whole DMLE. And that could endanger the spy who had placed them on the target.

    *****​

    The Dark Lord Voldemort shook his head as he read the report Bella had brought to him. “So, your sister’s brat claims he has a spy close to Potter.”

    “Yes, Master.” Bella, standing next to his seat in his room, nodded.

    “How trustworthy is Malfoy?” He slid the parchment over his desk. Narcissa had neat penmanship. As expected from a pureblood witch from a good family.

    “He’s a braggart, but he’d not dare lying to you.” Bella grinned. He understood what she meant at once.

    “Like Lucius then. He would omit certain things and stress others to make him look better. And your sister has likely rewritten his report, to polish it a bit.” Voldemort shook his head.

    “Yes, Master.” Bellatrix smirked. She knew as well as he did that Narcissa had, in her attempt to protect her son from his own arrogance, turned second-hand information into third-hand information.

    “Which means this is very unlikely to be accurate. Still, the gist of the report might be true. Potter’s training his schoolmates. And the names of those participating might be correct as well.” Though he’d not put it past Lucius’s son to pad the list with rivals or other people he held a grudge against.

    “I can get a memory of a session from one of the students named, Master,” Bella offered, eagerly.

    He shook his head. “No. You’d only be able to get your wand on one of them in Hogsmeade, and that village is too closely guarded.” She opened her mouth, but his raised hand stopped her protest. “I know you could do it, but information about a child’s lessons is not worth the risk you would have to take. Eostra Break will offer more opportunities, with far less risk.”

    Bella nodded. “Yes, Master.” She seemed mollified, but also disappointed. Ah, his lover was too eager to prove her worth, despite knowing she was his best wand.

    “It will also give us time enough to acquire a pensieve without leaving traces.” He idly wondered if he had made copies of his own memories, and then obliviated himself of the knowledge of the action. He thought so - the risk of an enemy stumbling onto the memories was not negligible, but acceptable if he had only trusted Bellatrix with the location. His horcruxes wouldn’t protect his memories, after all, and to return to life, but without any of his experiences or knowledge would be as bad as dying. And yet, wouldn’t the ways he had prepared to kill himself to prevent his capture be sufficient to deal with this kind of threat? Well, if he was careful enough he’d never find out what exactly he had done.

    He put the report down, next to the news article claiming a dozen Death Eaters had been killed by a werewolf, a vampire and a flock of harpies. Delusional, although it was true he had lost a raiding group. But they had just been curse fodder. Yennington better had to hire more competent replacements though - it wouldn’t do to let the rabble think they stood a chance against his forces.


    Chapter 30: Overdue Talks
     
    Last edited: Sep 18, 2015
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  26. Sargon

    Sargon I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    There is no threadmark for chapter 28.
     
  27. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    There's one now :)
     
    Last edited: Sep 11, 2015
  28. Photon

    Photon Getting out there.

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    I wonder about reaction of some typical Pureblood interrupting Harry and Hermione during working together. They would not expect that they would be following ceremonial rules, but would they expect that they would consider themselves as equals? Or maybe even Hermione in leading role and Harry as subordinate, following her (for example Harry helping her in hardening electronics).
     
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  29. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    That depends on the kind of pureblood. If they interrupted, the two would switch to formal roles right away. If they observed in secret, they might simply see a Patron giving his retainer a lot of leeway, probably because she's his lover. It's quite understood in this society that what facade is presented to the public can greatly differ from how things are in private. Hermione wouldn't be the first seemingly subservient witch leading her wizard - a number of pureblood witches planning to marry a head of a family might be looking for similar influence, though some might take offense at a muggleborn taking such liberties. But then, those are the type to take offense at muggleborns on principle.
     
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  30. Threadmarks: Chapter 30: Overdue Talks
    Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    Chapter 30: Overdue Talks

    Hermione Granger frowned. Harry had sighed. Loudly. While reading his DADA book - one of the good ones. And he was fidgeting, and glancing towards her. Which was distracting her from her own work.

    They were alone in ‘their’ room since Ron was off with Padma. Their best friend had been doing that more often lately - the muggleborn witch was glad his relationship with Padma was improving. Ron had had a lot of stress lately, with having to cover for Harry when it came to teaching those hussies and with Parkinson making cow eyes at him as if she was a teenage Mata Hari.

    So, it was all set for a quiet evening, ideal to get some more research into sympathetic magic done. And it had been a peaceful, productive evening so far. She’d had another idea for a possible way to target Death Eaters through the mark, a promising idea even. And then Harry had started to sigh.

    She wondered why he didn’t say what he obviously wanted to tell her, until she suddenly realized what he had to be thinking of, and smiled. Indeed, she could study with Ron present, but there were things she and Harry couldn’t do in public. Not without being embarrassed a lot, at least.

    Closing her book, Hermione walked over to the couch her boyfriend was sitting on, trying to ‘add a little something’ to her gait, as Valérie called it. Judging by the way he raised his eyebrows, it was working.

    “Mhh.” She sat down next to him. “You look a bit distracted, Harry. Something on your mind?” She leaned against him and ran her fingers over his chest.

    “Ah… yes,” he answered, licking his lips.

    Hermione’s smile grew wider, and she gently pulled his head towards hers for a kiss. Definitely a good idea, she thought when the kiss had ended. Making out on the Headmaster’s desk had been a thrilling, exciting experience, but this was more intimate, more tender. She slid her left leg over his lap, and leaned in to kiss the side of his neck.

    “We need to talk, Hermione.” Harry suddenly said in a slightly strained voice.

    What? The young muggleborn witch blinked. That wasn’t something she wanted to hear right when they started snogging. That wasn’t something anyone wanted to hear, actually, since it usually precluded bad news. Tensing up, she tried to think of what Harry wanted to talk about. Good lord, he hadn’t been trying to lure her away from her work for some snogging session, he had tried to work up his courage for this talk!

    Suddenly very nervous, she pulled back. “W-What about?”? She knew he wouldn’t be breaking up with her, but a small part of her still feared he’d do that. Or that he’d tell her he’d found a pureblood witch to marry for appearance’s sake.

    *****​

    Harry Potter winced at seeing his girlfriend all but recoil at his words. He should have handled that better, much better. He should have started talking as soon as Ron had left, instead of waiting and trying to find a reason to have this talk another day.

    “Sixth year,” he answered Hermione.

    “Oh.” She looked cute, right then. Relieved for a moment - what had she thought he was going to talk about? - then slightly flushed, then worried again. “Oh.”

    “Yes.” He sighed, and took hold of her hand, gently squeezing it. “It’s less than six months away.”

    “Yes.” Hermione nodded. Harry could tell, or thought he could, that she didn’t want to talk about this any more than he did. But they had to. And in complete sentences.

    “You remember what Susan said?” he asked. This would take some delicate maneuvering.

    Hermione frowned at once. “Yes,” she said, anger audible in her voice.

    “I doubt she’s the only among our friends that, ah, expects some exploring,” he said. “Might expect. She could have been joking. Or teasing.”

    “I don’t think she was joking,” Hermione ground out.

    “I don’t think so either.” It was hard to tell, sometimes, with the redhead. And with others. But that time, Harry thought, Susan had not just been teasing either,

    “And if she has been teasing us, then it was in poor taste.” Hermione stated, pushing her chin forward.

    “Asking as if you were joking can be a way to test the waters, to soften a rejection and save face.” Harry wasn’t outright contradicting his girlfriend, just trying to make her see Susan’s possible point of view.

    Hermione sighed and leaned back. “I know that. I am just fed up with pureblood witches hitting on you. Or half-blood witches,” she added. Harry’s girlfriend hadn’t pulled her hand away. Instead she had tightened her grip on his hand.

    “Well, they don’t hit just on me,” Harry grinned, slightly.

    “Ron can handle them,” Hermione made a dismissive gesture with her hand.

    “I didn’t mean Ron. I meant you,” Harry clarified.

    Hermione’s eyes opened wide, showing her surprise. “Me? Witches hitting on me?”

    “Luna.”

    “Oh.” Hermione sighed again. “Yes,” she admitted. “Luna’s certainly… teasing me at least.”

    Harry thought that Hermione would have started cursing if any witch had teased Harry like the blonde had teased her, but didn’t press the point. Luna was quirky, bubbly, friendly, and very hard to read. And she was a very good friend. “And… well, he hasn’t said anything, but, what if Ron follows his brothers’ example?”

    It didn’t take long for his girlfriend to connect the dots. Tales of the Weasley twins’ exploits in their sixth year had made the rounds in the Gryffindor common room. They were certainly, hopefully vastly, exaggerated, it was just the kind of prank the twins would do, but even taking that into account…

    “Merlin! You think he expects his ‘brother-in-all-but-blood’ to… you, me, Padma?” Hermione was gaping at him.

    “He hasn’t said anything like that!” Harry hastened to repeat. He didn’t want his girlfriend to go after their best friend for what might be idle speculation.

    “He better not!” Hermione huffed. Harry decided not to mention Ron’s claim back in third year, that ‘as Basilisk Slayers we’ll be able to pick any witch we want in our Year of Exploration!’ They had been thirteen at the time, children still. Ron had grown up since.

    “Anyway, what do we do when we get such invitations from our friends and acquaintances?” There, he had asked the question that had been on his mind since that talk with Susan.

    Hermione sighed. “I don’t even know what we’ll do when strangers hit on us.”

    “Sirius said…” Harry started, but his girlfriend cut him off quickly.

    “Sirius wants you to have as much sex as possible!” Hermione almost jumped to her feet when she said that. She was right, Harry knew. But...

    “He’s been in Azkaban for twelve years. Thoughts of sex were probably keeping him alive there. He means well.” And he was doing well, too. If a bit… extreme sometimes.

    Hermione leaned back again. “I know. It’s a miracle that he’s not an emotional wreck.” She didn’t have to add ‘more of a’. Both teenagers knew Sirius was getting better, but was far from being well yet.

    “And to be fair, he probably wants you to have as much sex as possible too,” Harry added. He didn’t know. He might have known, had he ever listened to the tales about his mother’s sixth year Sirius offered to tell him so often. But that wasn’t something he’d ever do.

    Hermione glared at him. “Sex with you. I doubt he wants me to ‘play the field’, just you.”

    For a moment Harry was afraid she had overheard some of Sirius talks with him when the man had drunk a bit too much. “Did he tell you that?”

    “No,” Hermione admitted. “but …“ she trailed off and pressed her lips together before speaking again. “I noticed a distinct lack of ‘jokes’ about me attracting wizards - or witches.”

    Harry didn’t remember any such jokes either - and he was rather certain he would have noticed, had there be any. “That’s true, but that doesn’t have to mean anything. He is rather concerned about me following in his footsteps.”

    “You mean, he is concerned you might not become our year’s ‘biggest player’,” Hermione corrected him.

    Harry nodded, acknowledging the point. “Those magazines have had a rather bad effect on his vocabulary.”

    Hermione snorted, but didn’t let on. “But my point is that Sirius is not exactly a trustworthy source about … this issue.”

    “Sex you mean.”

    “No, I mean the Year of Discovery and its social conventions. I am pretty much certain he is a decent authority on the act of sex,” she said, then briefly pursed her lips in thought and added: “If he isn’t, but still was the biggest casanova of his year, then that makes me worry about the standards of the witches at Hogwarts.”

    Harry gaped at her, then stared. Did she want him to ask his godfather for tips for sex? Or even instructions? Merlin! What did she expect of him when they finally had sex? He knew his girlfriend was a perfectionist, but with that? He shook his head and returned to the real topic. “But who else can we ask? Remus?”

    Hermione bit her lower lip. “You know he has issues with relationships, due to his curse. But he’s a teacher, and well, teachers have to know how the Year of Discovery works, since it’s their duty to handle any problems or other issues at school.”

    Harry nodded. Remus had been carrying a torch for Nymphadora for a while, but he had gotten over it - at least he thought so. “And he’s used to keeping Sirius somewhat in check.”

    “Unless he’s going along with one of your godfather’s ideas.” Hermione pointed out.

    Harry winced. “I don’t think he would do that to us, not for such a serious matter.”

    “As long as he thinks it’s serious too. And not ‘Sirius’.” Hermione huffed.

    “Yes. But again - what are the alternatives? Nymphadora?” Harry asked. Both of them shook their heads. The metamorphmagus was a very good friend, family too, but neither of them wanted to ask her about sixth year. Or sex. Not since that evening at the Grangers’ no one would be mentioning ever again.

    “Andromeda maybe?” Hermione asked.

    Harry considered her. The head of the Black-Tonks Family was the closest to a female authority figure in their extended family. And yet... “Nymphadora’s her daughter,” he answered.

    Hermione frowned. “That could mean she’s used to a lot, and knows a lot.”

    “Could, yes.” Harry admitted. And that about was it, for close magical relatives of them.

    “So, it’ll be Remus?”

    Harry sighed. “Sirius might be hurt if he thinks I don’t trust him and went to Remus instead.”

    Hermione frowned, but agreed. “That’s true.” She didn’t say anything about whether or not she thought that was a risk she considered worth taking.

    “We could talk to both of them together?” Harry smiled weakly.

    “OK,” Hermione said, in a voice that hinted that this wasn’t entirely OK. “But if this goes wrong…”

    “What’s the worst that could happen?” Harry asked, then held up his hand. “Don’t tell me. Years of embarrassing stories told at Yuletide gatherings?”

    “Yes. Do you think we can make them swear not to tell anyone?” Hermione grinned ruefully.

    Harry didn’t think that would be enough. Sirius loved him, and wouldn’t want to hurt him, but he had a tendency to cast or speak before thinking. But it wasn’t as if there was a magical oath to make them keep silent. “Probably.”

    Hermione’s wince told him she shared his thoughts.

    *****​

    “Sirius? Remus? Do you have a moment?”

    Sirius Black turned away from his talk with Valérie, who had joined him and Remus for the training with Harry, Hermione and their friends that evening, and looked at his godson. They had just finished today’s session, and the couple’s friends had already left, in various states of discomfort or exhaustion. “Of course Harry!” he exclaimed, not bothering to check with his friend. They’d always have time for Harry!

    Remus shot him a look, but for once, didn’t disagree. Valérie smiled and nodded as well. Sirius noticed the slightly uneasy glances Harry and Hermione directed at the veela and was puzzled. He had thought the three got along rather well, at least better than what he heard of was the norm when a father brought home a new girlfriend barely older than his children. Granted, he didn’t know how muggles thought about that. Come to think of, he hadn’t ever asked Harry what his godson thought about Sirius’s girlfriends. Or Hermione. Girls often had jealousy issues with veela, hadn’t they?

    “It’s kind of private,” Harry started.

    “We need to know a bit more about Hogwarts Year of Discovery,” Hermione explained, with another glance at Valérie. “We hear a lot of rumors about it, but we’d like to know the facts.”

    “Ah, you’ve come to the right wizard then!” Sirius responded enthusiastically. Usually, Harry tried to change the topic or even left when he started to talk about his Year of Discovery, but now his godson was finally listening! Hermione probably had made him do it. He ignored Remus’s groan.

    “Indeed. Sirius is an expert on that topic,” Valérie agreed, wrapping an arm around him.

    Sirius ignored the surprised looks on his the teen’s faces, and started with his favorite story: “There was this wall flower, Mary Barton. She was pretty, but she lacked confidence because she had been rather gangly when she started at Hogwarts, all limbs and no curves. That continued even after she had grown up, if you know what I mean. So she was terribly shy, even after the year had started. But one night we met in the hallways, when I was returning from the Prefect’s Bathroom…”

    “Sirius!” Harry held his hand up and cut him off, and Hermione seemed to be blushing for some weird reason.

    “I thought you wanted to hear about the Year of Exploration?” Sirius asked, confused.

    His godson rubbed his face while Hermione muttered something under her breath the animagus didn’t catch.

    “We have questions we’d like to ask, Sirius. Of you and Remus,” Harry said.

    “I’ve made a list,” Hermione added. Of course the girl had made a list, Sirius thought. She probably had made a list for Harry as well, to check off when they finally made love to each other. Come to think of, that sounded like a good idea, actually. He should make a list for Harry. His godson had a reputation to live up to, after all.

    “Ask away,” Remus told them. Sirius shot him a glance. Harry was his godson, so instructing him about witches and their needs fell to Sirius. Remus hadn’t half his experience, anyway, and that was with him locked up in Azkaban for over a decade… he shivered a moment, feeling the damp cold of the prison again, until the warmth from Valérie’s body pressed into his side banished the memory.

    Harry took a deep breath. “What do you do if a friend asks you to sleep with them, and you don’t feel like it?” Hermione glared at him, so he probably just went off script. The witch needed more spontaneity, Sirius felt. The next year would be good for her.

    Sirius was still pondering how to answer that when Remus spoke up: “Well, that’s a delicate situation, but not an uncommon one. Why don’t you want to sleep with your friend?”

    Sirius almost rolled his eyes at Moony. Wasn’t ‘so Hermione doesn’t end up using the curses she learned from the Black Family library’ a good enough reason?

    “We don’t want to sleep with anyone but each other,” Harry stated, with Hermione nodding firmly. The witch was holding his hand too. Maybe next Yuletide he’d get her a leash for him, Sirius thought.

    “Ah. Well, in that case, honesty is the best policy...” Remus began.

    Sirius cut his friend off before he could start a lecture: “You’re worried about social pressure to sleep around, right? Go wild and all that?” He noticed everyone but Valérie was staring at him. “What? Aren’t you?”

    “Err… yes,” Harry nodded. Hermione was still looking at him as if she was astonished. Glancing at a slip of parchment, Harry continued: We’d like to know if it is socially acceptable to refuse taking part in casual sex with friends and acquaintances, or if that would be a faux pas?”

    Sirius nodded. He had been expecting that. Probably encouraged it a bit with his teasing. “You don’t have to sleep with anyone you don’t want to. Anyone who claims otherwise is a liar and probably should be cursed so he or she don’t try that line on someone else.”

    Remus the spoilsport coughed. “It’s perfectly acceptable to refuse such offers. The Year of Discovery is, among other things, about having the freedom to explore your sexuality in a safe environment. It isn’t about having to do anything, especially not something you’re not comfortable with. Contrary to what you might expect after hearing Sirius’s stories, not everyone goes wild.” Moony really had become a perfect teacher, Sirius thought. Though in hindsight, the animagus should have foreseen that after all the lectures Moony had given him during their school years.

    Seeing the relief on Harry’s and Hermione’s faces, Sirius didn’t add ‘they should, though.’

    “That’s great,” Harry said, smiling. “We were afraid we’d offend our friends if we didn’t join their orgies.” Hermione nodded emphatically.

    Remus chuckled. “The students generally don’t have orgies.”

    “Hey! Don’t knock orgies until you have tried them! You never know when you need to know what you learned from them!” Sirius protested. He knew what he had done in school! And who!

    “Indeed. ‘e ‘as a lot of experience with multiple partners,” Valérie added with a smile that spoke of great satisfaction. The veela had been silent so far. Not surprisingly, since she didn’t know much about Hogwarts. She knew a lot about Sirius though.

    Remus rolled his eyes. Jealous, no doubt. “I said ‘generally’. You were not really an example of an average student, Padfoot.”

    “Not to brag, but I am far from average,” Sirius grinned, squeezing his girlfriend.

    “Unfortunately, in more ways than one,” Hermione muttered, earning her a glare from Harry.

    Moony snorted at that, the traitor. “You’ll find that most of the students don’t really act like Sirius.”

    “Or Fred and George,” Harry added.

    “Yes, those....” Remus trailed off. If he was a teacher there, Sirius thought, he’d have showed those upstarts just why the Marauders were a legend in Hogwarts. But Moony probably was too much a teacher now to do it properly.

    He spoke up again: “To be honest, I should have talked to you two about this a bit ago - for all that you play the pureblood patron, you’re just a teenager yourself, Harry, and a muggle-raised one at that. Your mother didn’t know much about sixth year either until she visited her Patron over Eostra Break in our fifth year.”

    Remus laughed. “I remember her hexing you and James with curses she had specifically learned for the occasion after she found out you two had been lying to her about it.”

    “She did. And then our ‘Flower Power’ went wild anyway.” Sirius smiled at the memories until he noticed Harry was staring at him with that horrified expression again. As was Hermione. He coughed. “Moving on. While our dear teacher here is correct that you don’t have to sleep with anyone, a rejection is still a rejection.” Which was why never turning a witch down was the polite, correct thing to do for such a fine wizard as he had been in school. Of course he hadn’t had a steady girlfriend. If he had been with a witch like Lily, or Valérie, back then...

    “Oh.” Harry and Hermione said together.

    “Yes. Moony has the right idea, about being honest at least. He has some weird ideas about other things though.” He shielded the hex from Moony, and the shoe-lace tying jinx following that spell. “But you should be subtle too.” He would have said ‘cunning’, if not for that word being tainted by its association with the snakes. “Don’t lead them on, but let them down gently, and let them save face. Don’t reject them in public, do it in private. Even if they ask publically. With the war going on and all, you’ve got enough excuses to stall when needed.” Sirius saw the two teenagers were listening with rapt attention. Hermione was even taking notes. Maybe he should look into becoming a teacher himself?

    Smiling, he continued sharing his wisdom with his godson and Hermione. “Although once you’re comfortable with each other, you might want to look into having some fun with your friends. Or at least spreading rumors to that extent.”

    He saw that at least Hermione understood what he was saying, or warning them of. Even if she didn’t look like she liked it.

    Sirius smirked, and added: “Of course, if you don’t sleep with others, you’ll have to sleep with each other a lot more to get the proper and healthy amount of sex!”

    Two groans, one exasperated “Sirius!” and one giggling veela were the expected reactions. Plus another hex he shielded against.

    *****​

    Keith Yennington looked at the hired wands assembled before him. The group was a far cry from the wands he had led for the Dark Lord against the Longbottoms. Wulfred would have been a model wand for hire compared to them. It couldn’t be helped though - pickings among the mercenaries in Britain had been slim lately, and the attacks the Dark Lord had ordered would have to be executed by the best of them. He couldn’t risk another failure. So for his own personal goals, Keith had to make use of who was left available. At least he had Hortensius with him, still. And Hannah, to deal with the wards. The rest were thugs, and thugs without much potential to grow into skilled, disciplined fighters at that. But there were a dozen of them, and numbers would tell.

    He nodded at them. “You know your orders. As soon as the wards go down you strike. I want them alive, so no Killing Curses.” He glared at them, until they were cowed. If they deprived him of his vengeance, they’d suffer instead until they begged for death. Satisfied, he nodded, and turned to Hannah and Hortensius.

    “Walk with me.”

    The two veterans, the only ones left of his original group, followed him, to the edge of the small forest they were hiding in. He stared at the decrepit-looking barn in the middle of the abandoned field next to the forest. “How long will it take you to deal with the wards?” he asked, without looking at the witch next to him.

    “About seven minutes,” Hannah answered. It was what he had expected. This was just a hideout, so the wards were not too strong. If only Blasius hadn’t been killed. With him working with Hannah they could have halved that time. It would have to be enough though. He glanced at Hortensius. The man needed no further prompting. “I’ll cover the back with half of the rabble.”

    The wizard would have picked out their positions already - he was experienced. “Don’t take any risks. You’ve got the thugs for that,” Keith cautioned him anyway. He himself would take the rest and cover the front.

    He stared at the barn again. No one would suspect that old, derelict building to be inhabited. Even the wards looked like fading remnants of an older time. Whoever had picked it had been clever. But not clever enough. Another visit to Timothy Brannigan had informed Keith that his prey had left their homes and moved to this safehouse.

    He had timed his attack to start soon after the three others he had launched on the Dark Lord’s order. That would ensure that there wouldn’t be enough aurors or hit-wizards available to help his prey.

    He grinned ferally. Tonight, the two aurors responsible for his punishments at the wand of the Dark Lord, for all the pain he had suffered, would pay.

    *****​

    Kenneth Fenbrick didn’t like the safehouse he and his partner, Bertha Limmington, had moved into. He understood the need - they couldn’t stay at their homes, not with their names known to the Dark Lord’s forces - but he would have preferred a safehouse where he didn’t have to live in an expanded room with conjured and transfigured furniture. And a safehouse they didn’t have to share with someone else. Especially not with Mathilda the spying courtesan.

    He looked at the witch, lounging on the couch in their shared living room, acting as if all was well with the world and if she wasn’t hiding from the war just as the two aurors were. The woman was wearing a skimpy robe that looked more appropriate for a brothel’s bar, and enjoying a cup of tea a bit too much. Kenneth at least didn’t think that the kind of noises she was making were appropriate outside the bedroom.

    “Could you please stop that?” Apparently, Bertha, reading a book at the table, felt the same.

    “Stop what?” Mathilda asked, all innocently. Kenneth wasn’t fooled though.

    “Teasing Kenneth.” That comment from his partner had the auror stare at her.

    “I’m not teasing Ken there. I am teasing both of you.” The courtesan had a smug expression on her face, the same expression he had seen on rich criminals getting off in court. “And this is a really great tea. I haven’t had this blend in years. Abe must have felt really guilty for having me move out of my flat for my own safety.”

    Kenneth grit his teeth. Of course she had to mention that she was best friends with Aberforth Dumbledore. The thought of angering that old wizard still made him queasy, and he was certain his usually very cold-blooded partner felt the same.

    “Why are you teasing us?” Bertha asked, in her interrogation voice.

    “It’s fun, and you two need it.” Mathilda took another sip, closed her eyes in apparent bliss, and moaned again. “You’re far too stuck up and wound up.”

    “We aren’t!” Kenneth retorted.

    “Honey, you both were wound up when I trained you, and you’re even more wound up now. I’d offer to help you relax, but I don’t think this is just the stress from the war, and I’d only make matters worse.” Mathilda declared.

    Kenneth didn’t want to talk about that ‘training’. He didn’t even want to think about the mission where he used it. He wanted to tell the witch to shut up. He held his tongue though. Experience with the insufferable witch had taught him that he needed a cool head to debate anything with the spy.

    “What are you implying?” Bertha asked, narrowing her eyes.

    “I am implying that our mission shook you two up more than the war. Since I am partially responsible, I feel a bit obligated to help. Only a bit though, mind you.”

    “I don’t want to talk about it!” Kenneth snarled. He would deal with it himself, in private. He certainly wouldn’t lay his problems out for a spy, or a courtesan, to hear and pick at.

    “I do not think you could be helpful to us. We’ll have to deal with the repercussions of those events by ourselves,” Bertha declared in the clinical voice Kenneth knew she used to hide her emotions.

    Mathilda spread her hands. “Well, I offered. You can only throw the meat to the Thestral, you can’t make it eat it.” She didn’t seem particularly disappointed.

    “Good. You can now stop teasing us.” Bertha nodded at the other witch. “Kenneth is currently reevaluating his view on witches, and you might hinder his efforts to grow up.”

    “Hey!” Kenneth stood up and stared at his partner. He felt betrayed and hurt - she didn’t have to call him out in front of the spy, not like that.

    The female auror stared at him and for a moment he saw surprise flicker over her face, then regret, before she schooled her features. She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, the floo in the room lit up and Aberforth Dumbledore’s face appeared. “The wards on the safehouse are under attack!” the old wizard yelled.

    Kenneth summoned his auror robes at once. He was almost glad for the interruption.

    *****​

    Keith Yennington smiled. The barn was isolated, floo travel, apparition and portkeys suppressed, disillusion spells as well. His hired wands were in place, and Hannah was close to bringing the wards down. The aurors were trapped with no way out!

    He glanced at the witch and once again cursed the fact they were all wearing masks. He couldn’t see if she was straining or not. Well, it didn’t matter. Only a bit more…

    The wards broke, and he yelled “Attack!”

    Curses flew at the barn at once, blowing holes into walls and setting parts of the roof on fire. The expansion charms wouldn’t hold out long with their anchors being destroyed, and would force his prey into the open. He was smiling in anticipation when a terrible screech cut through the night, and Hannah disappeared in a fireball.

    Keith reacted at once and started running, changing directions randomly. Two fireballs missed him, both close enough for him to feel their heat through his robes’ enchantments. Together with the screeching he knew who was attacking him. Those were not harpies, but veela.

    The Death Eater saw Hannah had survived the fireball that had hit her. She probably had her robes enchanted against fire and heat, many curse breakers did that. Even so smoke was rising from her robes and she stumbled more than she ran. Another fireball hit her, and she screamed loud enough to drown out the screeches while she started burning. Keith waved his wand and drowned the flames on her with water. Seeing the steam rise from the wounded witch, he had an idea. He quickly conjured water which he turned into a thick sheet of fog above their heads.

    Hidden from the aerial attacker’s view, he grabbed the witch and dragged her with him before the veela blindly sent down fireballs at their last spot. They had to reach the borders of the anti-apparition jinxes - he was under no illusion that the rabble he had with him was able to stand up to a dedicated attack from above. Just as he was pulling out a shrunken broom, another Death Eater flew towards them. He recognized Hortensius’s Cleansweep 7.

    The wizard was hugging the ground. Smart - taking to the sky was suicide with several veela circling above, ready to send fireballs at them. Keith unshrunk his own broom and mounted it, then helped Hannah get on it as well.

    Around the barn the thugs who had rushed in were getting hammered with curses from the ground and fireballs from the air. Apparently none of them had been smart enough to provide fog as cover. Instead several fools were sending curses up into the night sky. Keith doubted they were even seeing who they cast at. One of them was hit by a spell and went down screaming while barbed tentacles immobilized him. Another was running straight for the forest, blindly casting blasting curses left and right. Suddenly a wall rose from the earth in front of him, and he flew straight into it. Keith could hear the crack of his broom breaking through the sounds of battle, and saw that the wizard was hit by two fireballs right after he hit the ground. If the impact hadn’t killed him, then he was surely dead now.

    That had been a very powerful spell, Keith realized. The wall ran across the entire field. Another sign that this wasn’t an attack by aurors or hit-wizards. He had been about to fly towards the forest himself, the closest cover from the veela in the air, but changed course. The fields it was! If they were fast enough they could dodge the fireballs and curses thrown at them.

    Another thug had had the same idea, and was flying ahead of them. The wizard probably had jumped on his broom at the first sign of trouble, Keith thought. He shouldn’t fault the man, but he did it anyway. Coward! Then suddenly, the wizard was thrown off his broom. He hit the ground, yelling, and before he could get up, an animal pounced him. A few fireballs hitting the ground near them illuminated the scene for an instant, and Keith realized with horror that the Grim had torn the man’s throat out. The bloodied snout of the monster parted, revealing gleaming teeth, as it seemed to stare at him, and Keith changed course again.

    Veela and the Grim! What was next, dragons? Hortensius was following Keith, despite the fact that he could have flown faster since he was not loaded down with a passenger. He was a good, loyal wizard. They were far enough away to have outrun the anti-apparition jinxes. Keith grabbed Hannah and apparated away. Or tried to - he failed.

    How was this possible? He felt his stomach fill with dread. He was being chased, tracked. There were only two wizards that powerful in Britain, he knew that! The Dark Lord, and Dumbledore! More walls rose to bar his way, and fireballs rained down on them.

    This time he flew up. He couldn’t keep to the ground if Dumbledore was here. He’d rather face a flock of veela than that wizard! He didn’t get far though - his broom suddenly stopped in the air. Keith leaped off an instant before a fireball hit the broom and Hannah. He managed to cast a cushioning spell before he hit the ground. He wasn’t fast enough to do the same for Hannah, who was trailing flames while she was falling. Her screams cut off when she hit the ground.

    Keith started running. He had to get out of that damned anti-apparition jinx’s range. He glanced behind him, checking for pursuit. He only saw Hortensius, desperately trying to avoid fireballs and curses. The man was weaving through the air like a professional seeker chasing a snitch. He even managed to send a few curses back at his attackers, but Keith knew he’d not escape. Not when everyone seemed to be focusing on the wizard.

    Almost everyone - a few curses flew at Keith, from the side. He shielded one, the next broke his shield, and the third was absorbed by his robe’s enchantments. That allowed him to dive forward in a roll, avoid the next curse, and retaliate.

    He sent a Bone-Breaking Curse and a Blood-Boiling Curse at the caster, hammering at his shield. He was almost clear now, he had to be. He cast two Blasting Curse at the area around the attacker, and noticed that the man was sent reeling.

    “Avada Kedavra!” His Killing Curse went straight at the man, but a wall rising from the earth stopped it. He had caught the attention of Dumbledore again! In the air, Hortensius was about to use the opportunity, and break through the enemies trying to box him in.

    If Dumbledore went back to attack Hortensius, he wouldn’t be able to stop Keith. He decided to risk it. He disillusioned himself and started running, expecting to be hit in the back any second, and trying to apparate away each step. After ten yards, he heard Hortensius scream, and knew his last good man was done for. After twenty more yards, he finally managed to apparate.

    *****​

    Albus Dumbledore walked through Hogsmeade towards the ‘Hog’s Head Inn’. He could have taken the floo, but this way he would be seen, and his presence would hopefully lessen the fear that had the population in its grip. Sadly, it didn’t seem to be working - the streets were almost empty, and those he saw greeted him and hurried on.

    It was understandable, with the Daily Prophet reporting three more attacks by Death Eaters last night. Three more homes struck, one of them destroyed, two others saved by the timely arrival of Ministry forces, but not without more wizards and witches wounded and dead during the fighting. There had been a fourth attack, he knew, one handled far more successfully, but that was not public knowledge. And depending on the results of his upcoming talk with his brother, information about it would never be revealed.

    He entered the inn and felt the stares of those present at this early hour on him. A few nodded at him, but no one spoke to him. Aberforth wasn’t behind the bar, but came up from the cellar at the same time Albus reached the bar. His brother didn’t say anything, just met his eyes, grabbed a butterbeer and then went to the corner table that now seemed to have become ‘theirs’. It was progress, of sorts, compared to getting treated like a stranger or a customer, Albus thought. It gave him a sliver of hope that he might yet reconcile with his brother.

    After they had sat down and cast a number of exotic privacy charms, Aberforth opened the bottle and took a swig. A brief flick of his wand wiped his mouth. Albus wondered briefly why he didn’t let charms on his robe do that for him. Then he pushed the thought away and focused on his brother’s tale.

    “We’ve hit the Dark Lord’s forces last night, as you undoubtedly already heard,” his brother started in his gruff voice.

    “Indeed. Though Sirius was a bit scarce in his report.” Albus nodded, smiling slightly. Colorful, but limited to the battle itself, where the aftermath was much more important. The Head of the Black Family hadn’t been present for that though.

    “He and his birds did well,” Aberforth admitted. “Hit them hard and fast, and kept them from escaping through the sky. Sirius probably had to pick out some Death Eater parts from his teeth afterwards.”

    While the innkeeper chuckled, Albus kept his expression neutral. Sirius couldn’t be faulted for using his animagus form in battle. The Grim was not just a powerful form, but also bound to demoralize their enemies, especially the superstitious ones. But he couldn’t help feeling that the wizard took it a bit too far.

    “Most of the Death Eaters were rabble barely worth the cost of their wand. Couldn’t cast straight, nor think on their feet. They were beaten before we even attacked. Two were different though. One tried to evacuate one of their wounded. Another covered him, then led us a on merry chase through the sky before we got him. That allowed the other to escape, though the witch he had been helping was killed.” Aberforth explained. “I thought we had gotten the leader, but apparently, that one escaped. Quite surprising, seeing one of them risking his life for others.”

    Albus nodded. If he hadn’t been talking to his brother, then he would have mentioned that even Death Eaters could show loyalty, courage and even love. But that would just antagonize Aberforth, and rob him of an excuse for letting their main quarry escape.

    “So, we captured the other, and a few of the thugs. Those were useless - they’re the dregs of Britain. The Dark Lord’s scraping the bottom of the barrel if he’s recruiting that kind of wands.” Aberforth said.

    “Given the losses his forces have taken in the last months, that was to be expected. The number of wizards and witches willing to fight for the Dark Lord is limited,” the Headmaster agreed. “Unfortunately, the Ministry’s forces have not remained unscathed either.” And neither had the civilians, he mentally added.

    “He’ll recruit on the continent then. There’s enough scum for him to use as curse fodder. You might want to do some recruiting yourself, if only to deprive him of the better and more experienced wands.” Aberforth took another swig from his bottle while he studied Albus.

    The Headmaster sighed. His brother was likely correct - he had far more and closer contacts among the mercenaries, given his history - but Albus didn’t like it. To hire mercenaries, foreigners at that… it would be a new step in this war, another escalation. The Magical Balkans showed where that kind of war could lead to. And yet he did not have any choice. To let the Dark Lord freely recruit was to court disaster. “I am forced to agree with this.”

    “Don’t sacrifice them though,” Aberforth glared at him.

    Albus didn’t wince at the venom in his brother’s voice. He was tempted to plead his case again, to make his brother understand what had happened, what he had done, what he could have done, but refrained himself from doing so. It wouldn’t work - he had tried it too often in the past. “They’ll be treated like everyone else fighting the Dark Lord,” he said instead.

    Slowly, grudgingly, Aberforth nodded. He probably had expected, maybe wanted, another argument. But they couldn’t afford that.

    “So, what did the prisoner reveal?” Albus didn’t ask if he had talked; Aberforth had the means to make him talk.

    “His name is Hortensius Gimble. He was hired by Keith Yennington, back before the Dark Lord was revealed, and has stuck with him. Keith seems to be a marked Death Eater, if I correctly interpreted the clues from Gimble.

    “Can I have a memory of those clues?” Albus asked, his voice as mild and neutral as he could make it.

    “Yes.” Aberforth ground out. “As long as you keep your opinions to yourself.”

    Albus conceded that with a nod. The two of them had different views on how to interrogate prisoners. Violently disagreeing views, once, in the past.

    “We’ve got places and some more names, but haven’t acted on it yet. If Yennington thinks Gimble was killed instead of captured, he might not change his habits too much.” Aberforth expanded. “He seems fixated in those two aurors, Kenneth Fenbrick and Bertha Limmington. I’ve got both of them in a safehouse the Ministry doesn’t know about. We also know the source for Yennington’s inside knowledge. It’s a clerk named Timothy Brannigan, who apparently doesn’t know he’s spilling information.”

    Abus raised his eyebrows at that. “Is he that naive, or is there something else at work?”

    “Veritaserum and obliviation,” his brother explained.

    Albus nodded. That would do the trick. That was why secrecy was of utmost importance in this war.

    “That’s all,” Aberforth finished his bottle.

    “Thank you.” Albus didn’t ask what had become of Gimble. He nodded at his brother, and got up. There was more work waiting for him at Hogwarts. And he had to find out if and how much young Malfoy was funding the Dark Lord’s campaign.

    *****​

    Keith Yennington wanted to rage. To vent his frustration, to make someone, anyone pay for his defeat. For the loss of his last two competent wands, Hannah and Hortensius. They had been with him since the start of this, or at least close to it. Hortensius might have been his only friend, even. And now they were dead because of those cursed aurors! And Dumbledore! He still couldn’t believe he had managed to escape the second-most powerful wizard in Britain!

    The feeling of pride was fleeting though, and anger, rage and hatred filled him again. He conjured two statues, shaped like aurors, and aimed his wand at them. Then he froze, shuddering. He couldn’t. The noise would alert others. And he was better than that. He was a mercenary, not some thug ruled by his emotion. Drawing a deep, shivering breath, he lowered his wand and closed his eyes.

    He was currently staying in a bolthole, the room of a low-life in Knockturn Alley who had met his end when he had tried to betray Keith. His more comfortable safehouse might be compromised, if his enemies had captured Hortensius. He hoped the man had died instead. Not just for his own sake, but for Hortensius’s as well. It was better to die in combat, fighting, than to be butchered as a helpless prisoner.

    He conjured a seat for himself and sank into it. Until he knew if Hortensius had been captured, he couldn’t visit his usual haunts. Another spell vanished the statues. At least the Dark Lord would be pleased - his wands, those he hadn’t led into a trap, had achieved most of their objectives. More dead aurors or hit-wizards, more dead mudbloods. Their own losses had stayed within expectations, and the survivors had gained valuable experience. He’d not get punished again.

    He’d never get punished again, he swore to himself. And those aurors would pay. Pay for every slight, every setback, everything that had ever gone wrong for him.

    *****​

    Kenneth Fenbrick hadn’t slept for longer than a few hours. He was still too wired, too angry. They had been so close to catching Yennington, but he had escaped, again! Twice that criminal had slipped out of their grasp in the last second, despite a good plan and surprise on their side. At least his colleagues didn’t know about it, that would have been bad for his reputation. Bertha didn’t count, of course.

    He entered the kitchen in their safehouse, and saw that the spy was up already. She was wearing a more sensible robe today though, if still alluring, so Bertha probably had gotten through to her. His partner could be very persuasive, if she wanted to. Kenneth summoned a pot of tea for himself, and a cup - he wasn’t touching her particular blend - as well as some toast, when he noticed she was looking him over.

    “What?”

    “I am just checking if you were lying when you said you were not hurt. You looked a bit singed last night,” Mathilda said, with that damned smile of hers.

    “I wasn’t singed.” A couple spells had taken care of that before he had returned. He and Bertha had checked each other as well.

    “I might have heard about the battle already, and how you got a bit too close to a fireball,” the courtesan admitted.

    Kenneth grimaced. That hadn’t been one of their best performances. But aurors were not generally working with veelas, nor were they using tactics better suited to hit-wizards. Aurors were trained to take criminals alive, not kill them as quickly as possible. Though of course they could do that too, if they wanted to.

    “Kenneth got burned by a veela. Nothing new, just a bit more literal than usual,” Bertha added. Kenneth hadn’t noticed her coming into the kitchen. He must be more tired than he thought. He turned towards his partner, and forgot what he had been about to say. That was not a sensible robe! He couldn’t help staring for a moment.

    Shaking her head, Bertha floated some toast and tea over to herself - and she took the spy’s pot. Kenneth expected the courtesan to protest, but she just smirked. Had something happened between the two witches? A bit ago he’d have imagined quite the lurid scene, but now…

    He decided to focus on their work instead: “So, we found our leak.”

    “One of them. Hardly the only one. If the Ministry was a cauldron, it would be used as a sieve.” Mathilda threw in. He glared at her, but she only raised her cup in a mockery of a toast to him.

    “We captured Yennington’s right hand, and found out where he lives and what work he does.”

    “Before the Death Eater sadly died from wounds taken during the fighting.” Mathilda further needled him.

    Kenneth ignored the reminder of what Aberforth Dumbeldore had done to the wizard. He had been a Death Eater, and would have been executed anyway. And his death was needed to capture Yennington, or he’d know they knew much more about him. “So, now all we have to do is wait until the scumbag returns to his routine?”

    “Yes. We can spend the time training,” Mathilda smirked at them, and Kenneth saw Bertha stiffen in response. After a moment, the courtesan added. “Abe will be swinging by later, to teach you some of his tricks.”

    Kenneth wasn’t certain if getting trained by Dumbledore’s brother, who had been terrifying last night, easily killing half a dozen of the thugs by himself, or by Mathilda was worse.

    *****​

    In his office, Albus Dumbledore sighed. He had hoped that Lucius’s death at the hands of Severus would have cut the Dark Lord off from the Malfoy Family’s fortune. Narcissa had been a smart witch at Hogwarts, and she should have seen that supporting Voldemort was dooming her family, just as it had doomed her husband. At the time he had felt that the loss of Lucius’s influence and contacts at the Ministry had been more important anyway.

    But now, with Aberforth’s information about the foreign mercenaries, knowing whether Malfoy’s gold was actually financing all those mercenaries who were bleeding the Ministry’s forces had become a priority. He’d have to proceed carefully of course. Even with the war causing so many deaths, probing the mind of a Head of Family or their regent was no small matter. Especially with Narcissa playing the poor, grieving widow whose husband had been killed by the Dark Lord’s minion.

    And yet, the Headmaster was optimistic. Usually, the children of the more questionable families were not taken into full confidence by their parents until they had left Hogwarts. He doubted anyone working for the Dark Lord would risk his crimes ending up exposed through someone interrogating or tricking their children at Hogwarts. Horace also hadn’t found any students working for the Dark Lord, even though Albus was sure more than a few were sympathizing with Voldemort’s stated goals. Draco though was the head of his family, and as spoiled and arrogant as the Slytherin was, Dumbledore hoped he hadn’t let Narcissa keep him in the dark for his own good.

    But knowing was one thing, doing something about it another. Trying to persecute a widow and their child as Death Eaters might not be advisable at the moment. If either or both had truly joined the Dark Lord, then a more subtle although more lethal way of dealing with them might be needed.

    As much as he hated to admit it, compared to the deaths their gold could cause in the hands of the Dark Lord, two lives were a small price to pay. It would weigh heavily on his soul, but not as much as letting innocents die.


    Chapter 31: Hope and Regrets
     
    Last edited: Sep 25, 2015
    Soguino, bukay, Pezz and 20 others like this.
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