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

Epilogue

London, Ministry of Magic, August 3rd, 2002, 10.47 hours

Wand-Leader Ron Weasley frowned at the stack of parchment on his desk. “If I had wanted to deal with this much paperwork, I’d have followed Percy’s example,” he muttered. His brother was a deputy department head now, and judging by their talks over lunch, paperwork was all he did these days. Some days, Ron felt as if paperwork was all he did too.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, then sighed. He was a Wand-Leader in the Corps. Two years in the Academy had taught him that Wands did their duty, no matter how difficult or boring it was. And hopefully the paperwork would decrease, once his team had settled in. Though given how fresh his Wands were, that could take a while.

Technically, he was as much a rookie as they were, having graduated a few months ago himself, but as a veteran of the last war, he was a special case. He could have done an accelerated course in one year, but the veteran Wands - those reared under Malfoy’s regime - would have looked down on him. Or so he thought.

They still looked down on his team anyway. A bit at least. That would pass though, Ron knew, once his team proved themselves. And he knew they would - he had carefully picked his team members from his year, another advantage of doing the full two years. Robert, Mila and James were all talented and highly motivated.

Though, as Robert’s report, which he was currently reading, showed, their talents tended more towards casting and tactics, not bureaucratic forms. Something he hadn’t considered when he selected them. Smiling wryly, he made a few corrections and sent the sheet back.

Halfway through the stack, he checked the clock. Still half an hour until his lunch date with Hermione. The rest of his team was in the ready room - they were on standby, after four hours in Diagon Alley.

The door to his office was opened and Sally-Anne peeked inside. “Ron?”

“Yes?” He didn’t tell her that she was supposed to knock, then ask if she could enter. She knew that very well. Yet ignored it anyway.

“Is it true that Mila and James are a couple?” Sally-Anne asked with a wide grin.

“No.” He also knew better than to try and stop her from gossiping. Even Hermione had given up on that.

“Aw.” She pouted. “They’d make a cute couple though, right?”

On the other hand, no one forced him to gossip about his friends, or speculate about the love lives of his team. Or tell stories about his family. He stared at her until she stuck her tongue out at him.

“You’re no fun,” she complained, though she was grinning. “But one of these days, I’ll get you to share all the juicy stories you know!”

“If I did that, the twins would come after me,” he said.

Sally-Anne winced. There was no need to explain which twins he meant - Fred and George had joined the Department of Mysteries, and while technically, no one was supposed to know the names of the Unspeakables, everyone knew about them. And their experiments. And their pranks.

Before the witch could say anything though, an alert sounded.

Ron cursed, jumping up. Wands were in trouble and needed rapid help. And he had a hunch that he knew just who was in trouble.

He was shouting for his team to follow him while he ran to the Apparition Area, where he’d be informed about the situation.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, August 3rd, 2002, 10.30 hours

Wand-Leader Hermione Granger forced herself to be on her guard when walking through the Alley. She was on duty, and she had to serve as an example for her team. Not that they needed it - Hugh Jones and Millie Lewis had graduated from Hogwarts in 2000, they had gone through the same training as Hermione herself. ‘Old school’, some called them. She frowned at that. That kind of thinking was divisive. Sarah had made that clear, and Hermione agreed with her. The Corps couldn’t afford such thinking. They were the Wands of Britain, no matter their origin or blood. A family.

And yet, she knew that some prejudice was still there. Even Ron was suffering from it to some degree, despite having graduated from the Academy with flying colours, and having fought in the last war. Just because he was a pureblood. And maybe because he had started in the Corps as a Wand-Leader, skipping the usual tour of guard duty. He didn’t need it, not with his time as a Gendarme Magique, and his combat experience. But some traditionalists still resented that. Fossils. She could only hope that since muggleborns, half-bloods and purebloods all stayed in the same dorms at Hogwarts these days and went to the same classes, such prejudices would fade in time.

Of course, the wounds Malfoy had caused to the muggleborns and their families would take a long time to heal, if ever. Her own grandmother had finally agreed to attend her upcoming magical wedding. She liked Ron well enough at least, and Hermione hoped that future magical grandchildren would win her last relative over.

She passed the Quidditch Supplies shop. Though, as Ron and her future in-laws were fond of telling her, it was more a Quidditch merchandise shop that also sold some supplies.

“Oh, look! They have a Duel of the Potters poster!” Millie exclaimed. “Just a minute, Hermione! I need that poster.” The witch darted inside.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Not because of Millie. Two years ago, the younger Wand wouldn’t have dared to do that. And Hermione would have ripped her a new one for trying that while they were on duty. But Millie wasn’t a rookie anymore, and had learned when regulations could be relaxed. No, what annoyed Hermione was that Puddlemere United facing the Avignon Aigles in the European Cup had been reduced to ‘the Duel of the Potters’, despite Harry being a Seeker and Ginny being a Chaser. Of course, if they hadn’t married barely a month before the match, things might not have received so much publicity. Still, the game had been much more than some ‘honeymoon high noon’, as the Prophet had called it.

Millie came out beaming. “I got two! Can you get them signed for me, boss?”

“You know you can ask them yourself, Millie.”

“But they’re your family!” Millie grinned.

They’d officially be family in a month. The wedding wouldn’t be as big as Harry and Ginny’s, but not for any lack of effort on Molly’s part. She and Ron could have married earlier, but they had wanted to wait until he had finished the Academy. Less gossip that way.

“Alright.” She took the posters and shrunk them.

Hugh shook his head. “I’ll never get this obsession of yours.” He grinned. “Everyone knows the Holyhead Harpies are the best team.”

Hermione cleared her throat before her team could argue over Quidditch. “We’ve got a mission, people.” She ignored Hugh’s muttered comment about how he hadn’t been the one going off to buy merchandise, and walked on, towards Knockturn Alley.

“Stay sharp.” The order wasn’t needed; Knockturn Alley remained a shady, and not entirely safe, place for Wands. Aurors didn’t venture there unless they numbered at least four. Wands patrolled in groups of two - but they had a reputation.

Hugh and Millie spread out behind her so they’d have a clear line of fire, if needed. Hermione didn’t think it would be needed. The regulars of the Alley were giving them a lot of space, and not a few were disappearing into side alleys at the first sight of the brown robes of the Corps. No one wanted trouble with the Wands.

Not that there should be any trouble. They just needed to ask an antiques shop owner, Laird Dawson, a few questions about some items that had been stolen from Longbottom Manor. Dawson wasn’t above fencing loot on the side, but this was far too high-profile for him. He would know about who would fence such loot though.

And Hermione was quite certain she could persuade him to share his knowledge.

Upon entering his shop, she had to revise that assumption - Dawson was on the floor near the counter, in a pool of blood, broken eyes staring at the ceiling. She didn’t need to check him to know he was dead. And she could hear someone ransacking the back room. More than one.

“Protego. Homenum Revelio,” she whispered while Millie and Hugh, casting as well, fanned out, moving through the packed aisles to cover the door to the back room.

They were almost at the door when it blew up, their Shield Charms getting peppered with splinters.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, August 3rd, 2002, 11.02 hours

Wand-Leader Hermione Granger was in front of the door, but further back than her team, so her Shield Charm weathered the blast without failing. She dropped to the floor and rolled to the side, just in time to dodge three curses. One of them was a Killing Curse, she noticed - someone was desperate, she thought, or this was more than a simple robbery gone murder.

She activated the communication mirror with her free hand and sent a Bludgeoning Curse back at the remains of the door - more to make the suspects take cover than to hit them - and quickly said: “Hermione here, under attack at Dawson’s shop in Knockturn Alley, multiple opponents, Killing Curse cast.”

“Help’s on the way,” was the answer.

Millie was crouching, and had her wand ready, but wasn’t casting. Hermione bit back a curse. The girl was a good investigator, but she still needed some polish as a fighter. Hugh at least was sending spells into the back room. They didn’t have to take down the criminals; they just had to hold them at bay until reinforcements arrived. So Hermione transfigured some of the debris into vampire bats and sent them into the back room, to attack whoever was there. It wouldn’t be much more than a distraction, even though they had very sharp teeth.

Judging by the shouts, it was working. She transfigured more debris into poisonous snakes, and sent them inside while the culprits were dealing with the bats. “Millie, cover their rear!” If the robbers were trying to flee out the back, Millie could ambush them. Hermione moved to take her spot, so she could cover Hugh and vice versa.

She had to cross the line of fire of the unknown wizards in the back room for that, though, and drew spells as she leaped forward in a roll. One dark curse clipped her shield while a Killing Curse blew up a shelf two yards behind her. She returned fire with a Blasting Curse, followed by some quick conjured smoke, until she had taken cover behind a shelf Millie had transfigured into stone. A quick flick of her wrist turned the wall beside her to stone as well.

They would have dealt with the bats and snakes by now, but hopefully some of the snakes had managed to bite them. Judging by the rate of spells, there had to be at least three there. She caught a glimpse of Millie moving in the side alley, or rather, the marker showing her position - the witch had disillusioned herself. Hermione wanted to send Hugh with Millie, but as long as the spells kept coming out of the back room at this rate - two more shelves were just turned to cinders by Reductor Curses - there remained the danger of a charge out the front.

Hugh was in the process of repairing some of his cover when the wall beside him was blown apart, throwing him across the room, his Shield Charm failing. A Piercing Curse hit him before he hit the ground, and he didn’t get up.

Hermione bared her teeth. She quickly conjured a stone cover for her fallen team member, and one for herself. A swish of her wrist sent the smoke thrown up from the explosion back into the other room. She transfigured it into cloud of dust, then set it off with a spark, diving to the floor at the same time.

The dust explosion took out the entire back room. She stood up, crouching behind the remains of her cover, wand out, but couldn’t see anyone through the smoke. She heard screaming though, and there were flashes of spellfire dimly visible in the back. Millie had to have engaged the fleeing criminals, Hermione thought. No, there were too many spells to be just Millie.

She turned around and saw two Wands enter, one rushing towards the fallen Hugh, the other towards her. Reinforcements had arrived! Grinning, she yelled: “Watch out, multiple enemies in the back room, trying to flee! Engaged with Wands on the other side!”

The Wand near her slid behind a toppled and destroyed shelf. She recognised Robert, one of Ron’s team members. Which meant the other one was James, and Ron would be in the back, with Mila.

“Clearing the smoke!” she yelled, then transfigured it into water, which fell to the ground, exposing two battered looking robed men, hiding from spells flying at them from the back. Robert and she took them down with a volley of curses before they could react.

Hermione kept her wand out while she and the others quickly scanned the house for more enemies. There weren’t any. At the same time, Hugh was evacuated to St. Mungo’s, but didn’t look that hurt. He was unconscious though.

And there was Ron. She wanted to hug him, but that would have been unprofessional. Instead she flashed a smile at him, and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He looked around. “So, what happened here?”

“It looks like we stumbled upon a robbery, but… they were too many, and too quick to cast dark curses for an ordinary gang,” Hermione informed him.

“Well, the prisoners will soon tell you what this was about,” her fiancé said.

Hermione nodded. Her lunch date was ruined, but she was looking forward to solving this case.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, August 3rd, 2002, 18.30 hours

Ron Weasley had just entered Connington’s with Hermione when he heard their names shouted.

“Hermione! Ron!”

Luna was waving wildly at their usual table. The two Wands quickly made their way over to her before she could make more of a scene. Fortunately, the staff and the regulars were used to the blonde journalist, and only one group of wizards glanced at them. It was getting more difficult to tell a wizard’s blood status these days, but since the restaurant was still predominantly frequented by half-bloods and muggleborns, Ron assumed they were half-bloods, since he knew most muggleborns by sight.

Hermione barely managed to cast a privacy charm before Luna went on: “I heard about the fight! Are you alright?”

“I sent you an owl that we were fine,” Hermione answered in a somewhat dry tone, though she was smiling. Ron knew she had been very relieved that Hugh would be making a full recovery.

“You did, but you could have missed a wound!” Luna pouted. “So, what happened? Did Dawson have an egg stolen from the Nagas hidden in his shop, and they went to steal it back?”

“No. It was a robbery turned murder,” Hermione said. “I can’t tell you anything else at this point, but as soon as we have closed the case, you’ll be informed.”

Luna pouted again, then turned to Ron. He smiled and shook his head before she could ask him, earning himself a pout.

“Why would he tell you when I won’t tell you?” Hermione asked.

“Because we’re neighbours!”

“We’re not living at the Burrow,” the muggleborn witch pointed out.

Ron nodded. They had their own flat in London - one of the former safe houses, to be exact, close to Diagon Alley. Not that there wouldn’t have been enough room for them at the Burrow, Ron knew - his parents hadn’t rebuilt the Weasleys’ ancestral home, they had built a new one. Larger, and less dependent on spells. Dad’s position in the Ministry had allowed them to pay for it easily.

“But he was born there, right across my own home’s lawn!” Luna said, nodding several times to her own words.

“How’s Astoria doing?” Ron asked, to change the topic.

“Oh, she’s doing fine! She’s in Scandinavia, looking for miniature trolls!” Luna beamed. “She’s found tracks already!”

While Luna started to tell them about the latest news from The Quibbler’s third journalist, the waiter served their drinks and appetisers. Ron hoped that those ‘miniature trolls’ would either turn out not to be real, or be something harmless - his mother was worrying enough already about the menagerie the Lovegoods were keeping in the Rookery. He remembered her reaction when Luna had heard about the ghoul that had lived in the attic of the original Burrow, and the blonde witch had taken it upon herself to provide them with a replacement. Ron hadn’t known Haitian Sea Ghouls could grow as large as Mountain Trolls. And were as magic resistant. Straightening that out hadn’t been a fun evening.

On the other hand, ever since Luna had found Snorkacks a year ago and brought a breeding pair home with her, the Burrow’s gnome problem had disappeared. Along with their tomatoes, but you couldn’t have everything, as Luna was fond of saying.

Though, Ron had to admit, looking at his girlfriend discussing the latest import restrictions on Class XXXX creatures with Luna, he pretty much had everything he wanted, anyway.

*****​

Kent, Britain, August 4th, 2002, 10.15 hours

It was no wonder that there had been a struggle over Longbottom Manor, Wand-Leader Hermione Granger thought as she stepped out of the fireplace - it was one of the largest manors in Wizarding Britain. Though she knew that the real prize was the vast area of arable land surrounding it. Together with the numerous greenhouses, it provided the family with the income to sustain the manor and their lifestyle. Although Sally-Anne had told her that Slughorn was trying to recruit Neville as a teacher, so far without success.

“Hello, Hermione.” Neville smiled at her. “Or is that Wand-Leader Granger, since you’re here as a Wand?”

“It would be ‘Wand-Leader Hermione’,” she pointed out - that tradition had been kept. “But there’s no need to be that formal.” Neville was one of Ron’s best friends, after all. She gestured at Millie, who had followed her through the Floo connection. “This is Millie, a member of my team. Millie - Neville Longbottom.”

Neville greeted the Wand politely. “My gran’s waiting in the eastern drawing room.” He offered Hermione his arm, and led them through the manor. Millie, probably gazing around with open curiosity, trailed behind them.

“Wand-Leader.”

Neville’s grandmother rose when they entered, every inch an old pureblood witch, down to her eccentric hat.

“Mrs Longbottom.” Hermione nodded at the old witch. She thought she saw a frown appear on the woman’s face - the old witch had never really warmed up to her after Hermione had stated her views on the current Auror Corps. Even though she had explained afterwards that there had been no slight on Neville’s parents intended, the witch had taken offense.

Both ignored Neville rolling his eyes.

“So, what brings you to us in your official capacity?” Neville asked, after everyone had taken their seats and Winky the house elf had served some tea.

“It’s about the burglary you reported last week. We’ve been investigating possible fences, and discovered that we’re not the only ones hunting the thieves,” Hermione explained. “A group of foreign wands for hire has killed one shop owner, looking for the stolen items.”

Neville blinked. “That was the murder we’ve read in the Prophet?”

Hermione nodded. “I suspect that those stolen items are more than just some antiquities left over from the previous owner.”

“We haven’t exactly investigated those items,” Mrs Longbottom said with a huff. “Even though it was rather rude of the previous owner to leave those behind, they were not ours to touch.”

“We wrote to Anatole Shafiq, telling him that he had forgotten to take everything with him, but he didn’t answer,” Neville said. With a shrug he added: “They didn’t take up much room, so we stored them in the basement.”

Hermione didn’t have to ask who knew about that - Mrs Longbottom had complained about Shafiq’s rudeness at one of her gatherings, and half the Ministry had been aware of this a week afterwards. “We haven’t been able to contact Anatole Shafiq either,” she said. “He hasn’t returned from his trip abroad yet.”

Neville frowned. “Do you think something happened to him?”

Hermione spread her hands. “That is a possibility.” It was quite likely, in the light of the recent development, that Shafiq had been killed, she thought to herself.

“I see.”

“We’ve come to ask if you remember anything about those items you haven’t told the Ministry already.” Hermione leaned forward. Aurors had made the first report, and they would have easily missed something, after all.

Neville rubbed his chin. “I’m not quite certain… but I remember that there was a stain on the floor of the room we found them in. I thought nothing of it, back then - the manor hadn’t been maintained as well as it should have been, but…”

“I think we should take a look at that then,” Hermione said.

Neville nodded, and led them to one of the wings. “We don’t currently use this part,” he said. It didn’t surprise Hermione - the Longbottom family had been reduced to Neville and his grandmother, though if Luna was correct, Neville had been seen with a French witch lately, apparently in defiance of his grandmother, who would have preferred a British witch for him. It was none of her business though. Her business was this case.

They entered a storage room, and Hermione saw the stain on the floor at once. Faded as it was, it still stood out on the stone floor. She crouched down, and cast several spells. When she finished, she was frowning. This didn’t look good.

Neville must have noticed, since he asked: “What’s wrong?”

She pursed her lips, then answered. “There wasn’t anything spilled. The stone was discoloured by magic.” A stone which was usually quite resistant to magic.

Neville winced. “That is not a good sign.”

“No, it’s not.”

The most common causes for such effects were dark items. Powerful dark items.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, August 4th, 2002, 14.21 hours

Wand-leader Hermione Granger was a patient witch. Most of the time. Waiting for the Department of Mysteries to analyse the stone she had brought back from Longbottom Manor wasn’t one of those times. Someone had stolen one or more powerful dark objects, and she had no idea yet who had done it, and for what purpose.

Fortunately, she could keep herself busy studying the memories the arrested had provided of their employer. She didn’t expect them to use their real face or body, but nobody was perfect, and there might be something they had missed. A clue to their identity. She pulled the memory vial out and dropped it in the pensieve, then dove inside.

She found herself in a pub - or bar. A French one. She couldn’t recognise the accent. Ron would likely be able to, if it mattered. There was the criminal she had arrested, talking to a hefty wizard of about 40 years. Or someone using Polyjuice.

“There are some items which have been stolen from Sha… Longbottom Manor. I expect the thief to try and fence them.“

Hermione made a note of that slip - the suspect knew the Manor as the home of Shafiq. That meant he was very likely a British wizard, not an exile or a foreigner. Unless that was an intentional attempt at misdirection. She shook her head - that was getting a bit too convoluted.

The man didn’t use his wand, but when one of the mercenaries drew his, Hermione saw one of the man’s friends or bodyguards draw his wand. She stepped closer, and studied the wand. She had seen that wand before. The man didn’t look familiar at all though. But his manners… or lack of…

She took a picture, then pulled out of the pensieve, and replaced the memory with one of her own. Of Hogwarts. Five minutes later she knew who was the wand’s owner.

Marcus Flint. She knew him. He had been an arrogant prefect, and a nuisance to work with at Hogwarts, but hardly someone of real interest.

Until now.

A short talk with Sally-Anne revealed that Marcus Flint was employed in Broom Regulations, after his attempt to become a professional Quidditch player had been a failure. Since it was Sunday, Flint wouldn’t be at work. Hermione could attempt to arrest him at his home, but he might not be present, and he would be warned afterwards. As would be his still unknown employer.

No, it was better to wait until the next day, and simply arrest him when he came to work.

A little bit of patience would serve her well here. Even though Hermione hated waiting in such a situation, where a suspect might commit another crime, or disappear.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, August 5th, 2002, 10.04 hours

Marcus Flint didn’t look like a man who suspected a trap when he stepped out of the lift and headed towards them, Wand-Leader Hermione Granger thought. Then again, if he had suspected a trap, he’d have tried to flee, and Ron’s team would be stopping him right now. The big man walked towards her, a fake smile plastered on his face. They hadn’t gotten along with each other at Hogwarts, and she doubted that Flint was happy about Dumbledore’s reforms. Not that he’d make such an opinion known, of course.

“Good morning, Wand-Leader. I heard you’ve arrested a broom smuggler?”

Hermione frowned. “An alleged broom smuggler. We have reasons to suspect him, but we need your help to provide us with evidence that the brooms we confiscated have not passed through customs.”

“Of course, happy to help,” Flint said, grinning slightly.

Hermione motioned towards a door. “We’ve stashed the brooms there.”

She let him enter first. There were brooms there, a couple she had brought up from the archives. To Flint’s credit, he recognised them quickly, even before she had closed the door behind them.

“Wait… those are old British models.” He turned towards her, but before he could say anything else, the disillusioned Millie stunned him.

Ten minutes later, he was in an interrogation room, dosed with Veritaserum.

Twenty minutes later, they knew who Flint was working for.

Theodore Nott.

Hermione knew that wizard far better than Flint. He had been in her year. He had been a friend of Draco Malfoy. At least until it had been revealed that Lucius Malfoy had arranged for the attack that had claimed the lives of Nott’s parents.

Arresting him would be trickier, since Nott was not employed, but living off his family fortune. Hermione grinned. Trickier, but not too difficult.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, August 5th, 2002, 16.55 hours

The key difference between the Wands and the Gendarmes Magiques, Wand-Leader Ron Weasley thought, was that the Corps was a military force first, law enforcement second. Not the other way around. That meant that when the Wands were moving to arrest someone, they didn’t hold back.

John’s team had already blocked magical travel and secured the rear of the Notts’ townhouse, and his and Hermione’s team were ready to go as soon as the Curse-Breakers took down the wards. That might take some time - the best Curse-Breakers of the Corps had died in the Weald, and their replacements were still a tad inexperienced since the Corps had not managed to recruit veteran Curse-Breakers. Or had not wanted to - opinions differed on whether or not the required year at the Academy should have been waived.

Ron didn’t think so. That kind of training might not have saved their predecessors, but it certainly would serve the new Curse-Breakers well enough on missions such as this one. He’d rather not have to guard a bunch of academics, or, even worse, a group of gung-ho risk-takers without discipline. Not that he would repeat that anytime soon at the family table; Bill hadn’t taken that well even though he had no interest at all in joining the Corps.

Hermione walked over to him, both covered by conjured walls. “How long do we have?” he asked.

She bit her lower lip, scrunched her nose in that way he thought was adorable, and answered. “Another fifteen minutes, if they keep at it.”

“You could have taken over the Curse-Breakers,” Ron said. “You certainly have the knack for it.”

She scoffed. “Dealing with wards day in day out? That’d be boring. Catching criminals, on the other hand…” she grinned.

Ron returned the grin. She was an ‘old school Wand’, after all, as some had taken to calling the survivors of the war. Apart from skill and esprit de corps, this was what separated the Wands from the Aurors.

The two of them kept an eye on the front, but didn’t spot any movement behind the windows. Neither John’s team nor Seamus’s, who were up in the air, reported anything either. “No underground activity,” Hermione said, after a glance at one of the twins’ gadgets.

“Do you think they took the easy way out?” Ron asked. They had no chance, and should know it.

“Suicide?” Hermione shook her head. “Not Theo’s style.”

Ron nodded. She had been to Hogwarts with the wizard; he trusted her judgment.

Minutes passed.

“Get ready!” Hermione said suddenly.

A few seconds later, the wards went down, and the Wands charged. Ron’s team was in the lead. Several Reductor Curses hit the door, blowing it open. Hermione’s team hit the windows with mud, covering them, then transfigured the mud to stone. It wouldn’t seal them in, but would alert Seamus’s team of any attempt to escape - and it kept any defenders from casting at them.

Mila was first at the door, and sent a Blasting Curse inside, then jumped through, low. James was hot on her heels, with Ron and Robert a bit behind them. Leading from the front was discouraged in those situations. Still no curses flying at them, so maybe Nott had taken the easy way out...

He entered the house himself, Shield Charm up. The entrance hall was dominated by a large stairway leading up to the upper floor, and a smaller one leading to the basement. Mila and James were covering both and Robert was aiming his wand at the door next to the stairs. Ron’s Human-presence-revealing Spell didn’t show anyone hiding in the hall. Up or down?

The sudden light flaring up from the basement answered that. There was the chance that this was a diversion, but Ron didn’t think so. He looked back at Hermione, who had entered with Millie. “Down?”

“Yes.”

Ron took the lead to the stairs, then let James and Mila leapfrog past him and Robert. “Trolls!” Mila yelled. “Two!”

Ron’s team members were falling back, sending volleys of hexes downstairs, mostly to distract the two creatures - trolls were notoriously resistant to magic.

They weren’t particularly resistant to creatures though, and by the time the two hulking brutes reached the top of the stairs, two dozen conjured lions and bears pounced on them, followed by poisonous snakes.

The trolls didn’t die easily. Luna would have been appalled at the carnage, Ron thought, even though the animals were just conjured ones. But they had taken the two enemies down, and the Wands resumed their attack. The door at the end of the stairs proved to be no more of an obstacle than the door to the house had been, and Ron came face to face with Nott, and two wizards he recognised as Crabbe and Goyle, standing in what looked like an incomplete ritual circle.

“You’re under arrest!” Hermione yelled. “Lay down your wands and surrender!”

Ron didn’t expect them to do the sensible thing, and wasn’t disappointed. He dove behind a conjured marble pillar to dodge a Killing Curse, rolled and came up casting. His Severing Curse cut Goyle’s wand and hand in half, going through the wizard’s Shield Charm as if it wasn’t there. The large man was still staring at his bleeding stump when Ron’s stunner took him down. Crabbe lasted a bit longer, mainly due to him casting curses with abandon, but not great aim, until Mila got him with a Bludgeoning Curse from the side while James drew his fire.

That left Nott, who had hidden inside a conjured bunker of sorts. Ron was pondering how best to crack that without killing the wizard, when he heard the pureblood scream. He glanced over and saw Hermione was smirking.

She noticed, and explained: “He wasn’t precise enough, leaving small openings in his construct. I sent some spiders inside. Poisonous ones.”

“Ah.” Ron winced. “Lethal poison?”

His fiancée shook her head. “No. Just very, very painful.” She was grinning widely now. “He never was as good a student of transfiguration as he thought and claimed.”

Ron assumed she was carrying a grudge dating back to Hogwarts, but didn’t ask. He started to vanish the conjured material instead, until the whimpering wizard was revealed.

“Do we need to transport him to St. Mungo’s?”

Hermione shook her head. “No need. I’ve brought potions to deal with the poison and the pain.”

Of course she would have brought potions. Ron grinned. “So, let’s get the crooks to headquarters then.”

Mission accomplished.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, August 6th, 2002, 17.30 hours

“So… what did the three prisoners reveal?”

Wand-Leader Hermione Granger, soon to be Hermione Weasley, frowned at her fiancé. As far as greetings went, this wasn’t the most impressive. On the other hand, Ron understandably wanted to know more about the case he had been so heavily involved in.

She nodded. “Nott, Crabbe and Goyle have been collecting dark items for a while. Even without the use of the Unforgivables and the hiring of murderers, they would be sentenced to lengthy stays in Azkaban.” Especially since the reforms to the judicial system Dumbledore had forced through that had replaced the Wizengamot with professional judges. “But they did not manage to get their hands on the items stolen from the Longbottoms, nor do they know who stole them.” Sighing, she added: “But the worst is that the man who told Nott about those items hasn’t been identified. A foreigner, with some implausible story about having met Shafiq shortly after he left Britain.”

Ron frowned. “Shafiq, who has disappeared.”

She nodded. “Without a trace. It looks like a setup to me.”

“At least the international connection means that the items stolen from Neville might be in another country by now.” Ron shrugged.

She huffed, but had to admit that was a sort of silver lining, if a tad callous. At least three budding dark wizards had been arrested, and their plans - rather nebulous attempts to gain more power - foiled. Still, the thought of a criminal at large who had orchestrated all of that… She was pursing her lips when she felt his arm around her shoulders.

“Enough work for today!” Ron declared. “Let’s enjoy the evening. Just the two of us.”

A few years ago Hermione would have claimed that Wands were always on duty. That had changed though. Even Sarah was regularly taking vacations with Sirius these days.

So she smiled and leaned into his side as the two walked towards the Apparition area in the Ministry. A flick of her wand transfigured their robes, and by the time they appeared in Diagon Alley, they looked like any other young couple in love.

And they kissed like any other young couple love as well.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, August 6th, 2002, 20.30 hours

Albus Dumbledore, Minister for Magic, studied the report from Wand-Leader Hermione - the preliminary report, as the witch had stressed. Nott, Crabbe and Goyle arrested. A dozen dark items scheduled to be destroyed. And, Albus added to himself, most importantly: One of the last remaining blood supremacists not already tainted by their association with Lucius utterly discredited, and their fortune confiscated.

He leaned back, wondering if the items he had Mundungus steal from the Longbottoms could be used to entrap someone else, before they had to be destroyed. Igor, maybe? But the former Death Eater - the only one left, now - had not been up to anything, ever since he had started teaching at Hogwarts, back under Lucius’s reign. Although it wouldn’t be amiss to test just how much Igor truly had reformed…

He sighed. All he really wanted was to teach. He could retire, to the house he had built upon Aberforth’s land in Hogsmeade, the curse broken now, and teach Alchemy at Hogwarts. Or maybe Potions. See the new generation of wizards and witches grow up in a new Britain. Enjoy the years he had left.

But he was still needed. There still was work to do. Work he was best suited for, no matter how much he hated it. Work needed so others - innocents, unlike him - could enjoy their lives, free and safe.

And he had always strived to do what was right, not what was easy.

It might even make up, somewhat, for all his faults and failures.

*****​

Author's notes: And that concludes this story. It started dark, but I hope that everyone enjoyed the happy ending.