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The Dark Lord Never Died (Harry Potter AU) (Complete)

Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by Starfox5, Feb 2, 2016.

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  1. Beyogi

    Beyogi I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    Wow... just wow. You're really good at creating AUs.

    And holy fuck this Dumbledore. You've managed to write the man as scary as he should be.

    Let's hope they manage to reveal the truth about the Malfoy regime in a way that doesn't totally demoralize the wands. And before they realize the game Dumbledore is playing. Though they're probably the only ones that are ignorant of the truth here. Everyone else in the ministry got to at least suspect Dumbledore.

    Thank you for writing this captivating story.
     
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  2. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    Thanks!

    Indeed. this Dumbledore is rather scary - he's been plotting for some time. Having Snape as his trusted spy helps a lot of course.

    The Wands are the ones more likely to suspect Dumbledore, the Ministry's mostly a bunch of yes-men these days, carefully cultivated by Malfoy to avoid rivals rising to power. Though those among the Employees who would suspect Dumbledore would like not care much, as long as he protects them.
     
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  3. Beyogi

    Beyogi I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    Well that's going to be interesting. I hope Dumbledore manages to discredit Malfoy in the eyes of the wands, or he'll be forced to get them killed. You don't want a military that believes its great one and only true leader was backstabbed by the new government.
     
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  4. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    That's indeed the main issue. Though the tracks are already laid down to shatter that trust.
     
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  5. Threadmarks: Chapter 18: Family Meetings
    Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    Chapter 18: Family Meetings

    London, Diagon Alley, September 24th, 1999, 07.34 hours

    “Luna! Over here!” Wand-Leader Hermione called when she saw her friend step out of the Floo connection in the Leaky Cauldron.

    “Hermione! Antoine! Good morning!” Luna beamed at them. “Here!” she said, dropping a special issue of The Quibbler on the table at which Hermione and Ron were eating breakfast. “Personal delivery just for you!”

    “Thank you.” Hermione picked the magazine up while Ron grabbed the Daily Prophet in case Luna tried to ‘accidentally’ vanish it - sometimes the blonde took the competition among Britain’s leading publishers a bit too far. Today she didn’t try anything though and seemed to be barely able to sit still on her seat. Which, in Hermione’s experience, meant that the Lovegoods had scooped the Prophet.

    A quick glance on the magazine’s cover proved it. Next to the headline ‘The Return of the Exiles’ - she didn’t know why Ron, reading over her shoulder, snorted at that, it was a catchy line - was the announcement of an exclusive interview with Albus Dumbledore.

    “Nice, Luna,” Hermione said. Compared to the Prophet’s coverage of Dumbledore - half hastily rewritten articles published under Lucius Malfoy’s rule, half slightly polished articles dug out from the archives dating back to before 1981 - that was outstanding journalism. And clever propaganda. She was certain that the interview hadn’t taken place last night, but had been done a few days ago.

    Luna nodded several times, a wide smile on her face. “And the next regular issue will feature an interview with Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter!”

    “You’re milking this for all that it’s worth, aren’t you?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

    Luna grinned shamelessly. “Daddy always said that doing good is nice, but doing good, and doing well at sales is better!”

    Ron chuckled. “And after them, Sirius Black?”

    Luna pouted. “I would love to, but Daddy said he’ll do that interview personally. So I’ll be doing the Weasleys.”

    Ron coughed at that, and Hermione snorted. “I think you mean ‘covering the Weasleys’,” she said.

    “Yes. At least the family members who will be coming over to Britain.” Luna looked at Ron pointedly.

    “That would be Arthur, Fred and George I believe,” Hermione said.

    “What about Ron? I hear he’s an attractive young wizard. He could seduce you away from Antoine!” Luna grinned, but then pouted when she saw Hermione and Ron were wincing. “Sorry, I forgot.” She smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “It’s just…”

    Hermione nodded. Luna and her father would be meeting the ghost of Pandora Lovegood today. The blonde witch was acting happy and carefree, but she was nervous, Hermione could tell. And the Wand-Leader was certain that her friend had been far more affected by the killing of Malfoy than she let on. She took Luna’s hands in hers. “It’ll be alright, Luna.”

    Luna sighed, but didn’t say anything. Hermione felt for her friend - compared to what the Lovegoods were facing, Ron having to keep his real identity secret didn’t seem to be that big a problem. They were together, after all.

    *****​

    Beauxbatons, France, September 24th, 1999, 08.05 hours

    “You are returning to Britain then.”

    Olympe stood in the door to Albus Dumbledore’s office and looked at the empty shelves. “Not just to fight your Dark Lord, but to stay,” she added.

    Albus nodded. “You knew that when you hired me.”

    The Headmistress of Beauxbatons sighed. “You couldn’t beat him twenty years ago. What makes you think you can beat him now?”

    “Experience?” Albus smiled, then grew serious. “Things have changed. Lucius knew the Dark Lord would return, and has raised an army in preparation. An army that desires to avenge his death at the Dark Lord’s hand.” Far more competent than the Aurors back in his day. Far more dangerous too.

    “And you’re taking your own army with you.” The witch stepped inside. “Back to the war from which you fled so long ago.”

    “A few friends are following me. You know that most of the exiles will not fight in the war.” Albus knew that all too well. And not all of those who would be fighting should be fighting.

    “But they will leave for Britain as well.”

    “Not all of them. Many have taken roots here in France.” Found love, and families.

    “The younger generation, yes. But your friends never really settled. You’ve always dreamed of returning to Britain. And taking revenge.” Olympe looked at the desk, which was emptying itself into a chest, then back at him.

    “Not many remain upon whom anyone here would wish revenge.” And most of those left were now fighting for the Dark Lord.

    “At least the Ministry will be happy that the threat of you and your friends launching an invasion from our soil is now gone. The English invited you back.” Olympe snorted. “How fickle they are. Their Minister dies, and at once they forget that you were considered their enemy for a generation. Aren’t you afraid that once you have defeated the Dark Lord, they’ll turn on you again?”

    Albus chuckled. “I doubt that. Britain loves its heroes. And Lucius took care to not let anyone grow into a leader able to threaten him.”

    “I don’t like to see you go, Albus. And not simply because it spells the end of the Alchemy course at Beauxbatons.”

    “Nicholas has agreed to teach until the end of the year,” Albus said. He was honouring his obligations; he wouldn’t simply leave the school and his students hanging. Beauxbatons would have the most famous Alchemist alive replacing him.

    “And he’ll not teach a day longer.”

    Albus nodded, acknowledging that. “There are others though.” He had been teaching Alchemy here for almost twenty years. There had been several students who’d be able to teach by now.

    “They’re young. Inexperienced.”

    “They are talented, and willing. With the exception of Nicholas, none of us will be living forever.” And even the Flamels might one day decide to go on the next great adventure. “At my age, looking for a successor is the responsible thing to do.”

    “I expect you will be taking over Hogwarts then?”

    Albus sighed.

    Olympe raised her eyebrows, surprised. “You will not?”

    “It might sound arrogant, but I think I’ll be needed more at the Ministry. Hogwarts is in capable hands.” It would need some changes, of course. But the most important ones wouldn’t be possible without the support of the Wands. And Albus didn’t know if they would agree to equal rights for muggleborns. It would mean the end of the Corps in its current state.

    “I can but wish you luck then.”

    “Thank you.”

    He watched as the tall witch left his office.

    “Is she gone now?” Behind him, the ghost of Pandora Lovegood floated. “Can we go now?”

    He took a deep breath and nodded.

    “Yes.”

    *****​

    London, September 24th, 1999, 18.45 hours

    Wand-Leader Hermione watched as the bus they were on passed through the streets of London. Diagon Alley would be growing darker now, she knew. Sunset was a few minutes away, and soon you’d need a wand to see where you were going. Muggle London wouldn’t grow that dark, ever.

    “Are you certain that you want me to be there when you meet your mother?” she asked Luna, who was sitting at her side. She didn’t want to intrude on what was certain to be a very private, very emotional meeting. She had no experience with those kind of meetings. Due to the Obliviators, she couldn’t even remember her own family’s faces.

    “Yes, I’m certain.” Luna smiled at her.

    “I just mean…” Hermione bit her lower lip. “I’m not exactly…”

    “You’re like my sister, Hermione.” Luna hugged her. “I want you there, with me,” she whispered into Hermione’s ear, “when I meet mummy’s ghost. I need you,” she added, sniffling.

    Hermione rubbed the blonde’s back. “Of course.” Luna was putting on a brave face, but her friend was not doing well, she knew. And if she needed Hermione, then the Wand-leader would be there for her. Anywhere. Anytime.

    The two were on their way to the safehouse with which Hermione was familiar. Ron was already there - he had taken the Vanishing Cabinet back with him in the morning. Hermione knew that Dumbledore was keeping it a secret. A wand up his sleeve, probably in case the Ministry didn’t honour the agreement. She didn’t know exactly how it would be used though - to provide a secure line of retreat, just in case, or to allow them to move around without getting tracked within Britain?

    Luna released her, and returned to her seat on the bus. “Oh… did you see that? All the streetlights just went on. Do you know how they do that?”

    Hermione knew that this wasn’t Luna’s first time in the muggle world. The blonde had been on expeditions with her father, after all. But if Luna wanted to change the topic, she would oblige her. “I think it’s controlled by electricity,” she said. She’d have to learn more about all that, she realised. She owed it to her own dead parents. And she didn’t want to rely on Ron for that sort of knowledge forever.

    “Ah.” Luna nodded. “Did you meet your boyfriend’s parents yet?”

    “I saw his father. But I didn’t talk to him.”

    “Maybe they’ll be there as well. They haven’t seen their son in a long time, have they?”

    Hermione wasn’t certain how to feel about that. Meeting Ron’s friends and siblings was one thing, but his parents? That was different.

    “I’m sorry…” Luna said, sucking on her lower lip. “I didn’t want to remind you of your own parents.”

    “It’s OK, Luna.” She forced herself to smile. “It’s been a long time. I don’t remember them.”

    Luna nodded. For a while, they sat in silence, watching as the night fell on the city.

    “I’m nervous,” Luna suddenly said.

    Hermione looked at her.

    “What if dying has changed her? What if she’s not the mummy I remember? What if… “

    Hermione pulled the smaller girl into her arms. “She loves you. She wants to see you, and your daddy.” Who had gone ahead to interview Sirius.

    Luna nodded, but she saw tears in her friend’s eyes.

    This wasn’t a good idea, but she couldn’t stop it. She could just hope her friend wouldn’t be hurt too much.

    *****​

    Luna’s father was sitting in the living room, scribbling on a long scroll of parchment when they arrived at the safehouse. “Luna!” He jumped up, and the scroll fell to the ground where it started to roll itself up while he embraced his daughter.

    Hermione herself was hugging Ron. “Everything went well?” she asked, after a long kiss.

    “Yes. We’ve been shifting supplies through the cabinet all day. Well, most of us,” he added, with a glance at Mister Lovegood. “Sirius was busy getting interviewed.”

    “Ah.” She smiled. “I saw your father last evening.”

    “I thought so.” He grinned.

    “Did you tell him about us?” she asked, starting to bite her lower lip.

    “Well, my parents know I have a girlfriend. Ginny told them.” He winced. “She didn’t mean to, but they were having a row about her involvement in the attack on the Malfoys.”

    “Ah.” That was understandable.

    “So… they want to meet you. For dinner. Tomorrow.” He smiled weakly. “I’m sorry to spring this on you without warning, but… once you meet my mum, you’ll understand.”

    That sounded ominous. “I guess so,” she said. “We’ll be travelling to France then?”

    He nodded. “It’ll be a family dinner. Apart from Percy, everyone will be there.”

    “I should disguise myself then.” She snorted. “You can remove your disguise, and I’ll pose as Ron Weasley’s girlfriend.”

    “Merlin! But you’re right - if it gets out that Dumbledore had agents in Britain for months, rumours will start that could threaten the agreement.” He cocked his head to the side and made a show of studying her. “Would you rather be a blonde or a redhead?” Then he shook his head. “No… we already have enough redheads, and Mum’s still not over how ‘Fleur snagged Bill’. Dark hair would be best.”

    Hermione wondered even more about Ron’s family. Before she could say anything, she heard steps on the stairs. A moment later, Dumbledore entered the living room.

    “I see everyone has arrived. I have prepared a private room for the Lovegoods.”

    It was time.

    *****​

    London, September 24th, 1999, 20.13 hours

    Hermione did her best to hide her anxiety when she followed the Lovegoods and Dumbledore into the next room. The furniture was scarce - a seat, a couch, a low table - and didn’t match. It didn’t look new either, though she was certain that the room had served as a bedroom when she had visited the house for the first time.

    Luna looked around, hesitantly, while even Xenophilius seemed to have grown more serious than usual.

    Dumbledore smiled. “Mrs Lovegood will be with you in a moment.” He nodded at them, then left, closing the door behind him.

    Luna rubbed her arms, almost hugging herself. Before Hermione could move to her and touch her, a ghost floated through door. Pandora Lovegood. Luna’s mother.

    Luna gasped, and her father seemed frozen. For a moment, no one moved or said anything. Hermione looked at the ghost. The resemblance to Luna was obvious. The same hair, the same figure, just the face looked different. Not just older, but harder too, somehow.

    Though then the ghost smiled, and that hardness disappeared. “Luna.”

    “Mummy!” Luna sobbed, tears running down her face, then rushed towards the ghost, opening her arms, then stopped. The look on her face when she realised she couldn’t touch her mother’s ghost tore at Hermione’s heart.

    “Darling.” Xenophilius stepped closer, putting his hand on Luna’s shoulder. He was crying as well.

    “My love.” Pandora didn’t cry. Ghosts might not be able to; Hermione didn’t know.

    “H-How are you doing?” Xenophilius asked.

    The ghost looked surprised, then she chuckled. “You mean, how am I doing, being dead?”

    Luna’s father nodded. He was forcing himself to smile, Hermione thought.

    “You would ask that,” Pandora said. “I can talk and fly, but I cannot touch anything. I could have explored the world, but I was bound to a place. It was rather boring.” Hermione felt that the ghost was understating things, for her family’s benefit. Spending years bound to Rookwood must have been far worse than simply boring.

    Luna sniffled, but wasn’t crying anymore. “Mummy… were we the reason you became a ghost? Or were you afraid of dying, as the Headmaster said at Hogwarts?”

    Pandora shook her translucent head. “No, my dear. I didn’t choose this. I was summoned as a ghost by Rookwood, so he could force me to tell him about Malfoy.”

    Luna hissed, and her father scowled. “We did our best to avenge you, but we were not able to personally kill Lucius. We helped though.”

    “And I killed his son!” Luna said.

    “Very well done!”

    Pandora smiled and for a moment, she looked very, very different from Luna. Cruel even. Luna’s tales of her mother had painted a rather different picture, Hermione realised. Her friend’s mother hadn’t been that nice. At least not to everyone. And, she added, when she saw Luna beam at her mother’s praise, maybe Luna might have more of her mother than she had thought as well.

    “He cowardly murdered me for simply stumbling onto one of his schemes.”

    “And he fooled us into believing he was our friend,” Luna’s father added. “It shames me to remember how much we trusted him.”

    Luna nodded. “He was almost an uncle to me. And it was all a lie.” She looked close to tears again. Hermione almost ran up to her, but held back. This was the Lovegoods’ moment. She wouldn’t intrude.

    “It might not have been a complete lie,” Pandora said. “I doubt he felt guilty for murdering me, but if he had disliked you, he’d have kept his distance after some gesture for the public.”

    Luna nodded, slightly consoled it seemed.

    “But enough of that scum-drenched offal of a Nundu! Please tell me about your lives. I could only catch the barest glimpses through the newspaper, when I chanced to find one open, and Dumbledore hasn’t told me much.”

    Luna nodded. “I’ve finished Hogwarts. I was in Ravenclaw, second best of my year.”

    She went on to tell her mother about her life - her expeditions, her work at The Quibbler, her many pets, and her time at Hogwarts. “At the start I had some troubles with my housemates, but then I made friends with Hermione, and she introduced me to the other Wands, and I was happy there.”

    “Your best friend is a Wand?” Pandora sounded surprised.

    “Yes, mummy. She found out about the lies of the Minister too.”

    Hermione saw the ghost turn towards her, and forced herself to smile. “Hello, Mrs Lovegood.”

    “She’s the girlfriend of Ron Weasley,” Luna helpfully added. ”Though he is a spy, and so has to disguise himself as a Québecois.”

    “Remarkable.”

    Hermione didn’t know what to say to that. She felt like a specimen under that close scrutiny. So she simply nodded. “Thank you.”

    “She also saved our lives, together with Arthur’s son,” Xenophilius pointed out, “when the Dark Lord attacked our home.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry to say that the Rook didn’t survive. We lost so much of what we built up together.”

    Pandora nodded. “But you two are still alive. Trust me, I’m in the unique position to know that that is all that really matters.”

    “And we have saved the animals as well!” Luna said. “Voley saved us too.” She proceeded to mention all the pets of the Lovegoods, past and present. Her friendship with Astoria Greengrass, and her expeditions. “We haven’t found snorkacks yet though, but we’re close. Really close.”
    “Have you found anyone in your life?” Pandora asked when Luna had finished, and Hermione couldn’t tell who she was asking - her former husband, her daughter, or both.

    Luna’s father shook his head. Luna said: “Not someone serious. Most of my friends are Wands, and with the exception of Hermione, they didn’t look for marriage to a pureblood.”

    Hermione felt the need to defend the Corps. “It wasn’t as if such thoughts were encouraged, Mrs Lovegood. Quite the contrary. My relationship to Ron wasn’t received that well either.”

    The ghost nodded at her, but turned back to Luna. “You’re still young, dear. You’ll find the right one.”

    Luna nodded, smiling, but still with tears in her eyes.

    The ghost sighed then. “I wish I could say the same to you… but I’m not quite certain,” she said, looking at her former husband.

    Xenophilius smiled. “If it happens it happens. I know I’ll meet you again, someday.”

    Luna gasped. “Does that mean you’ll leave, mummy? But I have still so much to tell you!”

    “I shouldn’t be here, dear. I was forced to return, in a way, by a cruel wizard. And my consciousness lingered a bit longer, so I might see my family again.”

    Luna sobbed, and while her father nodded in agreement, he was crying once more.

    “Live long, live well, and find happiness. Pursue your dream, no matter what others say. And crush whoever means you or yours harm.”

    The ghost reached out then, her spectral hands touching her daughter and her husband, and she started to fade, growing dimmer and more translucent.

    “Remember: I love you,” Pandora said, before she disappeared completely.

    Hermione stood there for a moment, hearing Luna sob and Xenophilius consoling her, before she jerked, and stepped over to her friend, wrapping her arms around her.

    *****​

    In another room, Albus Dumbledore ended the spells he had used to observe the meeting. He felt guilty about eavesdropping on such an emotional and private, intimate even, occasion, but needs must. And the result justified his means, at least in this case.

    He glanced at the stone in his hand. As he had suspected, Pandora hadn’t been a true ghost. She hadn’t been a mere imprint of a witch’s consciousness at the time of her death, like a painting, but a true soul, summoned back from the afterlife and bound to the Resurrection Stone. Something Augustus certainly would be paying for in his afterlife.

    Albus had broken that bond tonight, and Pandora had passed on after meeting her family, who hopefully had been able to find some closure.

    And he had found new hope that he might be able to save another soul.

    *****​

    London, September 25th, 1999, 19.35 hours

    “You look fine, dear.”

    Wand-Leader Hermione checked herself in the single enchanted mirror she had found in the safehouse once again. She agreed with the mirror’s judgement, in theory. She did look fine. But looking fine might not be enough. Not for meeting Ron’s parents and the rest of his family. She needed to make the best impression possible from what she had gathered.

    “You know, you don’t have to try that hard. Just be yourself.”

    Hermione whirled around and glared at Ron. “I can’t be myself. I’m in disguise.”

    “Apart from that, I mean.” He stepped closer and kissed her. “I love you. Disguise or not, you’re perfect. Relax, my family’s not that bad.”

    He had removed his beard and hair dye already. She still wasn’t used to how he really looked, but she liked it. Kissing him like this felt different. In a good way. But it didn’t help her nervousness that much. “You’re not the foreign witch trying to lure another Weasley away.” From what she had heard about the past girlfriends of the other Weasley sons, she could expect a rather hostile reception.

    Ron winced. “Fleur’s a special case. She’s a Veela. Mum has a bit of a chip on her shoulder, ever since one flirted with dad once.”

    Hermione nodded. She was certainly no Veela, not even close. Though she still didn’t know exactly what Molly Weasley wanted in a future daughter-in-law. And, as importantly, what she didn’t want. As unlikely as it was to happen, as Ron told her, she didn’t want her boyfriend to be forced to choose between her and his mother.

    Ron sighed. “Ginny was not exactly nice to Fleur either, but then, she has treated every girlfriend of Bill that way. Ma petite was so jealous of anyone trying to take ‘her Bill’ away.”

    “I’m not exactly feeling any more secure here,” Hermione said.

    “You’ll be fine. Ginny likes you. You’re not French, you’re British. Mum won’t fear you’ll make me live in France instead of returning to Britain.” He grinned. “And you won’t try to outdo her at home.”

    “I guess mentioning I planned to head to France with you before I knew your real name would be a bad idea then.”

    He chuckled. “Yes. You can save that for our… second anniversary, I guess.”

    The easy way he said that filled her with happiness. She grabbed his head and pulled him in for another, longer kiss that left both of them panting.

    “I really wish we had more time,” Ron said, his tongue flicking over his lips.

    She nodded. But they hadn’t. It had taken them almost an hour to reach the safehouse in London due to some accident-related traffic jam. Hermione sighed, caressing his now smooth cheek, before turning away to grab her jacket.

    “Let’s go then.”

    *****​

    Outside Argelès-sur-Mer, France, September 25th, 1999, 19.45 hours

    Travelling to the Weasley’s home in France hadn’t taken them more than a minute. Hermione looked around, both to get an impression of the place as well as to be able to apparate by herself next time. If there was a next time after this evening. It was a small plot, with a well-tended garden, and a sturdy looking house. Not new, but certainly not older than twenty years. Big enough so they might not have used expansion charms. Defensible too - the windows were not that large.

    “You’re looking far too anxious again. Relax,” Ron whispered. He didn’t look too relaxed either though.

    Hermione couldn’t call him on it though, since right then, the front door opened, and the Weasley family poured out.

    “Ron!” A slightly plump witch rushed forward and pulled Hermione’s boyfriend into a hug. That had to be his mother, Molly. She recognised his father, of course, and she already knew the twins and Ginny. Percy wasn’t there, Charlie Weasley was a star seeker, and well-known even in Britain, so the last man there had to be Bill Weasley. She didn’t see Harry Potter, so that hopefully meant that the absence of girlfriends was not an indication that none of them had a girlfriend. Or a girlfriend they dared to bring home.

    “Mum… this is Hermione!” Ron said.

    She smiled at the older witch. “Good evening, Mrs Weasley.”

    “Good evening, dear,” Ron’s mother said. Her tone left Hermione with the distinct impression that if the evening would be anything but good, it would be the young witch’s fault. She stood a bit straighter in response - she wouldn’t be intimidated. Before it could get uncomfortable though, Ron’s father smiled at her. “I’m Ron’s dad. Call me Arthur please.” He looked friendly and harmless, but anyone who accompanied Dumbledore to the British Ministry would be anything but harmless. He had probably recognised her already.

    “I’m Bill,” Ron’s oldest brother said, flashing a very charming smile. “Enchanté. I hear we’re colleagues. I’m a Gendarme Magique.”

    “And that’s Charlie, best seeker in Europe,” Ron said, introducing his other brother, before she could answer. Hermione wasn’t certain, but she thought her lover had been glaring at Bill.

    “Hi!” This Weasley was stockier than Ron, and a bit shorter. “I would say Krum might be as good.”

    “Hi Hermione!” the twins chorused. They had to have practised this. “She usually has much wilder hair, and no glasses,” Fred said.

    Ginny just waved, and rolled her eyes behind her brother’s backs.

    “Come inside, dear,” Molly Weasley said, gesturing at the door. Everyone flowed back inside, dragging Hermione and Ron with them.

    The house was not expanded, as far as she could tell. At least not the ground floor. It was cozy, the furniture looked worn, but well-kept, and not too expensive. A far cry from Malfoy Manor or the late Malfoy’s home in Diagon Alley. A big table dominated the living room, big enough to seat ten people comfortably.

    “You’re a bit late, so we’d better start with dinner,” Mrs Weasley said. She sounded a bit reproachful, though Hermione wasn’t certain.

    “Mum, we left on time. We had a traffic jam to deal with,” Ron said, “or we’d have been here on time.”

    “She’s not Estelle,” Ginny added.

    Hermione looked at Ron and raised her eyebrows. “Former girlfriend of mine. Took too long to prepare and arrived late to the family dinner,” he whispered.

    Molly Weasley nodded, but didn’t comment. “Let’s just all sit down. I’ll have the first course ready in a jiffy.”

    As before, everyone complied. Hermione found herself sitting between Ron and Ginny, across from his parents and Bill. Arthur smiled warmly. “So, Hermione… do you really have the last name ‘Britain’?”

    He sounded sincere and she forced herself to smile. “That was actually a joke Ron made when we first met. Wands don’t have last names.”

    “Why not?”

    His question was so innocent, and yet so ignorant that it hurt. It wasn’t his fault that she hadn’t a family, she tried to tell herself, but she couldn’t keep from blurting out: “We’re taken from our families as children, and raised together.”

    Arthur looked stricken. He was about to apologise for his question, when he was interrupted.

    “Merlin! You poor dear!”

    Hermione turned her head and saw that Ron’s mother had returned from the kitchen, several bowls and pots floating behind her. She had her free hand clasped to her mouth, and looked horrified.

    “I had no idea…” The older witch shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”

    Hermione suddenly realised that in the other witch’s eyes, she had changed from the new girlfriend of Molly’s youngest son into a poor orphaned young witch.

    She wasn’t certain if that was an improvement.

    *****​

    Outside Argelès-sur-Mer, France, September 25th, 1999, 20.30 hours

    His mum was in full mothering mode, Ron Weasley thought. No inquisition, no snubbing, no veiled put downs. Just understanding looks and nods, and comforting comments. If not for his brothers and Ginny, Hermione would have probably fled by now. Maybe.

    “You mean, she literally fell into Ron’s lap? In the middle of a Death Eater attack?” Charlie asked, after hearing how they had met for the first time. Ron winced. He trusted his family, but his spying mission was now known by over a dozen people - that was far too many. He hoped that Malfoy’s treachery would be revealed soon.

    “Technically, yes,” Hermione said. “I took cover behind a cart. He had had the same idea a bit earlier.”

    “And I had her wand at my throat at once. Though it wasn’t really funny at the time,” Ron added. Even if it did sound like part of a James Bond movie. Certainly more impressive than meeting at a Quidditch match.

    “And he asked me out after I took his statement as a witness.” Hermione smiled. “Things developed from there.”

    Ron smiled as well. Things had developed indeed. He snorted when he thought about the irony that his cover story, looking for a place to form and raise a family, had actually become true. He had found the witch he wanted to marry.

    “To the point that after Ron confessed, you’ve been helping him and Dumbledore fight Malfoy and the Dark Lord?” Charlie asked.

    “Yes,” Hermione said. She sounded tense now. Ron reached over to take her hand.

    Fred grinned. “Our brother the secret agent, seducing the pretty witch working for the enemy to switch sides! We’re so proud!”

    Ron could have hexed his brother. He knew Fred was joking, didn’t mean to hurt her, but Ron remembered how devastated Hermione had been that day. To realise her whole life had been a lie, that her parents had been murdered… that was not something to make jokes about.

    Hermione was sitting stiffly now, and speaking in a flat tone. “I had just discovered that my parents had been murdered by Obliviators on Malfoy’s order when I was kidnapped, as were most of the parents of the Wands. I was hoping to move to France with ‘Antoine’.”

    Fred had the grace to look sheepish for a few moments while their parents glared at him.

    “How did you find this out?” Bill asked. “Professional interest,” he defended himself when Mum’s glare turned on him.

    “I was investigating a possible spy or traitor, and the Obliviators were suspects. I found out they had more money than they could explain, which led to uncovering how they robbed muggles. Then I saw them attack the family of a muggleborn and kidnap the child. Subsequent investigations revealed that this was standard practise, that the victims included my own family, and that the Minister had personally ordered it.”

    Hermione spoke in a clinical, controlled manner, a bit too controlled compared to her usual professional manner, and Ron put his hand on her thigh, squeezing gently. She glanced at him, smiling briefly.

    “I couldn’t reveal that back then, not with the Minister still in charge. And after his death, the situation has been a bit too volatile to do so. But the culprits will not escape justice.” Hermione sounded dead serious.

    Bill nodded. “Good.”

    The table was silent for a bit - a rarity in the Weasley home.

    “Will you keep this house when you move back to Britain?” Hermione asked. Ron almost winced again. It was a harmless question, or would be, if not for his family’s circumstances.

    He saw his parents exchanging glances. After a moment, Dad said: “We’ll keep it for the vacations.”

    Hermione nodded. Ron almost shook his head. They didn’t mention that their mother had hoped Bill would move in, if he absolutely had to stay in France, but the oldest Weasley son didn’t want to leave his current home, which had been a wedding gift by the Delacours that mum still hadn’t forgiven Bill’s in-laws for - she considered it ‘showing off their money’.

    “It’ll take some time to rebuild the Burrow, but we’ll manage,” Ron’s dad said.

    “Luna proposed to build matching houses,” Ron said. “A Rook for the Lovegoods, and a Bishop for us.”

    His mum huffed, but dad laughed. “That sounds like Xenophilius’s daughter.” He shook his head. “We’ll start small. We don’t need to house seven children anymore, though I hope you’ll not let us wait too long to babysit our grandchildren.”

    Ron saw that Hermione looked lost, and squeezed her thigh again. “They don’t mean us,” he whispered. She relaxed. It was not quite a lie - they weren’t even married yet.

    “Well… you still have Ginny to babysit,” George started, “but she’s rarely at home anyway.” He grinned at the pouting girl. “And Ron and Hermione might want to have their own secret base as secret agents.”

    “We haven’t really planned where we’d live after the war,” Ron said. They didn’t even know what they would do, once the Dark Lord was gone.

    “Too busy?” Fred said, winking.

    “I would have thought you two would build a secret base. Underground,” Ron said, ignoring the insinuation.

    “We might keep the safehouse, if Dumbledore let us.” George smiled.

    Mum frowned, though Ron thought the farther the twins’ experiments were from anyone’s home, the better.

    “How many of the other exiled families will be returning?” Hermione asked.

    Arthur sighed. “If you had asked me this question a year ago, I’d have said, everyone. We - the ones who fled Britain after fighting in the war - have been waiting for this opportunity for a long time.” He smiled. “But that was just talk between old people, reminiscing the past. Now that we actually can return, people are hesitating. Most of us have built new lives here. Especially the younger generation.

    Mum sniffed. That was a touchy subject in the Weasley family. Ron knew his mum wanted everyone to ‘come back to Britain’, but Bill, Charlie and Ginny wanted to stay in France for their careers.

    “Most in the Ministry seem to expect that the exiles will return en masse,” Hermione said. “Dumbledore gave that impression as well.”

    “He isn’t wrong,” Ron’s dad said. “We will return, to help defeat the Dark Lord and take our homes back. But I don’t know how many will give up their lives in France for good.” He sighed. “From my admittedly brief visit, I gained the impression that the Ministry needs a lot of help to keep running smoothly without Malfoy. We’ll do what we can, of course, but there might be fewer of us returning for good than left twenty years ago.”

    “We’ll not shirk our duty towards our home,” Mum said. “Even if others might do so.”

    Ron saw that Ginny and Bill started to frown at the implied criticism, and he sighed. Even Hermione’s presence as a guest would only go so far when it came to making everyone keep their tempers under control. So he tried to change the topic. “What do you think about the new Keeper of the Aigles?”

    Fortunately, with two professional Quidditch players among them, and the rest of the family having been on the school teams, soon everyone was debating the merits and skill of various players and teams. Hermione didn’t know much about the French teams, but she had some anecdotes about corruption in the British Quidditch League. Apparently Ludo Bagman had been running bets and had tried to fix matches to scam his ‘customers’. A colleague of Hermione had arrested him.

    They talked straight through dessert, until they had to leave. All in all, this visit had turned out to be far better than Ron had feared. Much better than any other visit by a Weasley's girlfriend he could remember. Though that didn’t mean that much, of course.

    *****​

    London, September 26th, 1999, 10.30 hours

    “And then mum went from ‘begone, evil seductress’ straight to ‘you poor orphan’. Hermione didn’t know what hit her!”

    Ron Weasley, sitting on an armchair in the Order’s safehouse, sighed while Harry chuckled at Ginny’s description. As correct as it was, he didn’t think that it was quite that funny. Maybe looking back at it a few years or decades from now, it would be. Though as long as Harry, who was another ‘poor orphan’ according to Ron’s mum, thought it was funny he’d not make a fuss out of it.

    “So, your girlfriend has successfully braved the Weasley den, and escaped unscathed, hm?” Harry shook his head. “That’s impressive. Not as impressive as me wooing the only Weasley daughter in seven generations or so, without getting cursed by her six older brothers, of course.”

    “Mec, that’s because you didn’t woo her. Ginny all but stunned and dragged you back to her room.” Ron would know; his sister had badgered him for advice on how to win Harry’s heart more than once.

    “Hey!” Ginny glared at him.

    “Well, she was stunning in that dress at the Yule Ball,” Harry said, wrapping an arm around the girl in question and planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

    Placated, Ginny leaned into his side.

    “It helped of course that mum loves you.” Ron rubbed his chin. “Though she’d probably have approved of Neville as well.” That earned him a glare from his friend. He ignored it. “Mum and Bill made it clear that they wouldn’t tolerate any cursing. And Ginny,” he added, before his sister could complain.

    “And now that we know your mum approves of her, what did Hermione think of your parents?” Harry asked.

    “She was a bit surprised by how loud we are,” Ron said. “But she wasn’t put off.” Hermione had not much experience with meeting parents, after all - she was familiar with Luna’s father and the Malfoys, and neither family was exactly average.

    “I bet she’s used to big gatherings. Don’t the Wands consider the Corps their family?” Ginny asked.

    “They do. Or are supposed to. But I don’t think they’re as close to everyone as we are.” At least Ron hadn’t seen much evidence of that.

    “So, when’s the wedding?” Harry asked, grinning. Ron winced, and Harry apologised. “Sorry, mec.”

    Ron sighed. “We haven’t actually talked that much about it. I mean, we have an understanding, but… We haven’t talked about any details. Like what we’ll do after the war, where we’ll live…” He shrugged. They had to survive first.

    Harry nodded. “I can understand that.” Ron knew Harry hadn’t exactly been making plans himself.

    Ron sighed. “We don’t know how Britain will look after the war.” Or if both of them would be still alive. “Speaking of, what exactly is Dumbledore planning? Hermione told me that he had the acting Minister eating out of his hand, and was talking to the Wand-Commander, but she didn’t know anything more than that.”

    Harry cleared his throat, and exchanged a glance with Ginny. “He wants to reveal my prophecy to the Wands. At least the part the Dark Lord knows already.”

    “He wants to let them know that you’re crucial for the war effort?” Ron asked.

    “Exactly,” Harry said, and his expression told Ron that he didn’t like it. Ginny must have noticed it as well, since she elbowed her boyfriend into his side. “Oof.” He frowned at her.

    Ginny matched his frown. “I told you: No complaining about any measures taken to make you safer.” She hugged him, and added in a lower tone: “I won’t lose you.”

    Harry smiled, and sighed. “I just don’t like the thought of people sacrificing themselves for me.”

    Ron would have quipped that Harry wanted to do that himself, but held his tongue. Some things you didn’t bring up in Ginny’s presence. “And what about the time after the war?”

    “I guess Dumbledore will be ruling the country,” Ginny said.

    “I know that,” Ron said. “I meant: Will there be a Corps still, and what kind? What about the Aurors?”

    “Thinking of signing up?” Harry asked.

    “I’m a trained Gendarme, not a future Quidditch star. Or house wizard,” he added with a grin to Ginny.

    “At least you’ll be living in England. That’ll make mum happier,” Ginny said, pouting. “She’s been giving me grief about staying in France. As if I would give up my career with the Aigles!”

    “You’re not the only one to stay,” Harry pointed out.

    “Oh, yes! You should have seen her reaction to Bill telling her he’ll stay. I haven’t heard that many words for ‘French hussy’ since mum heard that the engagement party was to be held at the Delacours’.” Ginny shook her head. “And Charlie doing the same had the cauldron boil over. And melt down.”

    “I was actually speaking about more than your family,” Harry pointed out. “Even if it feels sometimes that you’re half the exiles. But I think a lot of the younger British exiles won’t return.”

    Ginny shrugged. “France is our home. Britain’s just a bunch of tales from our parents.”

    “Maybe,” Ron said. “I’ve been thinking of going back to France myself, if things don’t work out in Britain. Hermione would make a good Gendarme as well.” Though he wasn’t certain that she’d leave Britain if she thought the Corps needed her. Or Luna.

    Ultimately, it all came down to what the Wands would do. Dumbledore was gambling a lot on the Corps’ reaction to the revelations about their origin. Ron just hoped that the old wizard’s plan would succeed.

    *****​

    London, Ministry of Magic, September 26th, 1999, 14.30 hours

    “Mr. Tonks, Mr. Cresswell?” Wand-Leader Hermione smiled at the two wizards in obvious muggle clothes who had just arrived in the Atrium. She was among the only ones who did - most of the employees gave the two a wide berth. Even the Wands standing guard were tense. Muggle clothes were not something you’d expect to see in Wizarding Britain these days. If all went well, that would be changing soon. Or so she hoped. When the two nodded, she continued. “I’m Wand-Leader Hermione and this is my co-worker Dean. If you’ll follow me to the offices of the Investigative Branch?”

    “Of course, Miss,” Tonks said, smiling. Cresswell nodded, though he seemed a bit more reserved.

    “Please feel free to ask me if you have any questions,” she said while she led them to the lifts.

    “How long have you been in the Corps?” Tonks asked.

    “We’ve both been active members for almost one and a half years. We graduated Hogwarts in 1998, in the same class,” Hermione said.

    “Ah, Hogwarts!” Tonks smiled. “I wonder how it has changed since I was a student.”

    Hermione was certain he had been briefed thoroughly on the situation at Hogwarts, but she simply smiled. “I’d not know, that was before my time.”

    When they reached their floor, she stepped out first, out of habit from her tour as a guard, while Dean brought up the rear.

    Benjamin and his entire team was waiting for them, as were most of the other members of the Investigative Branch. “Welcome to Britain’s best investigators,” the wizard said. “I’m Wand-Leader Benjamin.”

    He introduced the rest of the Wands present as well. Hermione used the opportunity to study the two visitors some more. Tonks appeared to be friendly and polite, though that could be an act. Cresswell was more tense, but not much more than Dean was. Hermione’s friend was still dealing with the revelations from Dumbledore and herself, she knew.

    “Please to meet you all. I’m Ted Tonks. I’m an investigative judge at the criminal court in Paris. This is Dirk Cresswell, a Gendarme Magique.” He beamed at them. “We’re here to coordinate with you so any Death Eater that is arrested will be able to be prosecuted to the full extent of the law and not be acquitted because their rights were violated.”

    That was the pretext. Hermione was certain that both visitors were all too aware that the British judicial system hadn’t really cared about technicalities under Malfoy’s regime. Nor, as far as she knew, had those been a concern before Malfoy’s takeover.

    “Albus Dumbledore chose us two since we both have experience in law enforcement, and we’re both muggleborns, like you,” Tonks added.

    The Wands present nodded. If they hadn’t already known that from the men’s clothes they wouldn’t have been in the Investigative Branch, Hermione thought.

    As she had expected, the actual coordination didn’t take that much time - the differences between the systems the exiles were used to and the Wands’ were minimal as far as investigating and arresting were concerned. Judging would be handled by the Wizengamot, most likely. Which would probably do what Dumbledore wanted - that was how it had been under Malfoy, after all.

    “Do you have any questions for us not related to procedure?” Tonks asked when they took a break.

    Colin, bless his curiosity and what Hermione liked to think of as courage while Dean called it a lack of embarrassment, spoke up at once: “Were you abused by your parents?”

    When she saw the two muggleborn exiles’ reaction at the question, Hermione wasn’t quite certain anymore that they had been as thoroughly prepared as she had thought.

    “Pardon?” Tonks asked, blinking.

    “Were you abused by your muggle parents?” Colin asked again.

    “Why would you ask that?” Tonks exchanged a glance with his companion.

    “Because we were. We were taken from our parents because they wanted to kill us for being wizards. The Minister saved us,” Colin said.

    “No, we were not. My parents fled with me to France when the Ministry fell in 1981,” Cresswell said.

    “In fact, I don’t recall any case of abuse of a muggleborn by their parents during the time I was working as a litigator here,” Tonks added.

    “That sounds a bit implausible, given the known attitudes of muggles,” Cleo said. Hermione hoped the doubt she noticed was not just limited to Tonks’s claim.

    “Witchcraft is still a capital crime among muggles,” Dean said.

    “In some countries,” Tonks said. “Not in Europe though, and certainly not in Britain or France. My parents were very surprised when they learned that I was a wizard, but they certainly never abused me.”

    “Were all of the Wands abused by their parents?” Cresswell asked, almost hesitantly, or so Hermione had the impression.

    “According to the Obliviator reports, all of us were saved from impending harm, usually at the hands of our parents, in response to our first bout of accidental magic,” Hermione said.

    “That sounds a bit implausible,” Cresswell said, glancing at Cleo.

    “That’s what the files say. We were looking into the Obliviators for possible treason or corruption,” Hermione added. “We didn’t find anything, but we were not allowed to include activities in muggle Britain in our investigation.” She did her best to sound normal, as if given additional information as usual.

    Colin nodded. “The Obliviators have more gold than they should have, but that’s all we found.”

    Benjamin nodded slowly. “It’s of no consequence now, under our current circumstances. We’ll need to focus on beating the Dark Lord.”

    The glance he sent at Hermione though made it clear that there would be words once their visitors had left again.

    She hoped very much that they would be the words she wanted to hear.

    *****​
     
  6. Beyogi

    Beyogi I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    Interesting words, I guess. I wonder how many lightbulbs were lighted here.

    But as expected, 20 years exile mean that the next generation will have found a new home. Good for magical France, I guess.
     
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  7. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    Unless Wizarding Britain descends into anarchy, and the younger generation with roots in France drags the country into the conflict since their parents are fighting there already.
     
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  8. Beyogi

    Beyogi I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    Possible, I guess. But it feels like this story is nearing its end, so I figure this would be rather unlikely.
     
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  9. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    True. Though Voldemort's not beaten yet, that'll take a few more chapters.
     
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  10. Beyogi

    Beyogi I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    Considering the lack of response in this forum I'm kinda wondering if it's more popular on ff.net. It's a well thought out AU story that doesn't go out of its way to bash anyone (except perhaps Draco, but he wasn't that much worse than in canon), which makes it a pretty rare thing.
     
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  11. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    It's not that popular. "Divided and Entwined" has about three times the followers and favorites on FFNet.
     
  12. Threadmarks: Chapter 19: Deceptions Revealed
    Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    Chapter 19: Deceptions Revealed

    London, Ministry of Magic, September 26th, 1999, 17.15 hours

    “A word, Hermione.”

    Wand-Leader Hermione turned towards Benjamin. The senior Wand-Leader of the Corps’ Investigative Branch was leaning against the wall outside her office and had apparently been waiting for her to return from seeing Tonks and Cresswell off.

    “Of course, Benjamin,” she said, with more confidence than she felt. She suspected what this was about - she probably had not been subtle enough for the experienced investigator.

    “In private.” He gestured with his head towards his office.

    Once inside, Benjamin cast a privacy spell and sat down on the edge of his desk. “You’ve been investigating the Obliviators.”

    “I told you that.” Hermione remained standing.

    “You said you were not allowed to observe them in the muggle world. But you did it anyway, didn’t you?”

    He knew her too well. She nodded.

    “You found something. Something worse than corruption. You didn’t check our files just to be thorough in your investigation.” Benjamin’s tone was calm, but she could see that he was tense. Not aggressive, hopefully.

    “Yes.” She didn’t like to admit it, but denying it would have been worse.

    “What did you find out?” He stared at her.

    She didn’t flinch. She had expected that. Had planned her response. “You have to see that for yourself.”

    He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. She was almost certain he suspected what she had found out. “We’re in the middle of a war. If what I suspect you found out is true, then this could destroy us.”

    “We need to decide our own future. We can’t do that if we don’t know our past,” Hermione said.

    “You sound like Dumbledore.” Benjamin frowned.

    Hermione fought to keep her expression from betraying her thoughts. If he suspected that she had been working with Dumbledore… She shrugged, and said: “You know that he’ll be ruling the country after the Dark Lord’s defeat. If the Corps doesn’t make a decision, he’ll decide our future.”

    “He also said entering politics was a mistake for many.” Benjamin folded his arms over his chest.

    “Letting others decide our fate is a worse mistake. Do you trust the acting Minister with our lives?” Hermione scoffed. Then she sighed. “And you know as well as I do that if what Tonks and Cresswell told us is true, then the Corps will change no matter what we do.”

    He pressed his lips together but didn’t deny it. “Do you want us to become Aurors?” His tone made it clear what he thought about that idea.

    She shook her head. “No. I’ve been thinking about this for some time.” She saw his eyebrows rise marginally. “It’s not the blood that makes us different, it’s how we are raised.”

    “And that will change. If the exiles aren’t lying.” Benjamin didn’t add ‘if we’re not taken from our families anymore’, but she knew his meaning.

    “It just means we’ll have to start training the new Wands later. After Hogwarts.”

    “Like the Aurors?” Benjamin sneered.

    She scoffed. “Certainly not. Signing your name on a parchment and receiving a red robe is not training. I’m thinking a few years, at least. To teach them all they need to be Wands. To be part of the Corps.”

    “It still won’t be the same. They’ll have families, friends outside the Corps.”

    She had friends outside the Corps. She didn’t say that though. Instead she said: “No, it won’t. But I’m hoping it’ll be close enough.” She sighed. “The alternative is that the Corps ends. We’ll not get any new Wands, and we’ll either get folded into the Aurors, or they join us.” She shuddered at the thought. “But we can’t keep going as we did.” They couldn’t take children from their families and raise them like they were raised. That would make them no better than the Minister.

    “You’ve given this some thought.”

    “Yes.” It was her future. Her family’s future.

    He closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again, he met hers. “It’s clear what you discovered. And it’s also clear that no one will believe you, not without proof. Even I would love to doubt you.” He narrowed his eyes. “You could have been memory charmed. The evidence faked.”

    She couldn’t have him demand her memories. Not at this point. “That’s why I want you to discover the truth for yourself. I trust that the Investigative Branch will be able to spot any forgery.”

    Benjamin snorted. “We can’t waste too much time going through the motions though. Gather the rest. We’ll bring in all Obliviators for questioning. With Veritaserum and pensieves.”

    Hermione nodded. “Fudge too,” she said.

    Benjamin hissed, his eyes widening. He had to know what that meant. He didn’t say anything though, just nodded. “Him too.”

    She had thought she would feel satisfaction, knowing the Minister’s lies would be exposed, but all she felt was sorrow for the grief her fellow Wands would soon be feeling.

    *****​

    London, September 26th, 1999, 20.04 hours

    “Please have a seat, Harry,” Albus Dumbledore said, conjuring a comfortable chair for the young wizard.

    “Rather spartan furniture,” Harry commented as he sat down. “I thought you took all your belongings with you.”

    Albus chuckled. “This is just a temporary safehouse closer to Diagon Alley. I am looking for a home in Hogsmeade or Godric’s Hollow, so I will not be limited to muggle transportation.” He had a few prospects, but secrecy and safety was a concern - it wouldn’t do to let the Dark Lord’s spies find out where he had moved to. He wanted to restore his brother’s home, but that would have to wait until Tom was defeated.

    “Well, I’d certainly never suspect that a master of Transfiguration was living here.” Harry snorted. Then he grew serious. “You didn’t call me to talk about furniture though, did you?”

    Albus gently shook his head. “No, I did not.” He leaned back in his own seat. “I think I have found an alternative to dealing with your burden.” As Harry’s eyes widened, Albus added: “It’s by no means a certain success. But I think it has a lot of promise.”

    Harry nodded. “What is it?”

    “Are you familiar with the Deathly Hallows?” Albus asked, folding his hands on his chest.

    Harry shrugged. “I’ve heard the tale as a kid. Three powerful items, crafted by Death himself, for three brothers who tricked him. The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and the Cloak of Invisibility. Many have sought them, no one found them, ever. It is like a magical version of the Holy Grail. Just without the rabbit.” He chuckled.

    Albus didn’t know what rabbit he meant. “It’s more than a legend. They exist.”

    Harry drew a deep breath. “Crafted by Death himself? Does that mean Death exists?”

    Albus smiled. “Death exists, in as much as sooner or later, it claims everything alive. But whether or not it has a consciousness, much less the ability to work magic, I cannot say. But the three Deathly Hallows do exist. And they are exceptionally powerful.”

    “Why haven’t they been found yet, then? Or rather, where can we find them?” Harry leaned forward. “If those can deal with this,” he tipped on his scar, “Then I think we should start searching for them at once.”

    “I already know where they are,” Albus said. He smiled when the young man frowned. It was a guilty pleasure, to tease the boy like this.

    “And where are those legendary treasures?” Harry wasn’t quite pouting, but he came close.

    “One of them is in your pocket.”

    Harry blinked, then gaped. “In my… the cloak!” He pulled the shimmering fabric out of his enchanted pocket. “That’s the Cloak of Invisibility?”

    “Indeed. I’ve known since your father gave it to me to examine. I didn’t advertise the fact, of course.” Albus sighed. “You were in enough danger already.”

    “But… you just gave it to me, without telling me?” Harry was shaking his head.

    “It is yours. It has been in your family for generations. Passed on from father to child. I am not certain, but I believe the Potters descended from the Peverells of the legend.”

    “I’ve been using a Deathly Hallow for pranks…” Harry chuckled.

    “A far better use of such an item than what others have been used for.” Albus sighed. “The history of the Elder Wand is drenched in blood. The Resurrection Stone has been used for the worst Dark Arts you can imagine.”

    Harry nodded, looking at the cloak in his hands. “I guess I should have known it wasn’t normal, seeing as it never faded.”

    “That is but one of its powers. A wizard hiding underneath it also cannot be revealed by any spell I know,” Albus explained.

    “But you saw through it when Ron and I tried to sneak into the girls’ dorm!” Harry exclaimed.

    “I did not. I heard you move, and I saw how the dust on the floor was disturbed by you passing me.” Albus chuckled. “I confess that I did let you believe I could see through the cloak, so you’d not try it again.”

    Harry snorted, shaking his head. In a more serious tone, he asked: “You said you knew where the Hallows are. That means you know where the other two are?”

    Albus nodded, and pulled out the Resurrection Stone. “I have verified that it can summon the souls of the dead.”

    Harry stiffened. “He isn’t dead though, is he? Can he even die, as long as I live?”

    Albus smiled. “The prophecy hints at that, at least.”

    “I thought it meant that by suiciding, I could remove his last link, effectively killing him,” Harry said.

    “I think Miss Weasley has made it clear that she will not let you do that.” The old wizard sighed. “According to the legend, he who possesses all three Hallows will be the Master of Death. As the legend has been proven to be true in parts at least, I believe that this could be the power he knows not: The ability to kill him, despite his precautions.” He drew his wand and put it on the conjured low table, next to the stone.

    “That’s the...?”

    Albus nodded. “I won it from Gellert Grindelwald.”

    Harry took a deep breath, then laid the cloak on the table. “All three are united then.”

    Albus chuckled. “It is not that easy, alas. I have not yet discerned who will have to unite them.”

    Harry drew a hissing breath. “The power he knows not.” He smiled wrily. “I don’t suppose that we can simply pass the things back and forth to check?”

    “It is not quite that simple.” Albus gently shook his head.

    Harry closed his eyes and sighed. “It never is, is it?”

    *****​

    London, Ministry of Magic, September 26th, 1999, 14.30 hours

    Wand-Leader Hermione, leaning against the base of the fountain in the Ministry’s atrium, watched over The Quibbler she was holding as Cornelius Fudge exited the Floo connection, followed by his bodyguard. The Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes hadn’t been in his office the day after the Malfoys had died, claiming to be sick. Apparently, Dumbledore returning to Britain had cured him. He looked unconcerned even as he returned from lunch. As expected.

    She waited until the man had passed her, then started to follow him. The bodyguard didn’t seem to notice her - her brown robes sometimes worked better than an invisibility cloak when among purebloods. Halfway to the lifts, Dean joined her, carrying a few scrolls of parchment.

    “I’ve got the reports you wanted!” he said.

    “Very good Dean.” Hermione let her wand slide into her hand, the movement hidden by her sleeves.

    They followed Fudge into the lift and ignored his scowl, chatting about reports and other boring minutiae. As soon as the doors closed, they struck. Hermione whipped her wand up and stunned the bodyguard with two quick spells before he could react. Dean, closer to Fudge, grabbed the wizard’s wand arm, used it to slam the man against the wall, hard, then stunned the dazed wizard.

    She raised her eyebrows at him and he shrugged. “Didn’t want to give him the chance to cast.”

    It was a good excuse, but she didn’t think that had been the real reason. “Let’s disillusion them.”

    When the doors opened on the floor where the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes was located, the clerk waiting there saw no one but the two Wands. Dean glared at him and started to close the doors again. The man took a step back, muttering something Hermione didn’t catch.

    They descended to the Wands’ floor, dispelled the Disillusionment Charm, then levitated the two unconscious wizards out.

    “Two more for the cells,” she announced.

    Sally-Anne, standing guard at the cell tract, whistled. “Wow… Fudge as well? First the entire Obliviator Squad, now him?”

    Hermione shrugged and quoted one of her instructors: “One arrest leads to another. Keep it quiet though - last I heard, we might have to take the retired Obliviators in for questioning as well.”

    “Alright, Hermione.”

    Hermione stared at her for a moment, then nodded. Sally-Anne was a gossip, but she’d not talk to anyone outside the Corps.

    Benjamin was in the processing area when they entered. He glanced at the stunned Department Head, then nodded at them. “Good work. We’ve got everyone who’s still working for the Ministry then.”

    “What’s next?” Hermione asked, dropping the prisoners off - literally - at the desk there.

    “Veritaserum interrogation of the Obliviators we arrested this morning implicates their predecessors as well,” Benjamin said. She knew he was angry, but he hid it well, acting as if this was just a routine bust.

    “Do you want us to go after Ottokar Merriweather?” Hermione asked. She’d love to arrest the man, after he had escaped her once already.

    Benjamin shook his head. “No. You’ll relieve Cleo and Robert as acting Obliviators.”

    Hermione knew better than to protest the assignment. Benjamin knew she was among the Wands most familiar with the muggle world. Good enough to have tracked and observed the Obliviators there without being spotted. It made sense to take over for the Obliviators her own work had caused to be arrested.

    She just hoped it wouldn’t take too long to find some permanent replacements - she was a Wand, not an Obliviator.

    “Did anyone ask Dumbledore if there are former Obliviators among his people?”

    Benjamin rubbed his chin, “Good question, and good idea. I’ll check with Sarah if we can get some exiles to step in.” He grinned. “We need every Wand on our duties, not filling in for corrupt criminals.” He looked at the widely smiling Dean. “That doesn’t mean you don’t have to go though; but with some luck, you’ll be relieved by some exiles.”

    Dean sighed. “Well, hopefully, nothing will happen during our shift.”

    “If we detect accidental magic by a muggleborn child…” Hermione started to ask.

    “Then you memory charm strangers who observed it, and inform the parents,” Benjamin interrupted her.

    Hermione nodded, smiling faintly. She was very glad that there wouldn’t be any more kidnappings, but at the same time, she couldn’t help feeling a bit sad that the Corps wouldn’t be the same anymore. Even if it had been built on lies, it had been the only family she could remember.

    *****​

    London, Ministry of Magic, September 26th, 1999, 15.00 hours

    “Good afternoon, Wand-Commander Sarah,” Albus Dumbledore said, smiling at the witch. Once more he was struck at how young the Wands were, even their leader was barely in her thirties. “May I introduce Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley?” He pointed at the young couple. Harry had insisted on bringing his girlfriend along, though the Professor didn’t know if Miss Weasley had urged him to first. “You already know Sirius Black,” Albus added. “Harry, Miss Weasley - Wand-Commander Sarah.”

    The Wand nodded, introduced her subordinates, and everyone shook hands - but for Sirius, who kissed the witch’s hand. “I certainly remember you, Sarah.”

    Albus saw Harry rolling his eyes at his godfather’s antics, and hid a smile of his own. Sirius’s flirting might look uncalled for, given the circumstances - this was a strategy meeting, after all - but might also serve to bridge the gap between the Wands and the rest of Wizarding Britain. Provided, he added, Sirius didn’t overdo it. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, after all.

    The Wand-Commander recovered quickly, frowning although not glaring at Sirius before turning to Albus. “You wanted to meet and discuss the war.”

    “That is correct,” he said. “You have probably heard of Harry. He is the only wizard known to have survived the Killing Curse.”

    Sarah frowned slightly. “Him surviving the Killing Curse seems a bit questionable. It was also claimed that he had destroyed the Dark Lord, which was proven to be false.”

    Albus hid his annoyance. To have been outmaneuvered by Lucius so completely back then… it was among his greatest failures and regrets. Instead his smiled. “I think that if you check the Department of Mysteries, you will find that there is a prophecy concerning Harry and the Dark Lord. A prophecy I heard when it was uttered. It proclaims that he has the power to vanquish the Dark Lord.”

    Albus saw that Harry had pulled Ginny to his side. He regretted doing this, but the Wands had to know Harry’s importance. “The Dark Lord knows this. That was the reason he attacked Harry’s family in 1981.”

    “Does that mean the Dark Lord will seek him out again?” Sarah asked.

    “I believe so. Harry not only is the subject of a prophecy, but he also is one of the few who defeated the Dark Lord.” He held up his hand when Sarah seemed about to say something. “I know you have doubts, but I was there in the aftermath of the attack. The Dark Lord did attack the Potters personally, he did kill Harry’s parents, but he failed to kill Harry.”

    Sarah slowly nodded. Whether she was accepting his reasoning or simply letting him continue Albus couldn’t yet say. After another glance to Harry, whose face had lost all expression now, he resumed his tale. “Further, I have been training him. Preparing him. He will be essential for the fight against the Dark Lord.”

    “Are you saying that Mister Potter was trained to face and defeat the Dark Lord?” Sarah’s doubts were clear in her expression.

    “He has the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. Power can take many forms. While I have certainly trained him well, if I do say so myself, I do not plan on him duelling Voldemort.”

    Miss Weasley muttered what Albus thought was fierce agreement while Harry chuckled. “While I might not be quite on the level of the Dark Lord, I make excellent bait,” the boy said. That earned him an elbow into his ribs from his girlfriend, Albus noted. Miss Weasley apparently didn’t fully appreciate the boy’s dark humour. The professor turned his attention back to the Wand-Commander.

    “You do not want to share what his power is then.” Sarah stared at Albus.

    “You are correct. I do not want to offend you, but I prefer to keep the exact details of this a secret. While I doubt any Wand would turn traitor, the Ministry is probably riddled with spies.” Albus smiled placatingly. “What I can tell you though is where the Dark Lord is hiding.”

    That caught the attention of every Wand in the room. “You’ve found him?” Sarah asked, an eager gleam in her eyes.

    Albus nodded. “Yes. He’s currently hiding in a small cottage in Lancashire. It will be well-defended, no doubt about that, but I am confident that working together, we can overcome his followers and himself.”

    “He returned from death once before.”

    “He did. He will not repeat this feat. My word on it.” Albus would ensure that.

    He just hoped it would not cost Harry his life.

    *****​

    London, September 26th, 1999, 18.14 hours

    Ron Weasley watched as Harry, Ginny and Sirius entered the new safehouse. The older wizard was grinning widely while Ron’s sister and his best friend looked angry - though whether it was with each other, with Sirius, or both, he couldn’t yet say.

    “How did the meeting go?” he asked. “Did they agree to a combined attack?”

    “They did, in as much as us tagging along with them is a combined attack,” Harry said. “We’re supposed to stay back and wait for Voldemort to emerge before engaging him.”

    Ron pondered this a moment. “That sounds like a decent plan, given that we haven’t fought side by side yet.” So why were they angry?

    “And as soon as we agreed on that, Sirius tried to seduce the Wand-Commander!” Harry said, glaring at his godfather.

    “There was no ‘try’, Harry,” Sirius grinned. “We’ve got a date.”

    “She agreed to another meeting to plan the assault in detail. With Dumbledore,” Harry said in a flat voice.

    “Tsk, tsk, Harry!” Sirius shook his head. “You need to learn to pay more attention to witches. It’s no wonder Ginny’s so often annoyed at you.”

    “I’m not!” Ron’s sister cut in.

    Harry’s godfather ignored her. “Sarah is… receptive to my advances. The blushing, the glances… trust me, I know witches.”

    “Blushing? Glances?” Ron looked at Ginny.

    She shrugged. “I wasn’t paying attention to the witch.”

    Harry sighed. “If she curses you, or has you arrested, then I want it to be on record that I don’t know you.”

    Ron thought that it couldn’t have been that bad, or Dumbledore would have stepped in. But he would have to ask Hermione for details later.

    “What did you do today?” Harry asked, conjuring a seat and sitting down. Ginny sat down on his lap right away.

    “Mostly helped people move to safehouses,” Ron said. He was one of the few who knew where all of them were, and how they could be reached with muggle means.

    “Sounds boring,” Ginny said.

    “It was,” he agreed. “But I can’t do much more without endangering my cover.” And he couldn’t do anything about that until the Wands knew the truth about Malfoy. “Neville is in Britain as well, checking his ancestral house with his gran.”

    “No surprise there,” Sirius commented. “If not for Neville, Augusta would have stayed in that house until her death.” He snorted. “Which would not have taken long, given how bad things were back then.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to be the family that moved into the Longbottom Manor.”

    Harry shrugged. “They probably can afford to move. And Malfoy wouldn’t have given the manor to a stranger.”

    Ron nodded, but he couldn’t help feeling that there was a good side to the Burrow having been razed: They wouldn’t have to kick out a family that had lived there for 20 years. Any children would have considered it their home, and the whole scene would have been awkward at best. That would have spoiled the Weasleys return to their home.

    He checked his watch. It was time to head to the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione would be back from work soon. They would be eating dinner with Luna.

    *****​

    London, Diagon Alley, September 26th, 1999, 19.16 hours

    Wand-Leader Hermione sighed with relief when she entered Ron’s room and found her boyfriend on the bed, reading the Daily Prophet. She sat down next to him, kicked her shoes off and then kissed him.

    “How did it go?” Ron asked.

    “I had to fill in for the Obliviators. We’ve arrested the whole team, and most of the retired ones last I heard.” A few had ran, but whether from the returning British exiles, or from the Wands was not yet known. Even with everything handled in the Corps, people would have noticed some arrests.

    “So… they’ll know the truth soon,” Ron said.

    “Yes. They were still interrogating them when I left, and had commandeered all available pensieves to check their memories. They’ll be at it all night.” As she would have been, in their place, if Benjamin hadn’t sent her away under the pretext of having to be well-rested in case she had to take over Obliviator duties tomorrow as well.

    “How do you think they’ll react?”

    She shrugged. “I can’t say. It depends on Sarah, mostly. How much it takes for her to believe us. If she wants to check the evidence herself… then it could take a while.”

    “I hope she believes you. I’m tired of being ‘Antoine’,” Ron said.

    “Revealing your real identity and mission will still ruffle some feathers.” At best, she thought.

    “Will it cause problems for you?” He held her in his arms. “I don’t have to reveal myself.”

    She shook her head. “No, I’m sick of all the deception myself. I want to be with you, not with Antoine.” Many Wands would understand what she had done. Some would not, but it’d be worth it. The Corps couldn’t be living a lie. Her family deserved better. Both her living family, and her dead one.

    He nodded. The stayed like that for a bit, her in his arms, leaning against his chest, until it was time to meet Luna.

    *****​

    London, Diagon Alley, September 26th, 1999, 20.05 hours

    “You’re both very tense. Did something happen?” Luna asked, stopping with a forkful of pasta halfway to her mouth and cocking her head sideways to look at Hermione and Ron.

    Hermione sighed, then checked if their privacy spells were still working before answering: “They’ve arrested the Obliviators and Fudge.”

    “Oh!” Luna perked up. “Then the truth will be out there, as they say!” She frowned, then pouted. “I’d have expected you to be happy about this, not sad.”

    Hermione smiled wrily. “I’m just nervous about how the truth will be received.” She took a deep breath. “Once they figure out I’ve been lying to them for so long…”

    “For a good cause though,” Luna said.

    “That doesn’t matter that much, in my experience,” Ron added. “People simply hate being lied to.”

    Hermione remembered how she had felt, after discovering first Malfoy’s lies, then Ron’s, on the same day, and nodded in agreement. Ron patted her hand on the table - he had to have remembered that evening as well, she knew.

    “Pride! Always getting in the way of common sense!” Luna scoffed. “No wonder nargles thrive in Britain!” She gestured, apparently forgetting that she had been holding a forkful of pasta, and some noodles were sent flying across the table, hitting Ron in the chest. “Oops!” She smiled sheepishly while Ron cast a Cleaning Charm. “Don’t worry overmuch. Your friends will forgive you, just as you have forgiven your paramour.” She peered at Hermione. “You have forgiven him, have you?”

    “Yes!” Hermione answered.

    “I’m still alive, am I not?” Ron said, grinning.

    Hermione glared at him, but she couldn’t hold on to her annoyance when both Luna and Ron laughed, and joined them.

    She didn’t know if it Luna had planned that, but she was feeling better about the revelations tomorrow would bring.

    *****​

    London, Ministry of Magic, September 27th, 1999, 08.30 hours

    Wand-Leader Hermione hid her nervousness behind a stoic expression as she stood with the other members of the Investigative Branch in Benjamin’s expanded office. The senior Wand-Leader was leaning against his desk, but he was too stiff for the casual posture. She glanced at the other Wands. Some looked angry, some confused, but none looked as shocked as she had expected them to be. She looked at the pensieves on his desk. It seemed the most important revelation was still to come.

    When the last Wand had entered - her team had been here five minutes before the appointed time, of course - Benjamin cleared his throat and addressed his Wands. “You all know that we’ve been uncovering a massive conspiracy among the Obliviators. Most of you also know that it directly affects the Corps.”

    That caused some muttering. Colin nodded rapidly - Hermione’s teammate had been shocked by what he had heard. She felt a bit guilty about making arrangements so he hadn’t been watching the interrogation of the murderer of his family, but she hadn’t wanted him to learn about that out of the blue.

    “And you know that this was done on the orders of Cornelius Fudge.” Benjamin took a deep breath. “I’ve personally interrogated him. The memory of the interrogation is in those pensieves.“

    Hermione glanced at the other Wands to study their reactions. Some looked puzzled, some eager, but a few showed that they were beginning to suspect just why Benjamin would be doing this. Those looked rather apprehensively at the devices on his desk.

    “Now, watch this memory.” Benjamin waved his wand, and the pensieves spread out, floating to prepared smaller tables.

    Hermione pondered skipping this, she had interrogated the man herself, but decided against it. Any Wand who didn’t watch the memory would arouse some suspicion. So she joined the others.

    *****​

    When Hermione pulled her head out of the pensive, she made an effort to appear upset, though she didn’t think she would have had to bother - the rest of the Wands were too shocked to pay much attention to her, or so it seemed. Colin was staring at the device, mumbling “No. No. No.” over and over. Dean looked like he wanted to hit something, anything.

    Cleo was shaking her head. “I want to see his memory! It could have been tampered with!” She sounded as if she was pleading. Many others agreed.

    Benjamin pulled out a handful of vials. “Here. Analyse them. Take all the time you need.” He sounded grim. Most of the Wands almost ripped the vials out of his hands and dived into the pensieves.

    This time, Hermione didn’t join them right away. When everyone else was inside the memories, she looked at Benjamin. “Well done.”

    He sighed. “It’s the only way I could think of to make them believe what they don’t want to believe. How did you do it? Did you sneak his memories into a pensieve?”

    Hermione shrugged. “No. I thought it through. Tried to come up with possible explanations, alternatives. It was the only explanation left.”

    “Eliminate the impossible, and what’s left is the truth, right?” Benjamin quote their old instructor.

    Hermione nodded.

    “Not everyone can do that. Many need to see the evidence, test it themselves.” He shook his head. “I still don’t want to believe it. Our whole lives, built on this… “ He trailed off, scoffing.

    Hermione squeezed his shoulder, a bit awkwardly. “But we can’t let them live a lie.” They owed it to the murdered families of the Wands to expose this.

    He nodded. She turned away, and entered a pensieve herself. She wanted to see how the Minister had looked when he had given the order to murder her parents.

    *****​

    It was almost noon when the last Wand, Ashley, had withdrawn from the pensieves, shock written on her face. She had been crying too, judging by her puffy red eyes. She hadn’t been the only one, either. Colin had too, and had taken half an hour to calm down.

    Ashley shook her head. “Could… could the Dark Lord have impersonated the Minister, set this all up?”

    Hermione had answered that once before. “Theoretically, yes. But then - why would he have done it, back then? And why wouldn’t the Minister have put a stop to it after the Dark Lord was gone? Why would anyone have done this back then, and not done anything else since?”

    Ashley squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head wildly. “Curse it! Curse him! Damn the Minister!”

    Cleo walked up to Hermione while Ashley was being comforted by Robert who had gone through this just a quarter of an hour before. “You don’t seem to be that shocked.”

    Hermione could have lied, but she was quite sick of deceiving her friends. “I have been investigating this for some time.”

    “You knew already?” Cleo whispered. “But then why…”

    “I couldn’t think of a way to tell everyone without warning him,” Hermione said, truthfully. “I’m sorry.”

    Cleo stared at her for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. I can understand that.”

    “But you don’t really accept it yet,” Hermione said, snorting.

    Cleo nodded slowly. “It’s still a shock, one of too many today.”

    Hermione knew that feeling far too well. But she also knew that Cleo would get over it. Hopefully.

    *****​

    London, Ministry of Magic, September 27th, 1999, 13.45 hours

    Wand-Leader Hermione was waiting with Benjamin for Sarah to return from lunch. Apparently, the Wand-Commander had gone out to eat. Something Sally-Anne was convinced meant she had a date. Hermione doubted it, and had said so to her fellow Wand.

    Then Sarah stepped out of the lift, followed by Sirius Black, and Sally-Anne whispered “Told you so!” Hermione didn’t have to glance at her to know she was grinning triumphantly. At least the more than slightly exasperated expression on the commander’s face could be taken to mean that it hadn’t been a date on Sarah’s side. Then again, she didn’t really look angry either. That Black considered it a date was a given; Hermione had heard enough tales about his womanising ways from Ron and Ginny and even Ron’s mum. She was still struggling to think of the witch as ‘Molly’.

    The two spotted the waiting Wands, and Sarah grew serious at once. “I take it you have urgent business for me?”

    Benjamin nodded. “Urgent and internal business,” he said, with a glance at Black.

    “Ah… I’ll leave you to your business then, cherie. Though you still owe me dinner,” Black cheerfully said, waving at the Wands.

    Sarah nodded at him, then watched him leave for a moment before turning back to the waiting Wands. “My Office.”

    Inside, Benjamin and Hermione stood at parade rest while Sarah sat down behind her desk. “What happened?”

    “We found out that the Corps has been lied to since our founding,” Benjamin reported. “None of us were abused by our muggle parents. The reports and files were faked. In reality, we were kidnapped by Obliviators and our families murdered for the most part. All on the explicit orders of Minister Malfoy himself.”

    Sarah opened her mouth, then closed it, taking deep breaths. “You have evidence of this?”

    Benjamin presented her with the vials containing the memories. “The entire Investigative Branch has analysed the memories. We found no sign of tampering.” He looked straight at her. “Sarah, it’s true.”

    The Wand-Commander rolled one of the vials around in her hand. “That’s why Dumbledore sent those muggleborns. He knew this would happen.”

    “None of the older muggleborns were abused,” Hermione said.

    “This will shake the Corps to the core. Maybe destroy us.” Sarah stood up and started to pace. “The entire Investigative Branch is aware of that?`”

    “Yes.” Benjamin nodded. “From the start they were involved in the investigation that led to this.”

    “Merlin’s arse! It can’t be kept quiet then,” Sarah muttered.

    “You would try to suppress this?” Hermione asked. She couldn’t believe this.

    “At least until the attack on the Dark Lord’s base is over. We don’t need this kind of issue distracting us. Not right now.” Sarah shook her head. “Tell everyone to not spread this news! Send them on an isolated assignment, if you think it’s needed!”

    That sounded like a decent reason, Hermione thought, as she and Benjamin nodded.

    “We also need an idea how to deal with this.” Sarah ground her teeth.

    “Short-term or long-term?” Benjamin asked.

    “Both.” The Wand-Commander sat down again. “This is the biggest blow we’ve ever been dealt. Damn it!” She sighed through clenched teeth and muttered another curse under her breath.

    “We’ll get through this! We’re the Wands of Britain. We may have been lied to from the start, but that doesn’t change that we’re the ones protecting Britain,” Hermione spoke up. “We can keep doing this without kidnapping children. We’ll just train recruits after Hogwarts.”

    Sarah looked at her. “I certainly hope you’re right.” Shaking her head, she added. “But no matter what, we’ll do our duty. We’ll deal with this after we have killed the Dark Lord.”

    *****​

    Forest of Bowland, Lancashire, Britain, September 27th, 1999, 17.30 hours

    The Dark Lord Voldemort looked at his most trusted follower. The one wizard who had done more for his resurrection than anyone else. The one who had killed the worst traitor for him. And the one who might be a traitor himself. Severus Snape.

    “I’ve to thank you again, Severus, for ridding us of Lucius. That traitor’s death has advanced our cause a lot. We’re on the brink of triumphing.” He stood up from his chair and took a few steps towards the map of Britain that was stuck to the wall in his room. The potioneer followed him with his eyes, but didn’t move otherwise. “Or so I’d like to say. Alas, my oldest enemy has used this opportunity to return to Britain, and the sheep left leaderless by your action have flocked to him, hoping he will protect them from my justified wrath.”

    “A setback, milord, but nothing more.” Snape sounded confident. As usual. And yet...

    “A setback, indeed. It wouldn’t have been much of a setback, if not for the rather well-timed demise of Lucius’s family. If his heir were still alive, I doubt that Dumbledore would have dared travelling to Britain.” Voldemort walked to the other wall, where a mirror hung. He had started to get used to his inhuman appearance. It was only temporary anyway - after his victory, he’d restore his original appearance. He had all the time of the world to dedicate to the task. Death could not touch him anymore, after all. “Quite the suspicious timing, wouldn’t you agree?” In the mirror, he saw Snape jerk slightly behind him.

    “I suspect that Rookwood had prepared such an attack, in case he managed to kill Lucius, and his hired assassins were ready to strike as soon as whatever means he had devised to detect his rival’s death signalled them.” Snape spoke smoothly. Confidently.

    “An interesting theory. But just a theory. It presumes that Rookwood is still alive. And it assumes that Rookwood had found a way to alert them of Lucius’s death, but had not managed to find a way to kill Lucius. Quite a large number of assumptions, wouldn’t you agree?”

    “It fits the facts, milord.”

    “And yet there is also the fact that Rookwood did not reappear after he had killed his rival, to take over Britain himself. Such fortuitous timing, yet he was outmaneuvered by Dumbledore? When all he had to do was reappear and invent some explanation for his hiding? Isn’t it far more probable that he is dead, killed in this ‘accident’ in the Department of Mysteries? But then, how did he manage to find assassins so loyal, they would do his bidding even after his death? And a means to alert them at the exact time Lucius was killed? Assassins so skilled, they could beat the guards of the Malfoys with ease, ruthless enough to kill both the wife and son of Lucius, yet so caring, they did not kill anyone else?” He turned to the spy. “Have you ever heard of assassins like that? I haven’t. And trust me, I’ve been looking for assassins for some time.”

    Snape swallowed. He was nervous now, Voldemort knew. The Dark Lord grinned. “No, there’s another, more plausible explanation: Treason. Someone knew when you’d kill the traitor, and informed Dumbledore. And Dumbledore jumped at the chance, had Lucius’s family killed and took over Britain. My realm.”

    “Your logic is impeccable, milord. We must find this traitor then. Let me recall who I talked to about my mission…”

    “There’s no need, my friend. I already did that.” Voldemort smiled. He could almost see Snape’s thoughts now. “You didn’t talk to anyone. Not among my people.” He snarled at the traitor. “You were the traitor! You told Dumbledore! No one else had the opportunity!”

    “Milord! I brought you back from death! I’m your most loyal follower! Why would I betray you?”

    “Why would you betray Lucius, after all those years staying at his side? He thought you were his most loyal friend as well. But you have been working for Dumbledore all these years, haven’t you? Spying on Lucius, and then, when rumours of my impending return started to appear, seeking me out so you could earn my trust and spy on me.”

    “No, milord! I did not betray you!”

    “So, you haven’t been flooding this room with the second part of Dumbledore’s poison for the last few minutes then?” Voldemort held up a red-tinted glowing crystal. “Hoping it would react with the liquid you used in my resurrection?”

    Snape drew his wand, as quick as a Duelling Champion. But the Dark Lord had decades of experience on him, and his inhuman, tainted body had the reflexes of a snake. His Torture Curse struck the traitor before he could cast a single spell.

    While the man screamed, writhing on the stone floor, Voldemort stepped closer, commenting almost casually: “I had discovered that addition to my body when I first started to look into ways to restore my appearance. At the time, I thought it merely the result of some mistake made by my most trusted follower.” He stepped on the man’s wand, crushing it. “That changed, of course, once I saw through your machinations. And I took steps to protect myself against this ploy.”

    He ended the curse, leaving the man shivering and twitching, suffering from the effects of the curse still. As he should. Voldemort didn’t know if Snape had heard, much less understood him. It didn’t matter. He’d make him pay for his treason.

    And he’d use him against Dumbledore.

    *****​

    Author's Note: I'm looking for a new beta-reader. If you are interested, please send me a PM.
     
  13. Beyogi

    Beyogi I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    Oh... Snape got caught. Well dude that's why you want an emergency teleport instead of trying to duel the dark lord.
     
    space turtle and Starfox5 like this.
  14. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    That would have been blocked - the first thing Death Eaters learn is to ensure their victims cannot easily flee through apparition or portkey. Voldemort certainly wouldn't have made such a mistake as to leave those spells and items unblocked.
     
  15. Threadmarks: Chapter 20: Countermove
    Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    Chapter 20: Countermove

    Forest of Bowland, Lancashire, Britain, September 28th, 1999, 12.15 hours

    Albus Dumbledore stood with his broom in hand, about two miles away from the cottage where Tom and his last Horcrux were hiding. Had been hiding - Harry had told him that they had moved last night. Not something entirely unexpected, but the timing of the move, the day before the Wands of Britain and the Order of the Phoenix were about to launch their attack, was suspicious. Severus hadn’t contacted him yet either. Again, nothing unusual - his spy had to be very careful not to arouse the Dark Lord’s suspicion, now that his cover at the Ministry had been blown. And yet he had a bad feeling about this.

    “Do you expect a trap?” Sarah asked. The leader of the Corps didn’t show any sign of being nervous, even though Albus knew that she was not just concerned with this mission, but also with the revelation of Lucius’s betrayal. It was both remarkable and sad to see such a young witch so used to such things.

    “I believe, after hearing about the ambush that almost cost Draco Malfoy his life, that it is safe to assume that the building indeed contains a trap. Triggering it will probably alert the Dark Lord as well.” It was what Albus would have done in Tom’s place.

    “Our scouts will be very careful.”

    “I think it would be best if I went with them,” Albus said. He’d prefer to just risk himself and no one else, but he doubted the Wand-Commander would agree to that. There was not yet much trust between the Corps and the Order.

    Sarah nodded, then turned and walked towards her Wands. The Corps had gathered an impressive force, over fifty Wands. Next to them, the dozen members of the Order of the Phoenix who had come with him didn’t look as imposing. He had picked the most experienced though, and the most essential. They’d carry their weight, and then some.
    Albus walked over to where Harry, Miss Weasley and Sirius were standing. The animagus was watching Sarah talk to her subordinates, but turned towards Albus once he noticed him.

    “I suspect this is a trap, so I will investigate with a few Wands while you remain safe,” Albus said. “The probability of an ambush is rather low.” And the chance of such an ambush succeeding was even lower - Harry would notice if the Dark Lord approached, and Anti-Apparition Jinxes had secured the camp.

    Harry didn’t look happy with Albus’s order, but he nodded, if more than a bit reluctantly. Then he glanced at his godfather and his girlfriend, and sighed. “You don’t have to look that happy about it, you know.”

    Sirius grinned widely, showing his teeth in a manner that reminded Albus of his animagus form.
    Miss Weasley didn’t say anything either. The young witch put her own broom down and wrapped her arms around Harry, resting her head on his shoulder. Albus saw Harry draw a deep breath, before the boy caressed her head and back with his free hand - he didn’t let his broom go.

    Albus could have said that Harry would have to risk his life soon enough - far too soon - but he didn’t. Everyone in their small group was aware of that fact. He nodded at the three of them and then walked over to the Wands.

    A few minutes later he was flying towards the cottage. Jasper and Lewis, two experienced Wands, accompanied him. All three of them were disillusioned, relying on Human-presence-revealing Spells to know each other’s positions. Once they were close to the building, they split up, circling around it.

    Jasper flew down, almost touching the ground, and Albus held his breath. He had not yet been able to check for traps, and if Tom had prepared curses in the area… but the Wand flew around the cottage, before returning to him. “I didn’t spot anyone through the windows, or nearby. The spell didn’t detect any humans inside either.”

    “Stay here!” Albus ordered, flying closer. A flick of his wand didn’t detect any spell or curse on the door, or the ground around the house. If there was a trap, it would be inside. He returned to the two Wands. “I’ll open the door. Be ready.”

    “Yes, sir,” they acknowledged.

    Albus took a deep breath and transfigured the door into water, which splashed on the ground and formed a puddle. That was all that happened though. He frowned and conjured a dog next to the door, sending the animal inside. The dog explored the house, then came out again, apparently none the worse for wear. Albus detected no curses on it either.

    “Looks safe enough,” Jasper commented.

    “Unless there’s a trap triggered by the presence of humans, not animals,” his partner disagreed.

    “One way to find out,” the Wand said. “With your permission, professor?”

    “Go.” Albus said. He hated to risk the man’s life, but if he died due to a trap, many more would die, and the Dark Lord might even win.

    Jasper flew down, still disillusioned, then into the cottage. Five minutes later, he stumbled out of the door, collapsing on the threshold.

    Lewis gasped, but Albus was already casting, summoning Jasper’s clothes, and with them, the Wand himself, to him.

    Jasper’s mouth was covered with red foam, and Albus felt a chill run down his spine - that was the poison that had killed Draco. His own poison. He pulled out the antidote from his robe. The Wand was still alive, and struggled to speak even while Albus poured the antidote into him.

    “S...Sn...Snape.”

    *****​

    After Jasper had been saved and taken to St. Mungo’s, Albus Dumbledore took care of the trap. He cast the Gemino Curse on a vial, opened it and sent it into the cottage with a quick Banishing Spell. It wouldn’t take long for the agent in the vial to neutralise the airborne poison, but it wouldn’t be swift enough to prevent what he was fearing. A glance over his shoulder proved that.

    Sarah flew up to him, followed by a dozen Wands, among them Miss Hermione. And behind them, Sirius, Harry and Miss Weasley. Albus didn’t wince.

    “What happened?” the Wand-Commander asked.

    “Jasper was poisoned,” Alus answered. “I managed to save his life, but he’ll be in pain for a good while, and weak.” He pointed at the cottage. “I filled it with a counter-agent, but it will take a few more minutes to clear the entire house.” And he’d need to vanish the counter-agent itself, since it would have displaced all the air by that time.

    Sarah nodded. “What poison was it?”

    “A variant of an alchemical compound,” Albus answered.

    “Jasper said ‘Snape’ before he lost consciousness,” Lewis added.

    Albus could see Sarah’s eyes narrow and all the Wands tense up.

    “Snape,” Sarah said. “The Dark Lord’s poisoner.”

    “The one who murdered the Minister,” one of the Wands added.

    “Our spells did not reveal him when we scouted the cottage, and unless he has found a new way to hide his presence, I doubt that he is actually in there,” Albus said. Or so he hoped. The most likely reason for Jasper stammering the man’s name with his last ounce of strength would mean that Severus had misjudged the Dark Lord. Fatally.

    *****​

    His suspicion was proven correct as soon as the cottage had been cleared of poison and checked for curses. In the middle of the main room, Severus was lying on the floor, dead eyes staring at the ceiling. On his chest, a wooden sign declared ‘Traitor’, and above him floated a small Dark Mark.

    “Snape was a traitor? He killed the Minister for the Dark Lord!” a scarred Wand exclaimed.

    Whispering and murmurs filled the room. Albus stared at the body. His friend hadn’t died quickly, or easily, as his maimed body proved. The old wizard closed his eyes for a moment, hoping the brave wizard would find some rest in the afterlife, after torturing himself for twenty years for his past crimes.

    “If he was a traitor, who was he working for?” another Wand asked loudly. There were not that many plausible possibilities, of course. Albus could blame Rookwood. It might be enough to put the matter to rest until the war was over. If the Dark Lord didn’t reveal the truth, or was not believed. But doubts would remain anyway.

    The decision was taken out of his hands when Lewis addressed him: “You knew the poison they used. You could neutralise it easily.”

    It didn’t take long for everyone else to connect the dots. More whispers, angry ones, followed. Sarah looked annoyed more than angry though. Albus smiled. Best to face this now, than delay by using more lies. “You know the truth about Lucius Malfoy, don’t you?” he addressed the Wand-Commander.

    That statement made most of the Wands in the room - the ones not part of the Investigative Branch - pause. Sarah nodded, slowly. “I do. You are remarkably well-informed,” she added, with a hint of accusation.

    Albus inclined his head. “I was certain that once you were aware of how he had deceived you about the muggle world, you would soon unravel the whole conspiracy. When I heard that you asked for Obliviators from my friends, I knew.” That would hopefully keep Hermione from being labeled a spy. Until her paramour revealed his true identity, at least. He felt guilty at yet another consequence of his actions, but there was nothing he could do about it without causing even more harm.

    “What is this about the Minister? What deception are you talking about?” Lewis, probably because he had already exposed himself, asked.

    Sarah glanced at Albus, and he nodded at her. It had to come from her. She was their leader. Sighing, she turned to the rest of the Wands. “Yesterday, we arrested the Obliviators, both the active and retired ones. We found out that our parents didn’t abuse or hurt us. The Obliviators murdered them on the Minister’s orders and obliviated us, so we would consider the Minister our saviour.” Behind her, the members of the Investigative Branch nodded.

    “B-but…” Lewis stammered, shocked as were the rest of the Wands. “That can’t be true.”

    “It is. We checked their memories. We used Veritaserum. We searched for alternative explanations, without success,” Benjamin said.

    “I decided not to reveal this in the middle of a combat operation, but,” Sarah said, nodding at the corpse, “this changed the situation.”

    “You had the Minister killed,” Cleo blurted out.

    She was correct, but Albus shook his head. “The Dark Lord ordered the Minister’s death. I was aware of this though, and took steps to keep Voldemort from profiting from this.” It was true, technically.

    “Steps like killing his family?” Benjamin asked.

    Albus met the man’s gaze. “If Draco or Narcissa had tried to lead the Ministry, that would have caused chaos and a lot of deaths. For all his crimes and cruel lies, Lucius had been a cunning leader. His family though…” he trailed off as the Wands started to nod, if a bit reluctantly. They still eyed him with suspicion, but they wouldn’t attack him, or so he hoped.

    “This operation is a failure. We’ll need to clean up here and then deal with these revelations,” Sarah told the Wands. With a glance to Albus, she added: “And we need to decide how this affects our alliance.”

    Albus nodded, smiling politely. He hoped that the Wand-Commander would both keep the trust of the Corps, and honour the agreement Albus had made with the Ministry. It was the logical choice, all things considered, but when trust was broken and lies exposed, logic gave way to emotions.

    He sighed as he left the cottage with Sirius, Harry and Miss Weasley. Tom had dealt his plans a heavy blow, causing distrust and opening a rift between the Order and the Corps. The only consolation was that Severus hadn’t known about Albus’s plans to deal with the Dark Lord. If Tom thought that they had relied on their spy to track him, he might just feel overconfident enough to make a fatal mistake.

    *****​

    London, Ministry of Magic, September 28th, 1999, 16.30 hours

    “Everyone not on critical duty, assemble in the hall!” Benjamin’s voice rang through the offices of the Investigative Branch.

    Wand-Leader Hermione had expected such a command, ever since the Corps had returned from the operation against the Dark Lord’s hideout. She stood up and nodded at Dean and Colin. “Let’s go.”

    They left together with the rest of their branch, sticking together more than usual in her opinion - they had received a few nasty glares after it had spread that they had known about the Minister’s betrayal since the day before.

    They entered the main hall, an expanded area in the centre of the barracks, and Hermione noticed they were not the only ones clustering together more than usual. Teams and branches seemed to cling together, mostly.

    Sarah was in the middle of the room, facing the glares of many Wands with a face that showed no emotion. Hermione envied her - she almost cringed when she noticed the glances aimed at herself. She should have expected this, she told herself - the betrayal of the Minister was the biggest shock the Corps had ever suffered, and with Malfoy already dead, it was only natural that at least part of the Wands’ anger and pain were directed at those who had hidden the truth from them, if only for a few days. But it hurt anyway - the Corps was her family.

    “Attention!” Sarah bellowed suddenly.

    Hermione jumped to attention, as did the other Wands - they had been trained and drilled for too long to let their anger and pain overrule their reflexes.

    “You all have heard what the Minister did to us, to our families.” Sarah’s voice filled the hall. No one moved - they hadn’t been given the command to rest. “You’re shocked, and you’re hurting, and with good cause. I felt the same yesterday when I was informed. And the Investigators felt the same the day before yesterday, when they started to find out what was done to us, and our families.”

    Sarah let her gaze wander over the assembled Wands. “We have been betrayed and deceived by the one wizard we trusted with our lives. The one we all looked up to, loved. Our families were murdered and we were told lies about them to make us hate them.”

    Hermione thought she heard a sob near her, but she wasn’t certain. And she wouldn’t turn her head while she was standing at attention.

    “All this was done so we would grow up as Lucius Malfoy’s personal guard, loyal unto death.”

    Hermione heard a hiss from Cleo. Her friend, scarred under Draco’s command. If they had known the truth a bit earlier… if Hermione hadn’t kept her knowledge secret… She ground her teeth together in frustration.

    “I know you are angry at those who hid the truth about Malfoy from you. Don’t be. They kept the secret on my orders.”

    Whispers broke out - a bad sign, Hermione knew. You didn’t say anything while standing at attention unless asked to by your superior.

    “I gave those orders, and I would give them again. The middle of a mission is not the time to deal with such a revelation. Not when the ones responsible are already either dead or captured, and cannot harm us further.” Sarah walked back and forth now. “Distraction kills. But the truth was revealed today, and so we will deal with it, as we have dealt with any other threat and problem. Together.”

    “We may have lost our families, but we still are a family! We still have each other!”

    Hermione almost nodded despite standing at attention. Those were her thoughts as well. She might have lost her muggle parents, but she hadn’t lost her brothers and sisters. But once they found out that she had known the truth for so long… she could only hope that they would forgive her as readily as they forgave Sarah and the others.

    The Wand-Commander stood in front of the Wands with her hands folded behind her back. “We have arrested those who murdered our parents, and those who gave them their orders. They will pay for what they have done to us.” Sarah took a deep breath. “We cannot make Malfoy pay. He is beyond our reach.”

    Hermione knew a way they could make him pay. Dumbledore could summon his spirit. Make him face justice. She suppressed the thought. That was going too far.

    “But we can still ruin his plans. He raised us as his tools. His expendable tools. Mudbloods serving him.”

    Angry mutters filled the room. All Wands were aware of how the purebloods saw them. And now they knew that they were not of tainted blood. That their families had loved them. That they were not inferior to others.

    “But we are the Wands of Britain! We are the protectors of our country!” Sarah’s voice grew louder. “We are all that stands between Britain and the Dark Lord! The Aurors are useless. Dumbledore and his Order were beaten once before. But we have faced the Dark Lord, and held the line! We will beat him!”

    Sarah paused, letting the murmurs die down again. “And we will no longer be mere tools, mere mudbloods, deferring to our ‘betters’! We will save Britain because it’ll be our country!”

    Cheers and yells filled the hall, and for the first time Hermione could remember, the Wands dropped from attention without having been given the command. She yelled as well, but she couldn’t help worrying what this new course Sarah had outlined might mean for her and Ron.

    *****​

    London, September 28th, 1999, 17.14 hours

    “Cheer up, Ron! No one died, and you can soon get rid of that horrible beard. I’d keep the hair dye though.”

    Ron Weasley, sitting on a conjured seat in the new safehouse, glared at Harry’s godfather. Sirius was sprawled on a couch - colored red and gold - and acted as if there was no reason to worry.

    “What’s wrong with redheads?” Ginny asked. Ron’s sister was perched on the armrest of Harry’s seat, one arm around the mec’s shoulders. She sounded a tad suspicious, and Ron could see her twirl her wand.

    “There’s nothing wrong with redheads,” Sirius said. “But keeping the dark hair would make it easier for his lover to pick him out of the rest of your family.”

    “Sirius,” Harry said in an exasperated voice, “that was an awful attempt at a joke even for you.”

    The older wizard pouted. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood here. It’s not the end of the world - we all knew that sooner or later, our role would be revealed.”

    “But we hoped for later rather than sooner,” Harry said. “Besides, Snape was killed. That’s not exactly a time to make jokes.”

    “You wouldn’t say that if you’d known him.” Sirius shook his head. “But I guess he did redeem himself by killing Malfoy and getting killed by Voldemort.”

    Ron stared at Harry’s godfather, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. There was no need to go there again. He had heard all about ‘Snivellus’ ever since he had joined the three others in the safehouse an hour ago. “Aren’t you afraid that your relationship with Sarah will be wrecked?”

    Sirius smiled, obviously ignoring the muttered ‘what relationship?’ from Harry. “Not at all! As you have proven, Wands dig secret agents.”

    Ron exchanged a glance with Harry and his sister. Harry rubbed his forehead and Ginny shook her head.

    Sirius sighed. “You’re a really tough crowd, you know?”

    “We’re in a really tense situation, you know.” Harry glared at him.

    “Well, I can be serious…” Sirius stopped talking when Ginny pointed her wand at him. Sighing, he continued: “I know it looks bad, but the Wands are not stupid. They know we need each other to defeat the Dark Lord. And they know the truth about Malfoy. It won’t take them that long to get over their resentment that we killed the Malfoys and hid it from them.”

    “I hope you’re right,” Ron muttered. His and Hermione’s relationship really didn’t need more strain. And he couldn’t help thinking that if Dumbledore shared Sirius’s optimism, he’d not have told the wizard to wait with Harry in the safehouse instead of remaining in the Ministry with the professor.

    *****​

    An hour and a half and a quick trip to Diagon Alley to buy newspapers later, Harry and Ginny were trying to understand The Quibbler, Sirius was taking a nap in the bedroom of the flat and Ron was reading the Tribune Magique. The headline spoke about the ‘return of the exiles’, but was mostly speculation. There was no official statement, and no comments from those like Dumbledore who actually knew what was happening. He didn’t mind, it was just a way to occupy his mind until...

    A knock on the door interrupted him. He went and checked through the spyhole, then opened the door. “Hermione!”

    She stepped inside, smiling, but he could tell she was worked up. And when he hugged her, he could feel how tense she was. “I take it that the Wands didn’t react too well to the revelations today?”

    The witch shook her head. Her hair hit his face. “Better than I’d feared, worse than I’d hoped.” She sighed, not letting go of him. “Sarah gave a speech. She rallied the Corps, but… “

    “But?”

    “She might have appealed to our pride a bit too much. I talked with others, and they were talking about Britain as if it was ours to rule.”

    Ron winced. “That might be a problem.” He didn’t think Dumbledore, the exiles, or the other British wizards would like being ruled by the Wands.

    “Yes. The Corps will fight the Dark Lord. But afterwards… “ She sighed again and let her head rest on his shoulder. “From servants of the Ministry to rulers… from one extreme to the other.”

    He snorted. “The professor was hit by his own spell there, wasn’t he?”

    “I suppose so.”

    “So… what do you think? Should I reveal myself while everyone is still dealing with today’s revelation? Or will that make more trouble for you?”

    She didn’t answer right away. “I think it’s best to do so. Not everyone in the Corps will like it, or me for being with you, but I’d rather know where I stand with everyone now,” she finally said.

    “Will they think you are a spy?” Or a traitor, he thought.

    “They might. And they would be right - I did spy on the Ministry. I helped you kill Rookwood and the Malfoys.” Hermione snorted. “I even spied on the Corps.”
    “You’re still a Wand.”

    He didn’t ask what she’d do if she was forced to choose between the Wands and him. Though he hoped that her telling him what the Wands were doing was a good sign that she’d not chose her family over him, in the worst case.

    *****​

    London, Diagon Alley, September 28th, 1999, 18.45 hours

    Ron had shed his disguise. Shaved off his beard, and dyed his hair back to his natural colour. Or close enough - Hermione at least couldn’t spot the difference between his and Ginny’s hair. And Harry seemed to think it was the right tone too.

    “Nervous?” he whispered, standing in front of the mirror in his room in the Leaky Cauldron.

    She took a deep breath. “Somewhat.”

    He chuckled. “They might think you dumped Antoine for Ron Weasley.”

    She snorted. “Not many will believe that. Not among my friends.” If they were still her friends, once they realised that she had been the lover of an exile spy for that long. She checked her watch. “We need to go or we’ll be late.”

    The Leaky Cauldron was almost back to normal. A dimly lit, more than slightly dingy pub filled with both regulars and new visitors. As Hermione and Ron descended the stairs, they could see a small throng of people surrounding Harry and Ginny. Mostly Ginny, actually.

    “Guess the new star chaser of the Avignon Aigles is famous even here,” Ron remarked.

    “There are a number of exiles among that crowd,” Hermione said. She could tell from their robes - the style was either too old-fashioned for Britain, or too French.

    They made their way over to Harry and Ginny, and Hermione found another difference between the returning British exiles and the natives: The former didn’t move quite as fast out of the way of a Wand.

    “Ron? Is that you?” A young wizard cocked his head sideways and smiled widely.

    “Neville?” Ron said, grinning before he clapped the wizard’s shoulders. “Fancy meeting you here! Are you staying in the Alley?” Before his friend could answer, he wrapped his arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “This is my girlfriend, Hermione,” Ron introduced her. “Hermione - Neville Longbottom. We grew up mostly together.”

    So that was Neville Longbottom, Hermione noted. She had seen pictures of him, and had heard stories from Ron and his family, but this was the first time she’d met the wizard. He was not as tall or muscular as Ron, but slightly taller than Harry.

    “Hermione’s the youngest Wand-Leader in the Corps,” Ron added.

    “Ah.” Longbottom’s smile slipped a bit.

    “Investigative Branch,” Hermione added, smiling brightly. She did notice that several among the crowd were listening to their conversation. “But we should be off; Luna will be waiting for us already.”

    “Well, you took your time up in Ron’s room,” Ginny said, smirking.

    “Luna Lovegood, a friend of mine from Hogwarts,” Hermione told Longbottom. “Daughter of the owner of The Quibbler.”

    “Ah.” Apparently, he knew that magazine.

    “And our neighbour in Ottery St Catchpole,” Ron added.

    “Do you want to join us for dinner?” Ginny asked.

    “I’d love to,” Longbottom said, “but Gran’s expecting me. She’s having a few old friends over. Though I’m not certain if they are still her friends.”

    Probably wizards and witches who had stayed in Britain when Malfoy had taken over, Hermione thought. The others must have come to the same conclusion, since no one asked for details.

    “Well, I’d wish you an enjoyable evening, but it sounds like a chore,” Harry said. “Will you be the youngest there?”

    “I think there’ll be a few my age.” Longbottom winced.

    “Mostly witches, I bet,” Harry said. “Well, please give your gran our regards.”

    “Will do,” Longbottom said, nodded at the group, and headed to the Floo connection.

    They entered the alley. Unlike their other dinner dates, they were headed towards a pureblood-only restaurant. A former pureblood-only restaurant, Hermione corrected herself. No one tried to bar her from entering, though she thought the maître d’ glanced at her brown robes a bit longer than at the others in her group. And she caught a lot of glances from the other guests, the pureblood ones. For a moment she felt as if she was underdressed and should leave. Then she raised her chin. She was a Wand of Britain, and they were equal to anyone in Britain. She wouldn’t let those she was protecting with her life look down on her!

    Luna was already seated, but jumped up when she saw them, and hugged Hermione. “There you are! I was worried you might be stuck at work!” In a whisper, she added: “Or that you were hurt on the mission.”

    “We would have informed you if I was hurt,” Hermione whispered back, but she felt guilty anyway. And wondered why Luna would know about the operation against the Dark Lord.

    Luna hugged Ron next. “You look fine. Less scruffy,” she commented, patting his cheek.

    Hermione was as confused as Luna looked when the other three chuckled and Harry said “He’s still a nerf herder.”

    “What are nerfs?” Luna asked.

    After the explanation, Hermione was certain that the next issue of The Quibbler would feature nerfs.

    Once they were seated, had ordered and cast a privacy spell - even though the tables were supposed to already have such spells on them - Hermione asked: “Who had the idea to dine here?”

    “Dumbledore said it was the best restaurant before Malfoy took over, and that the cook stayed in Britain,” Harry explained. “So, we thought we’d see how it measures up to the restaurants in Paris.”

    Hermione nodded. She should have known. Dumbledore probably wanted the British public to see the returning exiles and the Wands together. Ron looked at her, frowning slightly. She mouthed ‘tell you later’ to him. He nodded in response.

    “Poor Neville… he’s probably neck-deep in old wizards and witches, and potential brides now,” Harry said, shaking his head.

    Ginny frowned. “His grand-mère never thought French witches were good enough for him, and she did what she could to sabotage any relationship he had.”

    Hermione blinked. “She’d prefer British witches raised under Malfoy to French witches for her grandchild?”

    Ron shrugged. “She probably fears that he’d stay in France if he married a French witch. Her fear is not entirely unfounded,” he added.

    “It’s the one thing mum and Neville’s grand-mère agree upon,” Ginny said. “Even though she blames us for this, after Charlie and Bill.”

    “Ah.”

    Harry sighed. “Neville loves her, so he doesn’t tell her to get lost even when he should.”

    Ron shrugged. “I think once he finds the witch he wants, he’ll tell her to butt out. He hasn’t had the best girlfriends.”

    “Hey!” Ginny glared at him.

    “One date doesn’t count as being his girlfriend.” He grinned at his sister.

    Hermione chuckled, then wondered what her parents would have thought of her dating Ron. Then she wondered what her grandparents would think. And she realised she didn’t know if they were still alive, or not.

    *****​

    London, Diagon Alley, September 28th, 1999, 22.17 hours

    “And we’ve had Voley dig out a bigger cellar,” Luna said when the group was leaving the restaurant. “Daddy offered to let him dig out a real burrow for the Weasleys, but they said they didn’t want an underground house.” She looked at Ron with wide eyes. “No offense, Ron, but your family is rather weird. Naming a house ‘The Burrow’, but not actually making it a burrow? That’d be as if we’d name our house ‘The Rook’, but would not build a rook!” She nodded sagely. “I hope you’ll be more sensible when you and Hermione build your own home.”

    Hermione had been chuckling when she saw Ron’s and Ginny’s expressions, but now she was surprised as well. Her and Ron’s home… she hadn’t thought about that. Not really. She hadn’t had a home of her own she could remember - she had always been housed with other Wands, in the barracks or at school. Even getting her own room after graduation hadn’t changed much - she had still been living in the barracks. And Ron had had his room in the Leaky Cauldron, but that hadn’t been much different. It hadn’t been a home at all.

    “Hermione?” Ron was looking at her.

    She blinked. “Sorry… I’ve just realised that I never really thought about that.”

    “I guess it’s true that falling in love changes your mind,” Luna said, nodding sagely again. “If you didn’t think or plan ahead.”

    “I’ve had a lot of other things to focus on. We’re still at war,” Hermione said. “And with the current crisis…”

    Ron nodded. “We can decide where and how we live once the war is over.”

    Luna shook her head, her blonde hair swishing around her shoulders. “If you consider your future not as important, then that’ll bode ill for your future!”

    She had a point, Hermione had to agree. She glanced at Ron, who was looking pensive, and at Ginny and Harry, who were wincing themselves. It seemed none of them had made concrete plans for the time after the war. And yet… “We don’t know yet how things will look like once the war is over,” she said.

    “No plan survives contact with the snorkack!” Luna said. “But we still make plans to catch one each summer!”

    “But not on the street,” Hermione said. Her future wouldn’t be planned while dodging inebriated wizards.

    “Some of our best plans were made in the middle of the road!” Luna said, beaming. “Though it was a tad difficult to take the sketches on the cobblestones home. We managed, but some Auror fell in the hole before we could fill it.”

    Ron and Hermione took that revelation in stride, while Ginny and Harry were staring at the blonde witch. They weren’t really used to the quirky journalist yet. They would grow used to her, though. Hermione knew that.

    Shortly before the Leaky Cauldron, she noticed a patrol of Wands watching her. She didn’t know any of the four Wands that well, but she recognised Wand-Leader Michael. He had been two years above her. She couldn’t quite spot their expressions, they were a bit too far away, but she hooked her arm through Ron’s and walked straighter. She had nothing to hide. Not anymore, at least.

    *****​

    London, Ministry of Magic, September 29th, 1999, 08.12 hours

    “I hear you are with a Weasley now? What about Antoine?” Sally-Anne asked in lieu of a greeting when Hermione passed her at the entrance to the offices. For a moment, she considered lying. Delaying the revelation for a bit. Then she decided against it. The time for lies was past. “Antoine Dupont is actually Ron Weasley. He was undercover in Britain.”

    The other Wand gaped at her. “What? He actually…”

    She knew what Sally-Anne was thinking, and more importantly, how she was thinking, and shook her head. “He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with me, or I with him. It happened though.”

    “Oh…” Sally-Anne was staring at her as if Hermione was one of the heroines in those romances Sally-Anne loved, where love conquered all, and lovers’ souls bonded.

    “I was ready to curse him when he told me, and didn’t believe him until he offered to get Veritaserum.” Hermione grinned.

    “Oh.” Sally-Anne blinked. “That sounds like you…”

    Hermione nodded. That should put down any possible rumours that she was the love-struck tool of an exile spy. She waved at Sally-Anne and entered the office. With the biggest gossip now - unwittingly - on the task, soon half the Corps would know about Ron.

    And she hadn’t lied, not really. Even if she hadn’t told them just when exactly Ron had revealed his mission to her.

    *****​

    London, Diagon Alley, September 29th, 1999, 12.10 hours

    Ron Weasley saw a rather attractive witch walk through the Alley, stopping at one stall and another, looking at the wares on display. When she almost stumbled over a cobblestone that stuck out a bit more than the rest, he shook his head and cast a privacy spell, then looked at the window of the Quidditch Supplies shop, where a new Cleansweep was displayed.

    “Hi Tonks,” he said, when she was close enough.

    She grumbled something he didn’t catch, but didn’t ask how he had spotted her. “Changed your disguise?”

    “For this meeting only,” he answered. New wig, and new beard, both muggle props.

    “Why didn’t you keep the other identity?”

    Because he was sick of hiding his relationship with Hermione, Ron thought, but that wasn’t a good enough reason. So he shrugged. “It was best to come clean while everyone’s reeling from the revelations about the Dark Lord and Malfoy. Less fallout that way. Dumbledore agreed.” He assumed that the professor agreed - he hadn’t told Ron anything to the contrary, at least.

    “Alright. Looks like I managed to escape from the hôpital just in time to replace you then,” Tonks said. “And a good thing too,” she added in a more serious tone.

    “Hm?”

    “There’s been rumours about a coup. A number of the people on the streets are worried about the exiles and the Wands taking over Britain, eager to oppress the purebloods.”

    “What?” Ron frowned. The takeover was true - Dumbledore and the Wands were in control of Wizarding Britain for all that mattered. But to oppress the purebloods…

    “That’s what people are spreading.” Tonks grimaced, and her nose shifted a bit.

    “Looks like the Dark Lord at work,” Ron said.

    “A bit of a change, after his earlier tactics.” Tonks looked at the broom a bit more closely.

    “Maybe finding out Snape was a spy and traitor shook him up.” Ron glanced around. No one seemed to be observing them.

    “That could be bad.”

    He shrugged. “Maybe. But having found the spy, he might think he’s now safer than before.”

    “True.” She perked up. “So… fancy taking me out for lunch?”

    “I’ve got a lunch date with Hermione.”

    “I can change into Hermione. Or her sister.” She grinned at him.

    He rolled his eyes at her while she snickered and walked off. She hadn’t let the time in the hôpital change her, it seemed. Hopefully Hermione would handle her flirting better than Ginny did. That had been one memorable dinner at home, he remembered.

    *****​

    The Weald, Kent, Britain, September 29th, 1999, 14.27 hours

    “Milord!”

    The Dark Lord Voldemort suppressed the urge to punish Bellatrix, even though her incessant pleading was pushing his patience. He frowned at her. “I told you, we will not strike at the traitors right now.”

    “But you planned to strike terror in their hearts!”

    “That was before I discovered that I had a traitor at my side, who had been working for Dumbledore. Any plan I made and he was aware of is suspect.” He sat down in the expanded living room of the safehouse he had last used in 1975. It hadn’t taken long to restore it, and the anti-muggle spells had held. “My enemies are numerous. If I attack the sheep now, they’ll band together, and the purebloods will rally behind them. They have to first be divided before I can conquer them.”

    The dark witch still looked mulish. She was eager, too eager to shed blood. On the other hand, he could trust her to die rather than betray him. “But there will be opportunities to indulge your taste for battle.” And for torture.

    She perked up at once.

    “After laying the groundwork, some demonstrations might be required to show the British purebloods just how dangerous and unstable the blood traitors and mudbloods are.”

    Bellatrix’s smile widened as she understood his plan.

    *****​
     
  16. Beyogi

    Beyogi I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    Hermione Granger likes this. Lol.

    Snape really had to be uncovered right before this shit was over. And now Voldemort has gone to the ground. I just hope they've got some counter for the inevitable Guerilla shit.
     
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  17. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    Since Harry can track Voldemort, the main advantage of guerilla warfare is denied to the Dark Lord.
     
    Beyogi likes this.
  18. Beyogi

    Beyogi I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    So what's stopping them from permanently hounding Voldemort? Leaving him alone surrenders the inititative to him.
     
  19. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    When the Wands found out about Dumbledore's hand in killing Malfoy, that damaged their trust a bit. And the Order alone can't match the Death Eaters with Voldemort. There's also the possibility that he'll wise up to something else than spies as the reason he's getting tracked.
     
  20. Beyogi

    Beyogi I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    Would that really be a problem? I mean they're tracking his soul.
     
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  21. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    And he might do something about that pesky link once he realises how he's being tracked - or through that link.
     
  22. Threadmarks: Chapter 21: Foul Play
    Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    Chapter 21: Foul Play

    London, Diagon Alley, September 30th, 1999, 15.30 hours

    “Exiles out! Exiles out!”

    Ron Weasley heard the shouts of the crowd from far away. And if he was guessing right, it was around where Diggle’s house was located - Dumbledore’s friend had just taken possession of his ancestral home yesterday.

    “Who’d have thought they’d go that quickly from rumours to riots?” Tonks, wearing another disguise, muttered next to him.

    “This seems to be happening a bit too quickly,” Ron said. He had spent months in Britain, and he thought he understood the population quite well by now. And this was unusual.

    “You think this is the Dark Lord’s work?” Tonks almost stumbled as she asked that.

    “I fear it is. First the rumours, now this.” Ron cursed. “And merde alors! The Wands will play right into his hands!” He started running. He didn’t know what he could do, but he had to do something.

    “What do you mean?” Tonks fell in next to him.

    “They will try to disperse the crowd, and…” Screams and explosions cut off his explanation.

    The two were about to round the corner when they found themselves facing dozens of people running towards them, fleeing in panic. And behind them, in front of the Diggle House, he saw smoke rising from craters in the street, and bodies on the ground. And Wands exchanging spells with robed but not masked people.

    He pulled Tonks to the side before they were trampled, ducking into the entrance to a shoes shop while the crowd rushed past them. “Too late!” he snarled.

    “What?” Tonks asked, wand out, and apparently trying to get a clear line of fire to the battle.

    “Rumours, a riot, and now a massacre.” He shook his head. Ron would bet half his gold that whatever spell had blown up the street and many of the rioters hadn’t been cast by the Wands. With those who were able to run gone, he could see the carnage. Screaming, bleeding people on the ground, some crawling over bodies, trying to get away while the Wands in front of Diggle’s house finished off the attackers with their usual efficiency.

    “Fiendfyre!” Tonks shouted next to him.

    He whipped his head around and saw a giant snake made of flames pounce on the Wands. They raised a stone wall that deflected the cursed fire, but one of them was caught outside its protection, and vanished in the flames.

    “Merlin!” Tonks muttered.

    Ron was conjuring more walls, to shield the others in the area. If they were quick enough they could contain the fire that way...

    He heard screams from behind him, and turned in time to see another fire-snake in the street - headed towards him and Tonks. Without thinking about it, he tackled her into the shop, hoping the owner had a fire ward.

    They did. The flames clashed against the windows and he felt a heat wave strike them, but neither the front of the shop nor Tonks and himself were burning. The wards wouldn’t hold for long though; not against Fiendfyre.

    “We need to to flee!” he shouted, trying to apparate while he stood up. Apparition was blocked. He pulled Tonks up and started towards the back of the shop. The metamorphmagus stumbled over a display of waterproof sandals, but Ron caught her and dragged her with him.

    They had just left the main show room when the fire ward broke down and the flames rushed in, turning shoes, sandals and even lavaproof boots to cinders. Tonks whipped her wand around and a stone wall shielded them for a bit longer. Long enough for Ron to blow the back door open with a Reductor Curse even though breathing became difficult as the flames consumed the air.

    The two ran out. Tonks cast another wall behind them while Ron tried to apparate them again. This time it worked, and they found themselves back at the Leaky Cauldron. He spotted brown robes in the middle of the assembled crowd there, and pushed his way through the panicking wizards and witches. Behind him, Tonks crashed into a corpulent witch, and both went down in a tangle of limbs.

    “Death Eater attack on the Diggle House!” he shouted, once he was close enough to the Wands. “Imperiused people and Fiendfyre! Anti-Apparition Jinxes all over the area!”

    The Wand-Leader at the front nodded towards him - the only acknowledgment Ron got - and led his team into the Alley. Ron heard the cry of ‘Fiendfyre’ spread, and the sounds of multiple Apparitions when fear won over curiosity among the people around him.

    While Tonks managed to get up, cursing at the other witch, Ron watched another part of Diagon Alley burn.

    *****​

    London, Diagon Alley, September 30th, 1999, 15.55 hours

    Wand-Leader Hermione was torn between doing her duty, and checking if Ron was safe when she heard about the attack on Diagon Alley. Duty won. She told herself that she couldn’t do anything anyway, if Ron wasn’t safe. And that the best way to keep him safe was to do her job as a Wand. Which was currently to help stop the fires raging in Diagon Alley.

    Fortunately, the Death Eaters who had started the fires had either fled or were dead, or so the first responders reported when her team arrived at the location, and efforts to contain the Fiendfyre were already underway.

    Walls of stone - thick enough to resist the cursed flames long enough to be replaced and reinforced in time - had been erected in the side alleys separating the burning part from the rest of Wizarding Britain’s merchant mile. Wands on brooms were floating above the burning houses, sending conjured streams of water into the burning ruins. And other Wands were pulling bodies from the site, sending both those who could be helped and those already dead to St. Mungo's.

    She turned to Dean and Colin. “Alright. Bubble-Head Charms up, we’ll push on to the site of the incident.”

    “Joy,” Dean muttered. “On the frontlines again.” Colin was already taking pictures.

    Hermione snorted. “At least we’re just fighting fire, not Death Eaters.”

    “Just,” Dean said, sending a stream of water ahead and wincing when it turned to steam on the stones close to the burning shop at the corner.

    Hermione winced as well. This wouldn’t be easy or quick.

    It wasn’t.

    *****​

    Hermione stared at the remains of the house one of Dumbledore’s ‘old friends’, Dedalus Diggle, had reclaimed just a day ago. Nothing was left but rubble and a few stone pillars whose enchantments had stood up to Fiendfyre better than the rest of the house.

    Then she looked at the crater in the street, noting how the cobblestones had been blown away by the spell that had caused it. They would have turned into deadly projectiles, smashing into, or even through, those wizards and witches the blast itself hadn’t killed. Many of them would have been alive, but wounded. Unable to flee as the battle raged around them, as Wands exchanged curses with Death Eaters and rioters. And then the fires would have started, the heat quickly growing untenable. Bubble-Head Charms and Cooling Charms would only have prolonged the agony of those who’d managed to cast them.

    She was now looking at the remains of the victims. They had been burned so badly, she couldn’t tell Wands from Death Eaters or passers-by caught up in this catastrophe. Some she wouldn’t even have recognised as bodies without her training. Colin was still taking pictures, despite having vomited earlier. Dean was not showing any emotion.

    And she really needed to see Ron, hold him, know and feel that he was safe. But she had a job to do. He would understand. She hoped.

    “Alright. Did anyone find spell residue?”

    Dean shook his head.

    “I didn’t get any either.” She hadn’t expected to find any, not after Fiendfyre had swept over the area. “We’ll need to depend on the memories of the survivors of this battle to analyse this.”

    “It’s the same kind of attack we had before,” Dean said. “Death Eaters.”

    “But this time they were hiding in the crowd,” Hermione said.

    “Traitors.”

    “Or victims of the Imperius,” Hermione said. “At least some.” Most of the rioters wouldn’t have been under a spell. The Dark Lord didn’t have enough followers to control so many. But as today had shown, he might not need that many to strike at the heart of Wizarding Britain.

    “The ones who stayed and fought, maybe.” Dean scoffed. “Don’t know many purebloods who’d fight if they could run, unless they were under the Imperius.”

    Hermione glared at him. Such talk was dangerous, given the rumours going around. Even if it was mostly true. She looked around. No one but Wands were close enough to have heard that, even with some spells to help. She didn’t call him out on his remark, even if she should have - she had talked like that too often herself to not feel like a hypocrite.

    Kneeling down next to the charred remains of a rioter, probably, she checked the crater with a charmed measuring tape. After reading the results, she shook her head.

    “Found something?” Dean stood next to her. Colin joined them as well, curious as usual.

    She nodded. “The crater is smaller than those we found in the Nott and Malfoy Manors. So, it wasn’t the Dark Lord himself. And based on the slight angle of the crater, the Blasting Curse was cast from the roof on the other side of the street.” She pointed away from Diggle’s house. “None of ours were there. Which means,” she added with a grim expression, “That the Death Eaters didn’t want to strike the house, or the Wands guarding it. They wanted to strike the rioters.”

    “But…” Colin blinked as he understood.

    Hermione nodded. “The Death Eaters want the British purebloods to think we attacked them.”

    And they might have succeeded too.

    *****​

    London, Diagon Alley, September 30th, 1999, 18.49 hours

    “Hermione!” Ron Weasley called out when he saw his girlfriend enter the Leaky Cauldron, which had been turned into a makeshift information post it seemed, with lots of people coming and going and leaving notes with Tom the bartender. The witch turned her head, spotted him, and her tired, anxious face lit up with a smile. She almost knocked over a hag on her way towards him, and an instant later she was hugging him. Hard.

    “I worried about you…” she whispered near his ear.

    She smelled like smoke and burned flesh. For a moment, he feared she was hurt, then he realised what she would have been doing, and relaxed. “I didn’t want to distract you, in the middle of this…” he whispered. They needed a simple way to tell each other they were alright. Maybe a special coin that would vibrate, like Luna had.

    “Stupid.”

    He didn’t know if she meant him, herself, or both. He saw Dean and Colin step closer. The older Wand was grinning, the younger was staring. Others were staring at well. And whispering. Dean stopped grinning and now was glaring around, and people refused to meet the wizard’s gaze. Colin looked confused, then angry. They must have overheard the whispers.

    “Let’s sit down,” Ron said, loudly enough so the two Wands in Hermione’s team heard it as well, and would know they were included. A few minutes later, Tom had served them drinks and they had cast privacy spells.

    “Rumours are going crazy. They claim that the Wands killed all the purebloods protesting the takeover of Britain by Dumbledore’s exiles.”

    “Bloody purebloods,” Dean muttered. “Stupid fools.”

    “It was a setup,” Hermione said. “The rioting wizards were killed by Death Eaters, or people under their command, to make it look as if the Wands did it.”

    “I thought so when I saw the attack,” Ron said.

    “You saw it? I need your memory!” Hermione pulled out a vial and removed the stopper.

    Ron nodded, pulling out the memory of the incident, and making a mental note to tell Tonks not to reuse that particular face. “Tonks and I had to run from the Fiendfyre.” He didn’t want Hermione to discover that in the pensieve without warning.

    The witch tensed up. “How bad was it?”

    He winced, then out his hand on hers, squeezing gently. “We made it, but we were lucky.”

    She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “You almost died then.”

    He nodded. He wouldn’t lie to her.

    She wiped her eyes with her hands, muttering curses under her breath.

    “I’m sorry,” Ron said. He was - for hurting her. Not for risking his life though.

    “It’s how we met,” Hermione said, smiling sadly.

    He understood what she meant. She would have done the same. Had done the same in the past. And would be doing the same again. Even if hurt them.

    Dean cleared his throat, and Ron tore his attention away from Hermione. Colin was fidgeting with his camera. “What can we do about those rumours? I almost hexed that idiot insulting us.”

    “Who? What did he say?” Ron asked. He had a feeling that it had been mostly Hermione who had been insulted.

    “That we were Dumbledore’s tools. That we’re oppressing the purebloods,” Dean said while Colin nodded.

    They probably used less neutral language too. Ron sighed. “What can we do about it? If people believe that…”

    “We tell them the truth,” Hermione said. “That the Dark Lord murdered people to frame us.”

    “People will claim that we’re covering up our own crimes,” Dean said.

    She shrugged. “Some will, but some will believe us. We’ll take pictures from all the memories we can gather. If The Quibbler publishes them then that should persuade at least some of the purebloods.”

    “Hopefully,” Dean said.

    “I’ll do my best!” Colin piped up.

    They’d all do their best, Ron knew. He just hoped it would be enough.

    They had to defeat the Dark Lord quickly, before things went completely out of control.

    *****​

    London, Ministry of Magic, October 1st, 1999, 08.45 hours

    “Hermione? Sarah wants to see you!” Sally-Anne said, peeking her head into the Investigative Branch’s offices.

    Wand-Leader Hermione put the reports from Diagon Alley down and stood up.

    Dean frowned. “She hould know we don’t have anything yet. We haven’t even started with the pensieve sessions.”

    “My pictures have been developed,” Colin said, holding out a stack to Hermione.

    “Thanks.” She copied them and took the copies with her.

    Sally-Anne was waiting for her. Hermione would have preferred to think about what she’d tell the Wand-Commander on the way to Sarah’s office, but she knew that wouldn’t work. Not unless she told Sally-Anne off, and she wasn’t about to do that. The Corps needed to be united in this crisis. And Hermione couldn’t afford to annoy Wands anyway. Not while she was in a relationship with Ron.

    “So… I heard your lover was there when the attack started!” the other Wand said as soon as they started walking.

    Hermione flinched. “Yes. It was a very close call,” she said in a flat voice. He had come close to dying. His description had been clear about that, and she wasn’t looking forward to see it in his memories.

    “Oh. I’m sorry.” Sally-Anne sounded sorry - for a few seconds. “But he’s alright, right?”

    Hermione nodded.

    “Good! Have you heard the latest rumours? They claim Dumbledore is taking over Britain with us to oppress the purebloods!”

    “I heard.” Hermione had seen the glares and glances as well.

    “That’s so stupid! The purebloods called Dumbledore, after all.”

    “He expected them to call him though. And he did arrange things so they’d depend on him,” Hermione said. That was known in the Corps, after all.

    “I know. But still, they called him, and expected us to follow their orders. Now they claim he uses us to oppress them? That makes no sense.”

    “We could oppress them if we wanted,” Hermione pointed out as they reached the hallway to Sarah’s office.

    “But we don’t want to.” Sally-Anne knocked on the door. “Hermione’s here, Sarah!”

    “Enter.” Came the response.

    Sarah was not behind her desk, but standing in front of the enchanted mirror showing Diagon Alley. The smoking ruins of the Diggle House, to be exact.

    “Good morning,” Hermione said while Sally-Anne closed the door behind her.

    “Good morning.” Sarah looked at her with an unreadable expression.

    Hermione straightened up. “We haven’t yet been able to study the memories of the witnesses, but we have taken their statements, and the initial conclusions indicate that the riot was orchestrated by the Dark Lord’s followers in order to provoke a fight, use that to murder dozens, and frame us for it.”

    “Thank you. I didn’t call you to talk about your investigation though. I’m aware that you only have preliminary results so far.”

    Hermione winced. She seemed to have spoken in haste. “Sorry, Sarah.”

    The Wand-Commander made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “I’ve called you because of your relationship with Ron Weasley.”

    Hermione raised her chin slightly and tried not to let her sudden nervousness show.

    “According to the rumours, he fell in love with you while undercover, and revealed his identity to you.”

    “That’s true.” Hermione didn’t know where Sarah was going with this.

    “And then you verified his honest intentions with Veritaserum.”

    Her talk with Sally-Anne had been more successful than she had expected, Hermione realised. “He offered to let himself get dosed. I took that as sufficient proof, given how unlikely a deception was under the circumstances.”

    “I see.” Sarah turned to look at the smoking ruins once more.

    Hermione waited, not as patiently as usual. She still didn’t know what Sarah wanted.

    “Do you plan to marry him?” Sarah asked, without taking her eyes off the mirror.

    “Yes,” Hermione said.

    “These rumours spread by the Dark Lord are hurting us,” the Wand-Commander said after a pause. “They stir up the population, and weaken the country.” She pointed at the crater. “That will do even more damage to the Ministry, and to us. Too many believe the lies, even though we’ve informed the Daily Prophet and The Quibbler about what really happened.”

    “We haven’t finished the investigation yet,” Hermione said.

    “I know. But we cannot wait. Diagon Alley might see another riot if we let things go on.”

    Hermione couldn’t argue with that - she had seen some wizards dismiss the newspaper in the Leaky Cauldron as lies. “Yes.”

    “And the last thing we need are rumours that lovestruck Wands are being manipulated by cunning exiles.”

    Hermione stiffened. Was Sarah about to tell her to break up with Ron?

    “Even worse when it’s the Commander.”

    Hermione blinked. Oh! Did that mean.... Merlin!

    Sarah turned back towards her. “What do you know about Sirius Black?”

    Hermione swallowed. She didn’t know how to answer that.

    *****​

    London, Diagon Alley, October 1st, 1999, 12.15 hours

    Hermione was still feeling guilty when she was on her way to lunch with Ron. Not because she hadn’t been able to tell Sarah anything that the Wand-Commander hadn’t already known about Sirius Black after her dates with the wizard. That was actually a good thing - Hermione hadn’t been forced to choose between betraying Sirius’s confidence, or lying to Sarah.

    No, she had felt guilty because she hadn’t been able to help Sarah with her dilemma. The Wand-Commander couldn’t exactly interrogate her paramour with Veritaserum, and rumours to that extent wouldn’t have much credibility. Not with Sirius appearing to be one of the most trusted friends of Dumbledore. But hiding the relationship would be impossible - or close to impossible. Sarah was the leader of the Wands. Her security wouldn’t allow her to sneak out for a date without half the Corps knowing. But to break up… could it be called breaking up if there had only been a few dates, at most? She wasn’t an expert on such matters anyway.

    She was still pondering the problem when she reached the restaurant where Ron was waiting. And Luna. And Harry. And Ginny.

    “Hello.” Hermione tried not to feel irritated. She had expected lunch with Ron alone, but Luna was her best friend, and Harry was Ron’s.

    “Hermione!” Luna stood up and hugged her. “We’ve been waiting for you!”

    “Ron was about to start ordering,” Ginny said, earning a glare from her brother.

    Hermione kissed Ron, then sat down next to him, checking the menu even though she knew the selection by heart.

    “Have you read the special edition of The Quibbler, about the riot in Diagon Alley?” Luna asked after they had ordered.

    Hermione had. It was an atypical article, without any of the quirks often present in the magazine. No comments about how ashwinders would have been able to use the fires to breed. No other fantastic beasts being mentioned. Just the raw, sad truth. Or rather, the deduced facts. “I did. I think you covered the incident well.”

    “Hopefully it’ll help with all the rumours. People have been glaring at me!” Ginny said. Harry reached over and rubbed her back.

    “They’re not glaring at us now,” Harry said.

    “That’s because this is a restaurant that catered to half-bloods and muggleborns,” Ron said. “The laws have changed, but British purebloods still don’t frequent it. British purebloods who did not go into exile, I mean…”

    Hermione wondered how many among Ron’s generation of the exiles saw themselves as British purebloods. And how long the distinction would remain. Out loud she said: “The Dark Lord seems to be focusing on the purebloods with his propaganda.”

    “Well, the half-bloods certainly wouldn’t want to return to being second-class citizens,” Ginny said.

    Hermione shrugged. She didn’t share that opinion. “Some of them might not have taken well to the Wands no longer being obedient servants.” Slaves in all but name, even.

    “Their illusions have been shattered,” Luna said. “They didn’t consider the fact that Egypt was ruled by Mameluks at times.”

    “The Dark Lord can’t promise half-bloods much though, not without losing support from the pureblood fanatics,” Harry said. “Which is ironic, given his own parentage.”

    “You mean his naga ancestry? Or are the rumours true that he is not a half-naga, but is a descendant of a common grass snake?” Luna had pulled out her notepad and quill.

    “I was talking about the Dark Lord being a half-blood,” Harry tried to explain.

    “Of course. Half-wizard, half-naga. Or half-snake.” Luna smiled brightly. “We’ll have to publish this new revelation about him possibly faking naga ancestry. Maybe the naga houses will take steps to punish him for this transgression against their honour!”

    Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron, smirking at Harry’s expression. She doubted that nagas read The Quibbler, or would care, but stranger things had happened. Which reminded her of Sarah’s troubles. “How’s your godfather doing?”

    “Chasing your leader,” Harry said. “According to him, quite successfully.” He frowned. “She’s not the vengeful type, is she?”

    “She’s a Wand.” Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Do you think he’s toying with her feelings?” Why else would he ask that, she wondered.

    “I don’t know,” Harry answered. “He hasn’t had many relationships that lasted longer than a few weeks.”

    “Not many that lasted longer than a night, you mean,” Ginny added, scowling.

    “That’s not true,” Harry retorted. “That’s just what the witches who expected more than he ever promised claim.”

    “Daddy says that a wizard will settle down as soon as he has found the right witch, but not before,” Luna said.

    “Well, Sirius certainly is looking very hard,” Ginny said.

    Harry frowned, but didn’t contradict his girlfriend.

    Ron chuckled. “Who knows, maybe Sarah is the right witch for him. Wands certainly are great witches,” he added, with a smile to Hermione.

    She smiled back. Then she sighed. “No matter what the nature of their relationship, they face trouble though. Rumours claim that Sirius is seducing her to use the Corps for Dumbledore.” She caught Ron wincing, and nodded.

    “Rumours among the British purebloods, or among the Wands?” Ron asked.

    “Both.”

    Harry scowled. “If Sirius hears this, he’ll be even more determined to chase Sarah. I can already hear him declare that the Dark Lord will not be allowed to ruin his chances with a witch.”

    “Voldemort probably wants that. It plays right into his hands,” Hermione said. “Adds credibility to the stories.”

    “Why doesn’t anyone suspect that Sarah’s seducing Sirius to control Dumbledore?” Luna asked. “It sounds rather unfair!”

    “It’s rather far-fetched.” Hermione knew all involved reasonably well.

    “That never seems to matter where rumours are concerned,” Ron said.

    He was correct, Hermione knew. And, she realised, that might help Sarah. At least with the Wands who might take offense at a pureblood exile trying to seduce the Wand-Commander.

    *****​

    London, Ministry of Magic, October 1st, 1999, 15.30 hours

    Albus Dumbledore was right on time for his meeting with Wand-Commander Sarah. There was not a minute to be wasted, in his opinion, not with the Dark Lord on the run. A cornered beast was usually twice as dangerous, after all. Sirius was with him. The younger wizard had insisted. Albus hoped there was more than just stubbornness and wounded pride behind it, or the animagus’s presence might turn out to be more hindrance than help.

    Sarah received them in her office, in the company of Benjamin and two Wands serving as guards. Miss Hermione wasn’t among them. Albus hadn’t expected her - news of her relationship with young Mister Weasley must have made the rounds, and even if there was no suspicion on her, as Albus had heard, Sarah would not be the leader she was, had she placed the witch in a position where she might have to choose between betraying her love, or her family. Or Sarah might not trust the witch. He hoped for the former.

    “Good afternoon, Wand-Commander.”

    “Hello Sarah.” Sirius sounded more subdued than Albus had expected. Not boisterous or defiant.

    “Professor Dumbledore. Sirius.” The Wand-Commander’s voice was even. Guarded. “You asked for a meeting to discuss the next steps in the war against the Dark Lord.”

    “Indeed.” Albus smiled, managing - or so he hoped - to turn it from a diplomat’s smile into a honest one. “The recent attack on Diagon Alley proves that even when forced from his last hideout, he is still a danger to Wizarding Britain that will only grow stronger and more powerful given the opportunity. He cannot be allowed a moment’s respite.”

    “The attack also has revealed unrest among the population. The British wizards do not trust the Corps as much as they did in the past. And at least a part of them has grown suspicious of you, sir.” Sarah stood straight, and met his eyes without flinching.

    He was tempted to read her mind, to discern her true thoughts from what she would use to sound him out, or as a bargaining ploy. He didn’t, though. He had already strained their trust in him, perhaps even broken it. Another transgression would utterly shatter it, no matter how convenient it might be in the short term. “That is true, but the purebloods’ fear of us - of us both - will not be laid to rest if the Corps focuses on keeping the peace at home. They are manipulated and encouraged by the Dark Lord; removing him from the picture will do far more to quell such unrest than anything else.” Without Voldemort, they’d not see any way to defy the Ministry.

    “Do you consider the British purebloods so easily led astray then?” Sarah asked.

    “In a word, yes.” Albus snorted. “They haven’t really impressed me with either wit or spine. Unlike the Wands.” He didn’t like to make this about blood, but Wizarding Britain had been taught for a generation that blood mattered. It was rather ironic that Lucius’s lies would turn out to be proven correct in such a twisted way, with the muggleborns’ blood now mattering since it was the reason for their training and upbringing.

    “That sounds like flattery,” Benjamin said.

    “You haven’t heard much flattery then,” Sirius answered, apparently taking the other wizard’s words as an invitation to enter the conversation himself. “The best flattery is the truth,” he added with a smile towards Sarah.

    The Wand-Commander didn’t react, not visibly at least. “Leaving that aside, having us deploy in force to fight the Dark Lord will leave most of Britain defenseless. How can you know that the Dark Lord is not planning on this?”

    “We can track him wherever he moves to,” Albus assured her.

    “Your spy was killed,” Sarah said.

    “I did not rely on Severus to track the Dark Lord,” Albus said.

    “You either have another spy, or… the boy!” Benjamin exclaimed.

    Albus nodded. Another of his secrets revealed. “I do not have to tell you that revealing this would endanger both Harry and our best strategy.”

    The Wand-Commander nodded and Albus hoped her frown was due to her considering his advice patronising, and not because she felt distrusted. “If we strike at the Dark Lord, then there need to be some changes to the plan we used before.”

    Albus kept his smile from widening. He was now certain she’d agree. “Of course. What do you propose?”

    *****​

    An hour later, the meeting had turned into a planning session, a very productive planning session, in Albus’s opinion. Sarah’s proposals had been as ruthless as he had expected, and entirely suitable for dealing with Voldemort and his followers - although dealing with the Horcruxes would still require his personal intervention. Albus wasn’t about to share that secret with the Wands. Not just because of the danger of Tom finding out about his knowledge, but because the Wands’ training had left them a bit too prone to using the Dark Arts, in Albus’s opinion. They were not dark wizards and witches, but they freely used certain tools most would shy away from. Another problem to be addressed after Tom had been dealt with.

    “So… with that out of the way, do you fancy a cup of tea together?” Sirius smiled at Sarah.

    The wizard obviously either didn’t notice, or ignored Benjamin’s frown, Albus thought. Knowing Sirius, he would be betting on the latter, were he prone to gambling. He wasn’t that fond of Sirius’ flirting himself, but at least the wizard had waited until they had come to an agreement about their attack on Voldemort.

    Sarah hesitated, though after a glance to Benjamin, she pushed her chin forward and nodded. “I think I do.”

    “Splendid!” Sirius offered the witch his arm, though that just earned him a raised eyebrow. The wizard didn’t seem to let that deter him though.

    Albus turned his attention to Benjamin. The leader of the Investigative Branch of the Wands of Britain was both smart and influential, and his reaction to Sirius’ courting of the Wand-Commander might be illuminating. A faint shaking of his head was the only visible reaction to Sarah and Sirius moving to the teapot in the corner giving Albus no further clues to his opinion. The wizard might disapprove of the match because Sirius was a pureblood, or an exile. It might be due to Sirius’s character - Harry’s godfather generally took some time to get used to, more so for wizards. Or it might be due to the Wand harboring some feelings for the Wand-Commander himself. Albus chuckled, ruefully, at the realisation that he might have been able to solve this puzzle, had he been more interested in gossip.

    Benjamin hadn’t missed Albus’s reaction, and his frown grew more pronounced. “Do you think this is amusing?” he asked in a voice low enough so it wouldn’t carry to the couple in the corner.

    The professor shook his head, and answered in a similarly low voice: “Not in particular, though young people in love is a sight I am quite fond of.”

    “He doesn’t look the type to be in love. Or not for long,” the Wand commented.

    “I wasn’t aware you knew him,” Albus responded mildly. “Unless you base this judgment on certain articles in the press.”

    “Do you claim that his reputation is entirely the work of journalists with an overly active imagination?”

    Albus sighed. “No. But those articles were, at best, sensational. While Sirius certainly appreciates the witches, as the saying goes, he does not deceive them about his intentions.” Not to Albus’s knowledge, at least. “The Wands do not strike me as the sort of witches who would read more into a wizard’s courting than was intended and offered.”

    Benjamin didn’t comment on that, but asked: “And what does he intend?”

    “That,” Albus answered, “I think is a question best asked to the two directly concerned.”

    From the way Benjamin’s frown deepened, the old wizard deduced that such a question wouldn’t be asked anytime soon. At least not to Sarah.

    *****​

    London, October 1st, 1999, 19.48 hours

    Ron Weasley found Harry and Ginny in a rather sombre mood when he arrived at the safehouse. He wasn’t surprised - Dumbledore would have informed Harry about the attack planned for the next day as soon as possible. His sister and his best friend were holding each other, and barely moved to greet him.

    He sighed, sitting down on an old armchair. Hermione should be joining them in a bit. She was stuck at the Ministry, preparing for the attack, or so he assumed - she hadn’t gone into details.

    After a minute or two without any word from the two on the couch, he cleared his throat. “I can leave, or you could move to the bedroom.”

    That earned him two glares. Progress, of sorts.

    He held up his hands. “Sorry.”

    “No, you’re not,” Ginny claimed. “But keep it up, and you will be.”

    “Save your anger for the Death Eaters,” he shot back.

    “I’ve got enough for everyone,” his sister said.

    “While I know better than to try and get between two Weasley siblings in a fight,” Harry said, “Now certainly is not the time.”

    Ron nodded. “Sorry. Just…” he trailed off.

    “Jittery about tomorrow?”

    “Yes.” He sighed. “Sort of.”

    “You’ve been in battles before,” Ginny said, almost accusingly.

    “Yes.” With his real identity now known, he would be able to fight in the upcoming battle. “But I’ve never fought in a large battle. And not with the Wands.”

    Harry understood. “You want to be with Hermione in the battle.”

    “And I don’t know if I can, or should.” He sighed again.

    “Did you ask her?” Ginny sat straighter in Harry’s lap.

    “I haven’t had the opportunity yet,” Ron admitted. Or rather, he hadn’t thought to talk about that, despite knowing that there would be another battle.

    Ginny shook her head and muttered something Ron was certain was a rude comment about boys, or about himself. Louder, she said: “Well, ask her. Then you’ll know.”

    He almost snapped back that Hermione would need to be here to be asked, but held his tongue. Losing his temper wouldn’t do any good to anyone.

    He didn’t want to think about it, but this could be the last evening for one or all of them. He’d rather not spend it arguing.

    *****​

    The Weald, Kent, Britain, October 1st, 1999, 22.17 hours

    The Dark Lord Voldemort carefully closed the door behind him before climbing down the stairs to the lowest level of the basement. No one but him had ever set foot in this room. This laboratory, to be precise. He looked around. The spells had kept the room in the same condition he had left it, decades ago. The massive marble table. The oaken shelves, crammed full of notes and tomes thought lost by most. And the circle etched into the polished stone floor, lined with silver and the remains of red candles, and caked with dried blood.

    He had worked great things here, crossed boundaries few, even among the most infamous dark wizards of the past, had even dared to approach. And in his brilliance, he had succeeded where so many had failed before him. And after all this time, he had finally a use for his creations.

    He opened the door at the other side of the room, revealing a long tunnel lined with alcoves on both side.

    A flick of his wrists, and the figures in the alcoves started to move.

    *****​
     
  23. Beyogi

    Beyogi I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    So what did he create? Inferi? Homunculuses?

    Let's just hope they're quick enough to track down the horcruxes before Voldemort got to slaughter more people.

    What stops them anyway?
     
    Starfox5 likes this.
  24. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    That'll be shown in the next chapter.

    There's only one Horcrux left (not counting whatever is in Harry's scar), which is where Voldemort is. So, technically, it's Voldemort who stops them.
     
  25. Threadmarks: Chapter 22: Death and Destruction
    Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    Chapter 22: Death and Destruction

    London, October 2nd, 1999, 05.47 hours

    Hermione woke up before her alarm went off. She was used to that - it happened often if she had an important task. The witch rolled onto her side and watched Ron. Her lover was asleep on his back, his chest slowly rising and falling. He looked relaxed and at peace, not worried and resigned, as he had the evening before.

    She hated to wake him up, but she would. Just not right now. She reached out and touched his bare chest with her hand, caressing his skin and moving up to his head. Suddenly, her wrist was gripped, and she hissed in surprise and a bit of pain.

    “Sorry.” He released her hand, smiling sheepishly.

    “It was my fault.” She rubbed her wrist. “I should have remembered.”

    He propped himself up on his elbows. “How much time do we have before we need to be at the Ministry?”

    “Not enough for what you are thinking,” she answered, smiling.

    He sighed theatrically. “Attacking at dawn! I know it’s traditional, but it’s very inconvenient right now.”

    “At least we will not be fighting at night,” Hermione said. “They’ll have a harder time escaping.”

    “Awfully confident, are we?”

    She nodded. “We have the advantage in numbers and training, and experience.” Although the last was only thanks to the veterans among Dumbledore’s exiles. Then again, they were bound to be a bit rusty, unlike the Wands.

    “No plan survives contact with the enemy,” Ron quoted.

    Hermione sniffed. “That saying was meant to tell people that they needed to be flexible, and have more than one rigid plan.” Muggle books hadn’t been permitted for Wands in training, but that one had been quoted by one of the older handbooks. So she had bought a battered copy in a used book shop, and smuggled it into the barracks.

    Ron grinned. “Well… I know you’re flexible. Very flexible.” His grin turned into a leer as he let his eyes travel down her body.

    She didn’t blush, but her smile grew wider. If only they had time… She bent over to kiss him.

    Five minutes later, her alarm went off, proving her earlier claim that they didn’t have enough time.

    *****​

    The Weald, Kent, Britain, October 2nd, 1999, 07.20 hours

    Ron Weasley was sitting on his broom, out of sight of the old and weathered, but still solid, house in the distance. He knew strong wards were layered over it, making it impossible for muggles to even notice it, and preventing spells and attackers from reaching its walls. The Dark Lord’s hideout was well-protected.

    It wouldn’t help him though. The Wands were out in force, and Dumbledore had brought two dozen of the Order of the Phoenix, including the four youngest Weasley siblings and Harry, who had confirmed that both the Dark Lord and his last Horcrux were inside. This time, he’d not escape.

    Harry and Ginny were on brooms as well, next to him. Ron wished Hermione was there, but his lover was on the ground, with her team. Fortunately - even though she didn’t like it - she was with the reserves, not the first or second assault element. He had wanted to stay with her, but he had been informed in no uncertain terms that it would be a bad idea, since he was not familiar with the standard tactics of the Wands, and so might get hurt by friendly fire. Sirius had been assigned as a liaison to the Wand-Commander. Harry’s godfather had been torn about that - he had wanted to stay with Harry - but Dumbledore had persuaded him he could do more for his godson by ensuring the attack would be well coordinated with the Wands.

    So he was with his best friend and his sister. Reserves as well - of sorts. Dumbledore had made it clear that they were not to engage until and unless the professor ordered them to. Something that had pleased Hermione.

    They were more alike, he realised, than they thought. Ron chuckled, earning a glance from Ginny and a questioning look from Harry.

    “Just a funny thought,” he said. “Hermione and I, we are both happy that the other is in the reserves, and angry that we are.”

    Ginny and Harry exchanged a look that clearly said that they didn’t think this was even remotely funny. Ron shrugged. They were about to face the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. His thoughts were bound to be a bit off while waiting for the battle to start.

    Which should be any minute now. The sun was starting to rise. Ideally, the Curse-Breakers would move now, before the morning had fully broken, under the cover of the fading darkness. As if they had read his thoughts, a team of eight Wands disillusioned themselves and started towards the house. A minute later, a dozen Wands lifted off on their brooms. They’d cover the area with Jinxes to prevent magical travel and disillusionment spells.

    He started to take to the air himself - there was no need to remain in cover now. He was out of range of spells, and the Death Eaters would notice the attack as soon as their wards alerted them.

    There! The Curse-Breakers were now protected by conjured walls and ceilings, forming an impromptu bunker. And broom riders were surrounding the house, flying in random patterns to make targeting them harder.

    Harry reached his side, followed by Ginny. “He’s still inside.”

    “Then he is now trapped.” Ron smiled. So far, all was going according to plan.

    *****​

    The Weald, Kent, Britain, October 2nd, 1999, 07.30 hours

    The Dark Lord Voldemort felt the wards come under attack even before they alerted him and his Death Eaters. His enemies had found them. But how? Was there another spy he had missed? There was no time to dwell on that. The wards were strong, but they would not stand up to a concerted attack for that long. Long enough though, to prepare.

    He called his followers to the hall, acting with more calm than he felt. It wouldn’t do to show anything but the utmost confidence in his own power. They arrived quickly. Bellatrix was the first, as he had known she would be. His most loyal follower looked eager. Others tried to hide their anxiety. They couldn’t, not from him.

    “The mudbloods and the traitors are attacking the wards,” he stated. “The fools do not know what awaits them.”

    There was a reason he had chosen this house. He had spent months here, decades ago. Back when he had acquired the notes of one of Grindelwald’s highest-ranking Storm Wizards. Months he had thought wasted, back then. He had been young, and inexperienced. Talented, driven, but not yet ready.

    But now one of his mistakes might just turn out to be his salvation. His followers looked at him. Bellatrix trusted him blindly, of course, but even those who had been lacking courage were now straightening.

    He briefly checked the wards. They were still holding. As expected. And his surprise was already on the way.

    “You know how I have been betrayed by those I trusted. How we have been betrayed. My sacrifice was used to conquer Britain 18 years ago, and what happened? Instead of preserving our culture, protecting it from the mudbloods’ corruption, the traitors perverted it! They taught the mudbloods how to oppress their betters! Even now, they are out there, attacking us! They know we are the purebloods’ last hope.”

    His followers yelled their support. He checked the wards again. They were steadily growing weaker. He raised his arms, and the crowd fell silent.

    “I will not lie to you. The mudbloods and blood traitors outnumber us. And this time, Dumbledore is with them.”

    His Death Eaters remembered the fights with the mudbloods. And the older, more experienced ones would remember Dumbledore. The anxiety was back.

    “While I battle Dumbledore, you will be facing hordes of mudbloods. Those beasts have but one goal: Our utter destruction. They deserve no respect, no mercy, no quarter. They are rabid animals that we must exterminate before they spread their disease to the country.”

    He took a deep breath. The wards were now close to breaking. But there was time still, to finish this. “Were it but me, I would not even contemplate this. I have conquered death itself! But you, my trusted, faithful followers… you are the flower of Britain. To save you, no sacrifice is too much, no cost too high.”

    He glanced to the side and opened a hidden door with a flick of his wand. A figure stepped out of the dark room behind it. His Death Eaters recoiled at the sight. Some hissed, some cursed. Wands went up, and even Bellatrix looked disgusted for a moment, before she smiled at him again.

    “If not for our enemies treachery, this would not be happening. But as they do not respect our traditions, they do not deserve to be protected by them.” He raised his wand. The wards were close to failing. His first spell ripped a hole in the roof. His next spell shot into the sky.

    “To battle!”

    *****​

    The Weald, Kent, Britain, October 2nd, 1999, 07.55 hours

    Wand-Leader Hermione blinked when the roof of the house blew up from the inside. For half an hour she and the other Wands had been expecting the Death Eaters to sally forth, or at least start attacking from behind the wards. That was why the Curse-Breakers had been protected by conjured walls. But this… why would they blow up their own roof?

    Then another spell shot up, straight up. She saw the flyers move away, but they would be too late… the spell seemed to vanish. The blast she expected failed to appear.

    “What the…” Dean muttered next to her. “What was that?”

    “I don’t know,” she answered. She didn’t recognise the spell.

    “The clouds. They are moving faster,” Colin exclaimed, next to her.

    Hermione checked. Her friend was correct - the clouds were moving rapidly, in a circular motion. And the wind was picking up. She could see the highest flyers struggling to hold their positions.

    “He’s creating a storm. He’s forcing the broom riders down.” She was impressed by the sheer power this demonstrated. But why would the Dark Lord do this… she gasped. “Watch the ground!”

    Her warning was too late. All around them, the earth erupted right in the middle of the Wands and exiles. And when she saw what was breaking through the soil, claws digging into the soft ground, unnatural, monstrous, wrong heads turning, seeking prey, she was not the only one who screamed.

    *****​

    It was an abomination, Hermione noted, casting a Shield Charm before aiming her wand at it while it was still trying to lift itself out of the narrow tunnel it must have dug. Not quite an Inferius, though it might have started as one. Rotting, festering skin, flaking where it wasn’t covered with dirt, covered a dead body, warped and changed. Too long arms ended in claws dripping with ichor. Empty eye sockets glowed with red flames above jaws that seemed to have been taken from a shark, or a dragon.

    Her Blasting Curse hit the thing dead centre, knocking it back and blowing parts of its chest away. Rotting organs started to spill out, followed by green vapour. It didn’t seem to be inconvenienced much, if at all, and was now almost out of the hole. Her next curse hit its head, turning the misshapen skull into a shower of bone fragments and rotten tissue. Even then it was not destroyed, but kept flailing around, almost catching Dean, who was retreating from another, in the back.

    Her friend and teammate managed to dodge, though at the cost of letting another monster pull itself up and out of the ground. Hermione hit it with a Severing Curse, cutting off one arm but missing the head. Dean didn’t miss with his own curse, beheading that abomination as well.

    Then Hermione heard Colin scream. She whirled around and froze for an instant. Her other teammate had been caught in the gut by a monster’s claw, the red tips coming out his back. Before she or Dean could react, the other claw ripped the boy’s head and shoulder off, sending blood flying.

    “Colin!” Dean yelled and started casting wildly.

    The monster was hampered with Colin’s corpse stuck on its claw, and didn’t seem to be able to move as fast - certainly not fast enough to dodge as Severing and Cutting Curses sliced into it. Hermione shot a Blasting Curse at the monster’s legs - sporting claws as sharp and long as its arms - and managed to throw it to the ground, one leg blown off at its second joint. Before she could exploit that though, something - the flailing limb of Dean’s attacker - hit her legs from behind, bowling her over. If not for her Shield Charm, now gone, she would have been severely hurt. She found herself in a pool of blood and ichor, staring at the remains of another Wand, the body too badly damaged to be recognisable. Fighting the urge to hurl, she stood up again, recasting her Shield Charm.

    Dean had finished the wounded monster off, cutting it to twitching pieces with several curses, but the other two creatures were still moving, even if they were blinded. And all around them, Wands were fighting for their lives against more monsters.

    “Incendio!”

    The dead things started burning, but not as quickly as she hoped. They had to be much more resilient than Inferi then, she thought. “Fire hurts them, but not quickly!” she shouted, aided by an Amplifying Charm.

    Many of the Corps had realised the same thing. She saw a Wand back away from a burning but still fighting creature. She recognised him as Alvin, but before she could call out a warning he had retreated right into the claws of another monster. Other Wands were luckier, and had managed to form clusters covering each other.

    “Follow me!” she shouted to Dean, and started to make her way towards the closest formation. They needed to form up to have a chance - already too many figures in brown robes were on the ground, victims of those abominations. And the Curse-Breakers… if those monsters had broken into their shelter…

    *****​

    Ron Weasley had known they were in trouble when he had seen the spell fly straight up to the clouds. And he had been right. Within less than a minute, the sky had gone from cloudy but calm to a rapidly brewing storm, making it harder and harder to stay in position - or even just stay on his broom without the help of a Sticking Charm. He spotted movement on the ground - enemies emerging from the earth, and spells started flashing, but the storm held his attention.

    “We need to land!” he yelled into the growing roar of the wind.

    “We can stay!” Harry yelled back. “I’ve flown in worse!”

    “Bloody Quidditch Seeker!” Ron cursed, then yelled: “There’ll be worse to come! It’s a trap!” The Dark Lord wouldn’t go to that length if it was just some wind. He saw Ginny struggle more and more to keep near Harry - her smaller body didn’t offer much resistance to being blown away by the wind. “Get down, damn it!” They could deal with the monsters on the ground - Inferi, they looked like - but not this storm.

    He saw that the Wands in the air were struggling as well, and retreating. A few of the exiles were holding their positions, or at least trying to. The wind was now so strong, he’d need an Amplifying Charm to be heard over it. He drew his wand, and almost lost control of his broom. “Get down now!” he shouted, and started his descent, hoping he’d not be smashed into the ground by a sudden gust. Harry and Ginny followed him down.

    Then the roof of the house disappeared in a cloud of smoke and fire. For a moment, he cheered - someone had managed to strike back, or so he thought. Then the cloud of smoke and debris was picked up by the wind, and his Shield Charm was battered by fragments of wood and stone. The spell wouldn’t last long, he realised, and dived towards the ground as if he was a Seeker pulling off a Wronski Feint. Ron almost crashed into the ground, but he managed to pull up in time.

    Looking up, he saw Harry and Ginny close by, landing with more grace. Behind them was Bertram Millibed, a classmate of his father’s, who was too slow and whose Shield Charm shattered in the middle of the whirling debris. Ron stared while stone and wood splinters ripped into the man and his broom, sending both to the ground, broken. He tried to cast a Cushioning Charm, but the storm made judging Bertram’s fall too hard - the man crashed unimpeded into the ground. One of the Inferi was close, and pounced, and Ron realised it wasn’t an Inferius at all, but something else. Something worse.

    He rushed to Harry and Ginny, cursing the closest monster. Where was Dumbledore?

    *****​

    Albus Dumbledore had underestimated Tom, once again. The Weather-Control Spell was an unusual choice, and the old wizard had briefly wondered if the Dark Lord planned to drive the broomriders from the sky so his followers could escape. The storm had quickly grown too strong to fly through though, and he had started to descend right away. Countering the Weather-Control Spell would take too long - Voldemort would be free to attack the Wands and Order members. Unfortunately, Albus was a bit too late reaching the ground - abominations were already bursting out of the earth.

    He cast a Fire Whip that cut one monster apart right before he touched the ground, saving an isolated Wand from death. He was too late to save the Curse-Breaking team though; from what he had seen on his descent, multiple monsters had emerged inside their shelter, and the walls that had served to protect the wizards and witches had then prevented them from fleeing.

    “What are those?” the young witch asked, panting and pointing her wand at another batch of earth that seemed to move.

    “Abominations,” Albus answered. He didn’t expand on that, even though he was familiar with them. Herpo the Foul had experimented with Inferi and possession, but it had been Gellert who had managed to merge two of the most corrupt Dark Arts. Albus had hoped that the knowledge had died with Gellert’s inner circle in 1946, but apparently, Tom had either discovered the process, or created his own. He forced the memories this sight brought up away; he had to focus on the fight.

    And with the way the abominations had appeared right in the middle of the Wands and Albus’ friends, the professor couldn’t use his spells effectively to deal with them. At least someone had managed to cast Fiendfyre on the Dark Lord’s house; something was going according to plan.

    Albus turned the earth the next monster was trying to break through into stone, then set the trapped thing on fire. He kept an eye on the house, so he was ready when the doors opened and the Death Eaters sallied forth. A few conjured stone walls hemmed them in, driving the first row into his next fire whip, but that wouldn’t hold them for long. Albus’s forces had to rally, and quickly, or they would be massacred in detail.

    He searched the field, cutting another abomination apart, and finally spotted the Wand-Commander, in the midst of a dozen of her forces, next to Sirius. She would serve as the rallying point, he knew. An Amplifying Charm later, his voice rang out over the battlefield. “Rally on the commander!”

    The yell was taken up by others, and he could see the battle lines, if they could be called that, starting to shift.

    Then his walls were shattered, and the Dark Lord charged at him, followed by his Death Eaters.

    *****​

    The Dark Lord Voldemort was breathing heavily. Casting the Storm Spell, blasting the roof and turning it into debris to give the wind the deadly shrapnel to shred his enemies in the skies, didn’t tax him much. But holding the Fiendfyre consuming his house at bay until Bellatrix had recovered the cup? That had been a draining experience, even with his skill and power.

    But now he was attacking, blasting the walls trapping them inside the house, putting out the fire someone had started in the field - no Fiendfyre that - and his Death Eaters surged forward, passing him on both sides.

    Suddenly, a Fire Whip snapped across the first rank of his followers, cutting them in half. He stopped it with a conjured pillar of steel, then looked for the caster. Dumbledore! Snarling, he fired a Killing Curse at his nemesis. The old wizard stopped it with a conjured slab of marble, and the Blasting Curse Voldemort followed up with was deflected by a Shield Charm. At least the mudblood next to Dumbledore was felled by it, his broken body thrown back.

    He readied himself to defend against the counter-attack he knew was coming, and when the earth around him rose, changing to blades, he was confident his own Shield Charm would stop them easily. But instead of striking at him, trying to shatter his defenses, the dozens of sharp metal spikes shot away from him, ripping through the ranks of his Death Eaters. And not all of their Shield Charms held up as well as his would have.

    Snarling, he started to send curse after curse at Dumbledore, aided by Bellatrix at his side, whose own shield had withstood those attacks easily. His foe dared to ignore him, and attack his lessers? Voldemort would teach the old man the folly of his arrogance! And Dumbledore was giving ground, the sheer mass of dark curses forcing him to dodge and improvise - straight into the path of two of the Blood Inferi!

    At the last moment though, his foe stepped to the side and swept his wand in an arc - and the earth beneath the two monsters rose in a huge wave, carrying them and others towards Voldemort. The Dark Lord blew a hole into the earthen wall rushing him at once, but the two parts left kept coming, one of them burying another group of his Death Eaters, crushing them under tons of earth and stone.

    That was what Dumbledore wanted, he realised. He wanted to force him to protect his followers, so the old wizard could defeat him!

    “Scatter!” he yelled, “Massacre the mudbloods! Leave Dumbledore to me!” When he saw Bellatrix wasn’t moving from his side, he added: “You too!”

    “Yes, milord!” the dark witch spat out, almost reluctantly, then ran off, already cursing the closest mudblood.

    But the command had given Dumbledore enough time to go on the offensive again, and this time Voldemort found himself forced back by spells he wouldn’t have expected the old wizard to know, much less use.

    Protected by a shield of shining metal, the Dark Lord grinned. His enemy had to be desperate to stoop to such measures. Victory was near!

    *****​

    Hermione and Dean had managed to join another team and the group had succeeded in driving back the monsters attacking them. Not unscathed though - Violet and Jenny were busy protecting Martin, who had lost his left arm when an abomination had suddenly jumped over another. If not for the storm pushing it to the side while it was in the air, he’d have lost his head.

    For the moment though, they were in the clear. Hermione pointed her wand at the ground, and a flick of her wrist transfigured the earth into stone, forming a path safe from underground ambushes to the next group of wands. “Let’s move!” she shouted. Her voice barely reached the group over the howling winds. Even walking became difficult in this storm.

    “We could form a tunnel!” Violet yelled, steadying Martin. The wizard needed a Healer. Hopefully they would be able to link up with the main force soon.

    “Not safe enough!” Hermione yelled back. The monsters would be able to ambush them, or even break through without being spotted. Instead she turned the areas next to the stone path to mud. That would slow them down. Hopefully.

    A group of three monsters rushed at them before they reached the other Wands, jumping over the mud area. Bludgeoning Curses from Dean and Jenny slammed into them, pushing two back and into the mud. The third was bisected by Hermione’s Cutting Curse. She set the two parts on fire as soon as they hit the ground. Dean and Jenny were destroying the other two monsters. Hermione didn’t spot any other monster in the area, but widened the mud anyway.

    Turning back, she waved Violet forward. “Come on! We’re almost there!”

    She saw the Wand grimacing, dragging Martin behind her by his brown robe, and then both disappeared in an explosion. The force of the blast threw them into the transfigured mud Hermione had created and splinters from the stone ground peppered Hermione’s Shield Charm. That had been a Blasting Curse!

    Hermione whirled around and saw human figures rushing at them. Death Eaters! She raised a wall, just in time to stop the next curse.

    “Accio Jenny’s robe!” Violet shouted next to her, followed by Dean’s “Accio Martin’s robe!”.

    The unconscious body of Jenny flew towards Violet, but Dean’s spell only managed to summon the torn and shredded remains of Martin’s clothes, dripping with blood.

    “Accio Martin’s corpse!” Hermione whispered. She saw a mangled body raise from the mud and winced. The Wand had absorbed the main force of the blast, saving Jenny at the cost of himself. She turned around again, raising another wall, trying to ignore the remains landing next to her.

    Death Eaters were going around the wall now, the storm hindering their movements as well, and Dean and Violet took down the first with Reductor Curses, one spell shattering the man’s shield, the next blasting his head off his neck.

    Hermione turned more earth to mud, and two Death Eaters rushing at them from the other side became stuck in it. She transfigured the mud to pure alcohol, then set it on fire. The two wizards’ screams carried over the storm’s roar when they vanished in fire.

    “Onward!” she shouted, pushing Dean, who was carrying Jenny, on. The other Wands had realised their situation and were moving towards them, but they would take a little while to reach them.

    Then her latest wall was smashed to pieces, and Bellatrix Lestrange stepped out of the dust cloud, slinging curses at the four Wands.

    *****​

    Ron Weasley wiped blood from his face - a cut on his forehead was bleeding, probably from some debris that had caught him during his descent. They had destroyed three of those weird Inferi, Harry almost getting gutted in the process, only a Banishing Charm from Ginny saving him when one abomination had taken a swipe at him from his flank, but they were still isolated. They had to link up with the group of Wands he had seen nearby, before they landed. He hoped Hermione was still…

    Harry though had other ideas. “Follow me!” he yelled, and rushed off in another direction.

    “What? Wait!” Ron yelled, but he wasn’t certain if his friend had heard him in this damned storm. Ginny of course was running after Harry, struggling against the winds. Ron could only follow them. At least his Shield Charm protected him against the full force of the storm’s fury, he noted, when rocks and wood fragments pelted the shimmering shield.

    “Where are we going?” he yelled as soon as he had caught up to Ginny.

    Harry didn’t answer. Two more abominations appeared in front of them, and for a moment, Ron feared his friend would charge them. Harry still had enough sense to stop, and set one of the things on fire before cutting its legs off. Ginny and Ron hammered the other with Bludgeoning Curses, stopping its charge, and Harry set it on fire as well.

    “Where are we going?” Ron asked again, shouting into Harry’s ear.

    “The last Horcrux!” Harry yelled back, then he was running again, heedless of the wind that tried to blow the three away.

    The three crested a small hill - passing a corpse pulped into an unrecognisable mass of flesh and blood - and came upon a large group of Death Eaters fighting Wands. Half a dozen black-robed bodies were strewn on the ground, but he could see several brown-robed ones as well. And corpses too burned or smashed to tell whose side they belonged to.

    “There!” Harry pointed down, at a witch in the center of the battle. Ron recognised Bellatrix Lestrange, the Dark Lord’s right hand. Of course she’d have his last horcrux!

    Then he recognised the Wands the dark witch and the other Death Eaters were fighting. Or rather, one of them.

    “Hermione!”

    *****​

    Jenny was hit first. A curse struck her, and the Wand doubled over, holding her belly. Then she started to retch, and cough, and blood poured out of her mouth.

    “Killing Curses now!” Hermione shouted. “Avada Kedavra!” Authorisation had been granted in advance for this assault, and the Wands had been trained to cast coordinated Killing Curses for exactly this situation - Malfoy had planned years ahead.

    Three Killing Curses flew towards Lestrange, but the dark witch danced to the side, evading all of them. They didn’t have the numbers for this tactic, Hermione knew. Jenny was still retching, gasping, coughing. Hermione raised a wall to cover her, far thicker than the one Lestrange had broken through, and Violet sprang to her friend’s side, wand waving with counter-spells and healing charms. Dean moved to the edge of the wall, to keep their enemy busy. Hermione was about to reinforce the wall further when a series of explosions shook it, and it toppled over.

    Lestrange had blown out the earth the wall had been set on, Hermione realised. Violet jumped up, wand swinging around, but a Killing Curse struck her through her Shield Charm. She fell, in front of Jenny. An instant later the other Wand stopped coughing her innards out, and collapsed on top of her friend.

    Hermione sent two Blasting Curses at their murderer, catching a masked Death Eater who had stepped up to the dark witch, but Lestrange was hardly any worse for wear, her Shield Charm holding. Dean tried another Killing Curse, but once again Lestrange sidestepped it, her mouth moving but the storm drowning out her words. The Wand-Leader turned the area behind the dark witch to mud, as she had done before. Dean cast another curse, but this time, the dark witch didn’t dodge, but stopped the curse with a summoned piece of the stone path Hermione had created.

    More Death Eaters were flanking them, and while Hermione could see Wands charging towards them from the hill they had been moving to, they would have to go through the mass of the Death Eaters to reach Dean and herself. They were on their own.

    She set another transfigured patch of mud ablaze, driving the Death Eaters there back, but before she could transfigure more earth to mud, Lestrange struck at Dean, showering him with curses. Dean’s Shield Charm took three spells, then a fourth struck his foot, and he started screaming. Hermione saw him cut his own leg off below the knee while she tried to drive the dark witch off him. She failed.

    Lestrange raised a wall of her own, cutting off Hermione’s line of fire, and when the Wand-Leader’s spells shattered that wall, Dean was on the ground, unmoving, and Lestrange was turning towards her, smiling widely.

    Hermione snarled and started casting curses as fast as she could. She was about to die. She knew it. She was a skilled fighter, trained to the exacting standards of the Corps, but Lestrange had cut through her rag-tag team in seconds. And now the Wand was cut off from her allies, facing Bellatrix alone.

    She knew she was about to die, but she’d do her best to take that dark witch with her! Her first two Piercing Curses hit the witch’s shield, the third shattered it. She ducked under the witch’s Killing Curse, and was about to cast again when the ground near her exploded and she was thrown back several yards.

    Spitting blood, she conjured several rocks and a wall behind her to provide cover, and rolled to the side. Another Death Eater was rushing towards her, using the rocks she had conjured as cover. She sent a Cutting Curse at him at knee high, but missed before he dove behind the next rock. And Lestrange was coming at her from the other side.

    Then an explosion threw the broken body of the Death Eater into the air, shredded by rock splinters, and she heard a voice dimly over the roaring wind.

    “Hermione!”

    *****​

    Ron Weasley barely noticed where the scum he had just blown up landed. He knew the man was dead, and Hermione needed help. “Hermione!” Two more Death Eaters turned to face him, but Harry and Ginny were close on Ron’s heels. “Focus on the right!” Ron yelled, casting another Blasting Curse. The dark wizard’s Shield protected him from that explosion, but shattered in the process, and Harry and Ginny finished him off an instant later, Bludgeoning Curses smashing him against a large rock. The second dark wizard turned to flee, but seemed to get stuck in the earth, and Ron cut him down with two Severing Curses while rushing on.

    Hermione was on the ground, behind a rapidly disintegrating rock, curses hitting all around her. Lestrange was casting as if she had gone mad - and from what Ron knew about Horcruxes, that was a distinct possibility. Even Lestrange was forced to react when three wands spewed curses at her from the side. She didn’t flee though, but whipped her wand around, and a Killing Curse followed by some brown curse Ron didn’t recognise forced Ginny and Harry to step to the side. Ron charged on, towards Hermione, almost blindly sending a few spells at the dark witch to keep her busy dodging.

    He slid behind Hermione’s boulder. “Hermione!”

    “Ron!” She smiled at him, then gasped. “Keep her busy! I’ve got a plan!”

    Ron chuckled once, then stepped out from behind the rock, and barely managed to jump out of the path of a Killing Curse. On the other side of the rock, Hermione crouched low and was aiming her wand at the area far back from Lestrange. He didn’t know what she was planning, but he trusted her. And there wasn’t much else to do but cast at the dark witch anyway.

    Harry had emerged from cover as well, his wand flashing, and Lestrange twirled around, caught in a crossfire. Her Shield Charm deflected Harry’s spells though, and Ron didn’t manage to shatter it before the dark witch had raised a wall to hide behind.

    “Keep her busy!” Hermione yelled over the storm.

    Ron was about to yell back when Lestrange jumped over the wall and sent a Blasting Curse his way. Once more his Shield Charm saved his life, but he was thrown back a yard, and on the ground. He waited a second, until he saw flashes of spellfire from Harry and Ginny, then stepped out again.

    Lestrange was dodging back and forth between pillars of stone in a deadly dance with Ron’s friend and sister. He added his own curses, and the witch had to take cover again. Behind her, a wall had been steadily growing higher - that had to be Hermione’s work! If they could keep the dark witch focused on them for a bit longer…

    Lestrange suddenly turned and dodged behind the pillar again. An instant later, curses flew at the wall, blasting it to pieces. Ron was about to curse when he saw a big wave of a clear liquid pour out from the - as he realised now - hollowed wall. Then the liquid ignited, and the wave turned into flames, engulfing Lestrange’s position. Ron thought he heard her scream, loud enough to be heard over the storm’s roar, but that might have been his imagination.

    Hermione stood up, on shaking legs, but her wand was aimed at the inferno. “Stay sharp!” she yelled. “She might still… there!”

    And in front of Ron, the dark witch rose up, out of the flames, her robes and hair burning, floating without a broom, her face a mask of hatred and pain. Ron was already casting sending spell after spell up. So was everyone else. The storm battering the dark witch around made most spells miss - most, not all. And there was no cover in the air.

    Lestrange was struck again and again, her burned skin cut and pierced, blood pouring from deep gashes in her body. She tried to fly away from the burning inferno, to find cover on the ground probably, but the storm drew up the flames, and the witch with it. Suddenly, she seemed to go limp, and then start to fall down.

    “Accio Lestrange’s corpse!” Harry yelled, and the remains shot towards him, smashing in the ground next to Ron’s friend. Ginny turned away, retching, but Harry didn’t pay attention. He ripped something from the corpse instead, then turned towards the house where the Fiendfyre was still raging.

    “Depulso!”

    Something golden flew towards the house, vanishing in the flames. For a moment, Ron thought it was a snitch, then he saw Harry relax, and understood.

    Voldemort’s last Horcrux had been destroyed.

    *****​
     
  26. Beyogi

    Beyogi I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    Ah Tommy boy. You missunderstand. Dumbledore is using these spells because he's fighting for keeps this time. Now that your Horcruxes are destroyed it's actually worth the PR damage.
     
    space turtle and Starfox5 like this.
  27. Threadmarks: Chapter 23: The Final Fragment
    Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    Chapter 23: The Final Fragment

    The Weald, Kent, Britain, October 2nd, 1999, 08.21 hours

    Tom hadn’t been as weakened by Severus’s efforts as he had hoped and expected, Albus Dumbledore had realised shortly after the two had started to duel. And the Dark Lord weathering his own assault by using metal shields, then counter-attacking when Albus spent a bit too long trying to transfigure the shields - without success - proved it further. Those shields weren’t conjured metal, he realised, but an illusion laid upon a variant of a Shield Charm. Clever, indeed. After stopping the first volley of curses with some quick Conjuration, Albus switched targets, transfiguring the earth around Voldemort as he had done before, even though that hadn’t been as effective as he had hoped for. So far.

    Not that he had the time to truly appreciate his enemy’s guile, not with green Killing Curses flying at him in the midst of other dark curses. A wave of his wand raised a wall of earth, which blew up, stopping the last volley - but for the curse that flew high above and sent acid raining down on him, barely stopped by Albus’s Shield Charm. He managed to send the acid to the side with a Water-Making Spell, hitting one of the last remaining abominations he could see, and dodged to the side while the acid ate into the dead skin and flesh.

    Unlike many of his followers, the Dark Lord was very skilled in battle, and aware of how often indirect attacks were the key to victory. Though, Albus thought with pride possibly unbecoming the occasion, Tom had never even come close to mastering Transfiguration on his own level. Nor, he mused as he turned debris near the Dark Lord into animated wolves charging his inhuman opponent, then transfigured more of the topsoil, had Tom ever mastered Alchemy. While the wolves were destroyed with rapid curses, each of them no more powerful than needed, Albus turned the ground beneath his enemy into tar, then animated the sticky mass in an attempt to engulf the Dark Lord.

    Tom countered by flying up, evading the grasping tendrils of tar that would not let go without the proper solvent, and blew up those that followed him. His own storm forced him to the side though, and Albus managed to shatter the man’s shield with his curses. Before he could exploit that opportunity though, he was forced to protect himself against another wave of curses that left the very earth around him corrupted and sizzling with unnatural poison while the Dark Lord found cover on the ground.

    Albus was out of breath by now, and his robe was in tatters, ripped sleeves hanging from limbs that were hurting from the effects of barely-countered curses. Yet he would go on. Had to go on. He just had to hold on, and hope his plan was working. Hope Severus had not spilled that last secret.

    *****​

    The Dark Lord Voldemort rolled out from behind the conjured wall that had shielded him from Dumbledore’s last attack a second before it turned into steaming poison that splashed his former position. The old man was not quite as desperate as Voldemort had thought. He’d fall anyway. And even if the unthinkable happened, the Dark Lord would return. He was immortal!

    He stood up and thrust his wand at the old wizard. A rippling wave shot out from its tip, shooting forward, trailing a dark red line dripping with corruption behind it. His enemy twisted away, but to no avail - Voldemort flicked his wrist, and the spell turned, weaving a pattern around Dumbledore. No Bubble-Head Charm would protect against this dark curse. He barely noticed the very earth rotting away, creating dark holes, wherever the dark red drops fell. All that counted was to destroy his enemy.

    The spell turned again, under his control. Even the storm’s fury couldn’t break it, couldn’t prevent him from cutting his enemy off from the sky. Dumbledore was now caught in a web, and could neither run nor fly. Another twist of his wand sent the spell down, straight at the wizard. Victory was…

    His arm started to sink, the spell following, too early, veering off-course, and slamming into the ground, instead of Dumbledore. He forced his arm up, but too late - the spell’s force had been spent on rotting a patch of earth instead of his enemy. No matter, the web was still there. Dumbledore was still trapped!

    Sluggishly, the Dark Lord raised his wand. Aimed it. Panting, he shouted with all his hatred: “Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!”

    The two curses flew straight at the old wizard - until they were stopped by the very web he had woven. How…He blinked, his vision flickering. Why couldn’t he move faster…

    *****​

    Albus Dumbledore let out a relieved sigh when he saw Voldemort sink to the ground. That had been close - too close. If he hadn’t been able to coat the cursed web with a transfigured substance that hardened… He carefully stepped around the scattered remains of Tom’s curse, and started to walk towards the fallen Dark Lord. The storm was still raging above, but on the ground its force was not enough to hinder him, not behind his Shield Charm.

    A crippled monster was stuck in a patch of stone to Albus’s left, futilely trying to break the transfigured earth, and a quick Fire Whip tore it apart. Nearby lay the remains of a member of the Order - the shredded remains of the blood-soaked robe covering the mangled body were neither brown nor black - but he couldn’t tell who it had been. He knew only that another friend had fallen in this war.

    A war he was about to end.

    Voldemort was on the ground, but still moving when Albus reached him. He wasn’t able to lift a wand though, and he was moving at a snail’s pace. Still, it was remarkable, given the amount of poison in the air and on the ground he was lying in. Poison tailored to affect snakes, and only snakes. And, in this case, half-snakes.

    Tom’s mouth was moving, his inhuman face warped with rage, but if he managed to say any words, the wind’s roar made it impossible to hear them. Though Albus might try to read lips later, in a pensieve. The old wizard flicked his wrist and the Dark Lord’s wand vanished. His foe’s eyes widened - had he thought Albus would risk dark curses for a trophy? Gellert had taught him to expect such traps.

    Tom bared his teeth - were those fangs? - and hissed. He was probably wondering why he was still alive. Maybe he was realising that Albus knew about his Horcruxes. Albus didn’t care. Not now. He pulled out a vial from his robe’s interior pocket and aimed his wand. The wand that had now felled two Dark Lords.

    A flick later, the contents of the vial had been spelled onto the Dark Lord’s form, and, where they touched it, the skin hardened, white changing into a dull grey, the effect spreading.

    “It is quite astonishing what an alchemist can create with Basilisk blood,” Albus said as Tom turned to stone in less than a minute. A swish of his wand, and the stone figure shrank.

    Now he had just to find Harry.

    *****​

    Wand-Leader Hermione sent a few more curses at the burning body of Lestrange when she saw it fly through the air towards Harry, only relenting when she realised that the dark witch was truly dead. Then she whirled around. Dean!

    She raced towards her fallen friend. He didn’t look that hurt. No missing limbs, no pool of blood, no guts spread around him. But his eyes… She clenched her teeth. Dean was dead.

    She wanted to scream, to rage, but controlled herself. Ron reached her, gasping at the sight.

    “There are still enemies!” she yelled, turning to the wall that had shielded them from the other Death Eaters. Her Blasting Curse ripped a large hole into it, revealing the battle that was raging on the other side between the Dark Lord’s followers and the Wands that had charged them to relieve Hermione and her group - all of whom were dead now but for her.

    She aimed her wand at a Death Eater who had been struck down by the blast of her spell, and blew his chest out with a Reductor Curse before he managed to get up. Ron killed another with a pair of Cutting Curses. A spell flew past them, blasting a crater in the middle of the enemy line. Harry had joined them. One of the moving victims of his spell jerked when Ginny peppered him with Piercing Curses.

    Hermione was already casting again, turning the earth beneath the dark wizards into mud. They were breaking now. They had probably realised that Lestrange was dead. Killed. The Wand-Leader smiled cruelly. A routed foe was a dead foe if they could not apparate, portkey, or fly away. The scum were trapped!

    She saw the Wands now, one team moving to cut off the fleeing enemies, another pushing forward, towards her. One Death Eater, casting wildly, stumbled into her mud field, his leg disappearing in the morass up to his thigh. He tugged on it, then twisted his upper body around, raising his arms. Her Bludgeoning Curse smashed his mask into his face, breaking both, before she could tell if he had been about to surrender, or hex her.

    Another enlarged a broom while running. He even managed to straddle it before Ron’s Blasting Curse blew him off, and Harry finished him off with a Fire Whip. Hermione aimed at the next Death Eater, but that one was already falling, guts trailing behind. She couldn’t see any other enemies. Not even with her Human-presence-revealing Spell. And there were the Wands who had come to her rescue. Keavan’s team. She forced herself to smile, even though she had lost her own team. “Thank you.”

    The older Wand-Leader grinned, mirthlessly. “I thought you were lost when we saw Lestrange. The others?”

    She shook her head, and he muttered a curse under his breath. “Let’s move up the hill. We need to link up with the rest!”

    She nodded. “How’s Sarah doing?”

    “Surrounded but holding,” Keavan said.

    “Sirius!” Harry’s yell told her he had heard the Wand-Leader as well. “We need to help them!”

    Hermione expected the other Wand-Leader to say something sarcastic, but Keavan just turned to his team and yelled. “Make certain all enemies are done for, then form up - we need to move!”

    “Let’s go,” Ron said, next to her.

    She nodded. Benjamin and his team would be with Sarah, as would Sally-Anne. Her last close friends among the Wands. She’d not lose them as well.

    *****​

    Unlike Harry, Ron Weasley didn’t mutter a curse when the Wands took a minute to form up. He was worried for Sirius as well, and the twins, but he knew rushing out wouldn’t help anyone right now. Instead, he said: “Mate… the Wand-Commander has the best troops with her. We made it, they’ll be fine.”

    “Unless Voldemort attacks them,” Harry muttered.

    Ron would have liked to say that Dumbledore would take care of the Dark Lord, but couldn’t. Before he could utter another comforting half-lie, the Wand-leader - Keavan, Hermione called him - gave the order to advance.

    Four Wands moved in front, forming a rough screen, two more stayed in the rear, Ron’s group and the rest in the middle. Ron hadn’t been in a war before, or such a large battle, but he could see the ease with which the group moved in formation.

    Hermione transfigured a stone path. “Just to prevent underground ambushes,” she said to Keavan, who nodded. Ron remembered his old sergent in the Gendarmérie Magique. The man would have yelled at the witch about casting without orders, despite the good sense shown.

    They reached the hill easily enough without further combat, then started to move towards the last known position of Sarah and Sirius. The storm was still roaring, so there was no way to fly and get an aerial view - though Harry almost tried it anyway. Ginny held him back, but more by her insisting that she’d come with him if he flew up, or so Ron thought, than by any sensible argument.

    It soon became apparent that the Wand-Commander’s forces hadn’t moved - flashes of spells were visible, as well as smoke from fire and explosions, right where they were expected. And then the smoke cleared for a moment, and Ron could see about two dozen of the abominations and a dozen Death Eaters assaulting conjured earthen fortifications. But Ron didn’t see Voldemort.

    “They’ve dug in,” Keavan yelled, “let’s relieve them!”

    The group charged ahead. Ron wasn’t too keen on attacking an enemy who had triple their numbers, but at least the Death Eaters would be shaken, caught between two forces. The monsters though… He clenched his teeth together and stuck close to Hermione.

    They were spotted just before they were in effective range for spells, but it was so close that the Death Eaters couldn’t react quickly enough to meet them with an organised force. Blasting Curses scattered them further, leaving one of the dark wizards dead on the ground, his lower body shredded, and another crawling with broken limbs.

    Green Killing Curses met the charging Wands, but they were hastily aimed, and missed or were dodged. Keavan’s force was casting as fast as they could, it seemed, to keep the enemy off-balance. Another difference to the Gendarmes, Ron knew - they were trained to not risk hurting bystanders with stray spells. But here, in the middle of the largest battle he had ever taken part in, he too let loose, casting with wild abandon, sending curse after curse at the dark wizards.

    One dark wizard tried to rally them - at least that was what his gestures looked like, to Ron; the storm made understanding anything at that distance impossible. It didn’t work though - all the man accomplished was drawing attention, and he quickly died in a crossfire from half a dozen Wands. That broke the rest of the wizards and witches.

    But even as the Death Eaters started to flee, or die, the creatures they had with them turned around and charged. Ron didn’t know if they had been ordered to, or simply felt that they were easier targets than the Wands and Order members inside the field fortifications. He didn’t care either, he was too busy trying to stay alive.

    Hermione once more transfigured the ground in front of them into mud, but most jumped over, and came at them with a leaping gait. Harry cut two apart with a Fire Whip, setting the remains on fire, and Ginny slammed one back with a Bludgeoning Curse, but there were too many to stop them all.

    One of Keavan’s team had advanced a bit too far, chasing a fleeing Death Eater, and found himself cut off by three monsters, and cut down soon after. Hastily conjured walls gave the group a quick reprieve, allowing Hermione to transfigure more mud holes behind the walls, which caught two of the creatures jumping over the walls. Another two were blown back by Keavan and his remaining team, while the other team secured their flanks.

    Or tried to - the creatures were enveloping them, Ron realised. Circling around. His Severing Curse stopped one, but two more sped on, then turned towards him. Hermione held one off with a Sticking Charm when it touched the stone path she had created. The other pounced. Ron nailed it with a Cutting Curse, but missed its inhuman head, then dived to the side, evading the monster’s claws.

    Hermione fell back, her shield absorbing a swipe from the monster’s hind leg, and then Ginny and Harry blew the thing to pieces. Pieces that were still moving, and had to be set on fire. As soon as the other monsters were dealt with.

    Two more climbed over the wall in front. One jumped down, and sank to its hips in the mud, but the other noticed, and stopped. Just when it was crouching, about to leap over the muddy terrain, a spell hit it from behind, blowing a hole a foot wide through its chest. It collapsed, its limbs flailing, and fell down into the mud as well, which Hermione then set on fire.

    Sarah’s forces had sallied forth, and were now hitting the monsters in the rear. That allowed Keavan’s teams and Ron’s group to focus on the flanking creatures. Volley after volley of curses of all kinds hit them, blowing them apart, cutting them to pieces, burning them to ash.

    And yet they came on. Burning, limping, trailing their guts and cut off limbs, they attacked. Ron saw one drag itself towards him using its teeth, all limbs gone, and its body on fire. He cast a Reductor Curse that blew the head apart, but the trunk kept twitching while it burned.

    Another figure came at him from the side, and Ron almost fired off another Reductor Curse before he recognised Sirius. For a moment, both wizards stared at each other, over Ron’s glowing wand, then both turned away and started attacking the trapped and stuck monsters, and the pieces that were still moving.

    Until the last creature had been reduced to ash, they could not stop fighting. Even if he really needed to know that Fred and George were fine.

    *****​

    Albus Dumbledore stared at the battlefield while he stashed the shrunk stone figure in a pocket. The storm above was winding down, or so it seemed, but it was still too powerful to use a broom - unless you were an exceptional flyer, like Harry. The boy he now had to find. The petrification he had caused wouldn’t fade without the counteragent, but Voldemort might die, and that would set his spirit free again - anchored by Harry’s scar. He shouldn’t die too soon, but who could tell with a Dark Lord’s unnatural body? Not even an alchemist who had helped create it, apparently.

    The old wizard pulled out his communication mirror. There was a risk if he used it. He might distract Harry in the middle of a fight. And yet… He touched it, causing it to activate. A mere alert wouldn’t surprise Harry. Hopefully. No answer. He hoped that meant the boy was too busy to answer, and not...

    He walked up a small hill, more like a bump in the field than anything else, past the smoking remains of about a dozen trees, blown up and torn apart - he couldn’t tell if they had been used to form a barrier, or had simply been collateral damage. Nor could he tell if anyone or anything had died with the trees. On top he found shreds of a brown robe, though no body.

    From his small vantage point, he could see the burning hideout of the Dark Lord, and those parts of the battlefield not obscured by smoke. Conjured or transfigured walls dotted the landscape, alternating with craters and even trenches. To his right was the hill he had last seen Sirius and the Wand-Commander on. He had moved quite a bit away, battling Tom. By design; he wouldn’t have been able to fight to the best of his ability if he had to care about others in the area. They were under attack, it seemed. Albus saw several spell flashes. And fires. And bodies.

    He activated his mirror again. Still no answer. He sincerely hoped the boy was alive, and well. To lose him, so close to defeating Tom, would be unbearable. Even if the Dark Lord died as well. But for that to happen, Harry would have had to have succeeded destroying the Horcrux that had been in the house. If the Death Eater carrying that had escaped… Albus didn’t know how to track the foul things without Harry. Although he might devise a way with Tom’s petrified form. If it lasted long enough.

    A basilisk was one of the most venomous creatures, after all, and its blood was only second to its poison. The Dark Lord would die even while petrified.

    Harry could be anywhere, Albus knew. He didn’t like it, but the best course of action was to find and defeat whatever was left of the enemy, and then look for the boy. He started to walk towards the Wand-Commander’s position.

    *****​

    Wand-Leader Hermione staggered, holding her side. One of the creatures had hit her, and while her shield had saved her, she still had been flung away, and had landed hard on a rock. Even with her ribs numbed, breathing hurt. But there were still monsters to fight. Or at least to destroy. She would do her duty. She aimed her wand, and burned a shredded leg that was dragging itself over the ground. She looked around for Ron and spotted him moving towards her. He was unhurt, as far as she could tell, and he smiled widely when he saw her.

    He embraced her, and she yelped with pain.

    “You’re wounded!” He sounded shocked.

    “Just some cracked ribs,” she assured him. At least she hoped they were just cracked. He didn’t look very reassured. Before he could say anything though, they were interrupted.

    “Hermione!”

    She turned around. Cleo was there. Robe torn and stained, but she was walking. Hermione smiled at her friend. “Cleo! Is Benjamin…” she trailed off.

    “Wounded, but alive,” the Wand said. She looked at Ron, then around.

    Hermione shook her head. “Dean and Colin died.”

    “Damn.” Cleo stared at Ron.

    “That’s Ron. My boyfriend,” Hermione said. “Ron, Cleo.”

    The two nodded at each other. The scarred Wand set another corpse on fire while Hermione vanished unmoving bits and pieces and Ron stuck a wriggling torso to the ground, then burned it.

    “Hermione! Report!”

    That was Sarah. The Wand-Commander didn’t look hurt. Hermione stood straighter, wincing, then said: “James’ team was wiped out fighting those abominations and Death Eaters. I’m the last one alive of my own team. But Bellatrix Lestrange is dead.”

    The witch nodded. “You’re wounded, get treated! Cleo, take two more Wands and scout towards the enemy’s hideout!”

    “I’ll take you there,” Ron said.

    Hermione wanted to protest, but she was exhausted, and the pain was getting worse. So she nodded. Before they had taken more than a few steps though, she heard something that stopped both of them in their tracks.

    “It’s Dumbledore!”

    *****​

    Albus Dumbledore had arrived at the end of the hostilities, or so it looked. The Wands he could see were cleaning up - burning the still moving remains of the abominations, and checking the bodies on the ground.

    To his great relief, he also spotted Harry, together with Miss Weasley, Mister Weasley, and Miss Hermione, among the Wands. Sirius was there as well, close to his godson. Albus didn’t see many of the other Order members who had been with the Wand-Commander though. Which wasn’t a good sign.

    “Professor!” Harry exclaimed, loud enough to be heard over the storm’s slowly fading noise, coming towards him. “We killed Bellatrix Lestrange. And dealt with her property.”

    Albus felt a weight drop off his chest. That meant that the sacrifices had been worth it. He smiled. “I have dealt with the Dark Lord, though he is not dead yet.” He patted his pocket.

    Harry’s expression grew grim. The boy understood. Before he could say anything though, the Wand-Commander approached.

    “Did you defeat the Dark Lord?” the witch asked straight away.

    Albus nodded. “I heard Bellatrix Lestrange was killed. What is our present situation?”

    “The battle seems to be over. We’re linking up with scattered teams, but there haven’t been reports of Death Eaters or monsters so far. And the storm’s weakening, so we’ll have flyers up again soon.”

    “I saw many bodies on my way here,” Albus said.

    “Our casualties were high,” the Wand-Commander confirmed. “The underground attack by those Inferi took us by surprise, and not all of our forces were in a position to defend themselves readily enough.” Her guarded expression didn’t waver.

    “I see.” He didn’t bother correct her about the nature of the abominations. The less such knowledge was spread the better.

    “We need your help dealing with uncontrolled Fiendfyre.” The witch was frowning, no doubt she resented having to ask for his help.

    Albus wasn’t surprised. “The hideout’s flames are spreading then.”

    “No, those are still contained by the transfigured barriers we put up. But someone must have become desperate, and cast it on an Inferius. It’s slowly spreading, though it has trouble traversing the transfigured stone on the ground.”

    “Ah.” Albus would have preferred to deal with the Dark Lord right away, but an uncontrolled cursed fire could not be ignored, or it might ruin the attempt. “Please show me the way then.”

    “Elisabeth!” Sarah yelled.

    A young witch sprinted towards them. Albus recognised her - she had been at his side when Tom had sallied forth. He hadn’t known her name then.

    “Lead the professor to the Fiendfyre!”

    “Yes, Wand-Commander!” Elisabeth turned to him, smiling.

    Albus returned the smile. “Let us be off then, tarrying will make the situation worse.” And he had no time to waste. He held up a hand when Harry wanted to join him. “Stay, Harry, and look after your friends and family.”

    The boy frowned, but Miss Weasley took ahold of his arm. “We haven’t seen Fred and George yet!” That made him cave, and he nodded.

    Albus continued with the young witch. He soon spotted the cursed fire - it was bigger than the other flames on the battlefield, and with a slight green tint. Elisabeth showed some - understandable - apprehension as they stepped closer, though she didn’t waver.

    “Please stay back a bit, miss. This might be a bit dicey,” Albus said drawing his wand. To counter Fiendfyre, the best and usually easiest way was to deny it fuel and let it burn out. That would take quite some time though. There were other ways as well. Some of them weren’t even part of the Dark Arts.

    He reinforced the stone patches hemming the fire in, and raised them, forming a wall around the cursed fire - and underneath it. They were not in a moor, but he’d rather not take the risk of setting up a catastrophic blaze. The storm had abated some more, which made his plan possible. A flick and swish, and foam started to appear in the air, falling down into the fire. Some might mistake it for muggle extinguishing foam, but that wouldn’t work with Fiendfyre. An alchemical concoction though would resist the fire long enough to smother it.

    It still took some time, time he knew he could not waste. And it was exhausting, conjuring the material in a steady stream, covering the entire area. Once, he missed a spot, and flames shot up in the sky, and he had to struggle to smother those. Finally though, the flames died, and he transfigured the foam into stone, sealing the area for good measure.

    Wiping sweat from his brows, he smiled at Elisabeth. “I believe we are done here.”

    She nodded. “Will you deal with the Fiendfyre in the house now?”

    He shook his head. “That one seems under control. There is another matter I have to deal with now.” A rather pressing one. The storm had now been reduced to a strong wind, which meant they could fly back to Harry and the others. A fact his tired old body was grateful for, Albus knew.

    He and Elisabeth were not the only ones in the air, Albus noticed. Patrols were flying around, occasionally landing to check on a body, or setting some remains on fire. And where he had left the others, he saw rows of bodies laid out - black-robed Death Eaters, brown-robed Wands, and a lot of Order members. He pressed his lips together when he realised just how many of his old friends had lost their lives in this battle. He shouldn’t have called them, or refused to let them join, but…

    He spotted Harry and the Weasleys on top of the hill, and landed next to them. They were standing around one of the twins, who was lying on the ground, wounded, but conscious. And, judging by his grin, joking.

    “Is it time?” Harry asked as soon as Albus had dismounted.

    The professor nodded and drew out the small figurine that Tom had been turned into.

    “He doesn’t look so tough now, does he?” the wounded twin sniggered. The group chuckled, but no one would miss how forced the laughter felt. Even Elisabeth noticed it, blinking. Unless she was simply surprised by the Dark Lord’s fate.

    Harry stared at the petrified shrunken form of his nemesis, then whipped out his Cloak of Invisibility, and disappeared underneath it. That would hide him, and the soul anchor in his scar, from Voldemort, allowing Albus to summon Tom’s soul with the Resurrection Stone.

    The old wizard transfigured a patch of ground into marble, then put the figurine down. “Ready?” he asked.

    “Do it!” sounded Harry’s voice from beneath his cloak.

    Albus pointed his wand down and the stone shattered. Green mist appeared, wobbling and growing thicker. Tom’s shade. Albus held the Resurrection Stone, and summoned the Dark Lord’s shredded soul.

    For a moment, the shade seemed torn. Then, with cackling laughter, it sped off. Towards Harry.

    And Albus gasped, realising that the Cloak of Invisibility, the Deathly Hallows, didn’t work how he had thought they would.

    Then Harry started screaming.

    *****​

    For a moment, the Dark Lord Voldemort had been afraid. Deathly afraid. He had just been defeated - killed - by Dumbledore. Reduced to a shade. And he had felt something tug at his very soul, trying to pull him away, towards his worst foe. For a moment, a weak, unforgivable moment, he had believed himself lost, cut off from his soul anchors. Dead.

    But then he had felt his Horcrux’s pull, his soul fragment overpowering whatever weak hold Dumbledore had on him, and laughing, he had fled, certain he would return, more powerful than ever.

    To his great surprise though, he had not traveled far, but a mere few steps, before plunging into someone. Had Bellatrix been so close with the cup? No, it was a wizard. A living Horcrux. How had a fragment of his soul ended up in a wizard? It didn’t matter right then - he had to possess the man. That would allow him to escape, or at least strike back at his enemies.

    It wasn’t until the man started to scream that he realised who it was.

    Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived.

    He laughed. It all made sense now. This was fate. The perfect revenge for this defeat!

    The body wasn’t laughing though. It wasn’t his, yet. But it was just a matter of time. He was the Dark Lord Voldemort, he had vanquished death itself. A mere boy couldn’t stop him. He pushed on, trying to crush the boy’s mind and soul, tearing his consciousness apart.

    Something resisted him. Some protection. But it was weak. Strong enough to have kept his soul fragment at bay, he realised, but too weak to stop him. He tore through the enchantment with all his hatred, and plunged into the boy’s mind.

    *****​

    A cottage in Godric’s Hollow. A room, painted in warm colors, with a soft bed. Soft toys too. And a plush broom. Noise. Screams.
    “No, not Harry!”


    “Avada Kedavra!”

    “Avada Kedavra!”

    The memory almost made him falter. Almost. He pushed on.

    Green hills. Blue Sky. Blue Sea. Warm. Sunshine. A tall wizard. Not dad. A dog. Padfoot!

    “This is France, Harry. Your new home. You’re safe here.”

    “France!”

    More warmth. A cat - his cat - is playing with some toys. His broom, his own broom, is waiting. Waiting to be ridden.

    He snarled as he tore through the memory of Southern France and stupid childhood.

    A boy with red hair. Many freckles. He has some dirt on his face. As does he himself. The adults have gone to discuss something, and the older children supervising are busy with something or other.

    “Hi! I’m Ron. Ron Weasley.”

    “I’m Harry. Harry Potter.”

    “Wanna play?”

    “Sure!”

    He and the other boy end up even more dirty. Padfoot laughs. An older woman frowns. And yells. More laughter.

    He sneered. Weasleys. Blood traitors.

    More children with red hair. And one with brown hair. And a cake. A big cake! It’s his birthday, and all his friends have come to celebrate. To party, as Sirius says. He receives presents too. A new broom. Still a toy broom, but a faster one. Ron looks envious, until he can fly as well. Then he says the broom is not fast enough. The two decide, secretly, to borrow the brooms of Ron’s older brothers. To really fly.

    A girl with red hair follows them. She wants to fly as well. But she’s a little girl. He hands her his toy broom. She’s angry, and stomps her feet. But he doesn’t budge. Until she threatens to tell her mum.

    They borrow three brooms. Flying is great!

    He remembered the orphanage. The other children. The weak, dirty muggles. And he pushed on. Towards Potter’s consciousness. Towards his very soul.

    He’s in a shop in the Rue Magique, a wand shop. Hundreds of wands are there, all in their proper place. One by one, he tests them. One by one, he discards them. They don’t choose him. Until the one. His wand. He flicks it. He swishes it. The room lights up. He can feel the magic rush through him. It feels wonderful. Part of the counter turns into stone, and everyone laughs. Sirius tells him that his father was a Transfiguration prodigy. He feels proud.

    He scoffed. Magic was might. Power. Not some toy. Brushing past those memories, he dug deeper.

    “There’s Professor Dumbledore,” Ron whispers, next to him. They’re in Beauxbatons, the finest School for Magic in Europe, now that Hogwarts has lost its best teachers and students. The professor doesn’t look different. He looks like he always does when he comes visiting Sirius and him. And when their eyes met for a moment, he smiles like he always does. He feels better. The school isn’t home, but his friends are there. Ron, Neville, and the twins. And new friends.

    He felt anger, rage filling him. Dumbledore, nice, friendly? He remembered the first meeting with his worst enemy. How powerless, how humiliated he had felt when the professor had demonstrated his power. This boy has led a charmed, privileged life. He’d pay for this, soon!

    Fleur is a goddess! He knows it. Just the sight of her takes his breath away. Her long, blonde hair, her blue eyes, her body, covered and yet hinted at by her robes, the grace with which she moves… past him without sparing him a glance. He sighs. Ron claps him on the shoulder, trying not to grin. He glares at his friend. As if the redhead could understand! At least Ron had not been ignored by Estelle! He scowls, and turns away, walking past Ginny. At least Ron’s sister doesn’t think this is funny.

    He scoffed at the silly, stupid crush of a teenager. Distractions, nothing more.

    They have won! With half the team sick, and the reserves doing their best, they have won! He has caught the snitch just after Ginny has scored, and that is enough to win by 10 points! He lands after a victory lap, and Ginny jumps into his arms. “We won!” she yells, hugging him as hard as her mum usually does. He twirls her around, smiling widely, and she kisses him on the cheek. For a moment, he freezes. As does she. He feels her chest pressing into his. Her body isn’t as curvy as Fleur’s, or Marie’s, but she’s no longer the gangly girl he remembers. They separate, each of them blushing. Then Ron arrives, slapping him on the back and picking up Ginny to hoist her in the air. He keeps staring at her though, and their eyes meet again.

    More of that stupidity. He sneered as he banished the memory. Love is an illusion. A weakness.

    “You came!” she whispers, hidden in the alcove at the small garden near the kitchen.

    “Of course.” He smiles at her. As he approaches, she stands up from the stone bench, and they embrace. Their lips meet. And he forgets everything but her.

    If he had a head, he would have shaken it. More of that stupid, useless infatuation. Hadn’t the boy done anything of significance? Anything important other than surviving his Killing Curse?

    “... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies.”

    When he pulls his head out of the pensive, he isn’t shocked, since he has known about the existence of the prophecy for some time. But to hear it, as it was uttered so long ago… he looks to his godfather, his father in all but name, and the older wizard pulls him into a hug while Dumbledore smiles sadly.

    “I am sorry to do this to you, Harry, but ignorance is not bliss in this case. He will return, and you will face him.”

    “How will he return? Isn’t he dead? Twice, if you believe Malfoy’s claim.”

    “Ah… this is why you have been taught Occlumency, Harry. The Dark Lord has cheated death by using the darkest arts. He has created Horcruxes.”

    This shocked him. Dumbledore knew about his soul anchors? He didn’t push through the memory now, but dived into it, trying to find out just how much the old wizard knew.

    “Where do I stand?”

    “Sit down in the center.”


    He sees Dumbledore raise his wand, weaving it back and forth in increasingly complicated movements while the old wizard chants words in a language that was thought to have died with Atlantis. Then the glowing tip touches his forehead, and he screams with pain, for a long time.

    “Five more shards. Four Horcruxes and the Dark Lord himself.”

    “And this. Can’t forget this. I know, I tried.” He points at his scar.

    “Can you locate them?”

    “Vaguely. I know four lie in this direction and the fifth in that.”

    “We shall hunt down the single one first.”

    He recoiled. They knew! They could locate them! They had started to hunt them down! Months ago! How many had they found? His attempt to possess the boy forgotten, he sifted through the memories, past the insipid trysts with the boy’s girlfriend, or the meaningless talks with lesser wizards. He had to find his soul anchors!

    And he did. All of them. Dumbledore and Potter had destroyed all of them. Even Bellatrix had fallen to the boy and his blood traitor friends. All but the boy’s scar. He couldn’t sacrifice the boy now. He was all he had left that kept him from dying. He was frantic. He needed a way to protect the boy, a way to escape, so he could create new anchors. He was vulnerable. He was closer to dying than he had ever been in decades!

    He pulled himself out of the memories. He had to take over the boy’s body. But then… should he act as if he had been defeated? Try to fool Dumbledore? Or take the boy hostage? Would Dumbledore truly murder a boy to kill him for good?

    Before he could decide, he was struck. Pain shot through him - pain he shouldn’t feel as a mere shade. Who was… the boy! Potter was attacking him! Another blow hit him, pushing him back. Out of the boy’s memories. Out of his mind. Towards oblivion!

    He snarled and pushed back. He was the Dark Lord Voldemort. Most feared wizard of Britain, no, of Europe! He wouldn’t fall to a mere boy, prophecy or not!

    For a moment, he managed to stop his enemy. Then he felt himself slide back a bit more. Towards death. Fear shot through him. He knew what awaited him, should he die. What fate he was facing, should he lose this battle.

    He would not die! He would not be defeated! Mustering all his hatred, all his fear, he struck back.

    And the boy shrugged it off. He had to be hurting, had to be in pain, and yet he didn’t falter. Didn’t give an inch. Kept pushing.

    He started to panic now, as he felt his mind, his soul starting to lose its grip on the boy’s body. What drove him on? What gave him the power to not only resist him, but to defeat him?

    What was he missing?

    He was screaming the question when he lost the struggle, and with it, his life.

    *****​
     
  28. Beyogi

    Beyogi I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    And the flight from Death is over...

    Good riddance. But now the political aftermath begins and how that works out pretty much depends on how many wands survived. Are they still a working combat force or did the basically get crushed here?
     
    space turtle and Starfox5 like this.
  29. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    That'll be shown in the next chapter.
     
  30. Threadmarks: Chapter 24: Aftermath
    Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    Chapter 24: Aftermath

    The Weald, Kent, Britain, October 2nd, 1999, 09.15 hours

    Albus Dumbledore had never been as relieved in his whole life as when he saw the green shade appear again, floating in the air. He held the resurrection stone, but before he could use it, he saw that the shade was not moving as before, but fading. And he heard it scream in terror.

    “Noooooo!”

    The scream grew weaker as the shade dissipated. It didn’t take more than a few seconds, and the Dark Lord was gone. It was over.

    Harry pulled his cloak off. The cloak that had not hidden him from Voldemort’s soul. Something Albus should have anticipated. The boy was on his knees, panting and retching. Miss Weasley and Sirius were there, kneeling in the mud next to him, holding him, hugging him.

    A flick of his wrist and a whispered syllable told Albus that the boy, no, the man, was not seriously hurt. Not like other victims of a possession. Harry’s scar was bleeding, but that was it. Though Albus didn’t know how badly his mind had been hurt by the Dark Lord trying to take over his body. He could only hope for the best.

    “What happened?”

    Albus turned towards the Wand-Commander. “The Dark Lord’s shade tried to possess Harry. He failed.”

    “Did he survive the attempt?” She stared at him.

    The old wizard shook his head. “He is dead for real now. He will not be coming back.” Not unless Albus summoned his soul with the Resurrection Stone, at least. But even that might fail with a soul damaged by Horcruxes. Not that he had any intention of doing that. The Wand-Commander looked a bit doubtful, so he met her eyes and added. “I am certain. I have been working for twenty years to achieve this, Commander.”

    Sarah nodded at him. “It’s over then.”

    “The battle is over,” he answered, “though I fear that the aftermath will keep challenging us for quite some time.” The seeds Tom had sown had not all been dealt with, after all. “And the price we paid for this was very high indeed.” Not as high as he had feared, he thought, looking at Harry. The last resort that Albus and the young man had talked about, in private, had not been needed.

    “Indeed. We’ve lost the entire Curse-Breaking team. Twenty Wands were killed and more are wounded. And most of your friends died as well.” Sarah sounded very matter-of-fact. He hadn’t expected anything else - she was the leader of the Wands, and had known what to expect from previous battles.

    He nodded. “The Order members were brave, but most of them lacked your training and experience.”

    “Most, but not all,” Sarah said, looking at the small group that had gathered around Harry. “We’ve identified Rabastan Lestrange among those killed while attacking our position. He was the last ranking Death Eater who had not yet been accounted for. Unless that was a decoy.”

    “Unlikely. The Lestrange were fanatical in their devotion to the Dark Lord. They would not have deserted him.” They had spent almost twenty years trying to resurrect Tom.

    Sarah nodded, accepting his reasoning. “I’ve called the Obliviators to help with the mopping up.” She looked at him, as if waiting for a reaction.

    “Good.” Albus smiled. If the young witch thought he’d make an issue about her ordering the exiles who had taken up the duties of the Obliviators, then she was mistaken. Lucius might have cared about such power plays, but the old wizard preferred to care about things that mattered. “They have their work cut out for them.”

    Sarah shrugged, unconcerned. It was understandable, of course. Compared to fighting the Dark Lord’s followers and monsters, this was an easy task. Not that the Wands were the type to avoid hard work.

    Albus watched Harry and his family and friends again. They were alive, whole, and together. He was happy for them, proud of what they had achieved, and yet sad - he wasn’t part of them. Couldn’t be part of them, not after what he had done, and had been willing to do.

    He had sent so many to their death, risked the lives of friends and innocents… all to defeat two evil men before they could do worse.

    Then and there, watching the survivors of his campaign, and the dead laid down in rows nearby, many of them old friends of his, people who had trusted him to lead them, he hoped that it had all been worth it.

    *****​

    Ron Weasley didn’t remember how Hermione had ended up in his arms. Sometime between the moment Harry had started screaming, and the end of Voldemort he must have grabbed her, he thought. He wouldn’t be able to tell how much time had passed either.

    But it was over now. Voldemort was dead. His shade gone. And Harry had survived. Ron’s best friend was on his knees, retching and in pain, but he was alive. Dumbledore had even said that the mec wasn’t seriously hurt. Unless Ginny hugged him to death now.

    Ron turned his attention to his girlfriend. “Hermione,” he whispered. When she turned her head towards him, he kissed her. The twins made some remarks, but he ignored them, and everyone else, for a while.

    After they broke off the kiss, she stayed in his arms, leaning against his chest. He suddenly felt guilty for being happy while Hermione had lost both Dean and Colin - her closest family. And yet he couldn’t help it. They were alive, they were together, that was all that mattered, right now.

    “I pushed him out. He was trying to break my mind, possess me, but I pushed him out.”

    Harry’s voice drew his and Hermione’s attention. Ron’s friend was standing now, if on still trembling legs, but Ginny steadied him. He shook his head. “So much fear and hatred…”

    “Those emotions often go hand in hand.” Dumbledore smiled faintly. “I am sorry for my mistake, Harry. The truth behind the legend was not what I thought, and it put you at a grave risk.”

    Harry waved the old wizard’s words away. “It ended well, sir. It seems the prophecy was not fulfilled in 1981.”

    Ginny glared at Dumbledore, but didn’t say anything. His little sister had grown up, Ron knew.

    Sirius shook his head. “As long as it doesn’t happen again.”

    “What? You don’t want me to survive the next attack by a Dark Lord?” Harry grinned when his godfather started to splutter.

    “Professor, what were those monsters? I did not recognise them.” Hermione apparently had decided that if Harry was joking, she could ask questions.

    “Blood Inferi, Miss Hermione. Those abominations were theorised by Herpo the Foul, but he did not succeed in creating them. They were created by Grindelwald, but he didn’t use them in his war, mainly because his own followers would have been appalled at their creation. You too have felt how wrong and unnatural they were. I had thought the secret of their creation lost with Grindelwald, but obviously Voldemort must have found the knowledge to create them. And the desperation to use them.” Dumbledore sighed. “I can but hope that this time, the knowledge died with the Dark Lord.”

    Hermione shuddered, no doubt recalling just how unnatural those abominations had felt, and Ron wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He felt queasy himself, remembering those monsters.

    Around them, the last of the creatures were burning down to ashes. Wands were spreading out, setting more on fire, all over the battlefield. And the wounded were being evacuated - the twins were already protesting.

    “Some might be stuck underground,” Hermione said. “There was quite a lot of the ground transfigured into stone.”

    “Indeed, Miss Hermione.” Dumbledore nodded. “But their presence will not be too difficult to detect. And I think most of them, maybe all of them, even, managed to reach the surface. They are, or were, remarkably resourceful for such creatures, at least with regards to killing. Quite a difference to normal Inferi.”

    “While this talk about bloodthirsty undead is quite fascinating,” Harry cut in, “what happens now? Apart from cleaning up after ourselves.”

    “We return to London, to rest and recover,” Hermione said. “Relief forces will take over for us.” She snorted. “Even Aurors can manage that.”

    “It’s over then.” Ginny smiled. “It’s finally over.”

    “The war is over, yes,” Dumbledore said, “although that does not mean we have achieved peace yet. The future of Wizarding Britain has yet to be agreed upon.”

    “What about the deal with the Ministry?” Harry asked.

    “Without the threat from the Dark Lord, there will be quite a lot of support among a certain segment of the population to renegotiate that.”

    Hermione scoffed. “They didn’t fight here. They didn’t bleed and die for Britain. If they think they can dictate terms to us…” she trailed off with a grim expression.

    “I do hope that the remaining differences will be amicably, or at least peacefully handled.” Dumbledore said, with a rather tired smile.

    Ron shrugged. He shared Hermione’s view. “That depends on them.”

    His girlfriend nodded. “The privileges for purebloods ended with Malfoy and Voldemort. If they don’t realise that, they’ll have to be taught a lesson.”

    “The Old Families still have gold and influence,” Sirius added.

    “I think a number of them will be quite willing to help with rebuilding Britain, and restoring what was lost in the last two wars.” Dumbledore smiled. “In fact, I am reasonably certain.”

    Ron grinned.

    *****​

    London, Ministry of Magic, October 2nd, 1999, 10.30 hours

    ‘... Wand Colin was killed in the first attack by the creatures later identified as ‘Blood Inferi’. One of the creatures emerged from the ground behind him, killing him with its claws.’

    Wand-Leader Hermione put her quill down and leaned back in her seat, sighing. She closed her eyes, then wiped away the tears that leaked out. Wand-Leader, without Wands to lead. Colin and Dean were both dead. Killed in action. Like so many others. Curse it!

    She stood up and filed the basic reports. She could write a detailed report tomorrow. She’d need more information anyway. The battlefield was still getting cleaned up by the Aurors - they’d drag their feet, of course, fearing lingering Inferi - and most of the Wands were in St. Mungo’s, getting treated, or resting. She should be resting as well, or so the Healer had said. Technically, she had been resting - desk duty was light duty. And she hadn’t been really hurt. Nothing life-threatening. No dark curses. She had been lucky. Unlike Colin and Dean.

    Sally-Anne was standing guard at the entrance. The Wand looked as bad as Hermione felt. She had been with the main force and come through the battle physically unscathed, but the loss of so many of her friends had hit her hard. Hermione nodded at her, then sighed and went over to hug the witch. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

    “Sarah ordered everyone who was not wounded on their posts.”

    Hermione blinked. “That sounds ominous.” The only ones who might move against the Corps would be the Aurors or the exiles. And she didn’t think Dumbledore would do anything.

    “Yes.” Sally-Anne shook her head. “I thought it would be over, after today. Finally over.”

    “It is over,” Hermione said. “Some idiots simply might not have realised it yet.”

    Sally-Anne snorted, but she was looking a bit better.

    *****​

    A few minutes later, Hermione was holding Luna in their shared quarters. The blonde witch was sobbing into Hermione’s chest. “Dean, and Colin, and Jenny, and…” The Wand had expected this, knowing how close Luna felt to the Corps, after Hogwarts.

    She caressed her friend’s head and back. There wasn’t much she could say that wouldn’t sound stupid or trite. She tried anyway. “The war’s over though. The Dark Lord and his followers are dead.”

    Luna took a few minutes to calm down, then pushed back a bit, nodding slowly while she vanished her tears and cleaned her face with her wand. “It’s over then?”

    “The war’s over.” Hermione smiled faintly.

    “Tell me about the battle!” Luna pulled out her notepad. She sounded determined, but also almost desperate. Seeking refuge in a task she could do.

    Hermione knew the feeling very well. It was how she dealt with such a loss, or tried to deal with. She nodded and started to tell her friend what had happened this morning. “We attacked in the early morning, encircling the hideout of the Dark Lord, and covering the area with Anti-Apparition and Portkey Jinxes, before our Curse-Breakers went to work on the wards and our flyers covered the airspace. But we had underestimated the Dark Lord…”

    Hermione had to stop and compose herself a few times during her tale, and Luna didn’t release her hand while the witch’s dicta-quill took notes. In a way, telling the events helped her as much as her friend, she found. “...and then the shade started to fade, and disappeared,” she finished.

    “A failed possession?”

    “So I was told,” she said. She wasn’t privy to all details, Hermione knew. “It certainly was impressive.” And some details didn’t need to be told. Like the Horcruxes.

    “The last Lestranges dead, the Dark Lord dead - many will sleep more easily today.” Luna smiled. A weaker smile than her usual one, but it wasn’t forced.

    Hermione nodded. “I just hope that rebuilding and reforming Britain will go smoothly.”

    Luna grinned. “The Rookery is coming along nicely.”

    Hermione hadn’t meant it quite that literally. She nodded anyway.

    “But you were hurt as well, weren’t you?” Luna narrowed her eyes now.

    “Just some scratches. Easily treated.” Hermione smiled, or tried to.

    “I should ask Ron about that.”

    Hermione lost her smile, and Luna shook her head. “What did the Healers say?”

    She wasn’t about to lie to her best friend. “They wanted me to rest.”

    “Then you will rest!” Luna stood up. “Or I’ll have Voley sit on you.”

    “I was resting!” Hermione protested, though her friend was already dragging her out. “Where are we going?”

    “To Ron, of course! He’s probably the only way to get you to rest while I write the article.”

    She wasn’t quite wrong there, Hermione admitted, if only to herself.

    *****​

    London, Diagon Alley, October 2nd, 1999, 12.21 hours

    Once more Diagon Alley was filled with yelling people and loud explosions were heard in the distance, though this time the explosions were fireworks, and the yelling came from wizards who were celebrating the end of the war. Ron Weasley shook his head, almost bemusedly, watching the crowd as he headed for the Leaky Cauldron with Hermione and Luna. “How quickly they turn around.”

    “Hm?” Luna looked up from where she was making notes on her pad while walking - or rather, while being gently steered by Hermione.

    “I’m certain at least some of those cheering in the streets now were yelling at us a few days ago, ready to riot.” Ron didn’t say that too loudly though. He didn’t want to start a fight.

    Hermione scoffed. “They might very well try again. With the Dark Lord gone, some of the fools might think they don’t need us anymore.”

    “Even with Dumbledore having defeated the Dark Lord in single combat, just as he defeated Grindelwald, therefore once more proving he is the most powerful wizard in Britain and Europe?” Luna cocked her head sideways. “Some of the purebloods might just be foolish enough to ignore that.”

    “Dumbledore’s not one to flaunt his power. But I think the Ministry will know better,” Ron said. They had made the deal, after all.

    “A threat display might help. Like Chattering Chimpanzees, many purebloods react well to that.” Luna nodded sagely. “Hermione knows how that works.”

    Ron raised his eyebrows at his girlfriend. Hermione hissed: “Luna! I told you back then! That was a standard exercise for Wands in training, not a threat display!”

    “Same thing.” Luna grinned, then blew on her pad. A sheet of parchment detached itself from it and rolled itself up. A minute later the ugliest bird Ron had ever seen landed on the blonde’s shoulder. “Groucho! Excellent timing! Please take that to daddy!” she cheered, and handed the scroll over. The bird took off again, with a screech that made half the street flinch and look around.

    “What was that?” Ron asked.

    “Plumed Georgian Spirit Vulture,” Luna answered.

    “Why is it called ‘plumed’?” Hermione asked, blinking. “That bird was anything but plumed!”

    “Daddy made a typo when he named it. He wanted to call them ‘plucked’.” Luna shrugged. “Renaming it would hurt Groucho’s feelings, so we kept the name.” She beamed at the couple.

    Ron glanced at Hermione, who grinned and shrugged. He decided not to pursue that topic. “Let’s head into muggle London. I doubt there’ll be any tables free in Diagon Alley right now.”

    “And if there was, I’d not trust the cook to be sober,” Hermione added.

    “But drunk cooks make the best surprise menus!” Luna pouted. “Many great new dishes have been discovered with the help of alcohol!”

    “Any many great poisons too, I bet,” Hermione muttered. “Muggle London it is.”

    Luna kept pouting, but neither Ron nor Hermione caved, and the blonde soon was distracted by the need to dress as a muggle, and to pick one dress, instead of the four she wanted to combine into some unnatural mixture of styles, fabric and patterns. Nevertheless, a bit later the three found themselves in a small restaurant in the middle of London, waiting for their orders.

    “What will you do now that spying and fighting is no longer needed?” Luna asked while twisting the straw of her drink into something else.

    Ron glanced at Hermione, then answered: “I thought about joining the Ministry. I’m an experienced Gendarme, after all.” He grinned. “Though I’ve been told by a reliable source that the Aurors are no place for a decent wizard.”

    Hermione grumbled something uncomplimentary about British Aurors that made Luna giggle. Ron grinned. Though if he was honest with himself, then he was a bit at a loss. He was no great Quidditch Player, like Harry, he hadn’t an inheritance waiting for him, like Neville, and he had liked working as a Gendarme Magique. But the thought of working under the kind of wizards Hermione had told him about…

    He sighed. Hopefully, something would come up.

    *****​

    London, Ministry of Magic, October 3rd, 1999, 09.40 hours

    Wand-Leader Hermione was in Wand-Commander Sarah’s office, delivering the reports from Benjamin and herself, when Sally-Anne informed Sarah that John Dawlish had arrived. Sarah glanced at her watch and shook her head. “For once, he is early. He must be really eager to have this meeting.”

    Hermione stood and prepared to leave, but the Wand-Commander held her back. “Stay. I might need your unique perspective.”

    Meaning, her ties to Dumbledore’s Order. Hermione nodded, and took up a spot next to Sarah’s desk, presenting a united front of sorts when Sally-Anne let the Head Auror into the office.

    “Good morning, Head Auror.” Sarah greeted Dawlish. Hermione nodded at the wizard, and hoped her disdain for him was not too obvious.

    “Good morning, Wand-Commander. I’m happy you found the time to meet with me.” Dawlish’s smile was as sincere as an Obliviator’s report, Hermione thought.

    “It was no problem,” Sarah claimed. “How can I help you?”

    Dawlish smile dimmed for a moment, but he recovered at once. “Oh, I’m here to help you, Given how many casualties the Wands have suffered, you must be struggling to handle all your tasks. Fortunately, the Aurors are ready to step in and relieve you.”

    So, that was his game. Hermione fought not to scowl at the idiot. Of course the scumbag would try this now. He probably had some backing from the Ministry as well.

    Sarah looked puzzled. “Struggling? I fear you’ve been misinformed. The Wands are fulfilling their duty, as usual.”

    “You’ve lost half your force, Sarah.” Dawlish was scowling now. “We had to finish the fight in Kent for you, losing half a dozen Aurors!”

    That made Hermione blink. Did Dawlish actually claim his Aurors had fought in the battle against the Dark Lord? She almost drew her wand at the presumption of that idiot, trying to claim a victory her friends had died for!

    Sarah must have had similar thoughts since the witch leaned forward and glared at the Head Auror. “Finish the fight for us? Your people were tasked with cleaning up a battlefield after we beat the Dark Lord’s army. You lost six Aurors to two creatures which had been stuck underground - creatures we killed by the dozens.” She scoffed. “And now you’re trying to twist this blunder into an attempt to take over? The Corps could have lost nine out of ten Wands, and your Aurors still wouldn’t be able to fill our boots!”

    Dawlish lost all pretense of joviality and was scowling at Sarah. “Don’t act so high and mighty, Sarah! Did you forget that with the changes to the laws, you can’t replace your losses? Sooner or later, the Wands will be gone!”

    Sarah snorted. “That’s what you think. The Corps will not fade away. We’ll adapt and overcome this, just as we have done against the Dark Lord. Your Aurors? You can continue patrolling Diagon Alley and finding lost familiars while we continue keeping Britain safe. Now get out before I teach you why you shouldn’t even dream of trying to claim a victory the Corps paid for with blood as your own!”

    Dawlish paled, and all but fled - though he’d be blustering soon enough, once he was back in his office, Hermione knew. She turned to Sarah as soon as the door had closed behind the Head Auror. “That was great, Sarah.”

    “Thanks.”

    “But,” Hermione bit her lower lip, “does that mean you like my idea?”

    Sarah nodded. “It’s not perfect, but it seems the best way to keep us going, without the Corps ending up as a bunch of privileged idiots like the Aurors.” She sighed and sat down in her seat. “The sixth and seventh years we currently have at Hogwarts will have to tide us over until the first of the new recruits finish their training. But we’ll have to set up an academy, and we might lose some of the instructors.”

    Hermione nodded. It wouldn’t be easy, she knew that. But they’d succeed. Wands always did.

    *****​

    Watford, Hertfordshire, October 5th, 1999, 17.20 hours

    “Betty! Betty!”

    “Mum!”

    Wand-Leader Hermione watched as the little girl was hugged by the muggle woman. Both were crying. So was the woman’s husband, who was embracing both. She felt happy to see the family reunited, ashamed she had let the kidnapping happen, and envious. Her own parents were dead. She also felt a tad uncomfortable in the muggle clothes she was wearing, though Ron had assured her that they fit her cover. Even if she hadn’t seen the likes of them in the Cosmopolitan magazines she had read for her research.

    It took a while for the Hendersons to calm down enough to address her and invite her inside their house. Hermione didn’t mind - she understood their reaction. She just hoped they would be as understanding when she told them what had happened.

    “When you called us and said you had news about the kidnapping… we feared the worst,” Ben Henderson said. His wife held their daughter, nodding.

    Hermione winced. In retrospect, that hadn’t been a good way to handle this - she had thought it made keeping magic a secret easier. “I’m sorry. I didn’t consider that.”

    “I’m just happy my girl is safe,” Mrs Henderson said.

    Her husband nodded. He hesitated. “Did you find out what happened? All we know is that Betty disappeared from our backyard six weeks ago.”

    “Evil wizards took me!” Betty said. “But good wizards rescued me.”

    Betty’s parents frowned. “Wizards?”

    That was addressed as much at her as at the girl, Hermione knew.

    Betty nodded. “They had wands, and magic. They messed with my head, but the good wizards fixed it.”

    “She is correct,” Hermione said. She drew her wand. “If I may demonstrate?”

    “She’s a good witch!” Betty said, smiling.

    The Hendersons nodded, staring at her. Hermione transfigured the table into a teddy bear, then animated it. Betty clapped her hands happily, while her parents stared some more.

    Hermione sighed. This wouldn’t be pretty. “Your daughter is a witch. She can use magic. This is why evil wizards kidnapped her - they wanted to take her from you, and raise her to become an obedient soldier.” Mrs Henderson gripped Betty tightly, gasping, and Betty’s father set his jaw. Hermione went on: “She wasn’t the only victim. This conspiracy has been going on for almost 20 years. More than a dozen children were kidnapped each year.”

    “But… why didn’t anyone notice?” Mr Henderson asked. “So many kidnappings…”

    “Magic was used to hide the disappearances. Or frame someone else. Like the parents of the children.” That caused another gasp.

    “Did they… did they do something to us?”

    “They wanted to frame you,” Hermione nodded at Mr Henderson, “for her disappearance. Your memories of the kidnapping were wiped and replaced with fake ones. Those were removed during the investigation. At that time, we didn’t know the scope of the conspiracy yet, so nothing more was done.”

    “You knew Betty was kidnapped, but you left her with the criminals?” Mr Henderson sounded both shocked and angry.

    Hermione nodded. “I’m sorry for the grief this caused you, but rescuing her and her alone would have warned the criminals. Since the highest levels of the magical government were involved in the kidnappings, you can imagine what would have happened. We had to topple the government before we could arrest the kidnappers.” She didn’t mention murdering the Minister and his family.

    “You said ‘we’. Do you mean the magical police?”

    “Not exactly. I’m a member of the Wands of Britain - all of us were kidnapped as children, and raised to serve. When we found that out, we arrested the ones responsible.”

    “You were…” the woman trailed off.

    Hermione knew what she was asking. “Yes. I didn’t know what had happened to me and my parents until I interrogated the kidnappers myself.” She didn’t go into details with Betty around. The Hendersons probably already suspected what had happened.

    “Now, I’m certain you need time to work through this. We will inform you when the trials start. We’ll also send you some brochures about raising a magical child… once we have them.” They were currently being translated and adapted from the French versions.” She stood up and stared at them. “But I have to inform you that you are not allowed to tell anyone but your immediate family about magic.”

    “They’d send us to an asylum anyway,” Betty’s father muttered.

    “That’s a likely outcome, yes.” Hermione nodded and handed them a slip with a phone number. “You can call this number if you have further questions. Good evening.”

    “Bye Hermione!” Betty waved.

    The girl’s parents bid her goodbye, still looking shocked.

    Hermione apparated away, glad this was over. And aware that there were dozens of children left to be returned to their parents. Those who were still alive. Dozens of lives and families to be set right. It was a daunting task, doubly so with the current state of the Corps, and the pressure from the Ministry and others.

    But the Wands would do it. They took care of their own.

    *****​

    London, Ministry of Magic, October 13th, 1999, 10.25 hours

    Albus Dumbledore wasn’t quite happy with his office. Neither the room nor the position. The room was far too big for his preferences, and even after he had replaced most of Lucius’s decorations with shelves for books and a variety of devices, still too pompous. But even Albus couldn’t go against tradition and reduce the size of the Minister for Magic’s office. People would not understand.

    And, as he understood all too well, in the current times, preserving ultimately harmless traditions was of utmost importance since it reassured the pureblood population that they would not be subjected to the kind of discrimination they themselves had visited upon others for so long.

    If the situation had been different, Albus wouldn’t have become Minister for Magic. He did not seek the office, he never had, and he disliked politics, even though he was quite adept at playing the game. He’d rather teach young wizards and witches than guide a country, but needs must. And compared to the sacrifice many of his friends had made, this was nothing.

    A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. A second later, Miss Greengrass peeked inside. “Sir? Your 10.30 appointment has arrived.”

    “Thank you Daphne. Please send him in.” He smiled. That he had kept the former Minister’s secretary was another reassurance for the purebloods, showing that having been fooled by Lucius would not be held against them. Even if the young witch was not quite as skilled as Albus would have liked. But she came from an Old Family, which had been close to the Malfoys. That her younger sister was a close friend of Miss Lovegood didn’t hurt, of course.

    “Good morning, Albus!” Horace entered with a beaming smile, though Albus saw that he was not quite at ease as he acted.

    “Good morning, Horace. Please have a seat.” He summoned a tray from the corner.

    The Headmaster of Hogwarts placed his corpulent frame on one of the soft seats present for visitors, and availed himself of some tea and scones. “My favourite tea!” He made an appreciative noise. “Let me congratulate you once more on your election, Albus.”

    “Thank you, Horace.” The Headmaster was delighted, Albus knew, since that meant his own position at Hogwarts was secure.

    They chatted a bit about old acquaintances and shared anecdotes, until Albus addressed the reasons for this meeting: “Now, you have heard about Lucius’s crimes against the families of the muggleborns.”

    “Of course! Shocking and disgusting!” Horace sounded sincere - he wasn’t a bigot, Albus knew, just a snob.

    “Indeed. And with this foul practice ended, there are changes ahead for Hogwarts, and the Wands of Britain.” Albus took a sip from his own cup. “The current system, where muggleborns are schooled separately from the other students, cannot be continued.”

    Horace nodded. “Of course. I’m already preparing for the merge.”

    “This leaves the Corps with a recruitment problem though. As you are aware, their standards are quite high, and most Aurors candidates would not meet them.” Albus hid his smile when he noticed Horace twitch at that indirect criticism of his school. “Fortunately, they have found a solution.”

    “Oh?”

    Albus nodded. “They will create an Academy of sorts, to train recruits after they graduate from Hogwarts. Open for everyone, of course - provided they meet the standards.”

    “That sounds like a good idea, but…” Horace frowned. “You’re poaching my teachers, aren’t you?”

    Albus smiled. “Just the current instructors for the Wands.” He didn’t mention that a few of the British exiles Horace had been courting to come teach at Hogwarts might pick the Academy instead. Filius had been particularly enthusiastic about teaching not just Advanced Charms, but Duelling as well.

    “Good.” Horace was smiling again. “When will this new Academy be ready?”

    “Next Summer.” Albus nodded at the surprised expression. “You know how quickly the Wands can act, if needed.”

    “Of course.”

    “Which brings me to another thing. In order to prepare the prospective students for this Academy, a few elective courses are needed to be offered at Hogwarts. Fortunately, instructors are already available.”

    “I see.” Horace slowly nodded. “Aren’t you concerned about the potential trouble you could cause if you teach students to fight like that?”

    Apparently, Horace had internalised Lucius’s policies to some degree. Dumbledore shook his head. “No. If anything, the past, both distant and recent, has shown us that not teaching students how to fight will spell more trouble, since it means a Dark Lord will not need quite as many trained followers to threaten the country. And you know that many purebloods are being taught some duelling already. And darker things.”

    Horace grudgingly nodded. “The prefects will have their work cut out for them then, with the young Wands not around anymore.”

    Albus shrugged. “You will be able to pick more capable prefects as well, now that you are no longer limited to purebloods.”

    “Point.” Horace leaned back. He was undoubtedly already planning how best to include future Wands in his Slug Club. “And how have you settled in as Minister?”

    Albus grimaced, a bit theatrically. “It’s been as bad as I have always feared. Herding teachers and students was never that demanding. Nor as frustrating.” Even though Albus knew that many purebloods thought he was the only one standing between them and the muggleborns avenging years of discrimination, and therefore were quite supportive of him. And it did help that Lucius spent 20 years turning Britain into an easily led country. Not to mention that Lucius and Tom could, both conveniently and truthfully, be blamed for much of the troubles Britain had suffered and was facing still.

    Horace chuckled. “The perils of politics. I’ll stick to the infighting in the teacher’s lounge.”

    The two old wizards chatted some more, until it was time for Albus’s 11.30 appointment. Albert Selwyn from the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office had been a font of information about Lucius’s plots. Information that was proving very helpful in ensuring the cooperation of a number of influential people with the new regime. At least until the elections for the new Wizengamot. Switching from inheriting to electing the majority of the members had been a very controversial decision, one Albus had been certain wouldn’t have passed without using Lucius’s secrets for blackmail.

    He sighed. Needs must, indeed.

    *****​

    London, Diagon Alley, October 14th, 1999, 12.01 hours

    Wand-Leader Hermione - still without a team to lead - folded the Daily Prophet she had been reading and dropped it on the table in the café she was sitting in. The newspaper was trying its best to suck up to the new Minister, which meant it was barely more than a propaganda piece. A loyal one, to be sure, but a propaganda piece nonetheless. The only thing that didn’t read as if it came straight out of the Ministry was the article speculating about the Lovegoods. Speculating in a way just this side of slander.

    “Hermione!”

    Speaking of Lovegoods... There was Luna, waving wildly as she skipped towards Hermione.

    “Hello,” the muggleborn witch greeted her enthusiastic friend.

    “How are you doing?“ Luna asked, sitting down after hugging her, but before Hermione could answer, the blonde pouted. “Were you reading that rag?”

    “There wasn’t anything else,” Hermione defended herself.

    Luna sniffed. “They’re just jealous of our scoops! It’s pathetic how they are trying to flatter Dumbledore! Truly independent journalism would never stoop that low!” She shook her head, causing her long hair to whip around. “And they have the gall to accuse us of opportunism!”

    “That can’t be helped without revealing just what exactly happened to the Malfoys,” Hermione said. When Luna perked up, she quickly added: “And you promised not to reveal that!”

    Luna pouted once more. “It would show them all just how principled the Lovegoods are!”

    “It would also endanger the still fragile peace in Britain. There are already dozens of conspiracy theories around.” Hermione placed her hand on Luna’s. “This will pass. Trust me, in a few months, no one will accuse you of being a turncoat.”

    “Truly?” Luna looked at her with wide open eyes.

    “Trust me.” Hermione hoped she wouldn’t be proved wrong. The Lovegoods were known to have been friends of the former Minister, and unlike other families, they were not rich enough to make others overlook that easily. On the other hand, Dumbledore was very fond of them.

    “Thank you!” Luna beamed at her. “How are things in the Corps?”

    “You know that we’re still stretched thin. I’ve been kept busy contacting the surviving families of the Wands, and informing them of the fate of their children.” Hermione sighed - meeting Colin’s grandparents had been a very emotional scene. And Dean’s mother…

    This time it was Luna who patted her hand to console her. “That’ll be over soon, won’t it?”

    Hermione nodded. She wondered what new task she would then be assigned. Sarah had pulled her out of the Investigative Branch for special duties, which meant she could be ordered to do anything. Or almost anything. She didn’t think she would be assigned to clear the names of those people who had been framed by the Obliviators and subsequently imprisoned by the muggle authorities; that was a job for the muggle liaison.

    “What’s Ron doing?” Luna asked, looking around.

    “Helping Harry and Sirius move,” the muggleborn witch answered. She couldn’t help feeling jealous - all of Ron’s closest friends and his family had survived the war while she had lost Dean and Colin. And then she felt guilty about feeling jealous.

    “Oh! I almost forgot that the will of Orion Black has been read. So, Sirius inherited all?” Luna was already pulling out her notepad.

    Hermione sighed. “I’m not privy to the details of the will. But Sirius did inherit the ancestral home of the Black family. And the Tonkses were reinstated in the family as well.”

    “Oh! Does that mean Orion Black was a sleeper agent for Dumbledore? Or… maybe Andromeda hadn’t been cast out from the family at all, that was just a cover? Or… that hadn’t been Orion Black at all, but Nymphadora Tonks impersonating him!”

    Hermione smiled weakly - she just knew the next issue of The Quibbler would create another conspiracy theory or two.

    *****​

    London, October 23rd, 1999, 19.04 hours

    “Relax. We’re just five minutes late.”

    Ron Weasley grinned when he saw Hermione scowl at him. His girlfriend was very fond of being punctual. Even when it came to dinner invitations from close friends.

    “You were not quite that relaxed when we visited your family,” the witch spat.

    “Sirius is not like mum. Very much not like her.”

    “But Sarah could be there!” Hermione said. “I can’t be late when she’s waiting!”

    That was a fair point, but Ron was far from conceding. “If she is still with Sirius, then she has to have relaxed a bit. Or she’d have dumped him weeks ago.”

    It didn’t seem to do much to calm down his girlfriend, so he took her arm. “Shall we?”

    A second later, the two appeared in the hidden apparition spot inside the garden of No. 12, Grimmauld Place.

    “It doesn’t look as bad as you said,” Hermione remarked.

    “Now it doesn’t,” Ron said, eyeing the lawn. “You should have seen it before a dozen Curse-Breakers went over the house. Curses and traps everywhere.” The snakes in the garden had been particularly vicious, until Harry had talked to them. After getting bribed with with rats the snakes had been moved to a more suitable area. Fortunately, Ginny had put her foot down when Harry had wanted to keep them.

    The Repair Charms had worked wonders on the facade too. The door was opened as they approached, and a beaming Sirius stood there. “You’re late!” he said, instead of a greeting.

    “Told you!” Hermione whispered.

    “But don’t worry, Sarah’s not here yet either!” Sirius grinned.

    Hermione visibly relaxed, which made their host’s grin grow wider. “Come in, come in! Don’t worry - but for the attic and the cellar, the house is now safe.”

    “Can Dobby take the cloaks?”

    Ron looked down at the house elf standing there, dressed in a white towel, and handed his jacket over. Hermione did likewise, after a brief hesitation. Ron knew that she still wasn’t that used to muggle fashion. Her dress was close enough to a robe at least, or so she had told him a few times. The little elf disappeared with both garments through one of the small doors elves used to get around. The house elves’ passages had been the only untrapped areas, Bill had told Ron.

    “Come to the living room, Harry and Ginny are there!”

    “Are you moving in for good?” Hermione asked as Sirius led them through the house.

    “It was a stipulation in the will,” the older wizard answered. “It’s no big deal though - with the Vanishing Cabinet, the villa in Argelès-sur-Mer is like an extension to this house. The twins are working on charms that will transmit sound as well, so we can hear the doorbells in both locations.”

    “Smooth solution,” Ron agreed. On the other hand, Floo travel would work as well, if not across borders. Legally, at least. “Just test if Fred and George didn’t install some trap ‘just in case’.”

    Sirius nodded. “Ah… there were some proposals, yes.” He seemed to be a bit evasive though.

    They arrived in the living room, and Harry and Ginny jumped up from the couch to greet them.

    “Did you tell them already?” Harry asked.

    “Of course not!” Sirius sounded affronted. “We’ve been talking about housing.”

    “Tell us what?”

    “Harry’s signed on with Puddlemere United!” Ginny piped up, smiling from ear to ear. “They’re the best British Quidditch team!” With a grin she added: “Not as good as the Aigles, of course.”

    “We’ll see about that once the next training season starts and we’re looking for sparring matches,” Harry retorted.

    “Congrats, mate!” Ron smiled and clapped Harry on the back. Hermione’s congratulations were less physical, but just as earnest.

    “Speaking of jobs, have you decided what you’re doing?” Ginny asked. “Mum’s been commenting about opportunities at the Ministry. You know how she is…”

    Ron cleared his throat. “Well… it’s not yet official, but… I’ll probably be working for the Ministry.” He glanced at Hermione, and smiled as she took his hand.

    “Oh! Mum will be very happy! About your work, and your relationship!” Ginny didn’t quite squeal, but she came close.

    Ron smiled, though he thought mum wouldn’t be quite as happy if she knew what kind of position at the Ministry he was planning to apply for.

    A gong sounded, interrupting the talk.

    “That’s Sarah!” Sirius exclaimed, and stood up. “I’ll get her!”

    “He’s got it bad,” Ron said as soon as the wizard had left the room. “Is he serious about her?”

    Harry shrugged. “He’s happy, that’s all I know.”

    Ron nodded, wrapping his arm around Hermione. Being happy was good enough, in his opinion.

    *****​

    Stevenage, Hertfordshire, October 30th, 1999, 15.02 hours

    Wand-Leader Hermione took another deep breath, standing in front of the gate leading to a small but well-tended house. She could do this. She had to do this. She had done this dozens of times, for others. She bit her lower lip. She could do this. She was a Wand.

    Ron, standing next to her, didn’t say anything, just wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She closed her eyes, took another deep breath, then straightened up and pushed the gate open. “Let’s go!”

    She didn’t falter on the way to the door, though she almost gasped when she read the name on the door, and it took her a second to ring the doorbell.

    “Coming!” she heard, faintly, from inside.

    The seconds until the door was opened were some of the longest in her life. What would they say? What would they do? Would they curse her, or welcome her? Her parents had been killed because of her, after all.

    The door opened, and she was looking at an old woman with familiar if grey hair. Hermione swallowed. “Mrs Fields?”

    “Yes, dear?” The woman looked a bit distracted.

    “My name is Hermione Granger. I’m here to talk to you about your daughter and her husband. My parents.”

    The woman - her grandmother - gasped, and grabbed the frame of the door to steady herself. “H… Hermione?”

    She nodded.

    Then the tears started to flow.

    *****​
     
    Last edited: Jul 16, 2016
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