The Granger Principle (Harry Potter AU) (Complete)

Chapter 54: The Infiltration

Black Lake, Scotland, January 28th, 2006

“So this is the other world.”

“The muggle world.”

“I expected it to be bigger.”

“Yes. It lacks a certain je-ne-sais-quoi.”

“Oh, I don’t know. For your first impression of a muggle world, I think an underground room with bare concrete walls is a nice touch.”

“Definitely. Although, in that case, the entrance should be in the Hogwarts dungeons, to match.”

“But that would mean that, sooner or later, some lost Slytherin will fall through the portal. Can you imagine that?”

“Oh, no! They’d die from all the muggleness!”

“But would that actually be a bad thing?”

“Not really, but we aren’t supposed to say so. Not in public, at least.”

Ron sighed. Wizarding Fred and wizarding George were really just like his own brothers. They were even dressed similarly - though not as stylishly as their counterparts. At least they weren’t wearing robes. He glanced at Hermione, who had arrived with them. She was glaring at them.

“It’s a good thing that you’re running a joke shop. Your comedy routine leaves a lot to be desired,” she told them.

“Oh, she’s mad!” wizarding Fred said, cocking his head to look at his brother.

“Or just annoyed. We haven’t been hexed yet, so I’m going with annoyed,” wizarding George replied.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “This is the portal room. It’s the key part of the laboratory you’ll have to guard. There are defences in place, but they aren’t undefeatable.”

“I thought we mostly had to guard that Healer so he doesn’t take over the place using the Dark Arts,” wizarding Fred said.

“Yes. But I’m sure you can multitask.”

“We were born to multitask, weren’t we, George?”

“Of course, Fred!”

“I think the two of you were born to do the work of a single person - together,” Ron said. “Just like my brothers.” Fred and George had actually argued that they should only count as one person when it came to chores.

“Oh, did you use that line on our muggle versions?”

“Whom we still haven’t met. Just saying.”

“That’s because they aren’t here,” Hermione told them. “This is a top-secret facility, and they don’t have the clearance to visit.”

“And we do?” The two exchanged an exaggerated glance.

“Yes.” Hermione sighed. “We’re trusting you with a secret that would endanger the lives of our families and ourselves should it get out.”

Suddenly, the two wizards looked completely serious. That was almost unnerving for anyone who knew their counterparts. “We understand that,” wizarding Fred said.

“It’s like the war,” his brother added.

Ah. That was the difference between them and Ron’s brothers. Fred and George had never fought in a war. The closest they had come to violence had been listening to Harry and Ron’s stories. Their counterparts, though, had fought in the war.

And they were already married and had a child.

“We still want to meet our counterparts, though. They already know about us.”

“We’ll see what we can arrange, once we’ve dealt with our current problem,” Hermione said.

“Ah. The problem for which you needed our special stock!” wizarding Fred grinned. “The kind we reserve for another war. Or the Ministry.”

“Yes.” Hermione nodded.

“All to deal with muggles? That seems a little…” Wizarding George shrugged. Probably swallowed an insulting term.

“We’re facing very clever and resourceful muggles who expect invisible enemies who can teleport,” Ron told them with a frown. They looked a little confused.

“They don’t know about magic, but expect us to use a muggle version of Disillusionment Charms and Apparition,” Hermione clarified.

“Ah.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

Ron grinned. “Just to confuse you.”

“Ah.”

“Well, you did grow up with our counterparts.”

Hermione cleared her throat. “So, let me show you the rest of the laboratory and the quarters you will have to guard - and where you can stay while we’re away. Remember: Don’t be seen outside.”

“Don’t go outside at all,” Ron interjected.

He knew his brothers, after all. Although he was almost sure that wizarding Fred and George wouldn’t heed him.

Hermione frowned at him but didn’t comment. He took that as agreement. “Afterwards,” she said, “we’ll go over the items you’ve brought.”

“Oh, you’ll love them! We’ve perfected a number of our prototypes!” Fred beamed at her.

Ron had the sudden feeling that this would be more like a weapons show than anything else. And then his stomach sank when he realised that Dumbledore and Grindelwald would be attending the show.

If they decided to launch a joint venture or gave the twins ideas…

Ron couldn’t decide if that prospect was scarier than his brothers teaming up with their counterparts.

*****​

“Dumbledore! And Mr Grindelwald!” The two wizards sounded far too happy to meet the two old men in the lounge. With his and Harry’s counterparts visiting their families, it wasn’t as crowded as it could’ve been, but it was still packed. “And Gin-Gin’s double! And Harry’s double! And Sirius’s!”

“Please call me Albus,” Dumbledore replied while Ginny bared her teeth. Harry and Sirius nodded with friendly smiles, but Grindelwald’s was rather curt. “Thank you very much for volunteering to help guard the portal,” the old spymaster went on.

“Call us Fred and George. Of course we’ll help out!” Wizarding George smiled widely.

Dumbledore nodded at Rosengarten. “This is Healer Rosengarten.”

“Good evening,” the Healer said.

Everyone shook hands.

“Hello!” wizarding Fred greeted the Healer. “You’re the Yank, right?”

Ron winced. Unless wizarding Fred was very different from Ron’s brother, he knew how to be polite and what not to say.

“I’m actually British, but I spent most of my life in the New World.” Rosengarten sounded slightly tense.

“And now you’re in a real new world!” wizarding George said. “What an adventure, right? You’re the… fifth wizard to make the trip, by my count.”

“Which makes us the sixth and seventh,” wizarding Fred added. “Lucky numbers.”

“Well, mine was. Yours is just… common,” his brother told him.

Wizarding Fred scoffed. “Six is two times three.”

“I see you haven’t forgotten how to count.”

“And you didn’t take Arithmancy.”

Ron sighed loudly. As expected, the twins ignored him.

“Please sit down and help yourself to some refreshments and snacks,” Dumbledore said, gesturing at the spread on the table. The old man hadn’t spared any expense, Ron noted - delicacies of all kinds had been prepared. “I’ve heard very impressive things about your business,” Dumbledore went on and raised his glass. “To success.”

That was a toast everyone could drink to, of course.

“Good to hear,” wizarding George said. “Hermione loved our products. As did everyone else.”

“Other than the Death Eaters,” his brother added. “And soon the Russians.”

That made Dumbledore raise an eyebrow and glance at Hermione.

“I had to tell them the environmental conditions in which we might have to operate,” she said with a frown.

“Figuring out that it was Russia afterwards was easy.” Wizarding Fred grinned.

“Russia’s the only country that matches those conditions and has the means to strike at Britain,” George explained. “Dad agreed when we asked.”

“Still an impressive deduction,” Dumbledore said, tilting his head with a smile.

“You’re too kind!”

“Could you tell that to our Mum? She might believe you!”

Dumbledore chuckled at that.

Grindelwald, though, sighed loudly. “We’d rather not be involved in Weasley family affairs.”

“Oh, you’ve met Mum’s counterpart?” wizarding Fred grinned again.

“She was quite vocal about the risks we’ve taken,” Dumbledore said.

Ron frowned - he must have missed that particular talk. But it fit Mum, of course. Dad, too, now that he thought about it.

“Anyway, you’ve got magic items?” Grindelwald leaned forward, putting his glass down - he had barely sipped from his excellent wine.

“Oh, do we!” Wizarding Fred nodded rapidly at his brother, who reached inside his coat and started to pull out several things.

“We’ve perfected the Deadly Distractions. We’ve got the full range of options for the payload,” wizarding George said.

“And we’ve increased the power of our fireworks as well!” Fred grinned. “Now you can pack a whole show into a single rocket!”

“We are more interested in not being seen,” Ron said, ignoring the snort that comment earned from Ginny and Harry. And the guffaw from Sirius.

“We’ve got that covered as well! Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder!”

Ah, good. That powder had saved Ron’s life - he certainly wouldn’t forget about it.

“Do you have a Hand of Glory as well?” Hermione asked.

“Unfortunately, the Ministry frowns on creating such items,” wizarding George told her. “And a criminal’s hand is in short supply, anyway.”

“We tried to use racoon paws, but it didn’t work out,” his brother said with a shrug. “But we’ve also got Muggle-Repelling Marbles. Muggles won’t go near them - they’ve got a Muggle-Repelling Charm on them that activates whenever they touch the ground.”

“That will certainly help us,” Ron said with all the sarcasm he could muster.

“Well… we didn’t exactly develop them for muggles.” George smiled at him and tilted his head to the side. “Sorry.”

His brother coughed. “What about a box of bugs? Put it down and open it, and a few seconds later - instant swarm of a bug of your choice!”

Not something Ron would want to use while shrunken. Not at all.

“And here! Pestering Parakeets! They can mimic any voice you pick. Or Marauding Mice? They’ll plunder any food in the room. Or house. Just the thing if you need a non-obvious distraction!”

“We made Ranging Rats first, but they didn’t sell as well. We’ve got some for you, though.”

“And Stunning Spiders!”

Ron was starting to wonder if the two wizards had wanted to open a pet shop instead of a joke shop.

*****​

Outskirts of Moscow, Russia, January 29th, 2006

They picked another building this time - an abandoned barn on former agricultural land that, according to Dumbledore, had been acquired by an oligarch for his private use in the nineties. Apparently, the barn had been left standing for nostalgic and aesthetic reasons. There was no matching farmhouse nearby, though. Not even ruins. Why would anyone put up a barn by itself?

Ron didn’t really care. As long as it protected the trunk from being picked up by the Russian surveillance, it was fine with him. It wasn’t as if they would be spending much time outside, anyway. Not with the Muggle-Repelling Charm keeping nosy neighbours or passers-by, as well as anyone who left the barn, away.

He went down into the trunk, then entered the wizarding tent - a new one with more rooms since they had more people on this mission. If it had been his decision, he wouldn’t have taken everyone with them. Well, he would’ve left Ginny behind. But she was the fittest and the most skilled in martial arts. And had been on all their other missions at this point, so trying to argue against letting her come would have been futile and only caused trouble for no gain.

Mum would still be furious once she heard about it, but that was a problem for another day.

This tent had an entrance hall - there was even a fireplace here, which, theoretically, could be connected to the Floo Network. If there were such a network in this world. And if they wanted to let others know about them.

He passed the crate with additional supplies stashed near the entrance - and didn’t a house having a tent flap as an entrance look weird from this side? - and entered the living room.

Sirius was there, reading a magazine. “Harry and Ginny are cooking dinner,” he told Ron without being asked. “Dumbledore is going over the latest transcripts. The Lunas are… probably plotting something in their room. Hermione is with your and Harry’s counterparts in the laboratory, going over the magic items.”

“Thank you.” To the laboratory, then. “The barn’s clear,” Ron said.

“But cold,” Sirius commented.

“Of course.”

“Invading Russia is always a bad idea. Invading it during winter even more so.”

“We aren’t exactly invading,” Ron replied. Was Sirius having second thoughts?

“I know. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

Ron nodded, smiled briefly and headed to the laboratory. Hermione and her two friends were sorting through potions, as expected, but all three were looking at him when he opened the door. “Hey.” He grinned at her. “Have you sorted out who gets which magic items? If you haven’t, I can lend you my dice.”

“More or less,” Hermione replied with a smile and a short chuckle.

“Dice?” Ron’s counterpart asked.

“In my D&D group, we usually had to roll dice when splitting the loot,” Ron explained.

“Ah.” Apparently, wizarding Harry was familiar with role-playing games. Well, he had grown up in a muggle family.

Wizarding Ron still looked lost.

“It’s a muggle game where you play fantasy heroes - like wizards. And you get magic items, which are usually split among the players,” Ron told him.

“Not real magic items,” Hermione interjected. “It’s all pretend.”

“I knew that,” Ron’s counterpart said. He sounded a little miffed.

“So, everyone gets healing potions?” Ron changed the subject.

“Yes,” Hermione confirmed. “A full range, so everyone will be able to treat wounds on themselves or others. Also a shrinking potion, just in case.”

“We didn’t bring invisibility cloaks,” wizarding Ron said. “They’re a little hard to get, even for Aurors like us. And people would wonder why we needed them. The same goes for Portkeys.”

“They wouldn’t work here, anyway, since they won’t transport you across dimensions,” Hermione added.

Which meant that her friends didn’t know how to make Portkeys either, Ron deduced. Or didn’t know how to make Portkeys that could be activated easily in a pinch. “What about the other things the twins gave us?” he asked.

Hermione sighed. “That’s where it gets complicated.”

“And dangerous,” wizarding Harry added.

“Ah.” Ron nodded. He understood the sentiment - a number, higher than he had expected, of the things the twins had presented had sounded quite dangerous for the user. Like handing out hand grenades to people who had no training with them.

“Well, we shouldn’t need most of it, anyway,” wizarding Ron said. “Not if the plan works out. Five muggles against us?”

“We only have four wands,” Hermione pointed out. “We’ll have to take them out all at once before they can sound an alarm. We can’t just apparate into the office and cast Stunning Spells.”

“I said most of it, not all of it, didn’t I?” Wizarding Ron grinned. “A few things from the Deadly Distractions should do the job.”

“As long as they don’t take us out alongside the targets,” Ron said. He was sure he had the same idea as his counterpart.

*****​

Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, January 30th, 2006

Ron shook his head. Even after he had undergone Side-Along Apparition dozens of times, the experience remained decidedly unpleasant. “There are no cameras I could see,” Hermione told him.

“Nor did we find anything,” he heard his counterpart say. All of them, including himself, were disillusioned, so he couldn’t see anyone.

“Alright.” He looked round. They were inside an air duct. At their present size, it looked like a large tunnel. A tunnel with a strong wind, of course.

“We flew to the grate, looked inside and apparated,” she went on. “It seems they didn’t install sensors that can detect us at our current size.”

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “Let me check.”

He went over the area - from the grate covering the office intake to the grate where the air filter was installed. He didn’t find any bugs or hidden sensors, either - and even shrunken, his detector should work.

“Alright, seems we’re good here,” he told them.

“We’ll set up around the corner, out of sight of anyone peering through the grate,” wizarding Harry said.

“Follow me,” Ron heard Hermione say a moment before her hand touched his back, then roamed until she found his shoulder, arm and hand. Gripping it, she pulled him round the corner and finally ended the spell on him. As he faded into view, so did the others.

He forced himself to smile. He hated being so dependent on her. Wizarding Fred and George had given them a truckload of magic items, but none that would allow Ron to spot disillusioned people.

“I’ll fetch the others and the trunk,” Hermione said before disapparating.

“So, we got in just fine,” his counterpart commented.

“Yes.” Ron studied the filters. Nothing high-tech. He couldn’t spot any wires, either, that would react to part of it being cut. They could be hidden, of course - but the air duct didn’t look like it had been replaced. Still, better have Luna check.

“I would’ve wanted to start closer to the goal,” wizarding Ron went on.

“The closer we are, the higher the chance that they’ll have installed more sensors,” Ron told him. “And magic only goes so far,” he added with a tight smile.

His counterpart scoffed but didn’t try to contradict him. They had gone over this before, in the trunk. Even with magic, they couldn’t rush things.

Hermione reappeared, dropped the shrunken trunk on the ground and opened the lid. “We’re here!”

“Finally!”

A moment later, Luna climbed out of the trunk. “Wow! This will make scanning for bugs so easy! Like looking for camouflaged tanks in the woods!”

“I’ve already scanned,” Ron told her.

“Yes, but it won’t hurt if I do it again,” she replied with a grin. “Better safe than sorry.”

He rolled his eyes. That was payback for his own behaviour back when they had been a couple, and he had been fresh out of Moody’s training. For all her seemingly flighty attitude, Luna didn’t forget much.

He watched her scan the area carefully as the others climbed out of the trunk.

“Ah, finally we can stretch our legs,” Sirius said.

“There’s more room inside the tent than outside here,” Harry pointed out.

“Should’ve installed a fitness room if you want to be able to stretch your legs,” Ginny added.

“Excellent idea, though I fear that it’s a little too late for this mission.” Dumbledore was the last to climb out, Ron noticed.

“Alright, this section of the Kremlin’s air ducts is safe,” Luna announced.

“And there are no Rapacious Dust Mite nests,” wizarding Luna added. “There shouldn’t be any, but better safe than sorry, right?”

That wasn’t an accident. Ron nodded but didn’t react any further to the comment. “Let’s get through the filter,” he said.

“Right!” Luna pulled a thin stick out of her bag. “I’ll check the other side!”

She stuck the stick through the filter - it punched a hole through the fabric despite its size, but that wouldn’t register - and then connected goggles to it. “Oh… lots of dust. More dust. It doesn’t look like they changed the filters recently.”

Which meant they hadn’t upgraded the filter recently, either. Good.

“I’m through! Let’s look for cameras now!” Luna went on. After a minute, she said: “I don’t see any cameras or other surveillance devices. No bugs, electronic, or otherwise.” She handed the goggles to wizarding Luna. “Look round!”

The witch didn’t take long before handing the goggles back. “Alright - we’ll be right back!”

Wizarding Luna flicked her wand, and both of them faded from view. Then Ron heard the familiar noise of Apparition.

Five minutes later, they returned. “There’s nothing in the second section,” Luna announced.

Ron nodded. Time to move up, then.

As expected, it would take them a while to reach Putin.

*****​

Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, January 31st, 2006

“Alright… it looks like another camera, a laser and… oh! A heat sensor! And something I think is a chemical sensor,” Luna said without removing the goggles linking her to the camera of her probe.

“Any pressure plates?” Ron asked. Two sections had featured pressure plates so far, leading to a much more complicated advance, but they were easy to spot - at least at their current size.

“No,” Luna replied. “The floor is undisturbed.”

“The camera and the laser aren’t a problem,” Harry said. “But the heat sensor? That’s tricky.”

“Only if it’s calibrated to detect lower temperatures as well - which I don’t think it is.” Luna shook her shoulders, her head not moving.

“Block them with a wall of ice?” Ron asked.

“Exactly! They won’t register our body heat at all!” Luna said.

“What about the chemical sensor?” Hermione said. “Can we seal it up? Or perhaps a Bubble-Head Charm? That would only let clean air get to it, and we wouldn’t have to worry about our scent - or our carbon dioxide.”

“I don’t think it’s sensitive enough to pick up the scent of a human,” Ron pointed out. “Because it would probably react to anyone’s scent - like Putin’s.” The size difference was huge, after all.

Hermione nodded. “That’s right. They’re probably here to identify gases and possibly biological agents.”

“Or lubrication oil from machines,” Harry added. “Do they look new?”

“No, they even have a little dust on the side,” Luna told him.

“Basic defences against assassination, then,” Harry concluded.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said. “While, to my knowledge, no such attempt was ever made, no such thing can be said for plans to do so. Our American colleagues were nothing but inventive, if not entirely practical, when it came to such things.”

It wasn’t paranoia if they really were out to get you. And, Ron had to admit, they were about to get Putin. They were close to his office, now. And according to the transcripts Dumbledore was now checking almost constantly, Putin hadn’t left the bunker, nor was he planning to do so.

In theory, he could’ve had himself replaced with a body double, but… Ron thought that, in that case, there would have been some changes in the Kremlin’s procedures which they would have noticed. Still, it couldn’t be ruled out - though they would find out for sure soon enough. Or so Ron hoped.

“The cameras will spot the wall of ice,” wizarding Harry pointed out. “We’ll have to disillusion it before moving it to the heat sensor.”

“Let me see how things are laid out,” Ron’s counterpart said, crouching down next to Luna.

This was wizards’ work, Ron told himself. He could help plan what to do, but he couldn’t cast the spells.

Wizarding Ron studied the next section for a while, then handed the goggles to his friend. “I think we can do it - the camera can’t cover the area directly below itself.”

“Yes,” wizarding Harry agreed, “but we need to conjure the wall in two pieces. Otherwise, it’ll be too tall.”

“Right. Do you want to handle it?”

Wizarding Harry nodded. “I’ll do it.” He drew his wand and waved it around. Ron saw the man’s lips move but didn’t hear any words. Did that count as silent casting? Or almost silent casting?

He chuckled at his own weak joke and walked over to Hermione.

“They won’t take long,” she said.

“Better not rush it,” he told her. If they were detected, their best shot at getting to Putin would be lost.

“Yes,” wizarding Luna agreed. “We can take our time. This is like an expedition with Daddy. Unexplored terrain and unknown dangers! Well, Daddy isn’t here, we’re much more than just two people, we’re in the muggle world and we’re not looking for magical creatures but a muggle criminal, but we’re planning a catch and release, so it’s quite similar anyway.”

Ron couldn’t help smiling even as he snorted.

“And we’re striking a blow against fascist tyranny,” Luna added.

“We’re not going to alter his mind with regards to his policies,” Hermione told Luna.

“Why not? If we’re already changing his memories we could do so much more!”

“Or trigger a coup and make things worse,” Hermione retorted. “Manipulating his mind so he’ll forget about us is already dangerous; trying to make him change further will be too much.”

Luna sniffed. “He wouldn’t be a great loss for the world. Quite the contrary.”

“That may be so, but it’s just too dangerous to meddle with his mind more than we absolutely must.” Hermione was digging her heels in, but so was Luna.

Ron shook his head. “We haven’t even reached his office, much less secured him. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“We can’t exactly decide this when we’ve got him,” Luna protested. “We need to settle this now.”

It was clear what kind of solution she favoured. And what Hermione favoured.

“We can discuss it once we take a rest for the night,” Ron said.

Perhaps Dumbledore would be able to convince Luna that they couldn’t mind-control Putin even more than planned. Ron clenched his teeth. The old man likely would be able to - but would he want to?

This was a serious problem.

*****​

“Well, I have to admit that there certainly is an opportunity to not only solve our own problem but also to right a few global wrongs, so to speak.” Dumbledore smiled across the dinner table at Luna.

“Yes! We can do so much good if we rearrange his memories!” Luna said enthusiastically.

Ron clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. He couldn’t lose his temper, not over this - he had expected it, after all.

“The risks are too great,” Hermione retorted. “Even manipulating his memory regarding us will be a challenge.”

Ron nodded. Coming up with a good cover story that would explain the attacks, but make Putin stop coming after Hermione had been tricky. Ron still wasn’t convinced that ‘revolutionary weapons research revealed to have been a ploy to flush out spies’ wasn’t a little too convoluted - but Dumbledore had reassured them that it would fit right in with a number of spy operations he and his Russian counterparts had pulled off during the Cold War. The old man was convinced that Putin, who had grown up during the same era, would accept it. ‘Using his own paranoia against him’, he had called it.

It wasn’t as if Ron had been able to think of anything better. Now, if they wanted to, they could even use the same cover story at home, but mind wiping members of the government might be going a little too far even for Dumbledore, so Ron hadn’t mentioned that idea yet.

“What’s the worst that could happen? He loses his mind?” Luna’s exaggerated shrug showed how little she cared about that.

“Well, President Putin does have control over a considerable nuclear arsenal,” Dumbledore pointed out.

Ron noted that Sirius had paled and spilt some of his wine. “A crazy Russian with nukes - just what we need.”

Luna was pouting. “He’s under constant surveillance; if he has a mental breakdown, the other members of his government will step in and remove him from power.”

“I would concur with that assessment, although that’s only if it’s an obvious mental breakdown,” Dumbledore said. “If it happens slowly and subtly…” He tilted his head as he trailed off.

“We cannot predict how such things will happen,” Hermione said with a frown.

“Yes,” wizarding Ron added. “Even the Healers at St Mungo’s have trouble sorting out brains.”

“Well, wiping his entire mind is easy,” wizarding Luna told them. “That would avoid that danger.” She wrinkled her nose. “Although that would also mean we couldn’t make him change some of his policies.” She perked up. “We could do that, and then work on his successor!”

Ron winced. That sounded even worse. “I don’t think we should try to take over Russia - or any other country,” he said.

“Why not?” wizarding Luna asked. “If we can do it better?”

“We wouldn’t take over the country,” Luna added. “We would just correct some mistakes. More money for education, less money for the military, for example. More care for the environment. More democracy. More rights for minorities.”

“Just a few corrections,” Harry said with a snort.

“Exactly,” Luna replied with a nod.

“I don’t think so - the risk is too great,” Hermione said with a glare. “Not to mention that someone would have to keep an eye on the Russian president for the rest of their time in office, just in case they have a mental breakdown as a result of such manipulation. And that would mean no more expeditions - and no saving the rainforests.”

Wizarding Luna gasped. “You’re right! We can’t do this by ourselves!”

Luna didn’t look convinced, though. She wasn’t the witch of the pair, but if she worked on her counterpart... Ron sighed and looked at her. “Luna, if you do this, you’d basically be running the country. You’d have absolute power over Russia. You wouldn’t have to answer to anyone, no matter who gets elected as president. No accountability. Sure, you want the best for everyone, but...” He shrugged.

She glared at him in return and huffed, crossing her arms. She knew exactly what he meant - she had told it to him often enough.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Ron didn’t smile even though he was relieved. But smiling would have been rubbing it in, and Luna deserved better.

“Shall we eat dinner now?” Dumbledore, of course, did smile, as usual.

*****​

Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, February 1st, 2006

“Can you see it?”

“Yes. There’s a red cable on the outside.”

“Yes. Can you tap it?”

“Of course. I just need to reach it.”

“Alright. I’ll widen the hole.”

“Good. But not too wide - we don’t want the thermal sensor picking up our body heat.”

“Of course not. Bubble-Head Charm still good?”

“Yes.”

“Goody! And now: Evanesco! Here goes… nothing! More nothing. Can you reach the cable now?”

“Yes. Thank you. Now let’s see how best to deal with this cute little trap. Oh! That’s clever!”

Ron clenched his teeth as he listened to the two Lunas deal with the last obstacle in the air ducts before they reached Putin’s office. It was bad enough that he couldn’t see them behind the grate - well, he wouldn’t have seen them even if he were right next to them - but to listen to two pretty much identical voices while they were risking their lives… Hell, this was worse than torture.

“They’ll be OK,” he heard Hermione say before he felt her grab his hand.

“Yes,” he replied - though he wasn’t as sure as he claimed. The Russians had secured the air ducts as if they were expecting them, instead of fragile, dumb drones. It had taken them a full day to get to this point, and Ron had felt like they were clearing mines for most of it.

“Luna knows what she’s doing. The other Luna too,” wizarding Ron said as if that weren’t obvious.

Ron sighed and forced himself to remain calm. They were almost there. Almost at - or in - Putin’s office. Just one particularly dangerous obstacle left.

“Oh… I think that’s a bomb. Well, a small charge, but at our size, it’s a bomb,” Luna said. No, wizarding Luna.

What? Ron blinked.

“Let me see!”

“Here.”

“Oh, right. That’s a charge, yes,” Luna said. “Can you deal with it?”

“Oh, yes.” A moment later, he heard her say: “There! It’s now a pudding charge!”

“Oh, nice!”

“Don’t eat it, though.”

“I’m not planning to. Alright… let me set up the bypass and splice this…”

Ron sighed again as Luna started mumbling. This was nerve-wracking. Worse than trying to defuse a bomb yourself.

“Alright, we’re done!” Luna announced. “You can widen the hole now, Luna.”

“Evanesco!”

Finally!

Hermione sighed as well and waved her wand in the now extremely familiar motions of the Disillusionment Charm aimed at Ron. She repeated the motions and faded from view herself. Then Ron felt her hand grab his own again, followed by the sensation of being squeezed through a narrow pipe.

Then he stood inside the air duct the Lunas had cleared, looking through the hole into the space between the real and the fake ceiling of Putin’s office. Where dozens more sensors and cameras had been installed. Dealing with that would take a while.

At least they wouldn’t have to deal with any insects or other animals - those would have immediately set off the sensors.

*****​

“OK! Drag the line over here!”

“Alright.” Ron took a deep breath and lifted the cable - which was quite heavy - and walked over to where Luna was pointing.

“We can tap into this line!” she told him. “Just set it down here, I’ll splice it in.”

He did so.

“How’s the computer doing?” she asked without looking up from her work.

He turned to look back. Next to the tent, in the spot that the cameras here didn’t cover, Harry and Sirius were, under Hermione’s guidance, pushing around a miniature computer that had the relative size of a large armoire for the shrunken team. Behind them, an even bigger portable screen floated. And the keyboard under the screen dwarfed both.

“They’re working on it.”

“OK!”

Luna finished splicing the cables together and stood. “This should work. Now we need the batteries for the computer.”

Ron nodded and followed her back to the tent. A few spells later, a stack of batteries - now the size of artillery shells - was on the ground next to the computer while Hermione and her wizard friends were trying to push them into a grid or something to power the computer and screen.

Ron used the opportunity to look at the computer. The keyboard next to it was gigantic - it had keys the size of dinner plates. It looked so absurd, he chuckled and shook his head.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no, Luna,” he was quick to assure her. “I just think it looks funny.”

“Oh, it is funny,” she replied. “And using it will be fun as well! Like a game of twister!”

“I think it’s more like a game of hopscotch,” wizarding Luna said. “We used to play that with the muggle children in the village. Me and Ginny - my Ginny.”

Luna wrinkled her forehead. “Indeed. We’ll probably have to jump to put enough pressure on some of the keys.”

“We?” Ron asked.

“Well, you and the others - it would take too long if I had to push every key myself,” Luna explained. “We’ll need everyone covering a few keys, so we can type quickly.”

“Jump-type,” wizarding Luna added with a grin.

“Ah.” He nodded.

“We wanted to use magic, but Hermione said the risk of affecting the computer was too high,” Luna said.

“I’m not sure if I agree - we’re not using wards - but better safe than sorry, right?” Wizarding Luna beamed at him. “Besides, it’ll be fun!”

*****

Well, it was fun at the start. But after an hour, Ron was heartily tired of jumping on keys on command. After two hours it was simply tiring, rapidly approaching exhausting. But it was the only way to hack the Russian system - they couldn’t hook up a shrunken computer, and using a wireless protocol would trigger an alarm.

“A...N...D,” Luna said.

Ron sighed and jumped on “A”. While Harry jumped on “N”, Ron moved past “S” to “D”, then jumped on that key.

“X”!

Ron jumped on the next key.

Then Luna rushed over to the cursor keys and started jumping wildly before stepping on the enter key. “And… done! The script’s running! Now we just have to wait!” she announced.

Ron wasn’t the only one who sighed with relief.

But Hermione looked a little out of it. Another flashback?

*****​

“We just have to wait,” she heard Ron say. “Sooner or later, he’ll come home.”

“And we’re ready for them,” Harry added.

She wasn’t as optimistic. And she didn’t like waiting - not when it meant lying in ambush. In someone’s home. Melchior Smith’s home, to be exact. The man wasn’t a Death Eater, perhaps not even a sympathiser - though he was working for the Ministry, and should know better - but he was an acknowledged specialist in runes and rituals. And they needed his knowledge to deal with Harry’s scar. Without killing Harry, of course.

And Smith, a distant relative of Zacharias Smith’s, was not only good but also lived in a house that wasn’t too heavily warded for them to break in without being noticed. There were other scholars who had better protected homes. She would have preferred to go after the best, but… they couldn’t risk alerting the Ministry to their plans.

So, Smith it was. She sighed. Then she gasped - the fireplace had just lit up. And the flames were turning green.

“He’s coming!” she hissed, aiming her wand. Her friends, disillusioned like she was, were spreading out - she could see the markers above them moving.

Then a figure stepped out of the fireplace, followed by another.

And neither was Smith.

*****​

 

Chapter 55: The President

Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, February 1st, 2006

“Hey!” Ron touched Hermione’s shoulder. “Everything OK?”

She took a few deep breaths. “Yes. Just remembered a similar situation.”

“Oh?”

“It didn’t end well.” She sighed before going on: “We wanted to kidnap a Ministry employee. We broke into his home, but he was away. So we prepared an ambush. But he didn’t return - instead the Aurors visited.”

“Are you talking about Smith?” Wizarding Ron butted in. “Yeah, that was a bloody mess.”

Eloquent, Ron thought.

“We did take out the two Aurors who entered the flat through the fireplace, but they must have had backup - we found ourselves trapped in the building and had to fight our way out.”

“Yeah.” Ron’s counterpart nodded. “If they had known who we were, we would’ve been dead. But they thought we were common burglars, and so didn’t have enough wands to take us.”

“Well, that’s one theory,” Hermione said.

The wizard grinned. “It’s the truth - we checked with the survivors afterwards, you know.” He shrugged.

“And what happened to Smith?” Hermione asked.

“He vanished.” Wizarding Ron looked grim for a moment. “Taken down to the Department of Mysteries and never heard of again. Rookwood was in charge of the Department.”

“I know that.”

“Well, yes. He’d purged it when Voldemort took over. Killed any sympathisers who didn’t manage to escape. Probably old rivals as well, and hired more Death Eaters to fill the ranks. The ones who stayed… well, they didn’t mind Voldemort’s new policies. Most liked them.” The wizard had a grim expression. “They could do any and all experiments they wanted.”

Ugh. Ron had a good idea of what sort of people had stayed on. And what sort of experiments they would have conducted.

“Clearing them out was a real mess.”

Hermione nodded curtly.

“Well, let’s hope that this mission goes better,” Ron said after a few seconds of silence. “Wouldn’t want to capture a body-double.”

“I doubt that it’s a body-double,” Hermione replied. “It’s too busy in the office for that.”

“Dumbledore said that the Russians would go to great length in their deceptions.” And not just the old spymaster - Ron had heard the same from Moody.

“But to set up an entirely fake set of offices?” Hermione shook her head. “And have everyone play along? Department heads, politicians, every single staff member? Never break character? I don’t think so. That’s no way to run a government.”

Ron shrugged. He did actually agree with her, but the possibility of this being a very long con - a trap - remained. “We’ll find out the truth soon enough.”

“Not quite that soon.”

Ron turned and saw that Luna was walking towards them. “We have a few hours until my program’s finished, and we still need to find the secondary and tertiary surveillance systems.”

“You said you had a way,” Hermione reminded her.

“I do.” Luna smiled. “But it requires climbing down a shaft. A cable shaft, to be exact.”

“And Harry and I are the most experienced in climbing down shafts,” Ron said with a wry smile.

“Harry and I could float down,” his counterpart offered. “Levitate our clothes. We’ve done it before.”

“Without triggering a sensor?” Hermione asked. “Even if the spells themselves are fine - or should be; we haven’t tested them with Russian electronics and we haven’t been able to isolate a point after which magic starts affecting electronics, nor do we know how to quantify it in the first place - there wouldn’t be any room for error.”

Ron smiled politely as the other Ron frowned. Couldn’t solve everything with magic, could you?

Of course, it meant that he would be spending a few hours climbing down cable shafts and hoping he didn’t step on some shoddy Russian work and get electrocuted. Zapped like a bug.

He suppressed the shudder at that idea. He just had to be careful and take it slow. No need to rush.

*****​

So much for rappelling, Ron thought as he stared down the shaft.

“The Russians obviously never thought of cable management,” Luna, standing next to him, commented.

“Yes,” Ron agreed. Instead of being neatly bundled together, all the cables in the shaft were loose. And from what he could see, it seemed that a number of cables had been too long and, at various points, the excess length had been stuffed into the shaft.

Great. This felt more like caving than climbing. Well, someone had to do it, and Harry’s shaft didn’t look any better either.

He checked once more that his harness was sitting correctly, smiled at Hermione and Luna and started climbing down. At least he wouldn’t lack opportunities to secure his descent.

*****​

As it turned out, Ron did more squeezing through small spaces than climbing as he went down. There were a lot of cables and not much space. He also had trouble in some spots with the cable he was dragging along behind. Overall, it was far more tiring than rappelling down would have been - and he would have to climb up again, instead of letting the others pull him up.

But it also made finding the feed from the secondary sensors easy - the additional cables completely blocked the shaft. He took a few deep breaths, then looked at the opening for those cables. He would be able to pass through it - if he pulled off his climbing harness. Well, there was no choice - he had to know what this cable was connected to.

Shimmying out of the straps was harder in the narrow space here, but he managed. Then it was just a - albeit claustrophobia-inducing - crawl on top of the cables and he reached a sensor. A camera. Multiple modes - he knew the model; Japanese. Good quality, but too expensive for CI5’s budget even though it came out ahead in testing.

And it had a free socket for another cable. Unfortunately, not the kind of cable he had brought with him. For once, the Russians hadn’t gone with a proprietary solution and so he had dragged their stupid special cable along for nothing.

Ron sighed. Now he’d have to go up and down again.

*****​

“You should’ve let Ginny do it.”

Ron, lying in their bed, didn’t open his eyes at Hermione’s words. “She wouldn’t have let me forget it, ever,” he said. “Let her do it for Harry.”

Hermione snorted, and he felt her sit down on the bed next to him. “Typical.” He knew she would be shaking her head.

“Did the other Ron do the same?”

“I don’t recall a specific occasion on which he did, but he probably would have.”

He grunted in response. Of course his counterpart would do the same!

“Luna’s already hacking into the second security system, but it’ll take a while.”

“I know.”

“Is there something wrong with your eyes, or are you just trying to sleep?”

He wasn’t that tired. Even if he felt like it. He looked at her with a frown and saw that she was smirking - and dangling a Mars bar in front of him. One of the sensibly sized ones, not the small ones.

“Thanks!” He grabbed it and ripped it open. That hit the spot. “When’s dinner, by the way?”

“That depends on whether Harry is letting Ginny do the next climb, or insists on catering to his male ego.”

“Ginny can cook,” Ron pointed out. “She just doesn’t want to.”

“Ah.” She nodded. Probably expected that - she knew Mum’s counterpart, after all, and that witch was almost as good at cooking as Mum, and probably had insisted on teaching her Ginny everything as well, no matter her daughter’s wishes.

“As long as it’s not Sirius, we should be fine,” Ron said.

“I’ve still got MREs.” She was smirking, so she was probably joking. Probably.

On the other hand… “I think I could eat a whole ration,” he said. The climb had been exhausting.

She dropped a ration on his chest a moment later. He grabbed it and held it up. Curry chicken. Shaking his head, he handed it back. “I think I’ll just rest until dinner.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed.

She laid down next to him, snuggling up until her head rested on his arm and shoulder.

*****​

Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, February 2nd, 2006

“Alright! I’ve compromised the secondary security system as well.” Luna announced, stretching her arms over her head. “I haven’t been able to pinpoint the location of the guard watching the feeds from the office, but it can’t be too far away. Probably in Putin’s quarters.”

“That would make sense. He’d want some guards there as well, and if the same people guard both his office and apartment, that creates a useful synergy - and he has to trust a smaller number of people with his life and secrets,” Dumbledore said.

Ron nodded, rotating his shoulder a little. It felt a bit sore. A combination of his climb and Hermione using it as a pillow for the night. Not that he’d complain.

“So, what are the odds of a tertiary security system completely isolated from the ones we know about?” Harry asked.

“It’s not impossible,” Luna said, “but they would have had to further compromise the walls of the office.”

“I wouldn’t put it past President Putin to go to those lengths, but I believe he’d value his privacy more than an additional layer of security - even now, Russia’s leader has to watch his own people as closely, or more so, than foreign enemies.” Dumbledore smiled. “And unlike in Britain, a power struggle in Russia is a very serious, possibly lethal, affair. There will already be some people who haven’t been informed about the truth behind President Putin’s new security measures now wondering whether he’s become too paranoid to function. And the more guards he needs, the more people know both our secret and his vulnerability and fears.”

Which meant Putin couldn’t just add an unlimited number of guards to his office. Ron smiled. Good enough for him.

“We have isolated the security cameras, but we have to consider that Putin might have a way to alert the rest of his guards, like a panic button in his desk,” Hermione said.

“Moody’s eye would come in very handy right now,” Ron’s counterpart commented. “Too bad he and Dumbledore took the secret of enchanting it to their graves.”

Ron looked at Hermione, raising his eyebrows. “They were the only ones who knew how to make something like that?” And what did it do? Probably see through walls.

She sighed. “Or just Dumbledore. But… proper documentation of his work apparently wasn’t among the Headmaster’s virtues.”

Ron snorted. “If Moody was involved, I bet he insisted on destroying all records.”

His counterpart and both Harrys nodded in agreement. Hermione nodded a moment later. “That seems likely,” she agreed.

“Very likely, if your Mr Moody was similar in temperament to ours, who, fortunately, still walks this earth,” Dumbledore said. “If I didn’t know better, I would suspect that he has Russian ancestry.”

Ron chuckled briefly at the joke. “That still leaves us with the problem of taking out Putin and his guards very quickly - before they can trigger an alert.”

“Kind of like a bank robber’s problem,” Harry added.

“Well, we could cast a ward over the room - that would stop all muggle systems, wouldn’t it?” wizarding Ron asked.

“And it would most certainly trigger an alert in the sections of the bunker not covered by this ‘ward’,” Dumbledore pointed out.

“Oh.”

“We could cover the entire Kremlin with a ward! Shut all the machines down! That would be a great distraction!” wizarding Luna blurted out.

Hermione gasped.

“That would take a long time to set up, and we couldn’t do it while shrunk,” wizarding Harry retorted.

“Further, the first thing everyone would do is to check on and evacuate President Putin,” Dumbledore added with a gentle smile. “That would run counter to our plan to quietly interrogate him.”

“So, we need to be faster than they can react,” Ron summed up.

“The problem is that we’ve got four wands and five targets,” wizarding Harry said. “That means one of the targets needs to be taken down without a Stunner.”

“We could use a stun gun,” Sirius proposed. “They can’t do anything if they’re twitching on the floor with their muscles locked up.”

Ron nodded. In a cyberpunk novel, the guards would have been covered by sensors reading their vitals, but that wouldn’t be the case here so it should work. But… “Those stun guns also have after-effects,” he pointed out. “A medical examination might reveal them.”

“Then we need to ensure that there isn’t any cause for such an examination,” Hermione said. “We can use some healing spells to deal with at least part of that, but I don’t know how sensitive the medical instruments are here.”

“President Putin will have the very best and most advanced medical technology at his disposal,” Dumbledore said. “Little, if any, of it domestically sourced, of course. Whether he would use them on his guards, though, I cannot say. We should assume the worst.”

“So, stun gun for one guard. Stunners for the rest and Putin,” wizarding Harry said. “We disable the cameras and other alerts, apparate to the barn, cancel the Shrinking Charm and apparate directly into the office.”

“Luna will keep the alerts from going off, but our arrival will still be noticeable,” Hermione objected. “Even if we suppress the sound beforehand, they’ll still feel the displaced air.”

“That can’t be helped,” wizarding Harry replied. “We’ll have to take that risk.”

“Well, you’ll be covered by shields,” Ron remarked with a frown. “And what if between your departure and entry, someone walks into the silenced area?”

“We’ll have to be quick,” his counterpart said. “Who’s coming with us with the muggle stunner?”

“Harry and I,” Ron told him. “We’ve got experience with stun guns.”

No one objected.

“A Silencing Charm on the door is a must,” Hermione added. “Even before the Muggle-Repelling Charm.”

Wizarding Ron nodded, though Ron felt that he took that for granted.

“I think that is it, so to speak,” Dumbledore said. “A straightforward plan with good odds for success and minimal risk.”

“Yes,” Ron agreed, not adding that Dumbledore wasn’t the one going in and taking out a highly-trained guard. Mostly because Dumbledore would probably volunteer to go with them. “Let’s do it tomorrow morning, once the shift’s changed.”

*****​

Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, February 3rd, 2006

“The guards have been changed,” Luna reported. “Putin’s still in the office.”

Well, that was to be expected - the man rarely took breaks outside his office. “Give them ten more minutes in case they forgot something?” Ron suggested.

“A good idea,” Dumbledore agreed.

Ten minutes later, nothing had changed. Ron checked his weapons, his harness and his bulletproof vest. Everything was in place. Good.

He stood and stepped over to where the others were gathering. Wizarding Harry and wizarding Ron were already there - with magical robes, apparently, there wasn’t much to check. They were wearing bulletproof vests, too, though - under their red robes. Hermione was dressed like Ron and Harry - black turtleneck and pants, boots, vest and webbing, as Sirius called it. Wizarding Luna had opted for the same outfit - Luna’s influence, Ron hoped. And not Dumbledore’s.

Everyone was masked as well.

“Alright. Target check,” Harry said.

“Left back corner guard!” Wizarding Luna sounded cheerful and not at all nervous.

“Right back corner guard,” wizarding Ron added.

“Right front corner guard,” Ron and Harry said together.

“Left front corner guard.” Hermione was obviously tense.

“Putin,” Wizarding Harry reported.

“Good.” Harry nodded. “Everyone ready?”

“Ready,” Ron replied.

Hermione took his hand as the others echoed him. “Ready,” she said.

“Go!” Harry snapped.

Ron held his breath until they reappeared inside the barn they had used before. At his size, it looked gigantic - and he didn’t want to wonder how many spiders were hiding in the straw and dust around them.

“Finite Incantatem! Finite Incantatem!”

Suddenly, the barn looked small again. And much safer. A moment later, he felt and saw himself fading from view, followed by Harry. He got his bearings, took his stun gun in hand and turned so he’d be facing the right guard. Then Hermione grabbed his free hand.

“Ready!” she announced.

“Ready.” “Ready.” “Ready.”

“Go!” Harry snapped again.

And Ron appeared in the middle of Putin’s office. As planned, he was facing the guard standing in the right front corner - but there was already an alert sounding. What the hell?

They were committed. And the guard was already raising his gun. Ron lunged, knocking it down, then raised the stun gun - but Harry must have been an instant faster - the guard was already collapsing. Ron followed up for good measure, and the man collapsed. Shots rang out - automatic fire. Ron felt something hit his back and dropped, rolling to the side. A red spell hit the man on the ground, and he stopped screaming.

Ron drew his gun. Who was shooting? Apparently, no one any more - all guards and Putin were down. But the alert was still sounding. “Everyone alright?” He hated that he couldn’t see anyone. Really hated it. And his back hurt like hell.

The door to Putin’s quarters swung open, an armed man appearing in the doorway. Two red spells took him down before he could shoot.

The next one managed to get a burst off before he fell.

“Going in,” wizarding Harry snapped. “We’ve got shields.”

Ron still took cover.

“My bloody leg,” Harry said behind him. “I’m bleeding!”

“What?” Hermione gasped. Then Harry faded into view, his black pants wet and leaving a growing red stain on the floor.

“Episkey!” she all but yelled. “Scourgify!” The stain on the floor disappeared.

“Thank you,” Harry said. He started to get up, but then winced - his leg must still be hurting if no longer bleeding like a stuck pig. Ron helped him stand and hissed in pain. His back hurt.

“Ron?”

“I got shot in the back,” he pressed out. “Doesn’t feel like it went through the vest.”

Hermione, of course, checked herself. Ron felt almost as relieved as she sounded when she told him he was correct. “I’ve secured the door to his front office,” she went on, “but that won’t hold everyone forever - not if they heard the alert or the shots. And the additional guards in the flat will have alerted more.”

Damn. “Plan B,” Ron said.

“Going!” wizarding Luna replied. A few seconds later, a rapidly growing Dumbledore appeared in the office - next to a still disillusioned, but probably normal-sized witch.

“Let’s hope my observations of President Putin over the last few days will bear fruit,” the old spymaster said as he knelt down next to the unconscious president and reached out to the man’s eyebrows. “Please start stripping him.”

As Ron moved to do so, running into Harry, who was also still disillusioned, on the way, Hermione faded into view, holding a potion vial out to Dumbledore. The old man dropped what Ron hoped was an eyebrow hair into it and swallowed all of it. Then he started to shake and shiver and.. blur. And then, another Putin stood there, with a rather out of character-like smile on his face.

“Hurry!” Hermione snapped. “Even with the charm, they won’t wait forever.”

A few minutes of frantic dressing and stripping later, Dumbledore was wearing Putin’s clothes. And his counterpart reported that they had taken out two more guards.

“We need to go now!” Hermione announced. “Harry and Ron - stay with Mr Dumbledore.”

Ron saw the two wizards starting to shrink a moment before Hermione grabbed him and he felt like he was being stuffed through a narrow pipe or hose again.

They were back in the barn. Luna appeared as well, with the real Putin. And she had apparently taken the time to conjure clothes for him.

Another couple of Shrinking Charms and one Side-Along-Apparition later, they were back in their Kremlin base.

*****​

“Putin’s secured,” Ron said, stepping back from the metal chair.

Hermione nodded and drew her wand. She had been looking forward to this confrontation. And Dumbledore had indulged her - probably because he would have loved to talk to Putin under these circumstances himself, but couldn’t as he needed to replace the Russian. Ron just hoped that it would give her some sort of closure. Or at least satisfaction after being hunted for so long. There was no real point otherwise.

“Rennervate!”

As soon as Hermione’s spell hit Putin, his eyes flew open and he looked around. Ron didn’t notice any sign of confusion or disorientation, either. Nor did the Russian look concerned or afraid - he met their eyes without flinching. There was even a hint of a sneer in his expression.

Until he noticed the giant computer to the side. That made him blink - for a second or two. Then he snorted. “I see Dr Granger’s research has progressed further than we thought,” he commented in unaccented English.

“You might say that - we had a breakthrough after your attack in Scotland,” Hermione replied.

Putin scoffed in return. “I had heard that you were taking part in these operations, but I had my doubts. What kind of fool would risk you like that?”

“Someone who knows that I won’t let my friends take risks alone,” she replied with a scowl that deepened when he laughed.

Ron schooled his features. Yes, taking Hermione on these missions might seem a little foolhardy. If you didn’t know about her magic. And if you didn’t know her. If you did, you’d know that trying to make her stay behind was far more foolhardy.

Hermione scoffed. “You have no idea of my capabilities. And you have no idea of your own situation, either.”

“Oh, but I do,” Putin retorted. He laughed again. “I’ve been kidnapped by British agents. That’s an act of war. How much do you think Britain will be willing to surrender to Russia to avoid a war? We’ve already gathered proof of your involvement in the attack on our shores in the Black Sea. We will find proof of your involvement in this kidnapping as well.”

“There won’t be any proof,” Hermione said. “Because as far as your staff knows, you haven’t been kidnapped.”

“You bravely fought off unknown kidnappers who managed to take out your guards,” Ron added.

Putin scoffed again, but he had to be rattled. “A body double? You plan to replace me with an actor, and expect it not to be discovered? How stupid do you think my men are?”

Ron smiled and glanced at the screen to the side. It was currently showing ‘Putin’ ordering his men around - the guards had already been moved out of the office. “It doesn’t look like they’ve noticed anything.” Well, any minor inconsistencies would be justified as the after-effects of the attack.

Putin didn’t look concerned, though, and he scoffed again. “A predictable attempt at psychological warfare. If anything happens to me, Britain will pay the price. Not even Dumbledore would risk that. My men know that you’re behind this - and they’ll manufacture proof if needed.”

He was definitely rattled if he was repeating himself, in Ron’s opinion. But they were wasting time. He looked at Hermione.

She pressed her lips together, then nodded - reluctantly. “I’m telling you what is going to happen,” she said, pulling a vial out of her bag. “You will tell us who else knows about my research. And then you’ll forget about this kidnapping. When you wake up, you’ll know that I wasn’t attacked for my research, but because Kirikov wanted to silence me before I remembered that he had kidnapped me as a child. And that Mr Dumbledore used the opportunity to launch a decoy operation that would expose many of your assets in Britain by planting false rumours about my research.”

“My people know the truth,” Putin retorted - though he was staring at the vial. “We interrogated Igor thoroughly. We know what you can do.”

Hermione smiled, showing her teeth, as she drew her wand. “No, Mr Putin. You really don’t know what I can do.”

She flicked her wand, and half a dozen snakes appeared, slithering towards Putin. They climbed his legs and slid under his jacket and shirt. The Russian stiffened but kept his composure.

Until Hermione swished her wand, and all the snakes disappeared. For the first time, he looked shaken.

“I’m a witch, Mr Putin.” She smiled. “And you’re not prepared for magic.”

But the man was prepared for body doubles, Ron realised. Still, no body double would be as good as a double using Polyjuice Potion. And yet… He gasped. Putin suspected that Hermione could travel to other dimensions. That she was a double from another dimension. And if he was as paranoid as he seemed… He was trying to gain time. “Dose him with the Veritaserum!” Ron snapped. “He’s got protocols for dimensional doubles!”

Hermione gasped. “Oh no - I should’ve thought of that!” she blurted out as she rushed towards their suddenly struggling and cursing captive. But as much as Putin tried to resist, it was to no avail. Not even ten seconds later, three drops of the potion fell on to his tongue.

The few seconds that passed until the potion took effect felt like hours to Ron. Finally, he blurted out: “What method did you implement to detect dimensional doubles?”

“Special passphrases,” Putin droned.

“Who in the Kremlin knows them?” Ron pressed on.

“Ilija Petrovic and Grigory Drugov.”

“Who are they?”

“My bodyguards.”

Of course, he would only trust those who already guarded his life - and not potential rivals. “What are their passphrases?”

Putin answered, and Ron had to suppress a groan - of course, the phrases would be in Russian! “Repeat them!”

Putin did.

Ron tried to remember them, mumbling under breath. “Repeat.”

Putin did again.

“I think I got them,” Ron snapped. “I’ll inform Dumbledore! Hand me a broom and disillusion me!” They couldn’t use radio - not here, where every frequency would be monitored.

Hermione nodded - her lips were pressed together, he noted. She was blaming herself for this. But it wasn’t her fault; no one had expected this. They should have, of course - the Russians were paranoid enough to expect an invasion by dimensional doppelgängers.

Ron felt the spell take effect and rushed towards the small opening in the ceiling. He forced himself through it, falling for a moment before he could straddle the broom, then took off towards Dumbledore.

The old spymaster was in the middle of the office, supervising the agents going over the bullet holes in the wall and the damaged furniture. Two men looking like paramedics were talking to him, though he kept waving them off.

Obviously, neither of the two bodyguards had reached him yet. Perhaps one of them had been on duty in Putin’s quarters, and had been taken out by wizarding Harry and wizarding Ron?

It didn’t matter. Ron clenched his teeth and guided the broom towards Dumbledore’s head. He had to slow down now, and he avoided one of the paramedics, then almost crashed into Dumbledore’s forehead when the man moved and turned to snap at the Russians.

Ron turned away and returned on another approach. Behind Dumbledore, he saw two guards snap to attention - someone important was arriving. Either a member of the government or… one of the commanders of the bodyguards. And Ron didn’t think that Putin would be receiving staff members right now. Cursing under his breath, he urged the broom onward and dived towards Dumbledore’s head again.

Once more, Dumbledore moved, tilting his head, but Ron managed to compensate and came to a stop next to the man’s right ear. He reached out and touched it, then stuck his head into it and said: “Putin has passphrases to uncover doubles! Two guards know them - Ilija Petrovic and Grigory Drugov.” He repeated the passphrases, hoping fervently that he had remembered them correctly, then repeated everything twice since Dumbledore couldn’t answer. Couldn’t even confirm that he’d heard.

The officer reached Dumbledore and saluted.

Dumbledore nodded in return, barking something in Russian.

The officer replied, then took a step back and said one of the passphrases. All the guards in the room suddenly tensed. Ron held his breath. If Dumbledore hadn’t gotten the message.

But the old man had - he gave the countersign, and the officer nodded, obviously satisfied.

Ron let out a sigh of relief, told Dumbledore he was returning upstairs and flew away.

That had been close.

*****​

“...and Pavel Ivanovich. Military attaché at the Russian embassy in London,” Putin droned on.

“Got it!” Luna announced from where she was taking notes.

Ron refrained from cursing. They couldn’t call Ivanovich back to Moscow before they had to return the real Putin - which meant another operation.

“Does anyone else know about my supposed research into dimensional travel?” Hermione asked.

“No.”

“What about Kirikov?”

“Dead.”

Ron nodded. That wasn’t really a surprise. So, a dozen people to deal with. More knew about the danger of teleporting intruders, but that was limited to the security forces here. “How’s Dumbledore doing?”

“Still ordering everyone around,” Ginny replied from where she was keeping watch on Putin’s office.

That was good. According to their plan, ‘Putin’ would personally lead the investigation. That way, he could call the others who knew about Hermione and interrogate them - which would let the group deal with them as well.

Now they just had to stick to the plan, change the Russians’ memories - and then break into the Russian embassy in London to deal with the last one.

And hope that nothing else went wrong.

*****​

Ron checked his watch. Dumbledore was on his third dose of Polyjuice Potion now. And there was no sign that he would have a chance to swap with the real Putin any time soon - even if Hermione managed to finish rearranging and replacing Putin’s memories.

Which she hadn’t, a glance over his shoulder told him. At least Ron had been able to tell Dumbledore the list of names, and what they knew about them.

“This takes time,” wizarding Luna told him as she sat down at his side.

“Hm?”

“It’s a very delicate spell. Well, the spell is easy, but using it is a delicate affair. Or should be,” she explained.

“I know.” He did, but that didn’t help with the waiting. They had narrowly escaped disaster once already. Twice, if they counted the first change of plans, though they’d had a contingency plan for that.

Below them, Dumbledore was sitting at Putin’s desk, giving more orders in Russian. Ron couldn’t follow what the old spymaster was saying, but he recognised a few names from the list.

“I hope that means that Dumbledore arranged a spare room for the interrogation,” he said.

“We can use magic to keep everyone out. They’ll invent reasons to leave Putin alone.” The witch was smiling.

“But they won’t invent reasons to excuse him being alone with others that will stand up to scrutiny later,” he told her. “Especially if they let him be alone in a room that had already been compromised by an attack.” In such a situation, Ron would know something weird had happened and investigate. He didn’t doubt that the Russians would do the same.

“I trust Albus. He’s got experience with this.”

He glanced at her. She did look confident. Trusting.

What the hell had Dumbledore done to earn that?

She chuckled. “I don’t totally trust him, of course. He’s a member of the Shadow Government, an arms dealer and a spymaster. But I trust him to be good at it.”

Ah. Ron felt relieved - a little, at least. “We’re still in a sticky situation,” he said. “We can’t really talk with him.”

“You can talk to him, though.”

“Yes. But he can’t talk back. And I don’t know if he understood everything or not. And he can’t signal us what he needs.” Not without tipping off the Russians. At least they could use enchanted parchment to send messages to and from wizarding Harry and Ron’s counterpart.

“And you don’t like that.”

“I don’t,” he confirmed. Of course not. But he hated most that he couldn’t do much. Couldn’t do enough.

She put her hand on his shoulder. “It’ll work out. If we fail, we can always move everyone to my world. Or to another world. That would be fun, wouldn’t it?”

He managed to control himself. This was Luna’s counterpart. If she was like his Luna - and she was very similar - then she didn’t have many friends and only her father as family. The Lovegoods - either ones - would easily move, and Ron could understand that.

But his own family? They wouldn’t. They were rooted in this world. In their lives. Ginny was a famous athlete. Percy had a promising career in Her Majesty’s Civil Service. As did Dad. Bill, Charlie and the twins had careers of their own. Friends and lovers. They couldn’t give all that up and move to another world.

Especially not one where they already existed.

Ron wasn’t even sure he could do it. He wanted to be with Hermione no matter where she was, but… to live as a muggle among wizards? Depend on them each time he had to enter a magical area? Or wanted to ‘hang out’ with wizards?

Would he be able to stomach that, or would he end up eaten by envy and jealousy? Would being able to fly a broom and use other enchanted items be enough? This wasn’t D&D, and even D&D hadn’t managed to balance wizards and fighters in thirty years.

He snorted, and wizarding Luna beamed at him. “That’s the spirit! Always be open to new things and you’ll never stagnate!”

He nodded, hoping his guilt at lying to her wasn’t visible. She really was like Luna.

“Oh! Albus is moving.”

“What?” He checked. Dumbledore was walking out of the office - and not into Putin’s quarters. Well, that made sense. The Russians knew that security was compromised here. On the other hand…

“Dumbledore’s left the office,” he told the others as he walked over to them. “Luna?” he asked. “How’s the Russian bug hunt going?”

She chuckled, sounding exactly like her counterpart. “They haven’t found me. Although they’ll soon have checked all the cables, I believe.”

And that would lead them to their base here. Well, they were ready to move. All but Hermione.

“Where’s Dumbledore moving to?” Ginny asked.

“We don’t know. But the other Harry and Ron are with him and can apparate back to us once they’ve settled in,” Harry replied.

“Or inform us in writing,” wizarding Luna added.

“We might want to move anyway,” Sirius suggested. “Without having to rush everything.”

“Yes. Let’s move to the barn.”

It was getting too dangerous to stay.

But they would have to return as soon as Dumbledore was set up.

*****​

Outside Moscow, Russia, February 3rd, 2006

There was something moving nearby. Something big. Ron took a deep breath and kept his rifle aimed at the closest batch of straw and decaying plants. “Please no spiders,” he mumbled under his breath. He’d rather see a mouse or shrew than a spider. Not even a small one. Not even with potions to counter any venom available.

“Ron?”

He glanced over his shoulder. Hermione was walking towards him. He didn’t turn around, though, and returned his attention to their surroundings - his part of the perimeter - even as he replied: “Did you finish?”

“Putin’s now convinced he almost fell for a decoy operation. One in which Kirikov took part. And that there are more traitors who allowed us to penetrate his security.”

“Good.” One down, six to go.

She stood next to him, sighing. “No news from Dumbledore. Harry sent a message through the charmed parchment - they’re moving to a different building.”

Great. He stifled a curse. “Are they in the escape tunnel?”

“Yes. Or one of them.”

“We’ll just have to wait until they arrive at their destination,” Ron said.

“I know.”

But she wanted to be with her friends. He understood the sentiment. Very well.

“I just wish we could be our regular size,” he said. But with Russian security on full alert, they couldn’t trust that someone wasn’t checking every nook and cranny - including this barn - in and around Moscow.

“Me too. Luna loves it, though. Both Lunas.”

He snorted. “I bet they do. This must be like an expedition for them.” It was for him - he just didn’t like it. He didn’t feel safe, and not because of spiders. He didn’t say so, though - he didn’t want to sound paranoid.

“Yes.” She sighed again. “This actually reminds me…” She trailed off, looking at the parchment in her hand. “They’ve stopped moving and are settling down.”

*****​

She looked around the clearing. It shouldn’t feel like home. It didn’t, actually. But she was getting familiar with it. Moody would say that meant it was time to change - that they were becoming predictable. But it didn’t really matter. The Death Eaters couldn’t track Apparition, and even if they could, any other camp would be at risk as well. What was important was that no one, not even their closest friends, knew about this place - or that they even knew about this forest.

They were safe here.

She told herself that. But she didn’t feel safe. The war wasn’t going well. It wasn’t going badly, either, but… how much longer could they hunt down Horcruxes without Voldemort noticing?

How much longer before they had to move out again?

She sighed. They were close. Very close. But the longer it took, the more dangerous it became.

*****​

 

Chapter 56: The Subordinates

Outside Moscow, Russia, February 3rd, 2006

Shortly after the parchment message, wizarding Ron arrived in the barn and quickly set down in the middle of the camp - apparently uncaring about the resident animals that might think a shrunken wizard would make a tasty meal. At least he had sense enough to announce himself before appearing invisible in their midst.

“Harry’s with Dumbledore, but the muggles don’t have a clue. They didn’t notice us flying around, either,” he reported. “It’s another bunker; the entrance is hidden in a garage - how many secret bunkers have the muggles hidden around here, anyway?” Wizarding Ron shook his head. “They’re worse than the goblins! Or were there some mines around, and once they ran dry, they turned them into secret hideouts?”

“That’s just the Russians for you,” Sirius replied. “Though if you want to see crazy tunnels and bunkers, you need to visit Switzerland - they have a bunker for everyone! They say that you can walk from one end of the country to the other without seeing the sun.”

“I actually doubt that,” Hermione said. “It wouldn’t have made any sense to actively maintain so many bunkers after the Cold War ended - if there ever were that many bunkers in the first place.”

“They probably turned them into vaults for all their stolen gold.” Sirius grinned.

“Wow - just like Gringotts!” Ron’s counterpart exclaimed. “Are they the muggle counterparts of the goblins?”

Ron laughed. “They usually call them ‘gnomes’.”

“Oh! So it is true!”

Hermione glared at him. “No, Ron’s pulling your leg.”

“Oh.”

Ron grinned at his counterpart. “Gnomes of Zürich is a slang term for Swiss bankers,” he said.

“Though there could be a connection. Magic exists in this world, but there are no native magical species of any kind. So those who would have evolved into magical creatures must have taken a different route here. It could very well be true that the Swiss bankers are Gringotts’ counterparts,” wizarding Luna pointed out. “It’s certainly something worth investigating.”

Luna mumbled a few uncomplimentary words about the Swiss banks which Ron was very familiar with. He cleared his throat before she could really get started. “We should focus on our current problem,” he reminded the others.

“Yes,” Hermione agreed at once. “We need to deal with the five other people who are aware of my research.”

“And we can’t take too long,” Harry added. “Dumbledore has to keep taking the potion every hour, and he has to sleep sometime. We’re on a timer here.”

“Well, it doesn’t look like they’ll leave him alone. They even sent a guard with him when he went to the toilet,” wizarding Ron said.

“Then we’ll have to take down the guards and deal with their memories - once we’re ready to make the swap,” Ron replied. “First, though, we’ll have to deal with the surveillance in the new bunker. They didn’t notice you, but once we start taking down Putin’s visitors...”

“Yes,” Luna agreed. “I doubt that it’s as extensive as the one under the Kremlin - they would have further improved that one if they had resources to spare - but it won’t be easy, either. The Russians have been a key part of the Shadow Government for decades and know all about surveillance from controlling their population with it.”

“But can you handle it?” Hermione asked. “Quickly enough that we can deal with the others before Dumbledore collapses - or is sedated by Putin’s guards thinking it’s for his own good?”

“Of course.” Luna nodded with a confident expression. “After the Kremlin’s security, I know their tricks.”

“Good. Then let’s start.” Hermione looked at her friend. “Ron, please take Luna and me there so we can get the others.”

“What if they do notice you arriving?” Sirius asked.

He had a point. It was not very likely, but it didn’t pay to underestimate the Russians - they hadn’t expected an alarm under Putin’s carpet that wasn’t connected to the security system, either. On the other hand, some things you couldn’t really deal with. Or had to deal with. “Then we withdraw and see where they’ll take Dumbledore next.”

“Let’s go,” Hermione repeated herself. “We’ll be right back,” she added with a smile at Ron.

A moment later, she, wizarding Ron and wizarding Luna had disappeared.

“I wish I had learned Russian,” Luna commented. “I could do so much more if I understood the language.”

“Me too,” Ron replied. No magic and no Russian. He really needed to pull his weight.

*****​

Hidden Bunker, Outside Moscow, Russia, February 3rd, 2006

Compared to the bunker beneath the Kremlin, this one was a step down, in Ron’s opinion. Not only with regards to the security system - the sensors and cameras in this bunker hadn’t been nearly as numerous, nor as difficult to deal with, as the ones in Putin’s office and there were no ultrasound detectors that would catch invisible shrunken wizards on flying brooms - but also with regards to amenities.

Bare concrete, cots instead of beds and the bathrooms had a distinct ‘forties’ look - although they looked well-maintained, nothing like what Ron had seen working for CI5 in some of the poorer sections of London.

On the other hand, the lack of a fake ceiling in which to set up camp was a hindrance to their efforts to penetrate this bunker’s security. Instead of standing on a solid floor, they were stuck to the wall with conjured and disillusioned balconies, as if they were mountaineers bivouacking in the Eiger-Nordwand.

Ron spent as much time on a broom as he could - the thought of standing, much less resting on an invisible platform that was conjured out of thin air and might disappear with a single spell was unnerving.

At least Luna wasn’t affected - she was stuck in the biggest tent, hacking into the Soviet-era computers, last he had checked.

But it was getting late in the afternoon, and time was starting to run short. Dumbledore was visibly tiring, or at least that’s what it looked like to Ron.

He flew another loop, staying well away from the half a dozen guards in the room - subduing them would be a pain as well, but should be possible with Dumbledore’s help - and checked the entrance. The door was open and more guards were waiting outside. Four, no secretary. He wanted to fly out and look for their relief, but he wasn’t a wizard - if the door closed behind him, he wouldn’t be able to return using Apparition. He would have to wait until someone found him, and that would be embarrassing.

Although… he narrowed his eyes when Dumbledore spoke up, and suddenly, two guards were leaving, and two more entered before the process repeated itself. Obviously, they had received their orders - possibly marching orders. But that would mean…

He flew back to the camp, feeling around for a moment until he found the invisible tent, then snuck in and announced himself. “There you are!” Hermione greeted him. “We’re almost done.”

“So I thought when I saw Dumbledore handing out orders that made the guards jump,” he replied.

“Yes. Luna’s positive that she’ll have cracked their security soon, so we told Dumbledore, and he ordered the others to be brought to him.”

“Ah.” He had expected - and hoped - for that. Things were coming to a head, then. Finally. “So how do we do this?”

Hermione sighed. “With six guards to take out, we’ll have to split them up.”

Ron nodded, not that she could see him since he was still disillusioned. “Unless you want to use the twins’ gadgets.”

“Most of them aren’t subtle enough,” she retorted. “And the rest are too dangerous for us. They were made to take out Death Eaters, not capture muggles without harming them.”

“They would be very convenient, though, if we need to incapacitate the entire bunker.”

“And start a war,” she replied in a flat voice.

“Not if we blame internal rivals for it,” he said. And with Polyjuice Potion, they probably could. Of course, that’d also mean the mission was a failure.

“Let’s avoid making things worse,” she said.

“I’ve got it!” Luna announced. “Everything is ours!”

*****​

Half an hour later, Ron was observing from above again as Dumbledore got up, said something in Russian, and headed towards the bathroom with two guards in tow. He stopped, pointed at a third and ordered the man to come as well. Good.

The remaining three guards didn’t seem to suspect anything - they started chatting in Russian, in whispers, as soon as Dumbledore left. Ron thought they were talking about Putin, but he wasn’t entirely sure.

It didn’t matter - ten minutes later, Dumbledore returned with the guards and this time, he closed the door to the room behind them.

That made the other guards react, but too late - the three guards with Dumbledore hit them with a Stunning Spell each, and down they went. A moment later, Wizarding Luna, full-sized, faded into view at the door. “No one will disturb us until I end the charm. Hurry, though.”

Ron didn’t need to be told twice. He flew in front of her face, touching her nose, and she ended the Disillusionment Charm on him, and then undid the Shrinking Charm.

Then it was his turn to drink Polyjuice Potion and impersonate one of the remaining guards.

*****​

Ron just had to stand still and keep quiet. Easy. Guards weren’t meant to talk, after all. Unless it was to check passphrases. Or sound an alert. Which they wouldn’t need to do here. It was so easy, anyone could do it. But waiting for their first target to arrive, hoping the other guards wouldn’t be suspicious? When he couldn’t really do anything to influence matters? That was hard.

If only he spoke Russian… well, no. Even in that case, he’d have to stay quiet since his speech pattern would give him away - he wasn’t a spy trained to impersonate others. Or a wizard with experience passing as someone else. He did have experience working undercover, but it wasn’t really the same.

Well, he wasn’t the only one. Harry and Sirius were in the same boat. But at least the three of them knew how to carry and handle a gun - wizarding Harry and wizarding Ron were holding theirs a little sloppily. The two wizards not only had to stand still, but they also couldn’t touch anything either - he almost snorted remembering the quick instruction the wizards had been given by Sirius.

His eyes strayed to Hermione. Who currently looked like a burly Russian soldier. A male soldier. Now that was a weird sight. Standing still, one couldn’t tell that it was her, but if she moved, it showed. And watching a Russian guard walk like a woman was remarkable. Slightly unnerving, but remarkable.

Perhaps she didn’t have much experience with Polyjuice Potion, either. In fact, now that Ron thought about it, could this be a possible niche? One didn’t need a wand to drink a potion, after all.

On the other hand, without the language skills, even using Polyjuice Potion, he would be limited to British and, perhaps, American cover identities. And not Australian ones - Ron had never managed to get that particular accent right.

He glanced at the corner, where the hidden base was, now also serving as a holding area for six shrunken and sedated guards and one sedated, shrunken president. No hint of their presence. Good.

He heard a knock at the door and took a deep breath, standing straighter, as Dumbledore asked something in Russian. The door opened, and one of the real guards appeared, saluting. And announcing something - Ron recognised the tone.

Ah. Behind the guard stood their first target. Pavel Turgenev. Officially, the man was merely part of Putin’s party cadre. Unofficially, he was Putin’s liaison to the private sector - both criminal and otherwise. The man who would pass on Putin’s ‘suggestions’ if the Russian president wanted to keep his hands clean of any possible backlash.

Turgenev looked nervous, Ron noticed as the Russian entered. He was good at hiding it, but Ron had watched dozens of hardened criminals be interrogated; he knew the signs. Of course, if a Russian president survived an assassination attempt and now wanted answers, anyone would be nervous if they were called in, wondering if they might have been framed. Or wondering if an investigation into the attack had uncovered their own machinations.

Dumbledore, for a change, wasn’t smiling at the man, but merely nodded at the chair in front of his desk, which only seemed to further unnerve the man.

Then Hermione waved her wand at the door, and wizarding Ron pointed his at Turgenev.

“Incarcerous.”

Ropes appeared out of nowhere and wrapped themselves around the Russian, tying him to the chair.

“I’m afraid, Mr Turgenev, the real President Putin is currently indisposed,” Dumbledore announced with a beaming smile.

The man gasped, then yelled - for help, presumably.

They let him yell for a few seconds until he realised that no one was reacting. No one was hearing him.

“Magic,” Dumbledore said, tilting his head. “A very powerful tool, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Magic?” Turgenev replied. He barely had an accent, Ron noted.

“Magic.” Dumbledore nodded.

Whatever the Russian was about to say died on his tongue when the paper on the desk suddenly turned into a miniature elephant. Moments like these made Ron wonder if Hermione’s claim that memory modifications were easier on shocked people was actually true.

And Hermione was already sitting in front of the captive, vial in hand. Once again, resistance proved to be futile and Turgenev started to spill his guts - though not literally. However, after what they heard en passant, Ron wouldn’t have minded much if that had been the case. At least the Russian hadn’t spilled the secret to anyone else - but he had records at home. Assurance or an ace up his sleeve? Ron didn’t care. “We need to get the records and alter them,” he said.

“Miss Lovegood?” Dumbledore spoke up. “Could you do that with Mr Wealsey?”

*****​

Outskirts of Moscow, Russia, February 3rd, 2006

They couldn’t apparate to Turgenev’s house, but it hadn’t been hard to find - not even when flying on a broom while shrunken. For all that the Russian was supposed to hold a rather unimportant position in the party, and none in government, Ron thought his villa would not be out of place amongst some of the more modest oligarchs’.

“Let’s circle it,” he whispered to wizarding Luna, who was flying their broom. In theory, they could just fly to the window of Turgenev’s office and apparate inside, but he wanted to have a better idea of the lay of the land before entering. According to Turgenev, there shouldn’t be any traps, and the sensors shouldn’t detect them at their current size, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

The front of the house was normal - what you would expect from the home of a rich Russian. The back, though, and the garden… Ron knew he had made a mistake as soon as he saw the cages holding a bear and a tiger.

“Those poor dears!” wizarding Luna exclaimed. “We’ll have to save them!”

Yes. They should have apparated directly into the office. “We need to get the documents Turgenev left in his office,” Ron told her. “We can’t just steal two animals. Huge carnivorous animals, to be precise.”

“Of course not!” Wizarding Luna’s hair hit him in the face as she apparently nodded. “We can’t steal them - that would be wrong. They deserve to be free!”

Oh no. “But we’re on a mission… we don’t have the time to…”

“Then we’ll need to hurry!”

And the witch steered their broom into a steep dive, directly towards the tiger’s cage.

“Stop!” Ron yelled. “There are cameras! We need a plan!”

They came to a stop well short of the cage, though the tiger was now looking directly at them. Good hearing, Ron assumed. Or it had smelt them.

But he had to be quick. “We need to get the documents first. As soon as the animals disappear, they’ll sound the alarm.” A Siberian tiger and what looked like a grizzly out and about in the outskirts of Moscow would draw half the militia.

“That would be a good distraction!”

“They’d shoot them.”

“We’re not going to actually set them free here,” wizarding Luna retorted. “They need to be released in their native habitat. But if the police think that they are loose around here, they’ll be very distracted.”

She wasn’t wrong, but… “We won’t need a distraction if no one notices us.”

“But we have all of Fred and George’s inventions to use!”

“They’re for emergencies,” he told her. “Let’s go get the documents before we lose any more time!”

He heard her huff, but she gripped his hand and apparated them into Turgenev’s office before setting the broom down on the man’s desk. As soon as Ron dismounted, he felt himself growing rapidly until he stood on the desk in his natural - or what was natural for the Russian he was impersonating - size. Fortunately, he was still disillusioned.

With Turgenev’s information, taking the documents was easy enough without triggering the alarm guarding the secret compartment inside the fake fireplace. “I’ve got them!”

“Good. Now let’s replace them with fake ones! And then we save Brian and Theo!”

She had named the animals. Great. But Ron took the fake documents hinting at some scandal relating to Putin and hid them where the originals had been.

“Now we need a plan to get the animals without being seen,” he said. “We can cover the cameras, but that will alert the guards.”

“We’ll be gone before they arrive!”

“And we need a place to take the animals to,” Ron went on.

“A Lovegood is always prepared to give a poor animal a new home!” wizarding Luna told him, holding up what looked like a cardboard box.

He blinked. It was a cardboard box…

“We’ll shrink them and put them in here. So: cover the cameras with a Colour-Splash Spell, shrink the animals, put them in the box and go back!”

Try as he might, Ron couldn’t find fault with that plan.

Half a minute later, the fault found him as he tried to capture a real miniature tiger that was far faster than anticipated - and tigers were already fast - and which could very easily slip through the bars of its cage.

And when he finally managed to catch it with a well-timed jump - having a different body made hunting anything harder than expected - it bit and scratched his hand.

Wizarding Luna, meanwhile, was apparently - he couldn’t see her, but he heard her - tickling the shrunken bear she held in her hands without any trouble.

A few more scratches and a lot of cooing later, both animals were in the cardboard box - in separate compartments - and they were ready to leave. Finally. Wizarding Luna took his hand, and then they disapparated.

And reappeared in Putin’s new office. Ron stumbled and almost fell - but that was probably the fault of being in the wrong body.

“Miss Lovegood. Mr Weasly. Welcome back,” Dumbledore said. “I trust the mission was a success?”

He was seated behind the desk, looking a little tired - not that Ron was able to tell for sure, not knowing how a tired Putin looked. The others were seated as well - mostly on the ground - and Turgenev was slumped on a chair, drooling a little. Apparently, Hermione was done with him.

“Oh, yes!” Wizarding Luna beamed at the old man before Ron could say anything. “We liberated Brian and Theo!”

“Brian and Theo?” Hermione asked.

“Brian and Theo!” Wizarding Luna pulled the cardboard box out of an enchanted pocket and held it up. “Bian’s the brown one, Theo’s the striped one!”

“A tiger? And a bear? And you brought them with you?” Hermione, even still disguised as - shape-shifted into - a Russian man, sounded shocked.

“We couldn’t leave them behind!” Wizarding Luna shook her head. “They were in small cages. And we couldn’t set them free so far from their natural habitat.”

Ron shrugged as Hermione looked at him. She hadn’t expected him to stop wizarding Luna, had she?

“I’m certain that we can find a good place for them - once we’re done here,” Dumbledore said as he took another sip from his vial of Polyjuice Potion. “But we need to focus on our next visitor, now that you’re back.”

Ron nodded.

Hermione sighed. “At least tell me that you secured the animals.”

“Oh, yes!” wizarding Luna told her. “The box is enchanted.”

It was still a cardboard box, though. Ron sighed.

“I’ll show them to the others!” wizarding Luna announced. She waved her wand, then started to shrink. Next to the cardboard box, which wasn’t shrinking.

The miniature Luna must have realised the slight flaw in her plan as well since Ron saw her staring at the box with a cocked head. After a few seconds, she disapparated without the box.

Then she returned, holding Ginny’s and Luna’s hands, and turned the cardboard box transparent.

“Luna!” Hermione whispered, “This is not a zoo!”

Ron sighed and turned to Dumbledore. “We managed to exchange the documents.”

“Splendid!” Dumbledore smiled widely. “Then let’s send our exhausted friend here on his way, and receive the next man on the list. We cannot drag this out forever, after all.”

No, they couldn’t, Ron silently agreed. “Once the cardboard box is gone.”

“Of course.”

Ron’s counterpart picked up the box and stuffed it into one of his pockets.

And then Turgenev was woken up and sent out before Dumbledore called the next visitor in.

*****​

“...and done!” Hermione announced as she straightened, stashing her wand.

Ron felt relief fill him. Relief and exhaustion. This meant that the only Russian left who knew about Hermione’s origins was Pavel Ivanovich, the military attache at the Russian embassy in London. And it also meant that they had been at this for a long time now - it was close to midnight. The other guards were probably wondering what was wrong and why there hadn’t been a shift change. Dumbledore playing a paranoid Putin could only explain things so far - it was time to get out. Before Dumbledore collapsed, and they had to spring him from a clinic - even if he was feeling twenty years younger, that still put him near retirement age, after all.

So, the moment had come to return the guards and Putin, of course. The guards could probably explain away the changes in procedure. Fortunately, with their memories, and their records, erased and replaced, it wouldn’t matter much whether or not they could clear themselves.

Confusion to the enemy, as the toast went - a little infighting in the Kremlin and the FSS and FIS would only help to obfuscate matters even more. Between trying to pass the blame for falling for Dumbledore’s ruse and for the attack on Putin in his supposedly secure underground office, the Russians should be kept quite busy for years hunting for imaginary traitors. And Ron didn’t doubt that they would find some.

After all, without Kirikov’s story, treason was the most likely explanation for a group of assassins suddenly appearing and disappearing in the bunker. Heads would roll, and after what Ron had heard from Dumbledore about the results of their interrogations, he hoped a lot of those would be from Putin’s inner circle.

*****​

No 12 Grimmauld Place, London, Britain, February 4th, 2006

“‘Tiger and Grizzly Loose in Moscow’. ‘Feral Beasts Roam Streets of Russian Capital’. ‘Exotic Animals Threaten Population’. ‘Oligarch’s Hobby Endangers People’. ‘Abused Animals Escape’. ‘Military To Hunt Predators’.”

Ron shook his head at the various printed out news reports and even newspapers spread out on the kitchen table in Sirius and Harry’s home. Even the BBC was reporting about the ‘Tiger Hunt’ in Moscow. “Luna’s not going to like that,” he said.

“Why? The animals aren’t in Moscow,” Hermione replied as she made more tea. “They’re in your basement.”

“Sirius’s basement,” Ron corrected her. He might have a permanent guest room here, but he had a flat of his own. “But I meant that her counterpart inadvertently provided Putin with a good excuse for sending soldiers into Moscow.” That way, Putin could have his troops move in without alerting anyone that there had been an attack on him.

“Ah.” She nodded. “That makes sense. But it can’t be helped. And, overall, it won’t change much.”

He shrugged. She was correct, but Luna would still be angry about it. “She’s still pouting about you not ‘adjusting’ Putin’s mind.”

“I did alter his memories,” Hermione retorted. “Just not as much as Luna wanted.” She checked the water and lifted the kettle off the counter.

“To be fair, making him passionate about nature preservation probably wouldn’t have resulted in a catastrophe,” Ron remarked as Hermione filled the teapot.

“It wouldn’t have been worth the risk,” she said with a frown.

Luna obviously disagreed, but Ron didn’t care either way. “As long as she doesn’t try to release the two animals into the garden…”

“It’s not their natural habitat.”

“But she might want to let them exercise.” Ron chuckled at the idea. A tiny tiger and bear running around in the backyard…

Hermione’s eyes widened, and she stood up. “Dear Lord, she would! I’ll talk to her!”

He grabbed her hand. “Please, wait - we can talk to her if she wants to go out back.” Luna would have to pass through the kitchen. Unless her counterpart apparated both of them, but they should know better than to do that in public. Or semi-public, in this case. He smiled at her. “Let’s just enjoy the moment. We’ve been very busy for weeks.”

Hermione set her jaw but then took a deep breath and her expression softened. “Alright,” she said as she returned to her seat.

He reached out and grabbed her hand, gently squeezing for a moment before pulling back.

They spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence.

And, as Ron had expected, the Lunas showed up before he had finished his tea.

“Here you are!” Luna beamed at them. “Can you watch over Theo and Brian for a bit?”

“Us?” Ron didn’t quite stare at them.

“Harry and Ginny aren’t available, Albus is checking with the Shadow Government to make sure our mission against the Russian embassy won’t run into their own covert surveillance, the other Harry and the other Ron are checking out the embassy, and Sirius, uh…”

“...is Sirius.” Ron sighed. “Right. But why can’t you watch them?”

“We need to make a few purchases. And check a few things,” Luna told him.

“For our projects,” wizarding Luna added with a wide smile. “And we wouldn’t want the poor dears to grow bored, all alone in their box.”

A box which, Ron noticed with a glance, had been turned into a miniature habitat. Two habitats, actually.

“I don’t think they notice us,” Hermione told the other two women. “And if they did, they’d probably be stressed by giant humans looking at them.”

The Lunas winced. “Yes, Theo was quite confused, the poor thing,” wizarding Luna said, “when we petted him. But Brian likes it. In any case, I enchanted the lid to only show the sky on their side. But you can shrink yourselves and play with them!”

Playing with a full-sized Siberian tiger and a grizzly? Yeah, right. Ron wasn’t about to commit suicide by pet.

“I think we’ll let them rest a little. They might become stressed, otherwise,” Hermione said with a forced smile.

“You could conjure some miniature deer for them to hunt,” Luna suggested. “That would prepare them for the wilderness and teach them how to feed themselves.”

“But conjured animals wouldn’t actually feed them, so they might learn the wrong lessons.” Hermione was looking a little queasy now.

“So where are you going?”

“The Zoo!” Luna said. “Luna’s never been there, can you imagine?”

“Have fun;” Ron told them with a smile. “Don’t steal the animals, though.”

“Of course not! We need a plan for that, first! Bye!” The Lunas disapparated.

Great.

“So… we’re animal-sitters,” he said, as nonchalantly as he could.

“While the Lunas scout out the location of their next heist.” Hermione shook her head.

“Well, they said they won’t steal any animal before they have a plan,” Ron pointed out. “We can still stop this. Once they’re back.”

“You’re partially responsible for this, you know.” She didn’t sound as if she shared his optimism.

He shook his head. “I did the best I could to rein her in.” No one could’ve stopped wizarding Luna.

She sighed. “I guess no one could’ve stopped her. The Lunas seem to reinforce each other’s more… problematic behaviour.”

“As long as they’re focused on saving nature rather than society,” he replied. “It’s still a problem, but not as bad as it could be.”

She scoffed. “That doesn’t mean it’s a good thing. Merlin’s beard, I almost wish they’d stick to saving the rainforests. At least none of the countries in the area has nuclear weapons.” Shaking her head, she added: “Mind-controlling the Russian president… what were they thinking?”

Everyone from the group probably had been wondering about that. Ron shrugged. “Isn’t that the norm in the other world?” He doubted that the wizards would’ve wanted to have the threat of nuclear annihilation hanging over their heads for decades.

“By people specially trained for it, and supported by portraits serving as spies,” she said. “None of us has the training for this - or the time.”

“We’re lucky that the Cold War is over, then.”

A tiny roar distracted him - Theo the tiger was facing Brian the bear through the transparent barrier separating their habitats. “Do you think we need to feed them?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Hermione replied. “The Lunas didn’t say anything about it, but they might have simply forgotten to tell us - or they might’ve thought we already knew.”

That sounded like the two women, indeed. “I think we should feed them,” he said. “Well-fed animals are less likely to attack people.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” she replied. “And those animals were either raised in captivity or spent significant time in cages. Who knows how that has influenced their behaviour?”

Ron wasn’t a veterinarian, biologist or another expert. “It won’t do any harm, though, will it?”

“I don’t think so. Let’s see what kind of meat Sirius has in the freezer.”

“Why does he have half a cow stuffed into his freezer?” Ron stared at the box, wondering if it would burst at the seams if a wafer-thin mint were added.

“Did he order that to feed the animals?” Hermione asked.

He shook his head. “No. We would’ve noticed the delivery. And this wasn’t stored here recently.” He poked the plastic wrapping.

“I’m not sure if I want to know what he planned to do with it. Perhaps it was a spontaneous purchase?”

That would fit Sirius. Harry’s godfather had a history of spending money on spur-of-the-moment projects - some of Harry’s birthday parties had been very memorable. And had almost made it into several newspapers. “Well, whatever the reason, we’ve got enough meat to feed two hungry predators.”

“True.” She waved her wand, and the meat duplicated once, then once more. “One each should suffice.”

“Once the meat’s thawed.”

Another wave with her wand saw the two pieces shrink. “That should help with that.”

“Ah.” And it should neatly avoid any potential problem with shrunken animals eating normal food, or vice versa - Ron could imagine a number of catastrophic results either way.

“Yes.” She picked up the frozen pieces of meat and carried them into the kitchen.

“Isn’t there a spell for instantly thawing frozen food without losing any of the flavour?” he asked on the way.

“No. Most wizards use spells to keep food fresh.”

“Ah.” That made sense. Sort of.

“And there’s the Warming Charm if you need to thaw something.”

She peered at the box, then at the pieces of meat in her hands. “It should be OK now,” she said before tapping the box’s lid, then dangling the two scraps of meat above the two animals.

Ron hadn’t known that bears could jump that high. Neither had Hermione, since she shrieked and dropped the meat. Then she shrieked again when the tiger jumped up and clawed her other hand.

Both animals shredded the meat quite messily. “I don’t think that they were fed,” Ron commented.

“Or they are used to eating more,” Hermione added, using her wand to heal the scratches on her hands. “They look a little fat.”

Ron took a closer look, wincing at the feeding frenzy, then shrugged. He didn’t know how slim or fat a grizzly or tiger should be. “Well, they look happy, I think.”

“Crookshanks is slimmer than Theo, and he’s a little overweight. My parents didn’t enforce his diet.”

“Isn’t he also getting old?” She got him twelve years ago, didn’t she? Ron thought so, at least.

“He’s in his best years for a half-Kneazle.”

“Ah.”

“And normal cats can easily live to be twenty years old.”

Ron nodded again, then closed the lid. “I think they’re fine. And I’m not going to be shrunk and step in there.”

“I won’t either,” Hermione replied before finishing her tea.

“So…” Ron started, then trailed off. They had to talk about their future, but he didn’t feel like doing so right now.

“So?”

“Now everyone else is busy...” he said.

“Sirius isn’t busy.”

“He knows better than to walk in on a couple,” Ron said, smiling slightly at her.

She grinned back at him. “Ah. That’s what you’re thinking of.”

He shrugged without breaking eye contact. “We’ve been on this mission for weeks.” They’d found time to be intimate, but not as much as Ron would have liked.

“Yes.” She kept looking into his eyes as well. “Carpe diem?”

He nodded.

She stood and walked around the table, then slid into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “So…”

He licked his lips, then leaned forward and they kissed. And forgot all about the mission.

Until the sound of Apparition startled them. Hermione gasped, drawing her wand, and Ron had his pistol halfway out of its holster before he realised it was wizarding Harry with Dumbledore.

Neither of them smiled at the situation they had walked in - or apparated in - on. They were dead serious. Ron felt his stomach drop.

“Dr Granger, Mr Weasley, we have a situation,” Dumbledore said. “President Putin had his people in the embassy arrest Mr Ivanovich. They’re about to move him to the airport to transport him back to Russia.”

“Oh, no,” Hermione gasped.

Ron closed his eyes and sighed through clenched teeth.

It seemed that their plan to make Putin chase shadows had worked a little too well.

*****​

She shook her head as she studied the small cove below her. A ferry! Why would they use a boat - and a small one - to transfer prisoners to Azkaban? Just because that’s how things had always been done since they started using the prison? The bigots’ mindless reliance on tradition would be their undoing!

Not that she was complaining, not really. But such stupidity angered her on principle. Even if it benefited them. Like today, when Dirk Cresswell was to be transported to Azkaban. The former head of the Goblin Liaison Office, whose only fault had been being a muggleborn. And a competent muggleborn, of course - he wouldn’t have been promoted to department head otherwise.

“No movement yet,” she whispered - they were flying far above the sea, disillusioned, but she still shied away from talking loudly. “And it’s past the departure time.”

“Yes,” Ron confirmed.

“Technical difficulties?” Harry joked.

“No,” Ron replied, “they’re just lazy and late.”

“Good for us,” she said. “If they aren’t as alert as… there!”

A small boat was leaving the boathouse in the centre of the cove. Three men were sitting there, and a fourth was lying on the floor. Cresswell. The one human wizard who knew things about Gringotts even Bill didn’t.

“I’ll take the one in the bow,” Ron said.

“I’ll take the middle one,” Harry added.

Which left the one at the stern for her. “I’ll take the one at the back.”

“Let’s do it!” Harry said.

She saw the markers indicating her friends’ positions diving towards the sea and followed them, wand already aimed at the Hit-Wizard at the back of the boat.

*****​

 

Chapter 57: The Interception

No 12 Grimmauld Place, London, Britain, February 4th, 2006

“They’ve arrested their own attaché at the embassy?” Hermione blurted out. “And we need to spring him from a diplomatic transport?”

“Indeed. Needless to say, the situation is very delicate,” Dumbledore replied.

“More ‘delicate’ than kidnapping the Russian president?” Ron asked.

“Touché, Mr Weasley,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “However, operating on British soil does add some complications. Our country is, after all, responsible for the safety of the embassy staff.”

“Even if they are being forcefully returned to their country for enhanced interrogation?” Ron shook his head.

“You mean to be tortured,” Hermione added.

“The Russians would certainly milk any incident for all that it’s worth,” Dumbledore said, “especially to divert attention from their disgraceful attack on us.”

“But we can’t let Putin interrogate Ivanovich!” Hermione protested. “It would undo all our efforts.”

Dumbledore nodded. “And President Putin would then certainly become aware of more of our capabilities than he currently is. Worse, should he decide that he cannot defend himself against mental manipulation…”

Ron drew hissing breath. “If he thinks we could easily do the same thing again…” Hell, no!

“What?” wizarding Ron asked. “What would he do?”

“It’s not certain, but if he fears that we could take control of Russia by mind-controlling its government, he might think a preemptive strike is his best option.” Hermione had grown rather pale.

“Well, I think it could be reasonably said that we’ve already attacked him,” Dumbledore said, “so this would be more of a retaliatory, rather than preventive or pre-emptive, attack.”

“I don’t think the technical details matter,” Ron said. Not when they were, in the worst case, talking about a nuclear exchange.

“Indeed, I agree, they would not matter. But it is of the utmost importance that Mr Ivanovich does not reach Russia,” the old spymaster said. “No matter what.”

“You mean we should kill him?” wizarding Ron said. He didn’t seem very concerned about the prospect.

“Preferably in a way that doesn’t look like an attack by ourselves or our allies.” Dumbledore inclined his head. “But we should focus on extracting him. If he merely vanishes, that should fuel President Putin’s paranoia.”

“And you’d offer him sanctuary in exchange of information?” Ron asked.

“After his memories have been suitably tweaked. I don’t think Her Majesty’s Secret Service should be told the truth about this affair.”

“No, I guess not,” Ron agreed.

“Yes. I’d rather not have to deal with more spies,” Hermione added.

“So, we apparate into the plane, stun everyone, grab him and vanish again?” wizarding Ron asked.

“I have no doubt that the people in the plane - sent directly from Russia by President Putin - will be ready for an attack,” Dumbledore retorted. “And leaving a plane with stunned crew and security personnel seems a little too public for a mission that requires discretion.”

“They wouldn’t suspect a thing,” Ron’s counterpart protested.

“I think you underestimate them - and President Putin. Should the Russians miraculously lose Mr Ivanovich at the airport, they would be interrogated extensively - something, unless I am mistaken, which could affect an obliviated memory.”

“Yes,” Hermione chimed in. “We can’t just kidnap Ivanovich and obliviate everyone. We need to kidnap him in a way that won’t require memory modification.”

“Attack the car on the way to the airport?” Ron suggested. “We’ve got plausible deniability, and we could probably stage things so that they’ll suspect a Russian faction is behind it.” Luna probably knew a few oligarchs that would deserve being investigated by the FSS and FIS.

“Their route will doubtless be covered extensively by cameras - Her Majesty’s Government has become very fond of public surveillance since I retired,” Dumbledore told him. “I don’t think we could plan an attack on the fly that wouldn’t run afoul of the surveillance at some point.”

“But infiltrating an aeroplane would be even more difficult, wouldn’t it?” Ron’s counterpart said.

“I’ve got a few ideas about that, actually.” Dumbledore flashed a sly smile. “But I think we should call the others.” he checked his watch. “The plane is still an hour out. I can have it delayed a little longer if needed. But our time is not unlimited.”

That meant disturbing Harry and Ginny. And Ron knew who would have to do that. Great. He sighed and stood. “I’ll get Harry and my sister.”

“I’ll fetch Sirius,” Hermione said.

“I’ll call Miss and Miss Lovegood,” Dumbledore added, pulling out a mobile phone from his jacket.

*****​

Ron knocked three times on Harry’s door, then called out: “Harry? Ginny? It’s me, Ron!”

“Go away!” he heard the faint voice of his sister reply.

“What’s happened?” Ron’s friend was more sensible, of course, and had already realised that something had gone wrong.

“We’ve got a situation. Come to the living room,” he told them.

“That will take…”

“How urgent is it?” Harry asked, interrupting Ginny. That wouldn’t improve her mood.

“Very urgent,” Ron replied. “See you there.”

He quickly went to the living room, where Hermione and the others had gathered. Sirius was leaning against the fireplace, Dumbledore was sitting at the table, the Lunas occupied one of the couches, Ron’s counterpart was occupying an armchair and Hermione had been waiting at the door.

“They’re coming,” he announced.

“Good. Mr Potter is still monitoring the situation,” Dumbledore said. “The car is expected to leave as soon as the plane gets permission to land. Which has been slightly delayed thanks to an acquaintance of mine.”

And there came Harry and Ginny - in wrinkled, hastily pulled on clothes. Ron almost had a flashback to that memorable evening when Molly and Arthur had decided to make a surprise visit following a reception in London.

“Not a word,” Ginny hissed as she walked past him - she must have remembered that evening as well.

He still smirked - at her and Harry’s backs.

Dumbledore quickly filled them in. “As I’ve already told the others, President Putin had Mr Ivanovich arrested and has sent a plane to transport him back to Russia for what I believe will be a very thorough, possibly enhanced, interrogation. They’ll be transporting him to the airport any minute now. Interception en route is not advisable due to the risk of being observed and collateral damage. Attacking the plane at the airport is equally inadvisable.”

“Infiltrate the plane and strike mid-flight?” Harry suggested.

“I believe after our mission in Moscow, they will have strict protocols in place that will make it difficult to infiltrate the plane.” Dumbledore inclined his head. “And given the lengths to which they went to hermetically seal off President Putin’s office, I believe that infiltrating the plane is, while not impossible, not our best course of action.” He smiled. “No, I think it would be best to use a few of Messrs Weasley’s marvellous magical devices.”

Ron heard Hermione groan next to him.

“Oh! They will be so happy to hear that! Which one are we using?” Wizarding Luna clapped her hands together, bouncing on her seat.

“I was thinking of combining the Skiving Snackboxes with the delivery system of the Deadly Distractions,” Dumbledore said.

Oh. Oh! “You want the crew to get sick and have them land at a German airport,” Ron said.

“Precisely.” Dumbledore nodded at him. “They will, even if impaired by a magical illness, pick an airport at random - within the confines of German Air Traffic Control - and, therefore, not expect a trap on the very tarmac there.”

“And if they won’t land on German - or Belgian - soil?” Hermione said. “The Skiving Snackboxes are, ultimately, harmless.”

“In that case, the more lethal selections of the Deadly Distraction should ensure that the plane, and with it, Mr Ivanovich, don’t reach Russia.” Dumbledore wasn’t smiling any more.

“But…” Hermione bit her lower lip.

“We cannot risk President Putin realising that his mind and memory have been manipulated,” the old man said.

“He’d launch nukes. No, he’d have a nuke or three delivered by ‘Islamist terrorists’,” Sirius said.

Dumbledore tilted his head. “I’m not convinced that it would lead to a nuclear attack - although in such a situation, the surviving members of Her Majesty’s Government wouldn’t be fooled by such a ruse - but President Putin would be forced to react to the perceived threat, and an escalating conflict between two nuclear powers would be an almost certainty.” He looked at the others in the room. “We cannot let that plane reach Russia with Mr Ivanovich on board as long as his memories remain unchanged.”

“I’ll prepare the devices,” Hermione said.

“No. let me do it,” Ron’s counterpart cut in. “I know them best, and you can work on how to smuggle them aboard a muggle aeroplane.”

Ron saw Hermione stiffen for a moment, then she nodded - still a little reluctantly. “Yes, you’re right. Here.” She handed the other Ron the devices under discussion. The wizard looked a little surprised - but pleased.

“We’ve got blueprints of the plane, but we have to assume that it was modified,” Dumbledore said. “Nevertheless, there are limits to the sort of modifications you can make to a plane without damaging crucial components. Fortunately, that includes the ventilation system and cockpit.”

Ah. That sounded like a workable plan. A plan that would, if it worked, avoid the cold-blooded murder of the aircrew and Ivanovich. And the risk of the plane crashing into a populated area - Lockerbie had proven that just because something was unlikely didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen.

But it was a mission for wizards and witches.

He pressed his lips together, briefly clenching his teeth. What mattered was that the mission succeeded, not who did it. The lives of his whole family depended on this. Perhaps the lives of countless families, should the worst occur.

But… “So we’ll be moving to Germany?” Ron asked,

“To a staging area, yes,” Dumbledore replied. “Ready to strike. It would be best if President Putin never noticed our ruse - and our manipulation - but if we can’t achieve that, we should at least avoid any hint of advanced technology or magic. We don’t want him to even begin to suspect that we have means at our disposal that he can’t match.”

“We’re going to impersonate paramedics?” Harry asked.

“A sort of assistant Healer,” Hermione explained to her friends in a low voice.

“Those who can play that role convincingly,” Dumbledore said. Which excluded all the wizards and witches except for Hermione. And definitely included Harry and Ron, since they had received a remarkably comprehensive first aid course while working for CI5. Remarkably useful, too, given Harry’s tendency to bite off more than he could chew.

Ron wondered - privately, and not for the first time - if this was just coincidence, or if Dumbledore had read him like a book.

The old man smiled at Ron as he got up from the chair. “Let’s go, then!”

*****​

Heathrow, London, Britain, February 4th, 2006

“Oh! That’s a huge aeroplane! I didn’t know they built them that big!” wizarding Luna exclaimed.

Ron glanced at the plane at which she was pointing. “That’s an Airbus A380,” he told her. “The biggest passenger plane ever built.”

“Oh! We should fly in one!”

Wizarding Luna was selling their cover very well - mostly because she was genuinely enthusiastic about the planes. Ron smiled as she stared at a Boeing 747, trying to compare its size to the Airbus. It also made it easier for him to play his role.

And it made it easier for Ron to watch and wait while the others risked their lives.

He would probably never grow used to watching his friends go on a dangerous mission without feeling guilty about staying safely home - or, in this case, on an observation platform disguised as a plane spotter. It wasn’t a bad thing, he’d found - he wouldn’t become another Dumbledore shuffling people, and even friends, around in his games.

“They’re going in,” Luna reported. Unlike Ron, she’d already been shrunk and was in the van serving as a staging ground - in case the wizards and Hermione suddenly needed a hacker.

He tensed. He couldn’t help it. Even with magic, so much could go wrong. What if it was a trap? Putin might be willing to sacrifice a plane and its crew to get them. And to put pressure on Britain for an ‘unprovoked attack’. Perhaps they had carbon monoxide dispensers to kill vermin and insects entering the plane? Wait, Bubble-Head Charms would prevent that.

He sighed - he had spent too much time watching paranoid Russians; he was starting to think like them.

Although that might also just be Moody’s training coming to the fore in this sort of situation.

He studied the smaller jet in the corner. So far, the guards outside hadn’t reacted as though they suspected anything. And those crew members of whom he could catch glimpses through the windows didn’t seem to be fighting anyone, either.

He slowly released his breath - it seemed as if this part of the plan was working.

*****​

Flughafen Tegel, Berlin, Germany, February 4th, 2006

“Isn’t this cutting it a little too close?” Ginny asked as they disembarked from the Phoenix Gruppe private jet. “If the fake illness doesn’t work, they’ll be halfway to Russia before the lethal stuff kicks in.”

“That means they’ll crash in Poland,” Ron told her. “And that means there’ll likely be trouble between Poland and Russia as a result.” Something Grindelwald probably wouldn’t mind at all. “Besides, we needed the time to overtake them so we’d have enough of a margin to set up things here.” Fortunately, the Russian jet wasn’t nearly as fast as the VIP transports of Phoenix Gruppe. It wasn’t as if they could leave such an operation to others - Dumbledore’s assets could still be compromised, and that threat would remain until he managed to dose every suspect with Veritaserum.

“Then let’s get on with it,” Ginny said. “We need to be disguised as good little German paramedics, right?”

“The uniforms depend on where exactly the jet lands,” Harry reminded her.

“I can still put on my wig and makeup - and yours!” Ron’s sister retorted with a toothy smile.

“You could use Polyjuice Potion; then you wouldn’t have to bother with that,” Ron’s counterpart chimed in.

“And we would be endangering innocent muggles,” Hermione told him as she left the jet. “Putin would hunt them down and interrogate them. Now let’s go and get ready.”

*****​

Twenty minutes later, they were back in the plane, putting on makeup while the aircraft was being refuelled - just in case the Russian plane ended up somewhere unexpected. According to their flight plan, the Russians would be near Berlin when the Skiving Snackboxes kicked in, but the pilots might be too stubborn to land at the first opportunity. Or use a pretext to refuse to land at the airport to which the German air traffic control would reroute them after they reported an in-flight medical emergency.

They should have split up - sending a wizard or witch to each corner of Germany, so they could gather the others rapidly anywhere nearby, but they didn’t have more than one fast jet ready.

Well, they’d manage. If they couldn’t impersonate an ambulance crew, they’d get to their target in a clinic. And Berlin was the best choice to gather, since there they would be able to stop the Russians from disappearing into their embassy.

“There!” Ginny declared. “You now look like a Spaniard.”

Ron checked a mirror and frowned. “I look like someone with a bad spray-on tan.”

“It’ll look good enough on camera,” she retorted. “Besides, it matches the fake moustache.”

“It doesn’t look bad,” Hermione chimed in with an encouraging but not entirely honest-looking smile.

“Thanks,” Ron told her, deadpan.

“Hey! I did all the work,” Ginny objected.

He turned to her “Thanks,” he repeated himself.

“Hey!”

“Now please do my makeup.” Hermione stepped forward.

That seemed to distract, if not mollify, Ginny, and Ron focused on his gear. A stun gun, obviously, was perfect for the close quarters he expected. A pistol in case they had to shoot it out. A knife, as always. Flash-bang grenades? Couldn’t hurt.

He smirked at his own joke, then went through the magical equipment. Potions first, then the more exotic items.

By the time he was done, Hermione’s skin tone matched the platinum-blonde wig she was wearing. Ron frowned. “Is that one of Ginny’s wigs?”

“Yes,” Hermione confirmed, “Why?”

He sighed. “That’s from one of her old costumes. She once went to a costume party as one of her Russian competitors.”

Ginny sniffed. “My fans loved it!”

“They loved the pictures.” He looked at Hermione. “There was a pool.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’. That was Harry’s reaction as well, I think.”

Ginny huffed and went to the back of the plane, where Harry, whom she had disguised first, was going through more gear.

Then Dumbledore interrupted them. “I hate to interrupt, but I’ve just received news: The Russian plane has announced a medical emergency and been diverted to Berlin-Tegel.”

“Great!” Ron smiled widely. That was the perfect airport for their mission. Finally, something was going according to plan!

But they had to hurry. He grabbed the paramedic uniform used by Berlin’s emergency services and stuffed it in a sports bag, then left the plane and headed to one of the waiting SUVs. Ginny was already there, in the driver’s seat.

Luna’s voice sounded over the radio: “According to the tower, the Russians are on final approach. They’ll land in fifteen minutes.”

That would be cutting it close. Quite close. The prepared ambulance was in a garage about ten minutes away. If you drove quickly. Ginny gunned the engine as soon as Harry and Hermione had joined him.

“I’m in position,” wizarding Harry reported. He would be on his broom, hovering over the waiting emergency services at the airport.

“I’m almost at the truck!” Sirius said over the radio. “And I’m keeping this bike!”

“I’d prefer to offer you another of the same model, rather than a potentially compromised bike, Mr Black,” Dumbledore told him.

“It wouldn’t be the same. We’re bonding here.”

Ron couldn’t tell if Sirius had made an awful Bond pun or was falling in love with a motorbike. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be able to tell, either.

“The airport’s called for two ambulances,” Luna said.

“They won’t risk handing over Mr Ivanovich to the German authorities,” Dumbledore replied over the radio. “But they might use the pilots and cabin crew as distractions.”

“We only need Ivanovich,” Hermione reminded them. “Keep an eye on where he goes.”

“Or where he is dragged to.” Ron grinned on the way to the garage.

“Two limousines just left the embassy,” wizarding Ron cut in. “I’m following them.”

“The plane’s five minutes out. They’ve got the fire brigade on stand by.” Luna sounded almost like an announcer. “Oh! There’s also the press! Yay!” Or not.

“Oh, goodie!” That was wizarding Luna chiming in. “Think I can join them? I’ve got my press pass from The Quibbler as credentials!”

“I think it’s a little too late to change our plan, Luna.”

“Aw.”

Ron was shaking his head when they entered the private garage, and Ginny brought the SUV to a stop near the waiting ambulance.

Showtime.

*****​

Berlin, Germany, February 4th, 2006

“They’ve touched down…. Looks like… yes, they’re braking,” wizarding Harry reported.

That meant that the Skiving Snackboxes hadn’t impaired the pilots to the point of making them crash the plane. Ron nodded, relieved.

“The ambulances are approaching the jet - and some police officers,” the wizard went on. “And some… soldiers?”

Soldiers? “Perhaps they’re afraid of a biological weapon?” Ron speculated. “An entire crew getting sick… that must be suspicious.”

“I would hope that the German government would be suspicious of the Russians,” Dumbledore said, “but their track record suggests otherwise, unfortunately. Let me check the camera feed… ah. Those are technically soldiers, but I think it would be more appropriate to classify them as special police forces.”

“The GSG9?” Ron asked.

“I cannot confirm their unit from this distance, alas. But it would behove us to assume that they are. Though their presence is likely a coincidence.”

It was a good thing they hadn’t planned to make a move against the plane on the tarmac. Ron didn’t want to tangle with the Grenzschutzgruppe - they’d earned their fame for foiling the Mogadishu hijacking, after all.

“Any sign of Ivanovich?” Harry asked.

“Nothing,” his counterpart replied.

“They won’t move him until the embassy’s limousines have arrived,” Ron said. “Where are they?”

“Stuck in traffic,” wizarding Ron reported. “They’ll take some more time.”

“The journalists are reporting the incident,” Luna said. “Check the local news.”

Ron would, if he spoke German - since the fake ambulance wasn’t equipped with a TV, the only media available would be the radio, which would be in German. “Just fill us in.”

“Oh. They’re just saying what Harry’s already told us.”

“The pilots are leaving the plane - and entering the ambulances.” Wizarding Harry sounded excited. “How much longer for the limousines?”

“They’ve just about reached the airport,” Ron’s counterpart replied. “But the police have stopped them.”

“I have no doubt that their diplomatic immunity will prevail,” Dumbledore said, “but our operation may be a little delayed.”

A little more time to set things up wouldn’t go amiss, in Ron’s opinion. Stressed people made more mistakes, so he’d prefer it if the Russians were the ones being stressed.

Ten minutes later, the limousines approached the plane - apparently, the ambassador himself had intervened. On Putin’s direct orders, no doubt.

“Mr Potter, do you have eyes on Mr Ivanovich?”

“The cabin crew is carrying two people out - but both have their heads covered. I can buzz them and make it look like a gust of wind.”

“I would advise against that,” Dumbledore retorted. “Can you identify one or the other?”

“Cast a diagnosis spell and see which of the two is sedated,” Hermione interjected.

“Good idea!”

A minute later, wizarding Harry reported. “Alright, I stuck the thing you gave me to the car with Ivanovich inside - just as he vomited on to the back bench.”

“Ew!” Luna said. “But I’m tracking the car now. And here are the possible routes.”

“Thank you. Just tell me which car to ram,” Sirius chimed in.

“It’s the one in the back.”

“But check before you ram it,” Hermione added.

“Yes, yes.” Sirius sounded annoyed - and under pressure. “I have done this before, you know.”

“By accident,” Harry told him with a chuckle.

His godfather scoffed. “Just you watch!”

“They’ve left the airport now. Ivanovich is still in the second car.” Ron’s counterpart reported.

“I’m in position,” Sirius said.

“Uh… they’ve changed routes.” Luna said. “They’re… going down another street. You need to move! Sending you the new data!”

“Bloody Russians!” Sirius cursed.

Meanwhile, Ginny had entered the steady stream of traffic with the fake ambulance and was circling the block. Ron tried to track Sirius’s progress on his phone, but it wasn’t fast enough.

“I’m almost at the new position!”

“They’ve changed courses again.”

“Again? I’m going to crush one of the cars beneath this truck!”

“No, you won’t!” Hermione cut in. “Just ram the cars.”

“We’re getting the device out of the plane now,” wizarding Harry said. “Before the other Russians or the police enter.”

“The police shouldn’t be entering the plane,” Luna told him. “It’s flagged as a diplomatic vessel.”

“I sure hope so,” wizarding Harry replied.

Ron gritted his teeth.

“Almost there… I see them!” Sirius announced. “Now they shall reap what they have sowed!”

“No change at the plane,” Luna said - cool as a cucumber, or so it seemed.

“We’ve retrieved the device.”

Then the sound of shrieking metal, screams and an air horn filled their radio channel.

Sirius had driven the truck into the Russian cars.

And Ginny accelerated as if the ambulance were a sports car. Which it definitely wasn’t. But she did her best - or worst - to make it seem that way, taking the next turn at far too high a speed even before she remembered to switch on the siren and warning lights.

They ran a red light across a junction, and a Mercedes slammed on its brakes but still had to steer to the side, ramming a parked BMW. Fortunately, the sirens drowned out the car theft alert.

“Ginny!” Ron snapped. “Try not to get us into an accident on the way to the accident!”

“We need to be there before the cops are!”

“We need to get there, period!”

“I know what I’m doing! Who drove our getaway car in Kosovo?”

“I was shrunken at the time!” Ron retorted, holding on to the roll bar. “And you managed to get Hermione and me thrown out of the car!”

“That was your own fault!”

“Focus on the mission,” Hermione snapped.

They were almost at the accident site, anyway. Just two more hair-raising turns that made Ron wonder if Ginny shouldn’t have become a racing driver. Or if she wore a white suit and helmet on TV.

Then they were slowing down, stopping in front of an impressive display of wrecked cars and torn metal. Sirius had managed to catch the two limousines as planned - when they were waiting at a red light - and rammed the leading car with so much force that it ended up impaled from below by a pillar blocking the pavement before crushing the front of the second car as if it were made out of tin foil.

A crowd already surrounded the wreckage, but Ron couldn’t spot any police yet. They wouldn’t be long, though. He burst out of the ambulance, one hand pulling the stretcher behind him, and yelled: “Platz da! Platz da!”

The crowd parted for him at once, and he rushed towards the second car, which should be carrying Ivanovich. The passenger compartment looked alright - mostly; the driver’s had its door caved in by a sturdy flower pot that had been placed on the pavement - but if the Russians hadn’t secured Ivanovich with a seatbelt…

He pulled on the car’s door, but it was stuck. Harry was already trying the other side, with the same result. Well, there was an alternative. Ron pulled out a small hammer and struck the door window.

It didn’t do much - armoured glass, he realised with a muttered curse. Well, they had come prepared for that. He stashed the hammer and pulled out a much bigger, and much more colourful, one. Smashing Smasher wasn’t the most original or funny name, but it did describe what the thing did perfectly. It took only one blow for the window to crumble to countless small fragments.

And Ron found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. “Diplomatenfahrzeug,” the Russian announced with a heavy accent. “Geh weg!”

Ron wasn’t about to go away. “Ambulanz!” he retorted.

“Geh weg!”

Then Harry smashed the window on the other side. The Russian turned his head, distracted, and Ron grabbed his gun, pointing the muzzle away from him and used it to smash the man’s hand into the remains of the window until the Russian dropped the gun. Then Ron dropped him by grabbing his head and smashing it against the door as well.

The sight of the gun on the ground sent the crowd back. Judging by the growing volume of the murmurs, they were speculating about the Russian mob.

“Hey!” Ron heard, followed by a string of angry Russian from the other car - Russian reinforcements were on the way. And they had their guns drawn. Ron saw three men charging towards him and Harry.

That was too much for the crowd. Panicking, most of them ran away, screaming.

“Hilfe!”

“Die sind bewaffnet!”

“Polizei!”

Ron whirled, drawing as he turned and dropping to one knee. His own gun was pointed at the leading Russian before the man could bring his own to bear, and Ron shot him twice in the chest.

The Russian stumbled back - bulletproof vest. Ron’s next shot hit him in the chin, and he collapsed with a wrecked throat.

On the other side of the car, Harry was shooting as well, but he had a worse angle and the Russian dived for cover.

Then Sirius opened up with a Kalashnikov from the truck’s cabin - behind them.

“The police are on the way!” Luna alerted them.

“Get Ivanovich!” Hermione snapped through the radio.

Ron was already moving to the other side to help Harry drag Ivanovich out. The man was sedated, and dragging a limp man was always a pain.

But together they pulled him through the broken window and back to the ambulance. Sirius was already there.

“Hit it!” Ron yelled as he jumped in after Harry and Ivanovich and closed the doors.

Ginny made the tyres squeal before they shot away.

“So much for delicate and discreet,” Ron muttered as he grabbed the stretcher to keep himself from being thrown around by his sister’s driving.

Sirius, who had wedged himself between the bench and the wall, laughed. “Sometimes, you just have to shoot your way in and out.”

“Luna?” he heard Harry over the radio. “What’re the police doing?”

“They’re still reacting to the shooting,” she replied.

Good. “How’s Ivanovich?” Ron asked.

Hermione, who had been casting spells while steadying herself with a hand on the bar mounted in the ceiling to hang infusions from, replied: “He’s sedated and will have bruises, but otherwise unharmed.”

He’d been lucky, then. Or not, depending on what Dumbledore had planned for the Russian.

“We’re almost at the garage!” Ginny yelled.

Good. Ron ran a scanner over Ivanovich’s body. “No locator beacon as far as I can tell,” he announced.

“The police are looking for an ambulance, now,” Luna reported. “And they’ve upgraded us to terrorists.”

At least they had been prepared for that. If discretion failed, misdirection replaced it, as Dumbledore had said. Once the Germans found the material Sirius had left in the truck, and once they tracked the weapons, the Germans would be looking for Chechen terrorists. Putin would know differently, of course, but the public would blame the Chechens.

He looked out of the tinted rear windows. People were staring as the ambulance turned and entered the small garage. “We’ll be made in a minute, tops,” he told the others as the doors closed behind them.

“We won’t need more than that,” Hermione replied. “Sirius!” She grabbed for the older man’s hand, placed her other hand on the sedated Ivanovich and disapparated.

“Alright, let’s get out and sanitise the ambulance,” Harry said.

Ron chuckled at the unintended pun as he left the ambulance and grabbed a white phosphorus grenade. A Russian model, of course. Kidnapping, and now arson - he was racking up the felonies. Interfering with a criminal investigation, too.

Hermione reappeared and grabbed Ginny and Harry. “I’ll be back!”

Ron nodded, but she had already disappeared. He fired a few shots into the fuel tank of the vehicle. Looking out the small window in the door, he saw that the people on the street were running away. The police would be here soon, then. Not soon enough, though.

He readied the grenade as fuel started to leak.

Hermione reappeared again. “Ron!”

He nodded at her, pulled the pin of the grenade and lobbed it into the ambulance.

Hermione took him away by Side-Along-Apparition before the grenade went off.

*****​

Flughafen Tegel, Berlin, Germany, February 4th, 2006

They reappeared in the hangar where their plane was parked, and Ron managed not to stumble or show any other kind of reaction to the magical travel. He looked round. “Are we…?”

“The hangar’s protected by a Muggle-Repelling Charm,” Hermione told him. “Harry and Ron are on their way to Dumbledore and Grindelwald’s villa, and will come back to fetch us as soon as they reach it.”

“All according to plan, then,” Ron replied.

“Apart from shooting it out with the Russians in a German street during rush hour,” Hermione said, “everything went according to plan, yes.”

Ron chuckled. “No one got hurt - well, none of us.”

She frowned. “I could have stunned them.”

“And tipped off Putin that we’ve got magic? Or really advanced technology?” Harry, who approached them with Ginny, shook his head.

Ron nodded. “And we couldn’t really shoot to wound. Not against special agents.” Who had also been wearing body armour.

“Who cares about a few dead KGB goons?” Sirius shrugged. “I bet Ivanovich wasn’t the first man they’d kidnapped.”

Hermione didn’t look like she agreed, but she didn’t contradict him.

Before anyone else could comment, the Lunas arrived, smiling. “They’ve already found the ambulance and are now locking down the entire area! We’ll have a perfect alibi!” Luna announced. “And we get to see how the German government reacts to potential terrorist attacks.”

“And what would we do with that knowledge?” Ron asked.

“It’s knowledge for knowledge’s sake. Unless the German government turns fascist and we have to fight it.”

“Wouldn’t they change procedures in that case?” Hermione asked.

“Institutional inertia is a thing. Especially in Germany. Or so I’ve been told,” Luna retorted.

“Ah.”

Fortunately, wizarding Harry and wizarding Ron reappeared in the hangar, apparently having reached the villa - or the safe house - already. They took the Lunas, Hermione and Ginny with them.

Half a minute later, the witches and wizards returned to end the spell on the hangar and ferry Ron and the others, as well as Ivanovich, to Dumbledore’s villa.

*****​

Villa Sonnenschein, Outskirts of Berlin, Germany, February 4th, 2006

“Rest assured, the villa’s not connected to the Phoenix Gruppe or Gellert and myself in any way. We’re perfectly safe here,” Dumbledore said as he took a glass of whiskey and a seat in a large yet still cosy living room.

“Good to know,” Harry said. “Putin must be spitting nails. He might retaliate against your group.”

“Oh, he has to retaliate - the Russian public will demand it,” Dumbledore replied. “But with the ‘evidence’ we left, they will focus on the Chechens. And that means Putin will have to move against them to show the Russians that any attack on them will be avenged.”

“So the Chechen will suffer for our mistakes,” Harry said.

“The Chechen terrorists will,” Dumbledore replied. “No great loss. With a little luck, they’ll keep Putin’s forces too busy to bother us.”

“Russian counter-terrorism doesn’t strike me as caring much about civilian victims,” Hermione said with a frown.

“With Germany affected, the eyes of the world will linger for some time on Chechenia. That should curb the Russians’ more indiscriminately violent responses.” The old spymaster smiled.

But would it curb them enough? Ron had his doubts. “What about Ivanovich?” he asked.

“He should regain consciousness soon,” Dumbledore replied. “And then we can debrief him properly.”

“What if Putin blames us for the attack?” Harry asked.

“He can’t do that without drawing attention to his own attacks on us. And he will be worried about what Mr Ivanovich will have told us and done for us, since he, obviously, was a spy rescued by his backers.” Dumbledore grinned. “I have a feeling that Mr Ivanovich would be cooperative since he will now be considered a traitor regardless. Not that we have the time to wait for his cooperation. However, despite anything he might do in the future, Putin will never trust him again.”

So the old spymaster had managed to acquire a Russian turncoat. He might even have planned for this outcome. “And after he’s told us everything he knows?” Ron asked.

“That depends on what he’s done so far,” Dumbledore replied.

Or, Ron thought with more than a little cynicism, whatever would further Dumbledore’s plans better. He didn’t think the Russian would survive for long, though.

Which was a stark reminder that, for all his jovial smiles, Dumbledore wasn’t the harmless old man he liked to portray himself as.

He glanced at Hermione, but she was looking at the books on the shelves behind Dumbledore.

*****​

The Headmaster had a lot of books. A lot. She tried not to be obvious as she looked round and tried to read the words on the books’ spines - tilting her head would give the game away - but she so longed to read then. All of them. That one in the corner was a guide to Alchemy! And this one looked like a first edition of ‘Hogwarts: A History’!

“Have you already finished with the school library, Miss Granger?”

“What?” She gasped. Of course the Headmaster would notice - he was Dumbledore! “I’m sorry, sir, but the books are… fascinating,” she managed to blurt out.

He smiled gently. “Books generally are fascinating. They open new worlds to us, provided we are daring enough to brave them.”

What did that mean? Did he think she was too timid? The Hat had chosen her for Gryffindor, which meant she was brave! “Sir?”

“Not that that would be a flaw of yours, Miss Granger. Quite the contrary, in fact.” His smile didn’t change, but her heart sank into her stomach.

Oh. It looked like last night they hadn’t been as sneaky as they had thought they were. But it had been necessary - Hagrid couldn’t have kept a dragon in a wooden hut. But now they were caught, and it was time to pay. She grimaced. “I need a lawyer, I think.” A good one. Breaking the law against dragon breeding was much, much more serious than breaking curfew!

“Oh, no, Miss Granger - we are merely talking about hypotheticals here. Although should you have suffered a bite as well, please visit the Infirmary before your wound gets as bad as Mr Weasley’s.”

“Hypothetical?” She blinked.

“I am quite sure that you and your friends didn’t smuggle a dragon into and out of Hogwarts.”

Oh. He knew everything. “Sir, it was all my idea!” That would protect Harry and Ron. “From start to finish.”

He held up a hand. “I am familiar with the circumstances, and I approve of your friends’ initiative. You might have picked a better location for the drop, and more planning would not have gone amiss either, but I cannot fault you for having the courage to do what is right instead of what is easy. Too few people, of all ages, have that kind of courage.”

Oh. He was… supporting their actions.

Hermione blinked. That would explain a lot…

*****​

 

Chapter 58: The Interrogation

Villa Sonnenschein, Outskirts of Berlin, Germany, February 4th, 2006

Hermione shook her head, blinking for a moment, before she turned to Dumbledore. “Sorry, sir,” she said, “I was distracted by your library.”

“By its lack of certain subjects, I presume?” Dumbledore replied, smiling. “It wouldn’t be a very good safe house if a single glance at the library would reveal that its owners have a profound and professional interest in spycraft.”

“Does that mean you have a second, secret library?” Hermione asked, and Ron was almost sure that her eyes lit up at the thought.

The old spymaster chuckled. “In a manner of speaking - it’s all digital, though.”

“Oh.” Hermione didn’t quite crumble, but her enthusiasm waned almost as quickly as it had appeared.

Dumbledore inclined his head. “As much as I love handling actual books, like any true bibliophile, digital editions simply have too many advantages when you’re a frequent traveller.”

“And they can be replaced far more easily,” she admitted.

“Provided you have made backups,” Ron pointed out - mostly to take part in the conversation, if he was honest. He wasn’t a bookworm, but he was the most avid reader in his family. And Harry’s.

“That goes without saying,” Dumbledore agreed. “No one should neglect proper electronic security.”

“Too many do, though,” Luna cut in. “Which is a good thing when those who do are people of interest.”

“Indeed. The proliferation of electronic data storage has opened a number of possibilities in my old profession.”

“Your old and current profession,” Ron corrected him.

“Quite, although I see myself more as an interested private citizen these days. An amateur, so to speak.”

“I don’t think that the current administration would agree with that assessment,” Sirius commented.

Dumbledore’s smile became a more sly grin. “They would be mistaken. Technically, of course.”

“Speaking of mistakes,” Sirius said, “how will MI5 and MI6 react to this incident? In your opinion, of course.” Ron had to suppress a grin at Sirius’s sarcastic tone - he wasn’t the only one who was a little tired of Dumbledore’s way with words.

The old man nodded, acknowledging the point. “Privately, I like to believe that they are pleased with what they will see as retaliation for Putin’s attack on Britain. They will also be a little envious, of course, that they hadn’t been the ones to pull this off.”

“Envious enough to move against us?” Harry asked.

“They will attempt to increase the pressure and surveillance, but, thanks to the outcome of our mission, I am optimistic that I can counter such efforts with the offer to share the intel our turncoat will give us.”

“The government won’t be happy, though,” Sirius pointed out.

“Plausible deniability is a two-edged sword, of course. But the unwritten rules of my old and current business are quite clear in that the only thing that matters is success. And, even though we weren’t as discreet as we had planned, we succeeded today.”

“We also created a lot of trouble for Germany and Britain,” Sirius retorted.

“Not as much as we created for President Putin,” Dumbledore replied.

“But won’t he come after us even more determinedly?” Hermione asked.

“I think he won’t, provided we prepare Mr Ivanovich’s memory accordingly.”

So the guy would be sacrificed.

Dumbledore showed his teeth. “Thanks to his position in the Russian embassy in London, Mr Ivanovich was perfectly placed to manipulate both the British and the Russians in order to rise to the top himself. He even managed to convince us poor saps that we should rescue him if things went wrong... only to promptly escape before we discovered the truth about his plans.”

“And Putin will believe that?” Harry didn’t sound as if he was convinced.

“He will already suspect a traitor. His paranoia will prompt him to accept the story, once he has additional evidence and the traitor in custody.” Dumbledore spread his hands. “It will also save some face, so to speak, if one of his own men and not a retired British spy was the mastermind behind the entire affair.”

“Ah.” Sirius nodded. “But if the news spreads, then your former colleagues will think that you were manipulated and deceived as well.”

“Some will, no doubt. Others? They know me too well not to at least doubt such a story.” Dumbledore chuckled. “Not that it matters either way - I’m under no illusion that my sterling record and long career grants me any influence with the current administration, so whether they consider me a mastermind or a gullible old fool won’t matter. Money talks, as the saying goes, and old favours and secrets work as well - or better - in our business.”

“And in Germany as well?”

“As well or better - there were a lot of secrets to keep, after the war.”

Blackmailing Nazis for leverage… Well, no one ever said that the spy business was a nice business. “So, how long will we stay here?”

“Not long at all. Although having Mr Ivanovich escape in Germany would be best, I think. After his interrogation, of course,” Dumbledore replied. “However, it might take a while until he wakes up. The Russians didn’t skimp on the sedatives when they dosed him.”

“That sounds a little careless,” Ron said.

“I’m sure President Putin sent experts in their field to prepare our guest for transport.”

Hermione frowned. “We could travel back right now and return here afterwards. We should be able to reach the location in Finland we used to travel to and from Russia by Apparition.”

And from there, they knew the route back.

“I would prefer to stay here, though,” Dumbledore said. “If we were observed in Britain, President Putin might suspect that we have the means to travel without being detected, and much faster than by plane.” He spread his hands. “It’s not as if we’re in any more danger here than in Britain.”

That was true. Probably.

“We don’t have anything to do other than wait, then.” Sirius yawned. “Unless you overlooked some bug on or in Ivanovich.”

“I scanned him,” Ron said.

“And we did it again upon arriving here - quite thoroughly,” Dumbledore added. “Nevertheless, I don’t think we should trust our security system to the point of not keeping an eye out.”

“I’ll cast a few spells,” Hermione said.

“We’ll help!” Wizarding Harry smiled as he and wizarding Ron stood.

“Beats sitting around doing nothing,” Ron’s counterpart added.

They had done enough, Ron thought. Magic made so many things easier. Or easy. “I’ll take a nap,” he announced.

Hermione smiled at him, “I’ll join you once I’m done.”

“And we’ll keep an eye on the Russian,” Luna said. “Can’t trust the tools of an authoritarian regime even when they’ve been betrayed by their leader and cut off. And sedated.”

“Good.” Dumbledore stood. “I think we should reconvene for dinner… say at six?”

“Who’s going to cook?” Ron asked. He didn’t think that Dumbledore would have a cook in the house, and ordering takeaway would be too dangerous.

“While I’m, by necessity, not a regular customer, I do know of several very good takeaways in Berlin,” Dumbledore said. “It shouldn’t raise any suspicion if one or two of those who can apparate go and fetch dinner, I think.”

Ah. Well, that was true. Especially in disguise.

Ron nodded and left the living room, heading to the guest room assigned to Hermione and himself. He lay down on the bed and grabbed a magazine to read. Hermione wouldn’t take long, after all.

She didn’t. Fifteen minutes later - he was skimming an article on new developments in computer networks that was written from far too technical a perspective - she entered.

“All safe?” he asked.

She nodded and sat down on the bed. “We’ll know if someone enters the property.”

And they would. The best skills and technology in the world wouldn’t defeat those spells. Although…

“Hm? What are you thinking?”

“I was planning how to defeat the spells. Would a drone be able to enter undetected?”

She blinked, then nodded. “Yes, it would. That needs to be remedied.”

“I don’t think that the Russians will deploy drones. They would have to find us in the first place. And that won’t be easy with the entire German police force looking for suspicious armed people.”

“That’s true.” She smiled, kicked off her shoes and lay down as well. “I guess the Russians’ paranoia has rubbed off on me. Moody would be proud.”

He snorted. “I’m not sure he’d be proud of what we’re doing here.” At her confused look, she added: “We’re not acting like police officers. We’re acting like spies. Or soldiers.”

“Ah.” She sighed. “I forgot that your Moody hadn’t fought in two wars.”

“He did hunt IRA terrorists in the 1970s,” Ron pointed out. “And he hunted Riddle’s cell in the 1980s.”

“But those weren’t wars. Not here, at least.” She sighed again. “In Wizarding Britain, it was a war. The Aurors tried to treat it as a police action, first, in the seventies, when it started. But by the end of the decade, they were fighting a war. A dirty war. And when it started again in the nineties, the veterans went straight to war. We all did.”

“Yes.” He sounded lame, but there wasn’t much else he could think of to say. So he reached over and pulled her into a hug.

They had a few hours for themselves, after all.

*****​

“Are you going to join the interrogation?” he asked later as he stared at the ceiling above their bed. “Once Ivanovich has woken up.”

Pressed into his side, half on top of him, she sighed. “Are you?”

“I guess so.” He was a trained interrogator, after all. He could be useful there, even with Veritaserum being used. Of course, Dumbledore had a few more decades on him where experience was concerned. But the old man wasn’t infallible.

“I’ll come as well, then.”

He shrugged, half-heartedly so as not to dislodge her from his side. “It’ll be more of the same, I guess. Corruption, abuse of power…”.

“...murder and espionage?”

“Ivanovich might have been involved in the last attack on us,” he pointed out. Ron was quite sure, actually - if Putin trusted the man enough to tell him about Hermione’s research, then he would have been trusted enough to help attack the lab.

He felt her tense. “In a way, that would be a relief. I wouldn’t have to feel bad about framing him and sending him to Putin, then.”

“We aren’t sending him to Putin,” he told her. “Well, we aren’t openly sending him. We want him to act naturally and to try and avoid the Russian snatchers.”

She shuddered, and he felt a stab of guilt. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

But it was. He should’ve used a different word. Not one loaded with past grief. “In any case, we’re not setting up innocent children for death, here.”

“No, we aren’t. But we are setting people up. Manipulating them and changing their memories.” Hermione sighed again.

“They started it. Literally.”

She didn’t look convinced, though. “Well, we’ll be done soon enough. And then our families will be safe.”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“At which point we can focus on fixing Azkaban and similar problems in Wizarding Britain.”

“And on keeping the Lunas from turning this world upside-down?”

Hermione groaned in response. “Yes, that too. And the twins - both sets - also.”

He winced. “I think I’d successfully repressed that until you reminded me.”

She laughed at his weak joke. “Perhaps all of them will keep Dumbledore and Grindelwald too busy for any more of his schemes.”

And pigs would fly. Wait, wizards probably had flying pigs. “They’ll want to form their own wizarding group.” Was that a coven? Or a cabal?

“I know.” She sounded a bit angry. And frustrated. “And if we cut ties, they’ll do it.”

“They’re the type to do it anyway,” he pointed out, shifting so he could look at her.

She was frowning. “I know. Though if we don’t cut ties - which would be difficult in any case - we should have some influence on whom they recruit.”

“You’re a bit of an optimist, aren’t you?” He raised his eyebrows at her. “The closer you are, the more influence they’ll have on you.”

That earned him a glare. “Do you have a better plan?”

That was the crux of the matter. If they went their separate ways, Dumbledore and Grindelwald would likely use magic in various questionable ways - and would work on recreating the portal. If Hermione kept working with the old men, they’d have a huge amount of power due to his investment in the whole portal project. “No, I don’t.” Damned if they did, damned if they didn’t. “But if you decide to keep working with them, milk them for everything they’ve got.”

“It’s not just my decision,” she told him. “It’s ours.”

He smiled like an idiot upon hearing that. “Well, I think staying close to them is the better option.” Less likely to get blindsided or treated as competition. Or enemies.

“Like having them provide the gold needed to abolish Azkaban?”

He suppressed a wince. That was a tricky question. “Unless you’ve got a plan to destroy the Dementors without anyone noticing, what are the alternatives?”

“I thought about opening a portal to a barren world and forcing them through it, but that isn’t practical.”

“In fantasy novels, banishing demons to another dimension never really works out. Unless they came from there.”

“Fortunately, life isn’t a fantasy novel.” She sighed once more. “The problem is that as long as the Dementors are around, someone will think of using them - no matter how reprehensible and dangerous that is. Not that having private citizens paying for what should be a core task of the government is a good idea. But if we simply hand more money to the Ministry, then sooner or later, some short-sighted or corrupt politician will argue that the money being spent on a humane prison should instead be used to help victims, not criminals.” She shook her head, her mane hitting the side of his face. “No, we must destroy the Dementors to settle this once and for all.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“I’m working on it.”

She didn’t elaborate, which he took to mean that she didn’t have a plan yet. But he was positive she would come up with one.

*****​

“Did you know about the Russian attack on Scotland beforehand?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes,” Ivanovich replied in that potion-induced monotone.

“Did you help plan it?”

“Yes.”

“Was that on President Putin’s orders?”

“Yes.”

“Were you planning another attack after this one?”

“Yes.”

“On the same location?”

“No.”

“What was the planned attack’s objective?”

“Dr Granger.”

Ron clenched his teeth. He had expected that, but to hear it confirmed… He glanced at Hermione, who was glaring at the Russian.

“Did you plan to kidnap her?” Dumbledore went on.

“Yes.”

No surprise there.

“How did you plan to kidnap her?”

“By using hostages.”

Again, no surprise.

“Was that your plan or President Putin’s plan?”

“Mine.”

“Who in Britain was involved in this plan?”

Ivanovich started to list names, both Russian and British. Ron didn’t recognise any of them - except for a Detective Superintendent of the Met.

Dumbledore, though, shook his head, sighing. “It seems that the Russians have penetrated more of our government than I suspected. I knew that my successors were not as diligent as they should have been, the end of the Cold War notwithstanding, but this is worse than I had feared.”

“On the other hand, you’ll be able to do something about them,” Ron said. “Turn some, use the others to feed Putin fake information…”

“Those ploys are far more effective when handled by a member of Her Majesty’s Secret Service rather than by a retiree,” the old man retorted. “Despite my great wealth and influence, I am still a civilian and not part of MI5 or MI6. I lack the knowledge of our operations necessary to use those assets to best effect. Officially and unofficially,” he added. “And the amount of misinformation about Gellert, myself and the Phoenix Gruppe I could spread by using those traitors without tipping off President Putin to the fact that I have suborned his spies wouldn’t be worth it.”

Hermione shrugged. “But once again you’ll be able to tweak the noses of your successors and detractors, won’t you?”

The old man smiled. “Which will further antagonise them.” With a chuckle, he added: “The price of success, I think. I can but hope that this will serve as a wake-up call. As God is my witness, we need one.”

“I think this whole affair has already done that,” Ron pointed out.

“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” Dumbledore shook his head. “A few traitors in the police aren’t nearly as shocking as traitors in the Civil Service - at least according to the government.”

Ron hoped that the old man was joking but feared that he spoke the truth.

“That’s very short-sighted,” Hermione said. “If you control the police, you can control the Civil Service much more effectively.”

“Indeed.” Dumbledore nodded. “And with them, the budget. However, most ministers would prefer to skip the step of suborning the police and go straight to those who hold the purse strings.”

Ron nodded in agreement. That certainly fit what he had heard from Dad and Percy - and older detectives in CI5. But… “Shouldn’t we finish the interrogation?”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Yes, I think we should. I’m sure there’s more information to be gained - much of it potentially devastating should it fall into the wrong hands.”

Or the right hands, of course.

*****​

An hour later, Dumbledore had finished the interrogation. At a glance, Ron would say that Ivanovich’s information would be enough to send two dozen people of influence to prison. If it were admissible in court, of course. Although if Dumbledore wanted, he could easily use the information from Ivanovich to find admissible proof of treason.

Ron wasn’t holding his breath, though. Dumbledore was a spymaster, not a police officer.

“I trust any doubts about Mr Ivanovich deserving his planned fate have vanished.”

And he was a little too smug sometimes.

Hermione, as expected, didn’t like that. “He’ll be tortured - which is not something anyone ever deserves - and likely killed.”

“An unpleasant but necessary part of the plan, I assure you. I doubt that President Putin will be content with mere interrogation. And I don’t believe that we will find a more fitting victim than Mr Ivanovich. However, I confess that I am more concerned about the potential risk of torture affecting your mental modifications than about Mr Ivanovich’s fate.”

“It’s not as if we have many alternatives,” Ron said. “Putin didn’t exactly publish his information.”

Hermione pressed her lips together before answering: “I will do my best to prepare for that eventuality and will keep the modifications to a minimum. Unless he suffers a complete mental breakdown, our families should be safe.”

“I think so,” Dumbledore told her. “If anything, President Putin should focus on myself and Gellert, should he, against expectations, come to distrust the information he will extract from Mr Ivanovich.” The old man smiled. “And both of us are well prepared for that kind of attention.”

Ron forced himself to smile even though he wanted to scowl. Now Hermione would feel obligated to the old man again. Dumbledore had probably planned for such an outcome.

*****​

Expendable Safe House, Outskirts of Berlin, Germany, February 4th, 2006

This house looked more like a safe house. Cheap furniture, pantry stocked with tins and other non-perishables - no MREs, though - and located in the sort of neighbourhood where you’d find very few surveillance cameras and where a bunch of new arrivals wouldn’t attract too much attention. It would certainly help sell the story that Ivanovich was taken by Dumbledore’s people and then managed to escape. On the other hand, any cop checking the house out would know at once it was a safe house. It lacked anything that would indicate that someone lived here, or had lived here.

Putin would believe that it was a safe house for spies. That there wouldn’t be any trace of a car would only help to sell it - it couldn’t be perfect, after all. A mystery or two would work well, especially with paranoid Russians.

He walked through the living room, past the door to the first bedroom. He didn’t need or want to watch Hermione adjust the Russian’s memories. Steps on the stairs made him tense for a moment before Harry appeared in the corridor.

“Upstairs is set;” his friend told him as he entered the room. “Won’t fool a competent cop, though.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Ron replied. “It just has to leave the right impression after the fire.” After all, Dumbledore’s hired men would try to avoid leaving traces, especially after Ivanovich escaped, and a fire was an effective way to ruin DNA traces.

“I know,” Harry said, sitting down on the ugly couch. After a moment, he added: “If this works, what will you do?”

Ah. Ron shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. “That depends on what Hermione does.”

His friend snorted, and Ron rolled his eyes. “And what will you be doing? Playing Ginny’s bodyguard?” His sister would love that.

“What about our plan to become private detectives?”

That had just been a way to calm Mum and Dad - mostly Mum - hadn’t it? A legal fiction. “Technically, guarding Hermione and Ginny would fit that job description.”

“I’m not a fan of legal fictions,” Harry said. “And working as a bodyguard for Hermione would mean working for Dumbledore.”

“Only at the beginning,” Ron retorted. Money shouldn’t be a problem in the long run. Not with magic and a portal. Hell, just offering the same treatment Dumbledore and Grindelwald had received to a single billionaire would set her up for life.

“And then you’ll work for her?”

He rolled his eyes at the question. “Why not?” Not everyone inherited a fortune. Or had a rich godfather. “People will think the same about you if you’re officially Ginny’s bodyguard.” Harry might be rich, but Ginny was loaded. As much as she hated being reminded of it, she made more money with advertising than in tournaments - never mind that the prize money she did earn was great. “Gold digger!”

Harry laughed. “I can always claim to be independently wealthy.”

Ron shrugged again, a little forcedly. “I bet Hermione’s life will be more exciting than Ginny’s, though.”

“Full of magic, too.” Harry looked at him.

Ron knew what his friend meant. “I can handle it.” He didn’t have magic, but he had other qualities. There was a reason Harry and Ron were preparing the safe house - a wizard wouldn’t know how to do it. All the magic in the other world wouldn’t help if you didn’t know what to do.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.” He was. Mostly. He grinned. “Besides, I’ll get to travel the multiverse!”

He saw Harry’s eyes widen - had his friend truly not thought about the implications? If you could open a portal to a different world, you could open a portal to yet another world, couldn’t you?

“That’s… a good point.” Harry smiled.

“Try telling Ginny that,” Ron told him with a faint smirk. His sister liked adventure, but she liked being a celebrity as much or more. She wouldn’t give up her career as a pro tennis player, Ron knew.

And judging by Harry’s sigh, his friend knew it as well.

“It wouldn’t be any different from when we were working for CI5 and she was on tour,” Ron said with an encouraging smile.

“But she’s looking forward to that changing,” Harry replied. “‘More time for us’, she said.”

“Ah.” Well, Harry would have to stand his ground. Ron doubted that Ginny wouldn’t take the chance to travel through a portal whenever she wasn’t on tour. But he also knew that trying to meddle in her relationships wasn’t a good idea. Even - or especially - when it involved his best friend.

*****​

About an hour later, Hermione entered the living room. Ron took one look at her tight expression and swallowed the comment he had been about to make. “Done?” he asked.

She glared at him for a moment, then sighed, “Yes, I’m done. He thinks he was kidnapped by masked mercenaries, woke up here and then fought his way free when they started to suspect that he was planning to betray them.”

“He’ll remember getting shot and escaping the house?” Harry asked.

“Not in great detail, but the ‘getting shot’ part should explain that.”

Ron nodded. “Yes, shock can do that.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t die from it,” she said with a frown.

“He won’t,” Harry told her. “It will just be a flesh wound.”

“Complications could still arise during treatment. Or he could manage to avoid being found and bleed out in a hidden corner,” Hermione pointed out.

“The chance for that is very low,” Ron replied.

“It could happen, though.”

“If that happens, Putin should still assume that Ivanovich was a traitor and was silenced by Dumbledore’s men,” Ron said. “It wouldn’t be as watertight, though.”

She sighed again. “I just want this to be over. We’ve already done far too much. If we were in my world…”

Ron shrugged. “Well, we aren’t. And Putin started this.” Technically, Putin’s former colleague, the late Kirikov, had done so, but Putin had taken over and escalated things.

“Yes.” She glared at him for a moment. “And even if he completely believes what we’ve made him remember, we’ll still have to be careful and limit our overt association with Dumbledore.”

That was a plus in Ron’s book. “That’ll be easy thanks to Apparition.”

“It’s still a potential danger. We’ll have to keep being careful.”

Ron shrugged again. “We already had to be cautious. Some of the criminals we’ve arrested would like to get back at us.”

“Or the relatives and friends of those we shot,” Harry added. “It’s not as if you won’t have to worry about Death Eater remnants, right?”

“Well, that’s true,” Hermione admitted. “Sort of.” She sighed once more. “At least the Fidelius Charm, once I am able to cast it, will help with that.”

“Could you use that to deal with Azkaban?” Ron asked.

“Too many know about the island for the charm to hide it - and even if it worked, the Dementors would still be around, and it wouldn’t stop them from leaving,” Hermione said. “You’d need wards to keep them confined to the island, but such spells don’t exist, or we wouldn’t need the Patronus Charm to defend against them.”

“Or such spells haven’t been invented yet,” Ron said with a smile.

She smiled in return but shook her head. “Spellcrafting is a tricky and dangerous venture. Luna’s mother died due to a failed experiment in spellcrafting. I’m not saying that it’s impossible, but it would take a long time. And even if I invented such a spell, that wouldn’t make the Ministry give up on Azkaban - in fact, they would probably think it makes using Azkaban safer since the Dementors wouldn’t be able to escape or bother the guards in protected areas.”

“It all comes down to money, then?” Ron asked.

“Gold, yes.”

Ron sighed. “So, you’ll either have to rely on Dumbledore and Grindelwald’s wealth or make a lot of gold yourself.”

“Essentially, yes.” Hermione grimaced. “There are ways to make money using magic in this world, like providing magical healthcare, but helping a few rich people while not helping those who might genuinely need magical healthcare is morally questionable, in my opinion.”

“That’s what you did with Dumbledore and Grindelwald,” Harry told her with raised eyebrows.

“I know,” she snapped back. Then she took a deep breath. “Sorry. I know I did it. And I had to - but that doesn’t mean it’s OK to keep doing it. If we do that, what would stop Dumbledore from doing likewise? There’s a lot of money to be made in saving or prolonging the lives of the rich.”

“And a lot of influence to be gained. I’m sure Dumbledore and Grindelwald are already considering that,” Ron said.

“I know,” she spat through clenched teeth. “It’s still wrong. It’s unfair.”

“Life’s unfair,” Harry said. “If you can use the money to do good and aren’t hurting anyone - actively hurting anyone - why shouldn’t you do it?”

Ron nodded. “A few rich people live a little longer - so what? The fortune they’d be willing to pay for that could help a lot more poor people. And if you start this with Dumbledore, you’ve got some control over it.” Not much, but it was better than nothing.

“I thought you didn’t like depending on Dumbledore so much,” she replied.

“I don’t. But I’m not about to hurt myself or my friends over it,” he told her.

She slowly nodded. She wasn’t convinced, but she would work through it, Ron was sure - he knew her, after all.

He grinned and changed the subject. “So, shall we tell Dumbledore that we’re ready to shoot Ivanovich?”

“It’s not funny,” Hermione snapped.

But in a very black humour sort of way, it was.

*****​

“This looks like, as the colonials would say, shooting fish in a barrel,” Dumbledore commented, looking down at the still stunned Ivanovich. “Not that I mind, mind you,” he added. “In my old business, opportunities to shoot a Russian secret agent without having to fear for your own life were to be cherished. Or they should be.”

“You want to do the deed, then?” Harry asked.

“I would never ask something of others I wouldn’t be willing to do myself,” the old man replied as he opened a box and pulled out a small machine pistol.

Dumbledore did seem very willing - but it could be an act, of course. On the other hand, why would he display himself as eager to hurt a defenceless man? As a warning? To underline his willingness to do whatever was needed to achieve his goals?

“The biceps of the left arm is where he’ll remember getting shot. And the left shoulder,” Hermione said. “From behind.”

Dumbledore inclined his head in response. “Very well.”

Hermione waved her wand, and Ivanovich floated upright, then slowly turned until he was facing away from them.

The old man drew a pistol - a Walther PPK, Ron noted - from a holster in his suit and screwed a silencer on. “If you’d do the honours?” he asked, nodding towards the machine pistol.

Harry grabbed the gun and put it in Ivanovich’s hand, then fired a few bursts into the walls and ceiling - and the window in the room.

“That should alert the police,” Ron commented.

“Indeed, it should,” Dumbledore replied as Harry put the machine pistol’s sling on Ivanovich.

Then the old spymaster took aim and shot the Russian in the shoulder and arm. “Time for his memorable exit, I believe.”

Hermione didn’t nod or acknowledge the order - she swished her wand, and the Russian flew through the broken window, landing in a heap on the ground outside. A flick of her wand later, Ivanovich suddenly screamed. He rolled over the lawn, got up and pressed his right hand on his bleeding arm as he stumbled towards the street.

Then he released his shoulder - and grabbed the machine pistol dangling at his side.

Hermione cast a shield moments before the bullets ripped through the jagged remains of the window’s glass.

“Time to set fire to the house and vacate the location, I believe,” Dumbledore said.

“I concur,” Hermione agreed and grabbed his hand.

Ron pulled out a white phosphorous grenade while Harry opened the gas valves in the kitchen and spread some gasoline around.

By the time Hermione returned - looking none the worse for wear - they were back in the kitchen, away from any observers.

“Ready?” Ron asked.

“Yes.” Hermione touched both of them.

“Fire in the hole!” Ron said, then lobbed the grenade into the hallway.

Then he felt as if he were being pushed through a narrow pipe as Hermione took him and Harry away from the house.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, February 5th, 2006

“...and German authorities have declined to comment on rumours that the attack on the Russian embassy vehicles was instigated by rogue Russian intelligence assets. However, a spokesman for the British government pointed out that Russia has been plagued by such rogue elements - as proven by the attack in Scotland last November by what the Russian government called ‘criminal elements’ but who Western investigators have identified as members of a Russian paramilitary unit. The German police have identified the wounded kidnapping victim as Pavel Ivanovich, military attaché in the Russian embassy in London, who had been forced to stop over in Berlin after a medical emergency.”

Ron rolled his eyes at the news report. He already knew that - that was basically what the news had reported last night! At least the reporter wasn’t standing in front of the smoking remains of Dumbledore’s safe house this time. Oh, wait - there was the footage of the burning house.

“According to experts, the fire that destroyed the building where Mr Ivanovich was held was started deliberately, and it was only due to the quick response of the Berlin fire brigade that the neighbouring houses weren’t set ablaze as well.”

“Really?” Hermione asked as she took a seat next to him and put a plate with finger food down.

“No,” he replied. “The neighbours were too far away.”

“Mr Ivanovich is not yet able to testify due to injuries sustained while escaping from the kidnappers. However, according to a statement released by the police, Mr Ivanovich is not in critical condition and is expected to make a full recovery. Due to security concerns, he is being treated at an undisclosed secure location.”

Ron hoped that Putin’s forces wouldn’t hurt the guards. If they did, then Russia’s relationship with Germany would be soured for a few months, but that wasn’t much of a deterrent to Putin.

“Russia blames Chechen terrorists for the attacks, although foreign experts claim that the Chechens lack the ability to conduct such operations on German soil. Nevertheless, the Russian president condemned the attack in harsh words and announced retaliatory attacks in the near future. He also called the ability of the German police to protect Russian diplomats into question and announced that additional guards will be moved to the Russian embassy in Germany until the situation is deemed safe for Russian citizens.”

“I guess that’s the cover for his snatch team,” Hermione said.

Ron agreed and grabbed a small sandwich for himself. “Yes. It’s a good excuse to move more armed assets into Germany without raising suspicion - at least official suspicion.”

“This attack took place suspiciously soon after a rumoured attempted coup in Moscow. President Putin has declined to reply to questions regarding these rumours. However, witnesses have reported that units of the Russian Army supposedly hunting an escaped tiger and bear were conducting searches of properties that had no connection to the escapes. The fact that Mr Ivanovich was recalled to Moscow at short notice also throws doubt on the claim that this was a routine trip.”

So, Dumbeldore and Grindelwald had already started to spread rumours that the entire incident had been the result of an attempted coup in Russia. “Let’s hope Putin buys the story,” he said.

“He better,” Hermione muttered. “I don’t want to have to wipe his memories again.”

*****​

“Brave Aurors discovered a hideout of unidentified dark wizards and drove them away thanks to their swift and decisive action. The Ministry stands tall in defence of Wizarding Britain against all attackers.”

She sighed and dropped the Prophet on the table in the Gryffindor common room. “I can’t believe they’re writing this sort of nonsensical drivel!”

“I can,” Ron replied. “It sounds much better than ‘Aurors failed to catch any Death Eaters again and bungled yet another lead’.”

“But ‘unidentified dark wizards’? Everyone knows they are Death Eaters!” Harry exclaimed.

“They don’t actually know that,” Ron told him. “They haven’t caught anyone yet. The group who’s been murdering Ministry officials might be a completely different group of dark wizards! It would be embarrassing if you announce you’ve caught Death Eaters and then turn up with some French lot.”

“The Aurors wouldn’t catch either,” Harry spat. “Well, those not in the Order wouldn’t.”

She nodded. The Aurors certainly hadn’t impressed her.

“And the Order members won’t arrest Death Eaters either, since they can’t trust the Ministry to hold them,” Ron added.

“So, we’ve got a newspaper that’s actually useless as a newspaper, and an Auror force that’s useless for law enforcement.” She shook her head. “How did this come to pass?”

“Gold.” Ron shrugged. “Malfoy’s gold, to be exact.”

And wasn’t that a depressing thought. “Perhaps we should do something about that.”

“No problem. Once I’ve got a fortune, I’ll help,” Ron said.

She snorted. “I had something different in mind than bribing the Ministry ourselves.”

But they would need a lot of help - or a lot of training - to pull it off. And a lot of nerve.

*****​

 

Chapter 59: The Favour

Black Lake, Scotland, February 5th, 2006

“Thank you for having us over,” Dumbledore said as he sat down in the lounge of their quarters.

Grindelwald grunted something that might have been taken for agreement - if you were very generous. And half-deaf.

But then, this being a visit was just a polite fiction that Dumbledore seemed to insist on keeping up. Perhaps he thought it set them more at ease, even though everyone was well aware that they were living on Dumbledore’s property. At least it was a small dinner party - the wizarding Weasley twins, as well as Harry and Ron’s own counterparts, had returned to their world. Without making contact with Ron’s brothers, to his relief.

“Indeed,” Rosengarten added as the Healer sat down as well.

“Thank you for coming,” Hermione said, smiling politely. “There’s a lot to discuss.”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore agreed. “But I think we should leave such matters for after dinner.” He beamed. “I’ve been told the cooks have outdone themselves today.”

“If you continue like that, you’ll undo all the benefits from magic,” Grindelwald commented.

“A little indulging never hurt anyone. Not by itself,” the old spymaster retorted - though he kept smiling. “But don’t worry - I won’t gorge myself.”

“Not until dessert, at least.”

Both old men laughed at that, and then the staff arrived with the hors d’oeuvres.

The meal itself was great - for a change, it was mainly Mediterranean, with paella as the main course, though the salad with fresh olives was a delight as well - at least according to Hermione and Ginny. Ron would’ve preferred it a little blander.

The desserts, though, were Italian - tiramisu, panna cotta, cannoli and gelati - ice cream - in numerous different flavours. And enough whipped cream to clog several arteries all by itself. Dumbledore sampled everything at least once before he leaned back, rubbing his stomach.

“Delightful!” he announced.

“And harmful,” Grindelwald, who had only taken some panna cotta, retorted.

Rosengarten actually drew his wand and cast a spell before announcing that Dumbledore was perfectly healthy.

“See?” the old man told his partner with a beaming smile that didn’t dim in the least when Rosengarten added that repeatedly indulging would cause harm.

“Now that we are settled,” Dumbledore went on, growing more serious - though not losing his smile, “I have a bit of news for you, although you might already be aware of it: Mr Ivanovich has disappeared from the hospital in which he was being treated.”

“We’ve heard, yes,” Ron confirmed. It was the biggest news item of the day, probably the week - speculation was even worse now than before, after this new twist.

“Indeed. My contacts assure me that he wasn’t in any state to do so by himself, so the conclusion is that President Putin’s special forces acted faster than expected.” Dumbledore shook his head. “Unless they already had assets in place in the clinic, they must have had a lucky break with recon to pull off such an operation in so little time.”

“Or they are that good,” Grindelwald added, baring his teeth.

“Or the German authorities weren’t quite up to the task of guarding Mr Ivanovich,” Dumbledore countered with a smile.

Grindelwald scoffed. “No surprise there. Standards have really slipped since the war.”

“That’s a rather damning verdict, I think,” Dumbledore’s smile grew a little sly.

“Canaris sabotaged the Abwehr,” the German replied. “If he hadn’t been a traitor, things would have turned out differently. At least in the espionage part of the war.”

“Undoubtedly. Although the Gehlen Organisation was quite competent, I think.”

“They’d never have let such an operation happen.” The old German scoffed again. “We should have kept more Stasi members as well. They never had as many leaks as the MAD.”

Hermione cleared her throat. “This is a fascinating discussion, but I think we have some more current matters to discuss.”

“Of course. Please excuse our short detour - at our age, we sometimes get lost in the past.”

Ron suppressed a snort. He didn’t think for a second that Dumbledore ever got distracted like he’d just claimed.

The old man inclined his head. “As I was saying, I think we can safely assume that President Putin has reacted as predicted and kidnapped Mr Ivanovich. Which means he will soon be fed the information we planted in the latter’s head. Which brings us to the question of what we will be doing now that the Russian threat is about to end.”

“Provided Putin’s fooled by all of this,” Sirius pointed out.

“Provided, yes. But I think that’s not too optimistic in light of our success. And we will certainly keep that possibility in mind - though we shouldn’t let it paralyse us.” Dumbledore spread his hands. “So, what future do you envision for yourself and your friends, Dr Granger?”

That was a good question. A very good question. Ron had a few thoughts, but Dumbledore was asking Hermione.

She pressed her lips together, frowning briefly before straightening. “I want my friends and families to be safe from Putin and anyone else who wants to use them to influence me,” she said, staring straight at Dumbledore.

His expression didn’t change as he inclined his head. “We’ve been working towards that, and, I believe, we’re close to achieving our goal. So, assuming things go according to plan and your friends and families are safe, what are your plans?”

“With the portal secured, abolish Azkaban in Wizarding Britain. It’s a stain on the country.”

“Are you planning to enter politics, then?” Dumbledore asked.

“I’d prefer not to, but I doubt it can be avoided,” she replied.

“Well, a characteristic of our political system is that we have representatives who, presumably, pursue goals in politics that we share and support while we are free to pursue other interests,” Dumbledore said.

“Judging by what we know, your Ministry should be quite receptive to the right incentives,” Grindelwald added with a cold smile. “Messrs Weasley were quite frank about the way things worked.”

“The Ministry supposedly made great strides in the fight against corruption,” Hermione said, with narrowed eyes.

“Well, that is true. Technically,” wizarding Luna told her. “The Ministry’s honesty has improved a lot under Kingsley.”

“But a significant reason for that success is that it started from an abysmal point. Corruption was endemic. The whole system was built on it,” Luna added. “Even our parliament and government would have been impressed by the depths to which your Ministry and Wizengamot had sunk.”

Dumbledore inclined his head, not challenging her. Neither did Hermione - and it fit what Ron had heard from her about her home dimension.

“And how are things now?” Hermione asked. Ron knew that she had made inquiries of her own.

“Better, but things could still improve,” wizarding Luna replied. “The Ministry is doing well - there are still protégés and nepotism, but blatant corruption is now illegal. However, the Wizengamot is not quite as reformed. Gold donations still are the preferred way of influencing members.”

Grindelwald snorted. “An honest politician stays bought.”

“And the Ministry relies on certain donations as well,” Hermione said. “While most donations are tied to certain tasks and events, like the New Year’s Ball or St Mungo’s, it goes without saying that whoever finances those more or less essential services wields considerable influence just by threatening, whether implied or outright, to stop doing so.”

“Things haven’t really changed since I left the country, then.” Rosengarten shook his head. “They just swapped out the people in charge.”

“That’s how things usually work out in our country as well,” Sirius commented.

“The reforms go beyond that,” wizarding Luna retorted. “But they haven’t gone far enough, yet.”

“Which is a good thing, from a certain point of view,” Dumbledore said. “It will make it easier to nudge the Ministry towards adjusting its policies in accordance with our plans.”

Ron saw Hermione bristle a little - probably at the way he implied his own participation. Or takeover. She shook her head. “Trying to reform the Ministry by perpetuating its questionable practices isn’t a good idea.”

“But it would, in my estimation, be the fastest and most efficient way to stop the horrors of Azkaban,” the old spymaster replied. “Each day that passes without a change means more people suffering from those monsters.”

That was a good point, of course. But the way Dumbledore argued… Ron shrugged. “Without actual reforms, it would just be a temporary solution. Easy to reverse if the Ministry or Wizengamot decides to do so.”

“That is a risk with every solution. Short of destroying the prison outright, it will take decades before enough inertia has built up to render the threat of a reversal moot.” Dumbledore sighed. “I wish it were different, but while I never entered politics myself, my former profession necessitated enough contact with politicians of all parties to be very familiar with how things are done.”

“Destroying the Dementors is actually one of my goals,” Hermione said.

“Really?” Wizarding Luna gasped. “You’d destroy an entire magical species?”

Ron couldn’t tell if the witch was serious or not.

“I will settle for banishing them from our world,” Hermione replied, “even though I’d prefer to destroy them. They are a blight upon our country.” She shivered. “And they are evil.”

“But that doesn’t mean they should be destroyed,” wizarding Luna retorted. “Everything has its place in nature.”

“They seem rather unnatural, according to the descriptions I’ve heard,” Dumbledore said.

“Indeed,” Rosengarten agreed. “There’s nothing at all natural about them.” He shook his head. “Removing them will be a boon to any world.”

Wizarding Luna pouted, but Luna put her hand on her arm, apparently keeping her from continuing the argument.

“In any case, removing the prisoners from Azkaban means the Ministry needs a proper prison to hold them. Building one will take time and considerable resources. Staffing it will cost even more gold. That means hurrying the proposal along with the help of bribes won’t actually help very much,” Hermione pointed out.

“But those incarcerated for lesser crimes would profit; they don’t need to be held in actual prisons,” Dumbledore replied.

“Not after Azkaban,” Hermione agreed with a frown. “They tend to spend considerable time in St Mungo’s. Unless they are outright psychotic.”

Ron saw wizarding Luna nod at that with an uncharacteristically tight expression.

He didn’t ever want to meet a Dementor.

“It seems that Wizarding Britain hasn’t heard that rehabilitating prisoners is far more successful when it comes to fighting crime than revenge. If only they were aware of the Scandinavian model,” Dumbledore said.

“Magical Scandinavia isn’t quite as progressive,” Hermione told him.

“Oh, but they are! They have the most progressive attitude towards werewolves in the entire world!” wizarding Luna protested.

“Which is why the country’s never known a day without an ongoing blood feud for two hundred years,” Hermione retorted.

“There’s a theory that that is the natural behaviour of werewolves,” wizarding Luna said. “But it’s hard to test the theory without a proper control group, so it can’t yet have been verified.”

And probably never would be. “That aside, if we’re about to reform Azkaban, we might as well go all the way.” Ron shrugged when everyone looked at him.

“That’s mission creep,” Sirius said. “Stick to the clear goal: abolishing Azkaban.”

“Rehabilitating prisoners would reduce the chance that a particularly violent crime will be used to reverse the reforms in order to score political points with the easily scared,” Hermione said.

“Which make up the majority of the population of our country!” wizarding Luna said, nodding emphatically. Ron wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“Not just your country,” Luna added. “The world would be a much better place if people were not so cowardly.”

“Certain dictatorships would have been toppled far earlier,” Dumbledore said. “But we digress. I do agree that focusing on abolishing the worst excesses is the best course of action. Or, at the very least, the most effective plan that can be implemented in a timely manner.”

“By bribing the Ministry and Wizengamot,” Hermione said.

Dumbledore tilted his head slightly. “Would it be more moral to use less, shall we say, pragmatic methods, at the cost of letting people suffer for longer?”

“We already went over that,” Hermione shot back. She sighed. “But even such a pragmatic solution requires quite a lot of money. Gold, in this case, since wizards generally have no use for muggle money - especially muggle money from another world.”

“Money’s no problem,” Dumbledore told her. “Compared to the budget of the Phoenix Gruppe, the money needed to influence Wizarding Britain’s legal system is a drop in the bucket.”

“A rather substantial drop,” Grindelwald interjected.

“It would still be a substantial favour,” Hermione said.

Dumbledore’s smile widened a little. “And you’d prefer an exchange of favours rather than a gift that you feel would make you owe us, am I correct?”

“Yes,” Hermione confirmed with a glare that would’ve been rude if Dumbledore hadn’t provoked her response. “I thought about using magic to provide the needed funds, but, even ignoring my world’s Statute of Secrecy, there are certain issues with such a course of action which I would rather not have to resolve.”

“Not least the threat of word getting back to your world, I presume,” Dumbledore said, “where it would hamper the very efforts said actions would finance.”

Grindelwald scoffed. “Laundering the money would take care of that.”

“That wouldn’t address the threat of blackmail,” Hermione countered. “Or just rumours being spread.”

“That, too, can be handled,” Dumbledore told her. “Magical services wouldn’t be open to the general public, after all. And with your ability to modify memories, literally no one would know.”

Other than Dumbledore and Grindelwald, of course, Ron thought.

“You certainly have experience with information control,” Luna said. Her smile was a little too toothy.

“Sometimes, ignorance is bliss, and sometimes, the truth does hurt - often innocents,” Dumbledore replied.

“If the truth hurts then perhaps it means it should hurt,” Luna retorted.

“And pain teaches us a lesson, life is suffering, etc. etc.” Grindelwald rolled his eyes. “Could we please avoid the exchanges of cheap philosophy and focus on the matter at hand? We’re not here to mince words but to plan our future.”

Both Dumbledore and Luna frowned at that for a moment, but then the old spymaster spoke up again: “I fear we will have to continue this discussion later, my dear. For now, let’s discuss finances.”

“And politics,” Hermione added. “It’s quite obvious that there’s a very lucrative market for magical healthcare among the billionaires of this world.”

“That’s indeed obvious,” Rosengarten said. “And legal, in this world.”

“The Wizengamot, or certain members of it, might not agree,” wizarding Luna pointed out.

“And the Ministry would likely want to discourage such dealings - secrecy is certainly paramount when offering magical services to muggles in this world,” Hermione said. “Although magical healthcare is not as much a risk as the more exotic services - which are far harder to explain as the product of advanced technology.”

“The market for those services isn’t as large, though,” Dumbledore replied. “And while providing healthcare doesn’t pose many, if any, moral dilemmas, things get a little murkier if we diversify.”

Like mind control or hunting traitors, Ron thought. “More profitable, though, in a few select cases,” he couldn’t help pointing out.

“Indeed. And more tempting as well.” The old man sighed loudly as if he were serious. “So much could’ve been accomplished by one or two additional adjustments to President Putin’s memories.”

“Oh, yes!” wizarding Luna agreed. “We could’ve saved so many animals from extinction!”

“We went over this already. Several times,” Hermione said in a flat tone, her eyes narrowing. “It’s not worth it.”

Dumbledore nodded, albeit a little slowly, but the Lunas looked a little mutinous, so Ron added: “And should Putin lose his mind, he might order the last nature reserves destroyed - and the Arctic as well. Or oligarchs might attempt to exploit his apparent weakness.”

“But sometimes, the risk is worth it,” Grindelwald said. “You shouldn’t dismiss the possibility of changing the fate of nations with a single spell.”

“As we’ve demonstrated, it’s a little more complicated than that,” Hermione retorted.

“Putin was ready for you. Most people won’t be.” The old German scoffed. “Especially not the kind of dictators responsible for terror campaigns or even genocide.”

Ron wasn’t surprised in the slightest that Luna nodded in emphatic agreement.

“Those are exceptions,” Hermione said. “And usually, things happen too fast to react in time.”

“Few such crimes happen in a vacuum. Most of the latest tragedies could have been prevented if people had realised what was being planned.” Dumbledore shrugged, once. “And we have access to some of the best information services these days.”

“For a private business,” Sirius spoke up.

“For any organisation,” Dumbledore corrected him with a sly smile.

“We certainly have better resources than most countries,” Grindelwald added. “And it would only be fitting if we could actually turn a profit from them after all the money Albus has spent on his private secret service.”

“A vile exaggeration,” Dumbledore retorted. “Most of the budget goes into sources in various secret services. Our own network is hardly that expensive.”

“Not like the Shadow Government’s secret service,” Luna said, nodding again.

“I think we can make an exception for genocide and similar threats,” Hermione said.

“And it’s not as if anyone would mourn the sort of monsters who commit crimes against humanity,” Sirius added, “so might as well kill them after dealing with their messes.”

“That should be decided on a case by case basis.” Hermione shook her head. “It cannot be a general rule or policy.”

“Wise,” Dumbledore said. “Although we’ve been, once again, diverted from our original subject.”

Hemione pressed her lips together for a moment. “You want to know about the portal’s future.”

The old man inclined his head.

She sighed. “The Ministry will want to close it down, should they ever find out about it.”

“With some justification,” Rosengarten said. “What if a particularly dangerous dimension were to be discovered? Full of unknown diseases, for example?”

“With the appropriate precautions, such risks can be minimised,” Hermione replied.

The old Healer shook his head. “You can’t prepare for everything.”

“So? Leaving your house puts you at risk. A small risk, though, so it’s negligible.” Hermione didn’t quite scoff. “I refuse to abandon my research because of theoretical dangers that can be minimised with proper precautions. People have taken such risks for millennia - that’s how we make progress.”

“Yes! We wouldn’t know anything about Ethiopian Nundus if Magizoologists had stopped searching for them just because they kept getting eaten!” Wizarding Luna’s honest comment didn’t help as much as she probably thought it would.

“There’s a difference between risking yourself and risking others,” Rosengarten replied.

“As I said,” Hermione said through clenched teeth, “with proper precautions, the risk can be minimised.

“The Unspeakables thought that as well before they almost broke time,” the old wizard told her.

“There’s never been any evidence confirming that,” Hermione said. “Today you’d call it an urban myth.”

“Of course there’s no evidence - they erased themselves from existence when they made a mistake.”

“Do you honestly think that time travel could create a paradox that could ‘break time’?” Hermione shook her head. “If it were possible, we wouldn’t be around since as early as the nineteenth century, wizards were experimenting with time travel. Which do you think is more likely: that every time travel experiment avoided that danger or that it’s just not possible to ‘break time’?”

“Absence of evidence isn’t evidence of absence,” wizarding Luna said, with Luna nodding along.

“But evidence of failed time travel experiments does exist,” Hermione retorted. “People aging rapidly, for one.”

“Yes, failed time travel experiments.” Wizarding Luna nodded.

Ron patted Hermione’s thigh as she sighed. “I won’t experiment with time. Just with other dimensions.”

Wizarding Luna beamed at her. “Good!”

*****​

“I’ve missed this,” Ron said as they walked along the shores of the Black Lake on the path that they had created by taking dozens of strolls over months - and which Dumbledore’s people had kept clear of snow, apparently, in their absence.

“The cold or the snow?”

“The walking,” he explained. “The lake, at night. The sky.” You.

“Ah.” She nodded; he couldn’t really see her face, but the light was bright enough to see her silhouette. “I didn’t really miss the reason for those walks, though,” she said.

He knew what she meant. The surveillance. By Dumbledore and MI5. Probably MI6 as well, after Moscow and Berlin. He nodded in agreement. “Quite.” Then he saw her flick her wand and heard the faint buzzing noise of a privacy charm. “If the path is bugged, then they’ll wonder what you just did.”

“I’ll blame it on interference from my generators,” Hermione replied. “That might help dissuade them from pushing for prototypes.”

“That won’t work for long.”

“It doesn’t have to; just long enough for me to prepare and cast a Fidelius Charm.” She sighed. “I really need to focus now on researching that charm. It’s crucial for the safety of us all. But I also need to improve our protections.”

“Magical protections?”

“Yes… oh. Well, not against magic; I don’t think that’s really a threat in this world.”

“Not before Dumbledore and Grindelwald recruit more mercenary wizards,” he said. Which they would.

“We’ll have to screen them beforehand,” she replied. “And we’ll have to do some recruiting of our own.”

“Mostly friends and family?”

“By preference, yes.” She sighed. “It’s hard to trust strangers. Who wouldn’t be tempted by having a world without magic at their disposal?”

His own counterpart? Ron wasn’t sure. “And how many won’t realise the risks?”

“True,” she replied. “Luna by herself is already a handful.”

“More than that.” He shook his head. “At least they have given up on the idea of mind-controlling politicians. Can you imagine a world ruled by Luna?”

She shuddered. “Or by Luna. Both of them are lovely women with great talent and bravery, but…”

He nodded. “I wouldn’t want to live in a world ruled by either.”

“Definitely not.”

They reached the usual end of their walks, where a small bench had been cleared of snow as well, and sat down.

“So… what kind of protections are you thinking about?” Ron asked.

“Most of the magical protections I know aren’t very useful for muggles. Wards will keep electronics from working inside their area of effect,” she said.

He winced a little. No telly? No computers? No phones? “I don’t know anyone who could live without modern electronics. Even Aunt Muriel likes her radio and telly.”

“Ellen and Gabriel wouldn’t stand for that, either. And it would be pointless anyway - I couldn’t ward their practice; they couldn’t work then, and so they would be targets there.” Hermione shook her head. “And Anti-Muggle Charms obviously don’t work either; they’d need my help to enter their own home.”

“Can’t you enchant some amulet or something to allow them to enter?” Ron asked. That was a common idea in a number of books and games.

“In theory, yes - it’s not as if there’s a lot of demand for that kind of enchantment. But it’s tricky, and it wouldn’t let them host guests at their home, either.” She snorted. “I can’t vet all their friends and acquaintances, and even if I could and had enough enchanted amulets, they would need to be compelled somehow to always take the items with them when visiting.”

Ah. “So, now that we know what’s not possible, what do you plan to do that would be possible?”

“Something to allow them to flee instantly if they are attacked. A Portkey would be ideal, but I never learned how to create those, and that knowledge is generally restricted - there was a wave of muggle abductions in the nineteenth century with Portkeys that were left for muggles to find, and since then, they have been heavily regulated.”

Ron nodded. “Well, at least they cared.”

She scoffed. “I think it’s more that the Obliviators complained about all the additional work and demanded overtime compensation.”

“Ah.” That would fit what she had told him about the old Ministry. “So, you need to study and research both the Fidelius Charm and the creation of Portkeys?”

“And I need to find a way to get the Ministry to abandon Azkaban.”

“And do so without ending up owing Dumbledore too many favours,” he pointed out.

“I’m aware of that,” she replied, and he could tell without looking that she was talking through clenched teeth.

“Do you have a plan yet?”

“I’ve got an idea. Or, to be honest, the beginnings of an idea. But I need to talk to Luna, first.”

He winced again, glad she couldn’t see his expression in the darkness. That was a scary thought.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, February 10th, 2006

“...and rumours of an attempted coup against President Putin persist despite repeated denials by the Kremlin. President Putin himself has been seen in public every day, which has been noted by experts as an obvious attempt to counter rumours that he had been wounded in an assassination attempt.”

“They’re still going on about this?” Ginny asked, sitting down next to Ron on the couch in the lounge across from the TV. “It’s been a week.”

“Russia’s still one of the most powerful nations in the world,” Ron told her. And they had an arsenal of nukes that rivalled the American one.

“But Putin’s clearly still in charge. If it was a coup, it failed.” She shook her head. “At least it seems that the plan has worked. I can now start planning for the French Open.”

“Ah.”

“More than two months; plenty of time to get back into shape, but I won’t have the tournament practice,” she went on. “I might play some smaller tournaments, to get back in the game. My ranking tanked, too, but I should get a wild card for the French Open.”

He made a noise of agreement. “That sounds OK.”

“It’ll be a struggle to get my ranking back, though. Seles never really made a comeback.”

“Seles was stabbed,” he replied.

“Yes. At least my popularity hasn’t taken too much of a hit,” she said. “The terrorist threat has improved it, at least among some demographics, according to my agent.”

“So, you’ll be financially secure, at least.” He didn’t smile, but the way she frowned told him that she knew he wanted to.

She huffed again. “And I guess Harry and you will be busy with the portal.”

Uh oh. “If it’s set up by then,” he said. “Hermione’s still working on the Fidelius Charm. And afterwards, we’d have to find a new world to travel to, first.”

“Ah.”

“So Harry will likely be able to travel with you.” And probably would, anyway - it wasn’t yet certain that the Russians had really stopped their attempts.

“Good.” She smiled. Not her proud smile. Not the smile when she had pulled a prank on him. Just a soft smile. The one usually aimed at Harry.

He cleared his throat, then pointed at the TV. “They’re finally done with Moscow.”

“Good.”

“And now for something completely different,” the announcer said.

Ron shook his head.

“The series of mysterious animal thefts in Britain continues. Various private habitats have been robbed of their animals. A number of commentators have speculated that this is the work of animal rights activists since all the habitats which have thus far been targeted housed endangered animals in conditions which Home Office inspectors have since described as ‘not ideal’. The police have assured the public that they are doing what they can to solve the case - especially since there is widespread concern that the thieves may be unable or unwilling to provide the stolen animals with the necessary specialist care.”

He sighed. “At least the Lunas aren’t mind-controlling politicians.”

“They’re creating habitats to transport the animals,” Ginny told him.

“Great. They’re not about to release wolves and bears in England, are they?” That would certainly make headlines.

“I don’t think so. But they’ve been talking about ‘repurposing’ the Malfoy and Parkinson estates.” Ginny grinned.

Ron groaned. “I thought Hermione was going to talk to them.”

“She did.”

Damn.

*****​

He found Hermione near her new lab half an hour later. ‘New lab’ was a little misleading - it was actually a converted former storage room on the same level as the portal room, but, as Hermione had said, it would serve well enough and wouldn’t put expensive computers at risk.

She also claimed that, since she wasn’t spell crafting but merely learning a known spell, she wasn’t at risk, but Ron still worried whenever she went to ‘study’.

“Hey.”

She stopped on her way to the portal room. “Hey.”

“How’s it going?” he asked as he joined her.

Scowling for a moment, she shrugged. “I’m making progress.”

Not as much as she’d like, then. But she had higher standards than most people he knew. “I’ve seen reports about a series of animal thefts.” She didn’t quite gasp, but he saw her tense. “You knew?”

“I suspected.” She pressed her lips together. “And, really, stealing - or liberating, as they call it - animals is pretty much the least troublesome course of action they could’ve chosen.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t worrying, though,” he retorted.

“They’re not messing around with politicians or covering areas in Muggle-Repelling Charms. Or seeding magical plants to restore forests.” She opened the door to the lounge and headed towards the tea kettle.

“Ah. Point taken. But England has only so many animals in need of ‘liberation’.”

“I’m aware of that.” She didn’t look at him as she started pouring the tea into two cups. “But let’s tackle one problem at a time.”

“Well, I can’t exactly help you with the spell.” He took his cup and sat at the table.

“You can help with the wording, actually,” she told him as she joined him. “That’s the most important part of the spell. Of an individual spell, at least.”

That was true - he had forgotten about that, he realised with a smile. “I can’t help with the Dementors or recruiting wizards, though.”

“So you want to rein in the Lunas?”

He shrugged. “Someone needs to keep them from going overboard. And I know Luna best.”

“I know.” She took a sip from her tea, so he didn’t see her lips, but she sounded a little tenser than before.

“I don’t think they’ll be deterred forever, though. Ginny said they’re working on portable habitats,” he said.

“Yes.” Hermione sighed. “They’re planning to release the animals in their natural habitats.”

“Which have shrunk a lot, though,” Ron pointed out. He wasn’t a biologist, but the news had covered how much territory a tiger needed. “I’m not sure if there’s enough room for all the animals.”

“There should be,” Hermione replied. “Perhaps if we find a virgin earth…”

“Wouldn’t that be populated by other animals, which would have to be displaced to make room for the rescued animals?” It was only logical, after all. At least in his opinion.

“They should have some leeway.”

“I’m not sure the Lunas would accept that.” He was lying - he was sure that they wouldn’t.

“Well, that would only encourage them to create and enlarge habitats in this world.” Hermione shook her head. “And they don’t have the resources for that.”

That was a problem. A problem Ron wasn’t sure he could solve.

*****​

Unnamed Highlands, Scotland, February 11th, 2006

Ron didn’t even stumble upon appearing in a snowy field in the middle of nowhere, nor did he release wizarding Luna’s hand. He had really got used to Apparition, then. But… “This looks deserted.”

“That’s the idea,” she replied, nodding with a smile.

He cleared his throat.

She blinked. “Oh. Right. This way!”

She led him across a snowfield to the base of a hill. “We call it ‘Underhill’. Because it’s under the hill!”

Or because Luna liked her myths. Ron nodded anyway and didn’t jerk when wizarding Luna waved her wand, causing a door to appear in the middle of a snow bank. A swish of her wand made it swing open, revealing…

...a huge hall. Far short of a stadium, of course, but bigger than the average warehouse. He whistled, genuinely impressed.

She beamed at him. “It’s big enough to house all our rescues - provided we shrink them. I wanted a portable savannah suitcase, they are oh so practical, but the only one in existence is owned by the Scamander family, and they wouldn’t sell to us for all the gold in Gringotts - they’re jealous of The Quibbler’s fame, you know?”

“Ah. Fellow Magizoologists?”

“Yes, but terribly conventional.” She closed the door behind them. “Luna! We’ve got a visitor!”

“I know!” came the reply from what Ron identified as a cardboard cubicle. “Hi, Ron!” Luna stuck her head out of the cubicle, apparently leaning back on a chair.

She sounded a little too cheerful. Guilty conscience, he knew. He pointed at the various boxes and trunks. “Creating a miniature zoo?”

“This is just temporary!” Luna replied with a frown.

“Only until we can find a place for them in the wilderness,” her counterpart added. “Which could take a while, of course. Do you want a tour?”

He shook his head. “Maybe later. I wanted to know what you’re planning once you’ve collected all the endangered animals in England. Apart from trying to find them habitats.”

Wizarding Luna pouted. “Restoring their natural habitats will take a long time. We might have to keep them shrunken until then. Or we could keep them in a spelled slumber, but the potion needed for that hasn’t been sufficiently tested on animals, yet.”

“It was only tested on humans?”

“Yes, of course.”

That said a lot about the priorities of wizards. “What about Hermione’s special project?”

“Oh, that’s… well, we might need to ask Hagrid for help,” wizarding Luna said.

“We’ve got some ideas left to try, but…” Luna shrugged. “The fire crabs are proving to be a little too big to be adapted.”

“Yes. Although in our defence, I’m an explorer, not a breeder.” Wizarding Luna smiled.

“And Hagrid is a breeder?”

“Foremost expert in Wizarding Britain,” wizarding Luna said. “He successfully bred fire craps and manticores!”

“Perhaps we should call him.”

And the wizard might also know how to deal with Dementors.

*****​

“The Fidelius Charm is a tricky spell. Unlike with most other spells, in the case of this charm, how well you can use it is much more important than how well you can cast it,” Dumbledore said. “It is used to hide a secret - a piece of knowledge. Most often, a location - that was the purpose for which the spell was originally developed. However, it has more potential than that. In theory, you could hide someone’s entire existence with this spell. You could evade the most determined, most Orwellian pursuit - or erase someone from society at the most fundamental level.”

He smiled. “However, it has quite strict limitations. The more people who know a secret, the harder it is to hide it - initially. Once the spell has been successfully cast, however, it is nigh inviolable. Which is what makes it so dangerous.” He grew serious. “People tend to trust it too much. Secure in the knowledge that their home is perfectly protected, they grow sloppy. And, of course, the ability to hide a specific piece of knowledge also includes hiding crimes.”

She gasped. “It would allow someone to appear beyond suspicion if their crimes were hidden by the charm!”

“Exactly. There are ways around it, of course. Just because someone’s true allegiance is hidden by the charm doesn’t mean that they’ll be trusted; most people and organisations have more than one enemy. And, fortunately, the Daily Prophet publishing anything without scruple has pushed many secrets above the level that the spell can handle.” He grinned. “Mr Malfoy’s past is too well-known to be hidden, for example.”

That was a small consolation. “Can the secret, if it’s a fundamental principle, like a spell, be rediscovered?”

“Not to my knowledge, Miss Granger.”

She gasped again, shocked as she understood the ramifications. To think of all the knowledge - all the spells, all the discoveries - that could be hidden, unreachable for anyone, just because of one selfish, greedy wizard or witch! “But… that’s… why is this spell not considered an Unforgivable?” It endangered the very fundament of civilisation: the free exchange of knowledge and information!

“Two reasons, Miss Granger. First, it won’t last forever. A few years, certainly. A few decades, if cast masterfully. And second, who would be able to know that it was cast?”

“Ah.” She should’ve thought of that.

“That you cannot keep more than one secret using the spell also discourages its, shall we say, frivolous use. It would be embarrassing, possibly fatally so, if you need the spell for your own protection, but have already cast it to hide a new spell you’d researched. Then, of course, there’s the fact that casting the charm is by no means a small feat. And, obviously, there is the issue that if the original Secret Keeper dies, everyone who knew the secret becomes a new Secret Keeper.”

She nodded. So, the Wizarding World might not break down as a few drunk wizards started hiding essential knowledge. “You mentioned the wording.”

“Oh, yes.” He smiled again. “As with genie contracts, the wording is key when casting the spell. Magic likes loopholes. Some say magic was the original loophole, so to speak. Magic certainly has a sense of irony, I’ve found.”

*****​

 

Chapter 60: The New Career

The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, Britain, Wizarding World, February 12th, 2006

If not for the, well, colourful robes and, in Mr Weasley’s case, mismatched trousers and vest, it would have looked like a Weasley family gathering. And the magic, of course. Can’t forget the magic, Ron thought as he saw Mrs Weasley float the dishes off of, and a giant cake on to, the table.

“Here you go! That should be enough cake for everyone.”

“Thank you, Molly,” Hermione said with a beaming smile.

“Thanks, Mum!”

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley.”

“Call me Molly, Ron.” She beamed at him. “Fred! Have some patience! Guests are served first!”

“I was about to serve them!” the scolded wizard protested. “And I’m George!”

“No, I’m George!”

“Children…” Arthur sighed. “Behave.”

For once, the twins shut up, and shortly afterwards, the chocolate cake split into well-sized slices that floated over to the plates on the table. A bowl of whipped cream was passed around, and Ron took two spoonfuls for his portion before taking a bite.

“Just like Mum’s,” he whispered, smiling.

“Indeed,” Hermione agreed. “The best cake I’ve ever eaten.”

“Thank you, Hermione.” Mrs Weasley - Molly, he reminded himself for about the tenth time - smiled at them.

“Thank you, Mother,” wizarding Percy said. “Your cooking remains as excellent as ever.”

Wizarding Fred - or so Ron thought - started parroting Percy, but another glare from Molly shut him down. “Behave!”

Ron had to hide a smile - that had sounded like Austin Powers.

“But we are behaving! Misbehaving!” wizarding George replied.

“Exactly!”

“Boys…” Once more, Arthur stepped in, and the twins shut up. For the time being. But after everyone had finished their cake, and most of their tea, he spoke up again: “Hermione, you said you had something important to discuss.”

“Without Ron?” Wizarding George asked. “Our Ron, I mean. Although two Ron’s would be one too many.”

“But what about Harry? He’s pretty much a Weasley. Married into the family and everything,” his brother went on.

“After Mum gave adopting him a good try for years.”

“Boys…”

“They already know what this is about,” Hermione said as she stood.

“Oi! Unfair!”

“Boys.”

“And Charlie and Bill are not in the country,” Hermione continued, ignoring the twins’ banter. Then she cast a series of spells - privacy charms, Ron guessed. “All of you are aware of where I spent the last seven years.”

“Yes! In some dark basement in Scotland!”

“We were there!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me silence you. Anyway, we’ve dealt with the problems - the most urgent ones - in the other world. The portal is reasonably safe now. That means we can now start focusing on other tasks.”

“Like abolishing Azkaban!” wizarding Fred exclaimed.

“We’re working on that, actually.” Hermione’s smile grew a little tight. “But sooner or later, we’ll attempt to open a portal to completely different worlds.”

“Oh! Another set of Weasleys? Can you imagine, three - six - versions of us?”

“We can, and it’s a horrible prospect,” Ron told them.

They laughed at that, of course. And Molly looked like she didn’t know if she should laugh as well, or be annoyed at not being able to scold Ron since he was a guest in their home.

Hermione, of course, had no qualms about glaring at him. Ron beamed at her. Trying to be overly serious only made the twins try harder. Which she should know from her own experience. She cleared her throat. “Yes, that is a possibility, but we’ll be aiming for more diverse worlds.”

Once she found out how, of course. And whether or not such worlds existed.

“As you can imagine, this will be a rather large project. The other world’s Mr Dumbledore is financing part of it, at least.” How large that part would end up being would depend on how much money they could make. “But we’ll need the help of trusted wizards and witches who can keep a secret and don’t shy away from potential danger.”

“We’re in!” wizarding Fred announced at once.

“We’re already familiar with the set-up, and exploring new worlds sounds far more exciting than selling pranks to children,” his brother added.

“Or their stupid parents,” wizarding Fred went on. “So, when do we start?”

“What about your shop?” Molly blurted. “Are you going to abandon it?”

“Good question, Mum,” wizarding Fred said. “I didn’t know you cared!”

Molly gasped, but wizarding George quickly placated her. “He’s joking. But we do have staff, and making the items isn’t as time-consuming or difficult as inventing them. We shouldn’t lose much business if we slow down a little.”

“Exactly!” his brother agreed.

“It’s not about the money! It’s dangerous!” Molly retorted.

“So’s experimenting with potions, and we’ve done that since third year.” Wizarding Fred shrugged.

Ron winced - that wasn’t a good argument. He could see Molly winding herself up for a truly impressive outburst - she had the same expression Mum had when they had told her about Pettigrew.

But Arthur spoke up: “Sons, Molly’s right - this isn’t the same as experimenting with spells or potions.”

“We’ve also fought in the war,” wizarding Fred blurted out in return, but then drew a sharp breath, his eyes glancing at Molly as if he was surprised at his own words.

With cause, Ron realised - everyone had fallen silent.

“It’s not the same!” Molly protested. “This isn’t… this is going out and looking for danger!”

“Molly, we’re not looking for danger - we’re looking for new worlds. New discoveries,” Hermione said. “And we’ll be careful. Cautious. We won’t just enter a new world at random.”

“We won’t?” Wizarding Fred gasped theatrically. “That was half the draw!”

But his twin brother elbowed him. “We’re not stupid. We won’t just jump through a portal. But this is big. Probably the biggest thing in centuries. And we want in.”

Wizarding Fred nodded. “Yes. Making prank items is entertaining, but…” He shrugged. “It’s not…”

Wizarding George took over. “People’s lives aren’t going to change because of a clever prank. This, though…” He grinned. “This could change everything.”

“And we really want to meet our counterparts!” wizarding Fred added with a wide grin. “Not to mention the pay will be great.”

Ron suppressed a sigh. Of course, Dumbledore and Grindelwald would have tried to recruit them while they guarded the portal.

Hermione must have realised the same thing. “About that. We’re working on acquiring funds and finances. While I wouldn’t say that I distrust Mr Dumbledore, I wouldn’t feel very safe if he had complete control over this project.”

“Trust, but verify,” Ron said.

“Ah!” Wizarding George nodded. “You want us on your side, in case there’s a conflict between you and Dumbledore.”

“Honestly? Yes.” Hermione sighed. “It’s as Ron said: I’d like to have some assurances.”

“Something to keep the old man honest,” Ron added. “He’s been honest with us so far, but so far we haven’t had a difference of opinion, either.”

“And he’s working with their world’s Grindelwald,” Arthur added. “Granted, a muggle Grindelwald who wasn’t the leader our Grindelwald was, but…”

Everyone nodded. Ron was relieved to see that the wizarding Weasleys weren’t as trusting towards Dumbledore as his own family. Of course, his parents owed a lot to Dumbledore.

“Oh, so we’re going to be spies as well?” Wizarding Fred sounded far too eager for Ron’s taste.

“No. No spying - you wouldn’t be able to fool him.” Hermione frowned at the twins. “He’s been a spymaster for decades; he’d see straight through you. Just be honest and upfront with him.”

“You’d be a deterrent,” Ron added.

“And our family as well, I take it,” Arthur commented, almost casually, but the glint in his eyes - the wizard wasn’t amused, to say the least. “Since we would certainly react, should something happen to our children.”

Hermione winced but nodded. “I hate to ask this of you, but I - we - need people we can trust on our side. Honest people who will do what’s right, not what’s easy, if things go wrong. Dumbledore isn’t evil, but he’s been a spy for all his life, and he’s used to working with spies. He won’t baulk at recruiting people with, well, flexible morals, because that’s what he has been doing for decades.” She took a deep breath. “And I don’t trust such people. The temptation a world without wizards and witches offers is just too great to trust them. We need people who won’t be corrupted.”

Ron nodded. The Lunas showed that. They meant well, but… what if they had more sinister goals?

“Hey! We’re already corrupted!” wizarding Fred protested. “We’re proud to have been corrupted as early as our first year!”

Wizarding Percy spoke up for the first time since the discussion had started. “Be serious,” he told the twins before turning to Hermione and Ron. “It would also be a matter of national security. If Dumbledore hires an untrustworthy wizard, and they should gain control over the portal, that would endanger Wizarding Britain.”

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “I’m sure Dumbledore will attempt to play all his wizards and witches against each other, to keep any one of them from controlling him and his partner, but that’s not a perfect solution. All it takes is one mistake.”

“Or the mercenary wizards deciding that they can get more money working together without the muggles.” Wizarding Percy nodded. “I still think that we should inform Kingsley. The support of the Minister would be invaluable.”

“I disagree,” Arthur said. “Kingsley is a good man, but his successor? Or the Wizengamot?” He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Which means we’ll have to step in!” wizarding Fred announced with a wide grin. “We should call it the ‘Weasleys’ Wizarding Worldgate’!”

“No, we won’t,” Hermione said firmly, but she was smiling.

*****​

Greenwich, London, Britain, Wizarding World, February 12th, 2006

“...and Fred and George will move to the portal base as soon as they finish reorganising their business,” Hermione said.

Her mother nodded. “Does that mean you’ll live there as well?”

Mrs Granger didn’t frown or sound angry, but Hermione flinched a little anyway, or so it seemed to Ron. “For the foreseeable future. Once we find a deserted world, we’re planning to move the main base there, for safety reasons.”

“So that if you dig too deep, you won’t release a Balrog on our world?” Mr Granger, too, seemed to approve.

“Dad! I’m not a dwarf,” Hermione protested. “But, yes, that’s the idea.”

“Just don’t build a self-destruct device,” her father told her. “That never ends well.”

“That’s a risk we need to take,” she retorted. “The safety provided by an off-world - or extra-dimensional - base would be significantly reduced if a potential invader could easily seize the entire base.”

“And what if an invader uses it against you?”

“If they can use the self-destruct device, then they’d have already critically penetrated base security anyway,” Ron cut in, which earned him a glance from Hermione, who seemed to be torn between annoyance at him butting in and gratitude for supporting her.

Gratitude won out. “Exactly. In any case, it’s better to lose a base than a planet - or your families.” Hermione blinked, then winced. “Sorry.”

An awkward silence followed that lasted for about fifteen seconds before Ron cleared his throat and changed the subject somewhat. “We’ll be recruiting a few more trusted wizards and witches. Mainly the eldest and second-eldest Weasley son and their families. Or family, in this case.”

“Bill and Charlie,” Hermione explained. “Which will bring Bill’s wife, Fleur.”

“They haven’t accepted yet,” he cautioned her. As far as he knew, they hadn’t even been told yet.

But she shrugged. “I’m sure at least Bill will join up quickly. He’s the type to explore and likes adventure. Charlie… he loves dragons above everything else, so unless we find a world full of dragons, we might not see him.”

“Except for family gatherings,” Ron said. “Mum and Dad want to meet their counterparts.” Everyone wanted to.

“As do the twins, I suppose,” Hermione added. “That should be interesting.”

Both her parents smiled - they knew the twins, then. Ron grinned, though he felt more cynical than amused. “They can’t be worse than the Lunas, I think.”

“Don’t jinx it!”

“The Lunas? Luna Lovegood?” Mrs Granger asked.

“Yes. Her and her counterpart,” Hermione replied.

“What have they done?”

Hermione sighed and started to detail the Lunas’ plans. The Grangers were amused but also concerned. “Are they planning to release magical species as well?” Mrs Granger asked. “Or to restore the ancient woodlands, for example?”

“They should know better than that,” Ron replied. “Knowing what invasive species do to the native species should keep them from doing something foolish.” At least he hoped so - he knew his Luna much better than he knew her counterpart, despite the time they had spent together on missions.

“Well, at least that’s not a concern here,” Mr Granger said.

“Not before we discover a world with unknown flora and fauna,” Ron agreed.

Every Granger present frowned at him in response.

*****​

Later, while Ron was taking a walk with Hermione, they passed her old address from her time in his world. He stopped and looked up at what would have been her flat. “Do you know who’s living here?”

She shook her head. “No. And I don’t think I want to know. I never lived here - my flat’s in the other world.”

His world. “You’re not even a little curious?”

“No. Maybe a little. But it would feel weird.”

“Weirder than working with your dimensional counterpart?”

“Touché.” She snorted. “Who knows - I might meet one of my own counterparts myself.”

“Sooner or later, you’re bound to find another parallel world.”

“That’s not certain. The possibilities are endless, after all,” she said.

“Unless the universes that are the easiest to reach are the ones that are the most similar. Or something.” That was possible, wasn’t it?

“We don’t have enough data to draw such a conclusion. I wasn’t picking a universe at random, after all, but using my connection to find my home universe. Now, when looking for a universe at random, anything could happen.”

He nodded. “That might be a little dangerous until you find an empty world.”

“A little. I’ve got two universes to compare, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find a similar universe, which should keep the risk at an acceptable level. And the more data we get, the easier it is to make predictions.”

“But the risk remains.”

“Some risk, yes. But it’s worth it. Could you just ignore the possibility of travelling to other dimensions simply because it might be dangerous?” She cocked her head a little as she looked at him.

He chuckled, a little ruefully, and shook his head. “No, I couldn’t.”

Smiling, she hooked her arm into his, and they continued their walk.

“Are you going to ask your parents to move to the portal base?” he asked a few minutes later.

She sighed but didn’t reply right away. After a moment, she said: “What would they do there? They can’t work there, and, for the foreseeable future, we’ll be based in the other world, where Gabriel and Ellen live.” She sighed again. “No friends, no family other than me, no work…”

Well, they would have her. “They’d be safe there, though.”

“That’s true. But they’ve been safe for years here,” she replied.

He nodded. “But that was when the wizards thought you had died. They were useless as leverage,” he told her. She frowned at him, and he shrugged. “I’m just pointing out the obvious.”

“I know. But I might as well ask them to hide, isolated, under the Fidelius Charm!” She shook her head. “Depending on me whenever they want to go outside? Travel? Meet friends and family? That wouldn’t be much of a life.”

Nor would it be much of a life for her. He nodded. “And it would give Dumbledore and Grindelwald more potential leverage.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, then shook her head. “That’s Moody talking. Dumbledore would never be as crude as to try to kidnap my parents to exert influence on me.”

“Grindelwald might, though,” Ron countered.

“I think he’d follow Dumbledore’s lead in this.”

Ron didn’t agree, but it was all theoretical. “Dumbledore is no saint.”

“I’m aware of that. And also that he’d probably use my parents in his plans anyway. Just with more finesse.”

“And a possibly overly complicated plan.” Ron snorted. “He is the type to be too clever for his own good.”

“So far, his plans have worked out,” Hermione retorted.

“Those we know of, at least.”

She narrowed her eyes at him again. “I am aware that he’s a spymaster and pursuing his own agenda - undoubtedly focused on amassing more money and power for himself, and finding a way to further extend his life.”

“That’s quite the motivation. And what will he do if he finds a method you won’t tolerate?”

She raised her chin. “Then we’ll have to stop him.”

“He’ll expect that.”

“I know.”

He snorted. “I’m looking forward to working on a project marked by such exceptional trust between its primary participant and backer.”

“It’s not as if we have a choice,” she replied. “I have no doubt that Dumbledore has taken precautions in case we decide to move against him.”

“Yes.” Even if Rosengarten was a wild card, Dumbledore had had ample opportunities to construct a situation where mutual destruction was assured. Ron’s parents still trusted him, for one thing. “But it’s worth it.”

She chuckled. “To visit other worlds?”

“And explore them.” And the situation made Ron feel more useful, too. He was trained to deal with similar problems, after all. Moody had seen to that.

Hermione nodded with a smile. “Exactly. Imagine the possibilities.”

Well, Ron had been doing that since he had been able to read.

*****​

“So, do you have an idea for dealing with the Dementors?” he asked on the way back to her parents’ home - dinner would be ready soon.

“Nothing concrete, yet.” She frowned, though not at him. “There’s no known method of killing them - although I doubt that many methods were actually tested thoroughly, if at all. It’s very difficult to concentrate next to a Dementor, which impedes spell-casting.”

“What about explosives?”

“That has been tested. The Blasting Curse is one of the few spells that can be cast effectively from far away, and using it didn’t kill the Dementors.”

It was his turn to frown. “Perhaps the explosion wasn’t powerful enough.”

“That is a possibility. Few blasting curses can equal a large bomb, after all. But I don’t think it’s that easy. Someone’s bound to have tried something similar,” she replied.

“Lasers?”

“They’re not especially vulnerable to light or heat. Sunlight doesn’t hurt them. That’s been tested extensively.”

Ron felt a little stupid, trying to think of magical ways to hurt such monsters when he was a muggle, but it wasn’t as if he had anything better to do. And he’d always liked brainstorming problems in roleplaying games. “What weaknesses do they have?”

“Well, they cannot stand being in the presence of a Patronus. And they also supposedly cannot stand warmer climates, either - which would explain their cold aura. They cannot pass through walls, nor can they fly, even though they move by gliding over the ground. Most spells are said to be unable to affect them, especially those charms and curses that affect the mind. And using Legilimency on a Dementor resulted in insanity in the wizard who attempted it.”

Hmmm. That was a pretty long list already. Far from comprehensive, though. “Can they walk or glide over water?” They lived on an island, didn’t they?

Hermione shook her head. “No, they can’t. That’s why they are confined to Azkaban. When they attacked us at the Black Lake, they went around the lake.”

“What happens if they are pushed into water?”

She wrinkled her nose. “That’s a good question. It should be tested - I don’t think anyone’s ever tried it. Or if they did, we don’t know if they were successful.” She started to grin. “I think my idea for dealing with Azkaban needs a little refining.”

*****​

CI5 Headquarters, Westminster, London, February 15th, 2006

“Feels sort of nostalgic, doesn’t it?” Ron asked as he stepped out of the car in front of CI5’s headquarters.

Harry made a non-commital noise as he closed the car door, then locked the Bentley with a click of the remote. “It’s been a while.”

Ron was about to comment some more when he saw the door open ahead of them. He tensed, and his hand went under his jacket. Then he relaxed. It was just Dawlish.

The other police officer’s eyes widened upon seeing them, but his surprise quickly gave way to a deep frown. “Potter. Weasley.”

“Dawlish.” Ron barely nodded at the man. Harry didn’t even bother.

Dawlish pressed his lips together in return, then sneered. “A Bentley? Your girlfriend or your godfather loaning you the car, Potter?”

Ron almost sighed as he saw Harry tense in response. His friend really should have gotten used to this.

“Jealous, Dawlish?” Harry scoffed. “Because you don’t have a girlfriend or a decent car?”

The other man clenched his teeth together. “Some of us work for a living, Potter.”

“Like me,” Ron added with a smile.”And we’re here for work.” Only technically, of course.

“You’re still suspended.”

“We were on leave. Now we’re back,” Harry told him. “And you’re in our way.”

Ah, Ron’s friend hadn’t lost his touch - Ron expected to hear the sound of Dawlish cracking a tooth or three, the way the man’s jaws were working.

But Dawlish stepped to the side. “Things changed while you were hiding. Don’t expect a red carpet - or special treatment.” With another sneer, he watched them enter.

“Dawlish kept his position,” Ron commented as they made their way through the lobby towards the unfamiliar officer manning the desk there.

“Might’ve been demoted.”

Ron nodded. He hadn’t bothered keeping track of what was happening at their old - technically still current - office.

“Harry Potter and Ron Weasley,” Harry announced. “We’ve got an appointment with the boss.”

The woman blinked. “You mean the Chief Superintendent?” Before either of them could reply, she went on: “I’ll need to see both of your IDs, sir.”

Things had changed, Ron realised as he pulled out his ID. Granted, that was to be expected after the murders of Scrimgeour and Bones.

The woman looked at their IDs, then at them, and nodded. She didn’t comment, though - she just checked the schedule. “Yes, you’re expected. It’s on the fifth floor, office number…”

“We know the way,” Harry interrupted her with a nod.

“Got yelled at by Bones often enough,” Ron added, flashing a smile at the woman before he followed Harry to the lift. “She’s new,” he said in a low voice as they waited for the cabin to arrive.

“I know,” Harry replied. “Still, she should’ve known who we are.”

“Oh? You like being famous now?” Ron snorted.

“We’re here for an appointment with the boss. And we’re fairly well known in CI5. She should’ve been aware of who we are, even if only after checking up on us.”

“Maybe she did, and didn’t want to appear to be friendly with the local pariahs?” Ron wasn’t entirely serious, but it was possible.

The lift arrived before Harry could reply, and the doors opened to reveal Moody, leaning against the cabin’s wall. “Potter. Weasley.”

“Moody,” Ron replied in the same flat tone.

“Here to pat us down?” Harry asked.

“The scanners in the doors have been enhanced,” the man told them.

“And you trust them?” Ron raised his eyebrows as he stepped inside.

“I tested them. Extensively.”

“Ah.”

The door closed behind them, and Moody reached over to press the button for the fifth floor. “So, here to quit?”

“We quit months ago,” Harry replied. “We’re just here to update the paperwork.”

Moody scoffed. “About time.” Then he cocked his head and glared at them. “How did you hide your weapons?”

“What makes you think we’re armed?” Harry shot back with the sort of innocent smile that had never worked on any authority figure Ron could remember.

It didn’t work on Moody, either. He snorted. “I trained you. You’re not stupid enough to think you’re safe here - or in London - just because Putin’s busy with a traitor now. And you’re too damn smug, Potter.”

Ron snorted in return. “Trade secret, Moody,” he said.

Moody shook his head. “New gear from Phoenix Gruppe?”

Ron inclined his head. Technically true - if Hermione shrinking their weapons counted.

Moody snorted again. “So you’re going mercenary.”

“Bodyguard,” Harry corrected him as they reached the fifth floor.

“Tell that to someone who doesn’t know Dumbledore,” Moody grunted, but nodded as they left, while remaining in the lift himself. “Good luck,” he muttered, just before the doors closed again.

A new, middle-aged secretary greeted them. Her smile was polite. Very polite. She must have heard of them, then, and nothing good, probably. Ron almost chuckled, but they weren’t here to make more enemies. Not deliberately, at least. “Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. We’ve got an appointment with Chief Superintendent Spikings,” he said instead, flashing a smile at her.

“Ah, yes. Please have a seat; he’ll be ready for you in a moment.” She nodded towards the cheap plastic chairs lined up by the wall across from her desk and went back to typing before they could reply.

She had definitely heard of them. “I guess Dawlish talked about us,” Ron muttered as he took a seat.

Harry snorted. “Or Moody.”

Ron chuckled. “Oh, yes.” What Moody considered praise would likely not be well-received by many others, and he didn’t know how Spikings saw things. Ron knew that the man had led a special investigations unit for the Met and that he had been called out of retirement to ‘sort out’ CI5, but not much else.

Well, it didn’t matter. They were here to quit, not to get their jobs back. He chuckled again - not having to worry about the new boss felt quite liberating, actually.

The secretary frowned at him, but the intercom on her desk buzzed before she could scold him. “The Chief Superintendent will see you now,” she said.

“Thank you,” Ron nodded at her with a bright smile as he got up.

Chief Superintendent Gordon Spikings was wearing a pinstripe suit, sported a thick moustache and was already glaring at them as they entered. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Sir,” Ron greeted him, followed by Harry a moment later.

“Harry Potter. Ronald Weasley.” The old man stared at them for a moment. “Take a seat,” he snapped, more an order than an invitation.

They sat down anyway. The office hadn’t changed, Ron noticed. It was almost like it had been when Bones occupied it - just without her personal touches. Spikings hadn’t brought any of his own, other than a picture on his desk, but Ron could only see the back of it. Probably a family picture.

“You’ve been at the centre of this whole mess since it started,” the man began. “Some say you’re responsible for it in the first place.”

Probably Dawlish, Ron thought.

“Whoever said that is lying,” Harry retorted. “We did our jobs, nothing else.”

Spikings snorted in return, then patted a familiar-looking stack of files. “I’ve read your files. You’re troublemakers. Cowboys.” He stressed the last word as if it had a special meaning.

Ron cocked his head. “We were cleared after every investigation following a shooting.”

The man’s glare intensified. “I know how such things are handled.”

Ron was sure the man had handled some of those things himself.

Harry shrugged.

“You’re remarkably unconcerned about your future employment,” Spikings went on. “Then again, you’ve been working for Mr Dumbledore for the last few months, haven’t you?”

“Actually, we’ve been protecting Dr Granger, who, in turn, was working for Mr Dumbledore at a special research site,” Ron pointed out. He managed not to smile as he did so.

Spikings scoffed at that. “You were suspended. Still are, actually.” The man could do sarcasm better than Bones.

“That’s why we’re here,” Harry said. “We’ve come to quit.”

Ron nodded. There was no need to drag this out.

Spikings wasn’t at all surprised. “Joining Dumbledore’s private Secret Service, are you?”

“We’re going to be private detectives,” Ron told him. “And private security.”

“Mercenaries, then,” Spikings replied. “You wouldn’t have travelled to Berlin recently, would you?”

That must be a wild guess. Ron did his best to look puzzled.

Harry shook his head. “No, why? We’ve been stuck in Scotland.”

Spikings’s eyes narrowed even more. He didn’t push further, though. “And I expect you will be granted the right to carry firearms in your new business.”

Ron shrugged. “Well, they’re sort of necessary in our business. As our files demonstrate.” He nodded at the stack of paper.

The old man shook his head. “As expected. But I’m warning you: If you cross the line in my jurisdiction, Dumbledore won’t be able to protect you. I’ll bring you in. It isn’t the Cold War any more. Dumbledore isn’t running things in MI6 any more, either. And there’s only so much that bribes can do.”

“I don’t think there’ll be any trouble,” Harry said. But he was smiling a little too much.

Once more, the old man scoffed. “It’s too bad you’re quitting, actually. I think you would be perfect for investigating the sudden rash of stolen animals. Setting cowboys to track down animals seems oddly fitting.”

Harry’s smile widened, and Ron wanted to sigh. “Might I suggest Dawlish instead?” his friend asked. “He’s perfect for talking to all those rich people missing their exotic pets.”

“I would think you would be better suited, Mr Potter, as you might know many of them through your godfather.”

“We don’t exactly move in those circles, sir,” Harry shot back.

For the first time, the man’s lips twisted into the hint of a smile. “See Mrs Edgecombe about the necessary forms for your departure.”

“Thank you,” Ron said.

Harry grunted something as they got up.

*****​

“Dawlish must have spent a week bad-mouthing us non-stop,” Ron said as they entered the lift again.

“I don’t know,” his friend disagreed. “I think the Chief Superintendent would have seen through such a transparent move. But our files are sort of… suggestive.”

“That’s CI5 for you,” Ron replied. Moody had told them that the unit had been formed to use unorthodox tactics. Granted, the old man had usually said that after a run-in with Bones, who had been a very by-the-book officer.

“Yeah.” Harry shrugged. “I also thought Spikings wasn’t really talking about us. Or not just about us. ‘Cowboys’ - why would he call us that?”

“Because we used our guns more than all the officers in other units combined?” Ron asked.

Harry snorted in return. “Good point. Not that it matters.”

“No, I guess it doesn’t.”

They reached the ground floor. Time to leave CI5.

“Ron! Harry! Tell me it’s not true! Tell me there’s been a mistake!”

Or not. “Hi, Colin,” Ron said as Harry grunted something Colin might mistake for a greeting. “What’s a mistake?”

“You’ve been listed in the system as quitting the service!” the younger man blurted out.

“Why do you know this?” Harry asked, eyes narrowing. “We only just filled out the forms.”

“And how did you know we’re here?”

“I’ve got a program that flags every mention of you in our system,” Colin replied. “But that’s not important. You’re quitting? Why? You’re our best officer. Best officers.”

“Thank you,” Ron drawled as sarcastically as he could. Not that Colin would notice.

Harry sighed. “Well…”

“Wait! Did Spikings tell you to quit or you’d be fired?” Colin gasped. “That’s not fair! He just wants to kick everyone out and replace them with his own people! They’ve already replaced most of the brass!”

“Actually…”

“You can’t let them do this, Harry! You need to fight them! I’m sure there’s some dirt on Spikings that you can dig up and use to force him to reinstate you! We need you!” Colin took a step towards Harry, who took a step back.

“We’re not going to blackmail a Chief Superintendent,” Harry told Colin.

“But…”

“Spikings isn’t the type to bow to pressure,” Ron added. At least he thought so. “And he’s retired, so he doesn’t have anything to lose.”

“But…”

“Look, Colin.” Harry sighed. “We’ve been planning to quit for some time.”

“But why?” Colin whined.

“We don’t fit in any more,” Ron said.

“That’s not true! You’re veterans! We need you!”

“Colin!” It was Ron’s turn to sigh. “We’ve, ah, moved past CI5. We’re about to go private.”

“Oh! So the rumours are true! You’re going to work for the Secret Service!”

“No, we aren’t,” Harry snapped. “We’re gonna be private investigators. Detectives and bodyguards.”

“But… you were hired by Albus Dumbledore, weren’t you? ‘C’, the boss of MI6! He led the Secret Service during the Cold War! He’s a legend!”

Ron glanced at Harry. It looked like they had finally found someone Colin liked almost as much as Harry.

“We might do some work for him,” Harry admitted. “But we’re not going to become secret agents or anything. We’re going to be bodyguards.”

“Harry’ll be busy guarding Ginny,” Ron said.

“Oh… right.” As usual, Colin deflated when Ginny was mentioned. Or rather, her relationship with Harry.

“And Ron’ll be guarding Hermione,” Harry added.

“Dr Granger?” Colin perked up again. “Did you solve her case?”

“That’s classified,” Ron told him.

“Oh. The attack in Scotland! Of course - that was the last attempt by Russian oligarchs to silence her before she remembered who had kidnapped her! And the purge in Russia is Putin getting rid of them before they can implicate him!”

“Have you been visiting conspiracy sites again?” Ron asked.

“Only those that Luna recommends.”

Ron ignored Harry’s amused glance. “It’s classified.”

“That means yes!”

“No, it means that it’s classified,” Ron repeated himself.

Colin gasped again. “Oh! Say… do you need a lab technician in your new office?” He was looking at them - at Harry - with bright eyes and an expression so full of hope, Ron almost felt bad for shooting him down. Almost. Ginny would kill Colin after a week, tops. Or she’d kill Ron. So he told Colin: “Sorry, but we’re focusing on bodyguarding to start with - and cheating spouses. We won’t need a forensics lab.”

“Oh… but I can do surveillance as well!”

Yes, Ginny would definitely kill him. Or Harry would do it.

“Sorry, Colin, but we’re starting small. Just the two of us. And we’ll be, well… guarding our girlfriends to begin with,” Harry said with a fake smile.

“Oh. I guess you don’t need a lab technician, then.”

“Sorry.” Ron nodded, patted the bloke on the shoulder, and left the building.

Harry all but ran after him.

“I’m not going to miss CI5, actually,” his friend told him when they reached the Bentley. “It wouldn’t be the same, anyway.”

“With Spikings? Probably not.” Ron replied. “He’s used to running things his way, I think.” And with CI5 disgraced by the murders of Scrimgeour and Bones as well as Yaxleys’s betrayal, Spikings would get his way. That was how things worked.

“Yes. And I don’t want to work our way up for a year or two until we can do things our way again,” Harry agreed. “Let’s go.”

*****​

Greenwich, London, Britain, Wizarding World, February 15th, 2006

“...and then we left. He looked like a kicked puppy,” Ron finished his account as he sat at the Granger’s dinner table.

“Like a kicked stalker, you mean,” Harry said. “He had written a program that hacked the CI5 systems so he would be notified as soon as I appeared in the system.”

“That sounds like the Colin I knew,” Hermione said with a faint smile. “In his first year, he followed Harry around with a camera and tried to take pictures of him whenever he could.”

“That’s our Colin!” Ron grinned as Harry groaned.

“At least he’s still alive,” Hermione said, her smile vanishing.

This time, Ron did feel bad about brushing off Colin. Somewhat.

*****

“‘Gas Explosion’,” Harry said, spitting the words out.

“‘Whole family died in fire’,” Ron added, dropping the newspaper on the table in their tent.

“We told them to move,” she said through clenched teeth. “Why didn’t they leave their home and go into hiding?” The Creeveys should have known better than that. Two students - one of whom didn’t even have his O.W.L.s yet - stood no chance against the Death Eaters. Even if they had trained with the Boy-Who-Lived.

She bit her lip. She couldn’t say that - Harry would blame himself. And they couldn’t have that. Their lack of success at finding the last Horcrux was already bad enough. They didn’t need Harry growing even moodier. She sighed. “Their parents probably didn’t want to move, and they didn’t manage to convince them in time.”

“And they stayed as well, until it was too late,” Ron added. “I hope they at least got a few of the bastards. We trained them well enough, didn’t we?”

She closed her eyes. She didn’t need to see Harry to know that he was flinching.

*****​

 

Chapter 61: The School

Greenwich, London, Britain, Wizarding World, February 16th, 2006

“Bad dream?” Ron asked when he noticed that Hermione was awake. It was a bit after eight - late for the two of them. In Scotland, they’d have already eaten breakfast and would be returning from their morning run around the Black Lake.

She shook her head, her wild mane obscuring her face for a moment as it whipped round her face. “No. Just… old memories.”

War memories, then - as he had suspected. He knew the expression she usually wore when thinking of the war.

“Why do you ask?” She turned her head to look at him.

“You were tossing and turning in your sleep,” he told her.

She blushed. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault.” And it wasn’t as if she’d hurt him. He reached over and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Hey,” he added after a moment, to break the sombre mood, “do you think someone’s going to call us immoral?”

“Immoral?” She blinked.

“Well, technically, you’re my employer. Or you’ll be my employer. And we’re sleeping together, despite the power imbalance.”

She chuckled. “Technically, I’m employing your firm. And I don’t think it matters if you started your relationship before the business relationship.”

“Ah, right. But that reminds me: We’ll have to found a firm for this.” More paperwork. Ron had hoped he would have fewer, not more, forms to fill out when he left the police.

“Good idea,” Hermione agreed. “That will make it neater for the government. And make it harder for anyone to put pressure on you thanks to the limited liability.”

“Well, no one should attempt that, once you’ve cast your charm,” he replied.

She sighed. “I really should get back to work as soon as possible. The longer I take, the greater the risk of someone making a move. Putin... or our own government. Maybe even the US, if someone in the government told them about my supposed new technology.”

“Well, if they did leak the intel, they’ll be in hot water once that’s revealed as a cover.” At the very least, the Americans would consider them compromised. They might even take revenge of some sort for, supposedly, having been played for fools.

“We can only hope that it works.”

She had sounded far more confident in the discussions with the others, Ron noted. And while her doubts were cause for some concern, it was also nice to see her voice her doubts and open up to him.

“Worst case, we pack up and move to your world before looking for a world without Weasleys or Grangers. Or settle in your world. It wouldn’t be ideal, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Except, perhaps, for Percy.”

She snorted, then shook her head. “Really, Ron! The consequences of my potential failure for your family are hardly amusing!”

He laughed, even though she was obviously concerned. “You’re right. But it wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

“Unless Rosengarten is validated by my opening a portal to hell or a similarly dangerous place,” she said, sounding gloomy again.

“Hell? Do you mean a world full of lava, or the other place?”

“Both could be possible - well, reasonable facsimiles, at least.”

“Hell’s real?”

“No. I mean, no one - no wizard or witch - has found such a place. Or, if they have, returned to tell the tale. But magic certainly has the potential to create a place that would be indistinguishable from Hell as most people think of it,” she explained. “And the existence of souls, at least, has been proven.”

“I know.” Tales of souls being split or devoured pretty much implied that. “But Hell?”

“No one knows what the afterlife looks like - or if there’s one at all. Ghosts are the imprints left behind in death, not the souls of dead people returned. There was supposedly a magical stone that could summon the souls of the dead, but no one, ever, saw it being used - or if they did and it worked, they didn’t bother to ask that question. And, well - that’s pretty much the most obvious question anyone would ask a soul visiting from the afterlife, so I am inclined to assume that the Resurrection Stone, as it was called, doesn’t actually exist. Or doesn’t do what the myth claims.”

“Ah.” That was, in a way, quite reassuring. Wizards and witches didn’t have an advantage there, at least. They would be facing death with the same ignorance and uncertainty as muggles such as Ron himself.

Not that he planned on dying anytime soon, of course.

*****​

Hogwarts, Wizarding World, February 17th, 2006

Hagrid was the tallest man Ron had ever seen. He made André the Giant look small. And scrawny. The wooden hut had seemed tall and imposing, its door as tall as a gate, but with the man standing in front of it, it looked almost tiny in comparison.

“Hermione!” And his voice matched his stature. Not quite as loud as a gunshot, but it came close. “So glad ter finally see yeh. Again, I mean!”

“Hello, Hagrid,” Hermione replied with a smile - and a slightly guilty expression, Ron noted. “This is Ronald, my boyfriend. He’s related to the Weasleys.”

“Right! The muggle Weasley!” The man stuck his hand out towards Ron.

“Yes. Pleased to meet you.” Seeing no way to refuse without appearing rude, Ron took the man’s hand. And winced when Hagrid squeezed like a vice. “Hermione told me a lot about you.”

“She did?” Hagrid beamed at both of them. “We’ve bin friends for years - since she started at Hogwarts! Helped me a lot, she did, with all sorts o’ problems. Got into a lot o’ trouble, too, though!” The giant - half-giant, according to Hemione - chuckled. Ron was almost sure he felt the rumbling sound in his solar plexus.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve visited sooner, but…” She shrugged. “When I recovered my memories, I had to deal with my parents, Harry and Ron, the Ministry…”

“Oh, don’t worry about it - we’ve all heard about the commotion yer return made.” Hagrid grinned. “I’ve babysat the li’l ones a few times so Harry an’ Ron could go meet yeh. But come in, please! I’ve got cakes an’ tea an’ sandwiches! Not rock cakes, though - the kids can’ eat ’em yet, so I’ve bin makin’ softer cakes. Not as crunchy, bu’ the kids like ’em.”

Ron saw Hermione sigh with relief as soon as Hagrid turned his back. Ron, shaking his hand to get the feeling back in it - if anyone attacked just then, he wouldn’t be able to hold, much less fire, his gun - was relieved as well. Hermione had warned him three times about those cakes. With drastic examples of the damage they did to teeth.

The inside of the hut was neater than Hermione had described it. Far neater and cosier.

“Did you redecorate?” Hermione asked as they took their seats at a table that was a little too tall for them.

“Yeh noticed?” The giant beamed at them. “Ever since I got me wand back, after the war, I’ve bin remodellin’ a little. It’s so much easier with a wand.” As if to underline his words, he pulled out a large baton, waved it and the stove in the corner lit up. “Tea’ll be ready soon.”

“You got your wand back?” Hermione’s face lit up. “That’s great news!”

“Yeh didn’ know? Yes, Harry an’ Ron pushed fer a retrial. Wizengamot took a year, but finally decided tha’ I was innocent, so I got me wand back. Well, a new wand, me old one was broken.” He glanced to the side, where a huge umbrella was sticking out of what looked like… not the stump of an elephant’s foot, but…

“Is that a troll leg?” Hermione asked.

“Yes. It’s from Harry’s place. He said he didn’ want it any more. Reminded him o’ Tonks, yeh know.”

And there went the good mood. Hermione nodded with a sad expression. “She always stumbled over it.”

“Yes. He wanted ter destroy it, bu’…” Hagrid shrugged, causing his chair to creak loudly. “Wouldn’ have been right ter throw everything away. And it’s a perfec’ly fine umbrella stand. Don’ make ’em like tha’ any more.”

With good reason - the thing was hideous and stood out in the otherwise nice room.

“So, I’ve also heard you’re teaching again,” Hermione said after a moment.

“Yes!” The half-giant smiled, showing large teeth. “With the war over, I returned ter teachin’. And with the Ministry’s changes, I can teach the tykes about all the interestin’ creatures I can get!”

“That’s great,” Hermione lied.

“Isn’ it? Last year I had a baby wyvern as a class project - still visits me from time ter time; she’s livin’ in the Forest. I should organise a mate fer her in a year or so, when she’s mature.”

How big was an adult wyvern? Judging by Hermione’s forced smile, very big. “Speaking of creatures, are you also breeding new creatures?” she asked anyway.

“Tha’s illegal!” Hagrid replied.

“Unless you’ve got permission from the Ministry,” Hermione pointed out.

“I’ve asked, bu’ they didn’ grant me permission - I wanted ter cross the wyvern with a fire salamander. Would’ve bin like a cute tiny dragon. Ah, here’s the tea!” he said as the tea kettle started whistling.

As the tea was served - with a huge cake that looked and smelled delicious - Hermione leaned forward. “I’ve heard it’s very difficult to cross species that are of very different sizes.”

“Oh, yes. There’s a trick ter it, yeh know.” Hagrid nodded.

“Really?” This time, Hermione didn’t have to fake her smile, Ron noticed. “Could you tell me more?”

*****​

“...and tha’s how yeh cross-breed creatures of wildly diff’rent sizes. Me Da taught me tha’, in case I ever fell in love with a giant.”

“I see…” Hermione slowly nodded as she finished taking notes. “That was very informative, Hagrid. Thank you.”

A little too informative, in Ron’s opinion. He could’ve done without knowing so many details about the sexuality of giants. Or Manticores. He nodded anyway - Hagrid was what would be called a ‘gentle soul’ in some books. And a ‘mad scientist’ in others.

“Bu’ remember: It’s illegal ter breed a new creature without permission from the Ministry!”

“I assure you, I won’t break that law,” Hermione replied.

“Good. Yeh don’ wan’ ter go ter Azkaban. Trust me, yeh really don’ wan’ ter.” The half-giant shuddered.

“Yes. That the Ministry is still using Dementors is a disgrace!” Hermione spat. “They should’ve destroyed those abominations long ago!”

“Can’ kill ’em, Hermione. They aren’ really alive. Not like creatures - normal creatures, I mean.”

“Alive or not, everything can be destroyed. Even spells,” Hermione replied.

“Not Dementors! We tried everything in the war. Everything!” Hagrid shook his head, his huge hands gripping his stone mug so tightly, Ron thought he heard it creak.

“What about drowning?” Ron asked.

“They don’ breathe.”

“But they don’t swim, either,” Hermione retorted. “I know that. They can’t glide over water - they went around when…”

“Jus’ because they don’ like water doesn’ mean it hurts ’em,” Hagrid told her. “Like bathing a cat won’ kill it.”

“Even though the attempt might kill you,” Ron said, forcing himself to chuckle despite his disappointment. He had been quite proud that he had thought of something wizards had missed. Or at least had helped think of a way to kill Dementors.

“Well, water still serves to contain them,” Hermione replied. Slowly, her lips twisted into a nasty grin.

“Let’s talk abou’ something else,” Hagrid said, shuddering again. “I still need ter give yeh the tour!” He downed a full cup of hot tea in one gulp, then stood. “Let’s go!”

*****​

Definitely a mad scientist, Ron thought half an hour and four far too close encounters with dangerous creatures later: a wyvern, Fire Crabs, Hippogriffs and even those flying horses fed on fresh meat which looked like undead demons. He could handle them, though. All of them. But visiting the Acromantula colony? An entire colony of car-sized intelligent spiders who were known to hunt humans? He had bowed out of that. Firmly and quickly. After his encounter with a giant spider in Albania, the last thing he wanted was to meet intelligent magical giant spiders.

But Hermione had gone with Hagrid, which left Ron cooling his heels by Hagrid’s hut. And looking at Hogwarts. Now that he was inside the Muggle-Repelling Charms, he could see the real castle instead of some ruins.

And it was a magical castle, indeed. Disney would be jealous of the many turrets and the way it looked both real and yet magical. Or that might be his imagination taking liberties. Either way, it was a great sight. The walls, the gate, the greenhouses at the edge of the yard, the students on brooms… Oh. They had spotted him - they were flying towards him.

“Mr Weasley!” the first witch yelled as she jumped off the broom a few yards above the ground. “What are you doing here?”

She looked as young as she sounded - at most fourteen, Ron would guess. The broom slowly floated down, and she grabbed it without looking at it.

“Duh! You’re visiting Hagrid, aren’t you?” another witch, about the same age, said as she landed on the ground and dismounted.

“Yes, we are,” Ron replied as two more teenagers - wizards this time - descended. All of them had red and gold badges - Gryffindor, then.

“‘We’?”

“I’m here with Hermione,” he told them.

“Oh! She’s here?” the first witch blurted out with a gasp. “Hermione Granger?”

Ron nodded. “They’re visiting the Acromantula colony.” He noted with some satisfaction that all four kids shuddered at the news.

“Oh. Why aren’t you wearing your Auror robes?” The apparent spokeswitch asked.

“Because he isn’t on duty, duh!” her friend said.

He smiled at them. “Actually, it’s because I’m not an Auror. I’m the muggle Ron Weasley.”

“Oh!” The first witch blushed. “We should’ve noticed - I mean, we shouldn’t have assumed that just because you’re here, you’d be a wizard.”

“Yes, since we know Miss Granger is living with a muggle. I mean, with you,” the second girl added. “I’m Hyacinth, by the way. Hyacinth Moon.”

“Claire Smith!” the first witch introduced herself. “But not from the wizarding family - I’m a muggleborn!”

“James Nott. Very distantly related to those Notts.”

“Brian Wilbury.” The boy nodded at Ron, then cocked his head. “So, what are you doing here? I mean, apart from waiting for Miss Granger and Professor Hagrid.”

“We’re visiting Hagrid. Since he was always babysitting, Hermione hadn’t seen him yet.”

“Oh!”

Claire took a step closer. “So what do you think of magic? Was it a shock when you found out? When Miss Granger recovered her memories?”

“Well, I like magic, but it was a shock.” He had been dying, after all, when Hermione had revealed magic. “But it all worked out.”

So far.

“Nice! My parents were shocked for a week after McGonagall visited! She turned the table into a pony - Mum wanted to sell it afterwards.”

“How did Miss Granger show magic to you? I thought she didn’t have a wand, did she?” Claire would’ve made a good interrogator.

“That was after she got a new wand,” Ron lied.

“Oh. Where did she get a new wand? Did she visit Ollivander’s?”

Ron was starting to feel like he was being interrogated. “Ah, you’ll have to ask her that yourself,” he said. Best to change the subject before he was caught in a lie - he didn’t think Hermione would want others to know about her cache. Especially not if that might set off a search for other such caches amongst Hogwarts students. “So… you’re in Gryffindor?”

“Yes!”

“Like Harry Potter!” Hyacinth added.

“Ah.” Ron nodded. “The best house, hmm?”

“Of course!” Claire nodded fervently. The other kids agreed.

“Were you playing Quidditch?”

“Ah… no. We were just flying around. It’s fun,” James said.

“Have you ever flown on a broom?” Claire asked.

“Dummy! He’s a muggle!” Hyacinth scoffed.

“Yet I have flown on a broom,” Ron informed them. “Although it wasn’t a fast one - nor did it go as fast as it could go. Just for fun, too.” Technically, he’d flown a broom in combat, if you counted Moscow, but that had to stay secret as well.

“Oh! What kind of broom was it?” James asked.

“Quidditch fanatic,” Ron heard Hyacinth mutter.

“It belonged to the Weasleys,” he told them. “I didn’t really pay attention to the brand,” he added with a smile.

James looked shocked. “You didn’t care about the type?”

“As long as it flew?” Ron shrugged.

The kid glared at him as if Ron had just admitted to a crime. No, these were Gryffindors - they probably would’ve been less shocked by a crime.

But Claire used the sudden, sullen silence from James to step forward again and take over. “So, what do you think of Hogwarts?”

“I haven’t seen anything of the school, yet,” he admitted. “We came straight to Hagrid’s hut.”

“We can give you a tour! We know the castle inside and out!” the girl eagerly offered.

Alone with four wizarding kids? Yeah, right. Contrary to what some people claimed, Ron had enough common sense to politely refuse the offer. “I’d like to, but Hermione should be back soon. I’ll wait for her and Hagrid to return.”

“Aw.”

“Can we wait with you?” Brian asked. “Talking to a muggle would really help with Muggle Studies.”

James was still glaring, but Claire nodded emphatically. “Yes!”

“You’re a muggleborn.” Hyacinth huffed. “This should be old news for you!”

Claire shrugged. “So? He’s from another generation; everyone knows things were different back then.”

Ron pressed his lips together. He wasn’t old. But they were kids - dumb kids who didn’t know any better. So he smiled. “Shoot.”

“What?”

“He means, start asking questions,” Claire explained. “It’s something older muggles say.”

Fortunately, the questions Brian asked - he seemed honestly interested in learning about muggles - were unproblematic, and Ron ignored or deflected the more daring questions from Claire and James’s snide comments. And then Hermione and Hagrid returned, and the kids’ attention switched to them at once.

“Miss Granger! Professor Hagrid!”

“You look like your portrait! Only older!”

Ron grinned at Hermione’s expression at hearing Claire’s blurted-out greeting. “These are Claire, Hyacinth, James and Brian,” he introduced the students. “Gryffindors.”

“I can see that,” she told him before nodding at the children. “Hello, everyone.”

“What are yeh doin’ here?” Hagrid spoke up. “Are yeh here fer the feedin’?”

“Feeding?” Brain asked.

“No, we just saw Mr Weasley standing here and flew over to see what he was doing,” James explained - he had dropped his attitude quite quickly once Hermione and Hagrid had arrived, Ron noted.

“Oh. Well, we’ve already fed the Thestrals, anyway,” Hagrid said. “Though yeh probably can’ see ’em anyway,” he added with a smile. “So yeh’d jus’ see the meat gettin’ devoured.”

“They look nice,” Hermione said. “And you can pet them.”

“Nice?” Claire blinked.

“Like undead horses with bats’ wings,” Ron explained.

“Ah.”

Hermione was frowning at him, so Ron smiled widely. “So, what about a tour of the school?”

“Oh, yes!” Brian said, nodding rapidly. “We can show you everything!”

“You dummy!” Hyacinth muttered. “This is Hermione Granger! She knows Hogwarts!”

“And her portrait is at Hogwarts, too!” James added.

Hermione winced again.

*****​

The tour was very impressive - and a little exhausting. The castle didn’t have a single lift, and the stairs had a tendency to move and divert you if you didn’t pay attention - or so Hermione explained. At least wizards and witches couldn’t apparate inside the castle, either.

“There you are!”

He turned his head and saw Hermione’s portrait waving at them from what was actually a picture of a Scottish landscape with a rather annoyed-looking shepherd in the background.

“Hello! I’ve been looking for you ever since the Headmistress informed me of your presence!”

“Hello,” Ron replied.

Hermione nodded. “We’re on our way to see the Headmistress.”

“You weren’t in the library. Why not? It’s the best place in Hogwarts! I spend hours there just looking at the books. If I could actually read them, I’d never leave!” the portrait told them.

Hermione sighed. “The library is nice, but we didn’t come to Hogwarts for the library. Not today, at least.”

The portrait made a gasping noise. “What could be more important than the library? Merlin’s beard! Is there a new crisis? Are the students in danger?”

“No, no, we’re just here to visit,” Ron quickly told it.

The portrait looked confused. “Really? And you skipped the library? Are you sure you’re not sick?”

Ron saw Hermione press her lips together and clench her teeth. “I really need to have another word with my friends about my portrait.”

*****​

The Headmistress’s office was quite different from Hermione’s descriptions of her Dumbledore’s office. There were no shelves full of mysterious knick-knacks, no stand with a moulting phoenix, no selection of sweets ‘that rivalled Honeydukes’. And no bookshelves with an eclectic mix of forbidden tomes and trivial, even muggle, books.

No, the Headmistress’s office was plain. Very plain. The only decor was the many portraits of former Headmasters and a broom mounted on the wall. While the shelves were filled with books, they were organised like in a library, down to the small tag with a code on each book’s spine. The desk was spacious and elegant - but clear of anything but parchment and a quill.

All in all, it looked rather mundane. Not too different from the Headmaster’s office in his old school. Which he had visited often enough to remember perfectly, for a variety of reasons, mostly good ones.

Though the portraits in that office hadn’t moved, of course. And there certainly hadn’t been a moving portrait of a teenage girl with wild hair that was cheerfully using her elbows to push the other portraits out of her way so she could have the best view of the office.

And the Headmaster of Ron’s old boarding school had never smiled at him like McGonagall smiled at Hermione.

“Miss Granger! I’m so happy to see you at Hogwarts!” She nodded at Ron. “Mr Weasley.”

Old man Madison had, however, smiled like that at parents and alumni, hoping to secure donations, Ron remembered.

“I’m very happy to be here, Professor,” Hermione replied. “I mean, Headmistress.”

“Ah, I still think of myself as a professor.” The old witch sighed. “And I keep expecting Albus to step into the office and ask me what I’m doing here.”

Ron nodded and wondered, privately, how McGonagall would react to meeting his world’s Dumbledore. “It looks like you’re doing well,” he said. “The tour of the school was very impressive.”

“But Minerva!” the portrait chose that moment to butt in, “Hermione didn’t stay in the library! Something’s wrong!”

McGonagall smiled, clearly amused, as Hermione frowned. “I love books, but I don’t love them to the point of spending most of my time in a library,” she told the portrait.

“Why not? You can read books! All the books you could want! I can’t read the books - not even painted ones,” it complained. “I need someone to turn the pages for me, or at least cast a page-turning spell on a book in front of my painting.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “You can’t read painted books? Of course you can’t; they’re empty. Oh, that’s really bad.” She frowned. “And you were told to spend all your free time in a library?”

“Yes?”

“I really need to talk to Harry and Ron about what they taught you,” she said with a scowl.

“They meant well, Miss Granger,” McGonagall interjected. “And they were in mourning.”

“Still! It’s been seven years.” Hermione shook her head. “They didn’t even think about… this problem?” She looked at the portrait. “We have to talk.”

“Yes!”

“Not right now, though.”

The portrait made a sound of disappointment, and its expression was the same as Hermione’s when she was denied something she really wanted.

Ron knew better than to point that out, of course. McGonagall was already looking at them a little strangely - as if she was wary.

Hermione sighed. “I’m not about to start a campaign for portraits’ rights, Professor. I’m fully aware that they aren’t truly sapient.”

“Hey! That’s discrimination!” the portrait protested.

“Even though some might have been taught to dispute that,” Hermione went on. “Still, as one of the few witches whose portrait was awakened despite me still being alive, I feel I’m in the unique position to argue that how a portrait is treated reflects on the reputation of the witch or wizard depicted.”

“Ah, I see. You will argue that a portrait treated with negligence or ridicule is an attack on the depicted’s honour.”

“More or less, yes.”

“What? Who’s attacking me?” the portrait asked.

“No one,” Hermione said. “But you should be treated better.”

“Of course, since I’m you!”

“No, you aren’t,” Hermione mumbled.

“Now, I don’t assume you visited merely to talk to your portrait, Miss Granger,” McGonagall commented after a moment.

“I wanted to visit Hagrid - I’ve missed him on several occasions since he was babysitting for my friends. However, apart from that and showing Ron my old school, I’d also like to ask if I could peruse the library for a research project.”

“Of course you can, Miss Granger.” McGonagall smiled. “After all, I still expect you to take your N.E.W.T.s. Whatever employment options you’re pursuing, be it research, a position at the Ministry, politics or teaching, you’ll need your N.E.W.T.s.”

Ron noticed how the woman smiled when she mentioned teaching. So that was McGonagall’s angle - she was trying to recruit Hermione. That would also explain why she was granting her access to the library without asking for any details.

Well, McGonagall had been this world’s Dumbledore’s right hand, so that was to be expected.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, February 18th, 2006

“I think McGonagall wants to hire you,” Ron said once they were back in their room at the lab.

“Hire me?” Hermione blinked and put down on the bed the notes she had been sorting. “Oh. You think she wants me to become a teacher?”

He shrugged. “Yes.”

“She should know me better than that.” She shook her head. “I guess that’s to be laid at the feet of the portrait - of its education, at least - as well.”

“You never tutored students in school?” Ron had a hard time imagining that.

“I helped my friends. And as a prefect, I helped the lower years - and higher years.”

“See?” He grinned.

She rolled her eyes in return and grabbed her notes again. “That doesn’t make me a teacher. It just means I wasn’t the sort of student who only cared about her own grades.”

“Well, perhaps she hopes teaching would keep you out of politics?” Ron shrugged again as he tried to make his comment sound casual.

“That’s not her style,” Hermione said with a frown. “She’s no Dumbledore.”

“Yours or ours?” He stretched out on the bed, after pushing one of her sheets filled with notes away.

“Either,” she replied, her frown deepening.

“She’s been Headmistress for seven years,” he pointed out.

“Yes. But she’s still the same strict teacher I remember. If she wanted to recruit me, she’d ask.” Hermione nodded firmly.

Ron didn’t quite agree, but it wasn’t worth arguing about. As far as plots went, this one was rather harmless.

*****​

Unnamed Highlands, Scotland, February 20th, 2006

“Once more into the breach,” Ron said as they appeared in the familiar snowy field.

“It’s actually ‘once more unto the breach’,” Hermione said. “And it means to try again, not to literally fight in a breach.”

“I like my quote better,” he replied with a smile. “It’s more dramatic.”

She snorted. “I guess so. It’s not correct, though.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to teach?” He smiled at her to take the sting out of his comment.

Judging by her slight frown, he hadn’t completely succeeded. “I know I don’t want to teach.” She sighed. “Teaching my portrait is bad enough, and it is very eager to learn.”

“But it’s a special case, isn’t it?” He shrugged. “If I had to teach a virtual intelligence that thought it was me… well, it’s not the same as teaching Ginny how to handle a rifle.”

“I think Harry did most of the teaching there.”

“He spent more time with her, but I’m not sure if he taught her more,” Ron retorted as they walked over to what looked to him like an empty spot at the foot of the hill.

Until a door appeared in the empty air.

“By the way, is the portrait making progress?”

Hermione sighed. “Slowly.”

Which meant ‘very slowly’.

They stepped inside. “Luna? Luna? We’re back with notes from Hagrid!” Hermione called out.

Ron looked around - the warehouse looked like…

“Close the door! Before they escape!”

He shut the door without thinking, then turned, tense. If Luna - either Luina - yelled like that, you couldn’t hesitate.

“What happened?” Hermione asked, a dimly glowing shield surrounding her.

“Ah, just a few birds that escaped their cages,” Luna said.

“Which proves that we shouldn’t put them into cages,” wizarding Luna added - she was looking up, not at them, Ron noted.

“It proves that we need better cages,” Luna retorted. “It’s too dangerous for them, otherwise.”

“As long as they can apparate, they can always escape any danger,” her counterpart said.

“But they would die in the cold outside,” Luna told her.

“Apparate… Merlin’s beard!” Hermione exclaimed. “Did you bring Diricawls here?”

“Diricawls?” Ron asked in a whisper.

“Magical birds that can apparate. They look like dodos,” she explained.

“Oh.” He blinked. “Can they fly?”

“No, just like dodos.”

“Why is everyone looking up, then?” he asked.

“Because they can climb,” Luna said. “They’re smart and know we’d search the floor. There’s one!” she pointed at a corner.

Wizarding Luna flicked her wand - and her voice filled the warehouse. “Come to us, little Diricawl. We mean you no harm. Soon, you’ll be in your natural habitat - and you’ll have all the space to explore you could want!”

Hermione sighed, then waved her own wand. A cage appeared around the bird. A flick of her wand later, it started to float down towards them.

“Hermione! That could traumatise poor Pedro!”

“Of course she would name them,” Hermione muttered. “Sorry,” she said a little more loudly. “But it’s not safe for them to be outside their habitats.”

“But they don’t know that - they want to be free!”

“They’ll live,” Hermione said. “And they’re safe this way.”

Wizarding Luna pouted, but Luna nodded in agreement. “It’s just temporary,” she said. “We’ll be taking them to Mauritius soon.”

“Luna,” Hermione said, and Ron saw that she was struggling to control herself. “Why are you planning to release magical animals into this world?”

“Because this world’s Diricawl died out, of course!”

“They’re not the same birds. Dodos weren’t magical,” Hermione said.

“Well, we can’t know that,” wizarding Luna replied. “The muggles think they’re extinct in our world, too.”

“But if they were magical, then they wouldn’t have died out.”

“Yes.” Wizarding Luna nodded.

“Did you check?”

“It’s a hypothesis,” the witch replied with a pout. “But in any case, there’s a missing spot for a bird on Mauritius, and filling it won’t hurt anyone!”

“This world isn’t set-up to cope with magic,” Hermione pointed out.

“Diricawls don’t have natural predators in our world, either, so it’ll be fine!”

“You can’t know that.”

“We’ll take precautions,” Luna said. “Like with the portal.”

“But…” Hermione closed her mouth. “Fine,” she spat.

Ron didn’t comment.

*****​

“I guess I can’t complain about my own words being turned back against me,” Hermione said after they had left the hidden warehouse again.

“But you’ll do so anyway,” he told her.

She sighed. “There’s a difference between exploring the multiverse after taking all reasonable precautions and deliberately introducing a magical species to this world.”

She was correct, but… “I’m not sure the dodo will be much of a threat, magical or otherwise,” he said.

“Except for their ability to apparate. Imagine what scientists will do once they observe them. And they will - once the first ‘dodos’ are sighted, everyone will want to capture one to study. And then they’ll escape using Apparition.”

“Ah.” He winced. “But in your world, the zoologists never caught on to that, did they?”

“Thanks to magical interference.”

“The precautions Luna mentioned.”

“Yes.” She spat the word out.

“Best wait until we know what precautions they are taking?”

“Yes.”

He suppressed a grin. Hermione might loathe it, but she understood that it would be unfair otherwise.

She sighed. “Let’s go back to the lab. I have more research to do.”

“How goes the Fidelius Charm research?” he asked as he held out his hand.

“I’m progressing as expected. It’s only the exact wording that’s left now,” she said. “And actually casting the spell - that’s a little tricky since you can’t exactly cast it repeatedly to practise.”

“Ah.” Nothing new, then. “I can try to help with the wording.” That wasn’t magical, after all.

She looked at him, then nodded. “Yes.”

Then they disapparated.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, February 21st, 2006

The wording needed to hide the existence of the portal, but not just a specific portal. And that Hermione was responsible. ‘Hermione Granger has found a way to travel to other dimensions’? No, people would still know that she’s doing research, and they would connect it to the attacks on her. The attacks themselves couldn’t be hidden - far too many knew about them. ‘Hermione’s research into other dimensions is a valid avenue of research’? No. Too vague. People could still stumble upon the truth.

Ron sighed. This was more difficult than he had expected. Although he should have expected that since Hermione had trouble finding the best wording. Something like ‘Hermione Granger, working with Albus Dumbledore’s support, has found a way to travel to other dimensions’? No. “Other universes exist, and Hermione Granger found a way to travel to them’?

He scribbled it down, even though it wouldn’t work. Perhaps if he used the example Hermione had told him as a base? “There is a secret base in Scotland where Hermione Granger and her friends and allies use her research to travel to other universes’?”

“Not as easy as it seemed, hmm?”

He frowned at Hermione. “I’ve not yet begun to really work on it.”

“Working on mangling quotes?”

“Of course. This is all about wording, isn’t it?” He grinned at her surprised expression before it was replaced with a pout. “Hey,” he added, “I cut my teeth twisting wishes in roleplaying games.”

“That makes me feel so much better,” she replied. “Except not.”

He chuckled, but before he could comment further, the door opened, and Dumbledore entered the lab. The old man was beaming at them. “I’ve got good news,” he told them. “We’ve managed to acquire the gold we’ll need to pay off the Ministry of Magic.”

Behind him, Ron saw Harry and Sirius push a trolley with a rather large chest on it. Oh.

He glanced at Hermione, but she looked distracted.

Ah.

*****​

That was a lot of gold. She had heard the stories, so to speak. She had even been told the number of Galleons. But to see so much gold, on the vault’s floor, stacks of gold next to heaps of coins… “Can I call you Scrooge McDuck?” she asked, snickering to hide her reaction.

Harry laughed at her feeble joke. “I thought the same when I saw it for the first time.”

“‘Scrooge McDuck’?” Ron looked confused.

“A comic book character. Richest duck on earth,” Harry told him.

“‘Richest duck’?”

“It’s a comic book series,” Hermione told him. “Very famous too. You’ve never heard of Disney?”

“Oh, the movies!” Her friend nodded. “We saw a few in the village. But I never saw a duck in any of them.”

“Ah. That character appears mostly on TV,” Harry explained.

“And in comic books,” Hermione added. “But enough of that. We’re not here to discuss Disney, but to grab enough gold to finance our mission.” And provide for various emergencies.

“Hermione!” Ron frowned at her. “It’s Harry’s gold! You can’t just treat it as yours.”

She wasn’t treating it as hers - but Harry had volunteered the contents of his vault to finance their mission, hadn’t he? And they had made a plan and a budget, in advance!

“It’s OK,” Harry said with a wry grin. “It’s not as if I’ll be able to use the gold should we fail, will I?”

She exchanged a glance with Ron, who winced, before schooling her features. “Indeed.”

Sometimes, Harry’s black humour was a little much.

*****​

 

Chapter 62: The Archives

Black Lake, Scotland, February 21st, 2006

Hermione shook her head with a smile. “I’ve seen more gold in one place, but only once.” She nodded at the chest that Harry and Sirius had opened after pushing it into the lab.

“Oh?” Dumbledore looked honestly surprised. That didn’t have to mean anything, of course, given his skills in misdirection and lying.

“I visited Harry’s - my Harry’s - vault in Gringotts when we needed money for our mission during the war,” she said.

Ron resisted the sudden urge to whistle. That must have been a lot of gold. The other Harry was probably richer than Ron’s friend. Perhaps even richer than Sirius.

“More than this? How much more? And what was the price for gold at the time?” Sirius asked.

“Sirius!” Harry hissed.

“What? I’m curious about whether I’m still the richest member of our family if we count our dimensional counterparts.” The man grinned.

“Harry spent a lot of his gold on rebuilding Wizarding Britain,” Hermione said. “That includes Sirius’s fortune, which he inherited.”

“He didn’t give the gold away, did he?” Sirius, for all his usual casual stance towards his own wealth, looked shocked.

“You might call it long-term investing. But he won’t get a return for several years - or at all, in some cases,” Hermione told him.

“So, technically, he might be richer, but he’s strapped for cash, and should he be forced to liquidate his investments, he’d take a huge loss?” Sirius asked.

“That sounds about right,” Hermione agreed. “Some investments were more like donations, anyway.”

“So that means I’m still the richest member of our extended family!” Sirius beamed.

“And the vainest as well,” Harry said. “As if it mattered.”

“Of course it matters!” Sirius shook his head. “Money matters. Influence matters. If Hermione’s friends were rich enough, we wouldn’t have to bribe the Ministry - they would’ve done it long ago.”

“If Harry were that rich, he wouldn’t have needed to bribe the Ministry; he could’ve paid for an alternative prison system himself.”

That sounded like a bribe - indirectly, at least, since it would free up funds. On the other hand, Ron was pretty sure that wizarding Harry would’ve had the funds to abolish Azkaban, but had spent it on other things that needed funding.

“Well, it would have simplified matters. But we have to deal with the situation at hand, not the situation in which we’d like to be,” Dumbledore said. “And that means handing over this ‘investment’ à fonds perdus’ to the Ministry of Magic in a form they’ll accept and which will mask its true origin.”

“We’re going to launder money, in other words,” Ron said.

“Barely a week out of CI5, and we’re already breaking the law.” Harry grinned.

“Money laundering is actually not illegal in Wizarding Britain. And as long as it’s not money stolen from goblins, it’s not illegal in Gringotts, either,” Hermione explained with a frown. “If we could trust the goblins not to sell us out, we could simply exchange the gold bars for specie - Galleons, gold coins minted by the goblins of Gringotts.”

“You’ve explained that to us.” Dumbledore shook his head. “I still find myself wondering what would have possessed British wizards to let goblins mint their coin and handle their banking. Then again, Britain keeps trusting the United States despite several rather impressive examples of how foolish that stance can be.”

Ron wasn’t about to discuss politics - and most of it rather ancient politics - with the old man. “But you said that we can’t trust the goblins,” he addressed Hermione.

“We can’t.” Hermione grimaced. “My friends and I committed the second successful break-in into Gringotts that we know of, and the goblins bear grudges.”

“You robbed a bank?” Sirius gasped. “The bank of Wizarding Britain?”

“It was during the war. And we had no choice - Voldemort had stashed one of his Horcruxes in a vault there, and the goblins wouldn’t cooperate. And it wasn’t a robbery - we snuck in. We only had to fight our way out after we were discovered.”

Harry snickered. “We’re in the presence of a master criminal, gents!”

Dumbledore chuckled as well. “Needs must, Dr Granger - I understand that perfectly. However, it does present us with a slight problem.”

“Yes. The goblins couldn’t do anything against Harry and Ron, not with them being some of the most famous and most influential wizards after the war, and they officially pardoned all of us, but they would love to hurt me if they could do so without breaking any treaties or laws. And passing on information about suspected crimes…” She shrugged. “We’ll have to launder the money so the goblins will be fooled.”

Dumbledore’s smile grew wider. “I love a good challenge.”

*****​

Soho, London, Wizarding World, February 22nd, 2006

“Normally, we could simply acquire a piece of antique furniture, claim we found it in the attic, and use it to explain where the money came from,” Dumbledore said after everyone had sat down in the cosy café in Soho he’d recommended - protected by a privacy charm Hermione had cast. “Unfortunately, the amount of money we need to convince the Ministry to do what is right and decent is too high for such a cover. We could use multiple pieces, but that would strain credibility.”

“The Ministry wouldn’t care,” Hermione told them. “Nor would they notice. A number of their employees probably have entire suites of valuable furniture stashed in their attics of which they aren’t aware. But we cannot risk underestimating the goblins. They handle the finances of Wizarding Britain, and they have ties to the muggle economy. They have to, to be able to exchange pounds for Galleons for muggleborns so they can shop in Diagon Alley.”

“That alone wouldn’t require close ties or in-depth experience with Britain’s economy and financial system,” Dumbledore retorted. “A single exchange of goods that have a value in both countries would suffice for the sort of sums needed to pay for school supplies. The numbers are just not that large. Even if every muggleborn were to work in Wizarding Britain but live amongst muggles, therefore needing a constant supply of pounds, that could be easily handled by selling precious metals.”

Hermione frowned. “Yes, but Gringotts does have close ties to - or interests in, at least - the British economy. We found that out when we researched the bank for our…”

“Heist?” Ron asked with a grin.

“...our mission.” Hermione pursed her lips. “We didn’t take anything other than our objective, the possession of which was, in any case, illegal.”

“And the goblins still hate you for it?” Harry looked surprised.

Hermione blushed. “We did cause considerable collateral damage when we fled the premises.”

“What did you do?” Sirius asked. “Blow up their vaults?”

“We released a dragon the goblins were using as a guard,” she replied. “Though that was also completely justified - they were keeping the poor thing chained up in the lowest level of the bank!”

She set a dragon loose in a bank… Ron chuckled. It seemed that Hermione was a little more like Luna than she wanted to admit.

“Further, we decided on using gold to transfer the money, not antiques or art, since it’s generally more discreet,” Dumbledore went on.

“Unless it’s Nazi gold,” Ron pointed out.

If the interruption annoyed the old man, he didn’t show it. He smiled and nodded. “Indeed - we actually considered using that as a cover, hinting at having found a Nazi submarine which had been transporting gold. Alas, while quite entertaining, it would have provided the goblins with the opportunity to inform the British authorities about a possible crime, which would have almost certainly led to a thorough investigation of Dr Granger’s finances. And since she was missing for seven years, that would certainly turn up a few discrepancies unless the Ministry of Magic were to intervene. And that would, most likely, be a little counter-productive.”

“So, now that we know what we won’t be using as a cover story, how about telling us what we’ll actually be using? So we can start memorising the details?” Sirius cocked his head as he smiled, showing his teeth.

“Indeed!” Once again, Dumbledore remained unflappable. “We’ll be using the opportunity to also deal with Mr Weasley’s missing identity in this world.”

Ron blinked. The old man couldn’t mean…

“You want to break into the government’s archives to create an identity for Ron and set him up with the gold?” Harry blurted out.

“Correct. I’m thinking of you being raised by a rich uncle who had shares in an African gold mine before he was forced to leave the continent for the mother country.” Dumbledore smiled.

“That sounds oddly specific,” Ron commented.

“It’s a background my men used for a sting operation that needed to be kept off the official records. Seeing as our two worlds show remarkable parallels, I have no doubt that we can duplicate the feat and insert your and your late uncle’s identities, with no one the wiser. All we need to do is to break into a few archives and one data centre.” Dumbledore beamed at them.

Ron blinked. “First, the Kremlin and now Whitehall?”

“What’s next, Buckingham Palace?” Harry quipped.

Dumbledore chuckled. “Fortunately, Her Majesty the Queen isn’t involved in the day to day running of the country, so we won’t be forced to intrude on her home.”

“Good. As an officer in the Blues and Royals, I would be honour-bound to stop you,” Sirius said with a grin. “The Treasury, though, has been known as the British Army’s arch-enemy for centuries.”

“Oh, indeed. I must confess that I’m looking forward to pulling one over that particular part of Her Majesty’s Government.”

Great, Ron thought.

*****​

City of Westminster, London, Wizarding World, February 23rd, 2006

“I think we’re taking this a little too lightly,” Ron said as he walked to the kitchen of the apartment they had rented near - but not too close - to their target. Far enough that it wouldn’t trigger any flags in the system.

“How so?” Harry asked from where he was looking at the laptops on the dining table which showed the feeds from the cameras they had placed the night before - while invisible and on brooms.

“We did break into the Kremlin, but that was with the help of magic, in a world without magic. And we were still almost caught by Putin’s guards,” Ron explained. “This time? We’re up against a government which knows about magic, at least at the highest levels, and in a world with thousands of wizards and witches - organised wizards and witches with countries of their own and a vested interest in policing magic.”

“But we’re not trying to kidnap the Prime Minister, and I don’t think the clerks and guards in the archives are aware of magic,” Harry replied. “Nor would they expect an attack.”

“But they might be following procedures which were implemented with magic in mind. And the Ministry might be keeping an eye on the archives to prevent a wizard from amassing wealth by changing entries. Like what we’re planning to do.”

“We’re not gaining anything other than a cover story for the money Dumbledore’s donating,” Harry retorted.

“But we could do so much more,” Ron said.

His friend shrugged. “Only if we were aware of assets without an actual or known owner. Trying to take over a building owned by someone else would only draw attention to the attempt, and not even the government would be so foolish as to simply accept the results from the archives.”

“Sirius would disagree,” Ron told him.

“He’s not unbiased.” Harry snorted. “And Hermione confirmed that the building isn’t under magical protection.”

Hermione had checked - Ron had been there - but she hadn’t checked inside the building. He couldn’t shake his gut feeling that this wouldn’t be as easy as the others expected. Too much could go wrong. “They might have some hidden alerts - or protections on the archives themselves.” Or some magical guard-beasts or constructs.

“I actually don’t really think that the wizards care much about the muggle government,” Harry said. “Not after what we’ve heard.”

“We still can’t risk it,” Ron replied.

“We won’t. We’re just going to add a few records, that’s all. We won’t even change any existing entries.” Harry grinned. “You know that as long as nothing’s missing, people are less likely to notice anything amiss.”

Ron snorted. That was how they had once managed to infiltrate a drug-smuggling organisation - they had added more money to the stash they had discovered. Money they could trace. But still... “I guess I just worry that this is too good to be true.” After all, he’d end up with a solid ID in this world, Hermione’s world. He would have a paper trail, a history - a legal existence. He wouldn’t have to fear being mistaken for this world’s Ron any more - or be exposed as a double, should he run into trouble with the law.

“It isn’t,” Harry said, grinning more widely. “You’ll have to pay taxes here and in our world.”

Ron snorted. Of course his friend would know what Ron was thinking. “It won’t be my money. Dumbledore will have to pay them.”

“Then you’ll owe him.”

“Compared to what we already owe him? It’ll be a drop in the ocean.” Ron scoffed. He didn’t like it, but it wasn’t as if they had a better alternative. Which was pretty much how Dumbledore liked it, of course.

Harry grunted. “That’s quite cavalier of you.”

“I like to call it realistic. Or opportunistic.” And Ron wasn’t so naive as to really feel obligated to Dumbledore. The old man was using them, so it was perfectly fine to use him in return. “Anyway, focus on tracking the schedules of the guards.” That was their task, after all.

Harry scoffed. “We won’t be sneaking in during the day. What we need are the night schedules.”

“You never know what you might need,” Ron told him.

“Is that a quote from Moody or Hermione?”

“Arse.”

Harry laughed but focused on the screens again. And Ron returned to studying the blueprints. He wasn’t about to underestimate the muggle government here.

Despite his experiences in his own world.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, February 23rd, 2006

He was getting used to commuting to another world - and across all of Britain - Ron realised as he stepped through the portal into Hermione’s lab. Or, rather, into the heavily guarded portal room - he could spot a gun emplacement, a sentry gun, as far as he could tell, that hadn’t been there when he had left.

“Isn’t that a little obvious?” Harry asked, looking at the light machine gun as well.

“It’ll be hidden once they’re done.”

Ron whirled and had his gun out before he recognised the voice - Fred. Or George. No, he realised as he didn’t see anyone, wizarding Fred or George. Unless this was the work of hidden microphones…

“Whoa! Don’t shoot!”

“We’re not your brothers! We’re their innocent counterparts!”

Ron sighed as he holstered his gun. “Don’t do that. We almost shot you. Unless you had cast a Shield Charm.”

“Not yet,” one of the still invisible wizards replied. “That was supposed to be the next test.”

“Test?” Harry asked, frowning as he reholstered his own pistol.

The two wizards faded into view. “Testing the new sensors that were installed.”

“Ah.” Ron looked around, spotting a few more not-quite-perfectly-concealed additions to the room.

“Yes! Your Grindelwald is a firm believer in the idea that ‘anything the Russians can do we can do better’,” wizarding Fred said with a familiar grin, “and hasn’t spared any expense to prove it true.”

“He’s had his people duplicate and improve on all the sensors from your Kremlin,” wizarding George added. “So far, they’re working well.”

“We’ll find a way to beat them, though,” his brother boasted. “And then we’ll help with finding a way to beat what beat them.”

“Ah.” Harry echoed Ron. “Did you add magical defences as well?”

“Protective enchantments?” wizarding George cocked his head. “We’re still working on those - Hermione did a good job.”

“Not a perfect job, mind you,” his brother went on. “But she’s not a Curse-Breaker.”

“Neither are you,” Ron said.

“No, but we’ve got a lot of experience with magical defences,” wizarding Fred claimed. “We had to, in our line of business.”

“And, essentially, wards are just a variant of protective charms,” wizarding George told them.

“Wards?”

“Permanent magical defences. You can cast protective charms so that they’ll last a long time, if you’re good. Perhaps even forever, if you’re Dumbledore. Our Dumbledore. Not that you could test that. But they won’t grow more powerful with age, nor will they be particularly hard to dispel - for a decent Curse-Breaker,” the wizard explained.

“Wards can be downright lethal, old boy,” his brother added. “And that’s the reason why we had so much trouble with the richer Death Eaters - they weren’t actually that good with a wand, but their wards have had centuries to grow. Nasty business, that.”

Ron could imagine. “Well, that isn’t an option for us.”

“But you can do the next best thing if you’re clever and talented,” wizarding George said.

“Which we are,” the other twin added. “And handsome and charming, too!”

“Sure you are,” Harry replied in a flat tone.

“Oi!”

Ron laughed. “Well, don’t let us hold you up any longer. We’ve got a report to make and a break-in to plan.”

“That won’t please Ginny - well, this world’s Ginny,” wizarding Fred said.

“Ginny’s here?” Harry frowned. “She’s supposed to be training for her comeback on the tour.”

“She probably finished training in London and then called Hermione or Luna for a lift here,” Ron told him.

“Hermione,” wizarding Fred confirmed. “She complained that Luna’s cell phone wasn’t working.”

Probably because Luna was with her counterpart in their hidden magical habitat.

“And we haven’t received cell phones that work in this world, yet,” wizarding George said. “Though Luna’s said she’ll help us become untraceable.”

That was a worrying smile. Very worrying.

“Do you know where Ginny is?” Harry asked.

“In the lounge, watching the telly,” wizarding Fred told him. “Probably growing more and more annoyed with every moment you spend talking to us if she’s anything like our sister. Which she seems to be.”

“But don’t worry, we’ll explain to her that you were simply tired.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Perhaps you should watch some TV as well, if only to learn better jokes.”

“Oi!”

Harry scoffed and left the room, and the twins turned towards Ron.

He held up a hand before they could start. “Hermione knows you. Any attempt to get me in trouble with her will backfire.”

“That’s a risk we’re willing to take.” Wizarding Fred grinned.

“Well, what about your work here?” Ron asked. “Think Grindelwald will be happy to hear you held up everyone because you wanted to prank people?”

“Dumbledore would be happy!”

That was why Ron hadn’t mentioned the old spymaster, but rather his cranky German partner.

“But point taken. Now get lost! You’re holding up an entire shift!”

Ron shook his head and left the portal room.

*****​

He found Hermione in her new laboratory in front of a whiteboard filled with various wordings, poring over several notebooks and loose sheets. “Hey!”

She looked up and blinked. “Oh. You’re back already?”

“I feel so loved,” he replied, chuckling.

She blushed in response even as she frowned at him. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just realised that I lost track of time.”

“Is that a good thing?” He stepped over to her desk and craned his neck, peering at the notes. They were all variations of the wording for the Fidelius Charm.

“It would be a good thing if I had made significant progress.” She sighed.

He pointed at one of the sheets. “That sounds like it covers everything.”

“Yes. It’s also half a page. I can’t cast the spell with such a long secret.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll have to condense things. But even so…”

“...you’ll have to make compromises,” he finished for her.

“Yes.” Another sigh had her slumping over.

He knew very well that she hated compromising on anything, but didn’t mention it.

“Well, at least Operation: Official Identity looks like it’ll happen on schedule,” he said, carefully sitting down on the edge of her desk - he didn’t need to get ink stains on another pair of trousers.

“Oh. You already got the guard schedule?” She tilted her head, looking at him.

“We’ll have it tomorrow. The cameras are working fine.” He shrugged. “If the floorplans and security systems are the same as in this world and there’s no magical protection, we shouldn’t have any trouble executing Dumbledore’s plans.”

“‘If’,” she said. “Otherwise, you’ll be in trouble.”

“I expect there to be trouble,” he replied. “When do things ever go according to plan for us?”

She shook her head. “That’s not a logical conclusion. Just because we’ve had some bad luck in the past doesn’t mean it’ll continue to plague us at every opportunity.”

“That’s the logical argument. But my gut disagrees.”

“You mean Moody’s training disagrees.”

“That too.” He nodded. “But yes, I’m still not as optimistic as Dumbledore.” The old man was probably a little too affected by his sudden rejuvenation, in Ron’s opinion. Living vicariously through others was a problem if said others were sent to break into government buildings using decades-old plans. On the other hand, the British government was slow to change anything without a pressing reason.

But in Hermione’s world, the government knew about magic. Ron simply couldn’t believe they wouldn’t take at least some basic countermeasures.

“Well, neither am I,” Hermione said. “So let’s get ready for dinner. We can discuss things with Dumbledore then.”

*****​

“I’ve compared the results from Mr Potter and Mr Weasley’s reconnaissance, and I’ve confirmed that the building conforms in every significant way to its counterpart in our world,” Dumbledore announced as he savoured a glass of port. “With the exception of potential magical security measures, of course.”

“Of course.” Harry smiled rather tensely.

“Don’t worry,” wizarding Fred said. “Leave the magic to us - we’ll deal with it. You just focus on the muggle stuff.”

“This isn’t the same as infiltrating wizarding homes,” Hermione told them with a sharp glare.

“We’ve also infiltrated the Ministry,” wizarding George pointed out.

“That wasn’t exactly a challenge,” Hermione retorted. “The Ministry’s security wasn’t very good - even though it should’ve been.”

“We’ve also studied your defences here,” the wizard told her. “And I doubt that the muggle archives are as well protected as the portal.”

“And those defences wouldn’t stop us,” his brother added.

“While I doubt that the government would spend as much money on the security of their archives as we are currently spending on this location, the Treasury has never been a bastion of common sense, and I cannot claim it would be impossible to encounter advanced sensors set up to detect magical intruders,” Dumbledore said. “However, we will prepare for that eventuality - we shall proceed with the utmost caution.”

“That’ll require a little more preparation,” Ron replied. “Especially if we’re working with people who haven’t worked with us before.” And who had no experience with muggle tactics.

“I think that would be prudent, yes.” Dumbledore nodded.

“And I think we should run a few exercises so Fred and George know how we work,” Harry added.

Ron grinned. That was a great idea. “We’ll start with taking you on our regular morning run.”

“‘Morning run’?” Wizarding Fred looked a lot less confident than before. As did his brother.

“We’ll start easy - just one lap around the lake, I think,” Harry said.

Ginny scowled. “I’ll need at least two for a decent workout.”

“They won’t last two laps,” Ron told her.

“Not without cheating and using magic,” Hermione added.

“Oi!”

“I think they’re taking the mickey,” wizarding George said.

Ron’s grin widened.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, February 24th, 2006

The twins started talking as soon as Ron entered the lounge.

“You’re evil. Evil.”

“You may look like a Weasley, but you’re far too cruel to be one.”

“Evil.”

“Cruel.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “You’re getting repetitive,” he told them as he took a seat at the table. Their reaction to the morning run had been amusing at first, but now it was merely annoying.

“So were you when we ran!”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t aiming for originality.”

“Besides, we were going easy on you,” Ginny said as she entered, followed by Harry. Her hair was still a little wet - unlike the twins, who had apparated into the private areas of the laboratory to avoid tipping off the MI5 guards, the rest of their group had run back to the lab. “When we started doing this, we ran faster and for longer.”

“‘Faster and longer’?” Wizarding Fred perked up.

“Don’t!” Hermione snapped as she joined Ron. “It’s not as funny as you think.”

Harry glared at the twin as well.

“Everyone’s a critic,” the wizard complained, crossing his arms and huffing.

“But not everyone’s an out of shape slowpoke,” Ginny retorted. “Even Hermione was faster than you when we started.”

Ron saw Hermione briefly frowning at the indirect insult. “Now that we know that Fred and George won’t win any track and field events, we should focus on the next part of the training and evaluation drill,” she said as she grabbed the teapot to fill her cup - or mug, this time. She must be thirsty, Ron realised; The twins didn’t know it, but today’s run had been a little more challenging than usual.

“The next part?” wizarding George asked.

“Weapons training.”

“Oh!” Suddenly, both wizards were beaming at them. “The fun part!”

“No, the dangerous part,” Harry corrected them. “You don’t have fun with guns.”

“Not as a rookie, at least.” Sirius must have overheard them on the way since he spoke just as he entered the lounge. “I could tell you stories of what happens when people fool around with guns…”

“Please do,” Hermione told him. “It might impress upon them the consequences of failing to take firearms seriously. I don’t hold out much hope, knowing them, but the possibility, however scant, remains.”

Ron hoped she was mostly joking. Guns weren’t toys.

“Oi!”

“Prove me wrong,” she told them.

“We will!”

Sirius, of course, was smiling widely at the chance to finally repeat all the gruesome stories which everyone who knew him had grown tired of long ago. “So, this was shortly after the Argies had surrendered…”

“‘Argies’?” wizarding Fred asked.

“The Argentinians. In the Falklands War,” Sirius replied.

“‘Falklands War’?”

The former officer sighed. “Alright. Short history lesson…”

Ron tuned him out and focused on eating breakfast. They had been running a bit more than usual, after all, and he had worked up an appetite.

*****​

After breakfast, the twins had seemed to have been at least a little sobered by Sirius’s stories - which tended to change whenever he told them, but that was neither here nor there. But now, on the shores of the Black Lake, it was obvious that even the detailed - and, in Ron’s opinion, completely made-up - tale of the soldier who had shot his own foot off hadn’t made them take this seriously enough not to stare with open glee at the rifles Harry and Ron had brought with them.

He double-checked that the fire-control selector was limited to semi-automatic before clearing his throat. “So! You’ve learned how a gun works. Now let us demonstrate what one can do.” He held his hand up as the twins reached for the gun. “We will demonstrate.”

Perhaps blowing through a few trees would impress the wizards enough to handle the rifles with caution. Ron wasn’t very optimistic, though - wizards generally didn’t seem to take physical dangers as seriously as they should. Then again, they could heal most injuries easily. Most.

“Watch the tree there,” he said as he grabbed the rifle. “We’ve installed a shot trap behind it.” Hermione had conjured it up, which greatly facilitated training, of course. And would help to fool MI5.

He raised the rifle to his shoulder, aimed and started pulling the trigger, emptying half a magazine into the tree.

The twins weren’t impressed, though, even if they didn’t say so - he could tell from their expressions; his own brothers had taught him that.

Well, Harry and Ron weren’t done, yet. “Now, let’s look how long it takes to go through a Shield Charm.”

Hermione flicked her wand, and a shimmering field of magical energy appeared in front of the tree.

It took the rest of the magazine to shatter it, but the twins finally looked suitably impressed that they could begin teaching them basic firearms safety.

*****​

“Hah! Every shot a hit! Score!”

“That was luck, Fred!”

“Fred? I’m George!”

“I thought I was George?”

“No, today I’m Fred.”

Ron sighed and rolled his eyes. After an hour on the improvised shooting range, the twins were scoring decently - for beginners. Which meant they were getting cocky again. “Alright,” he said. “Now let’s get the laser tag gear and see how you do in the field. Without you being able to shoot yourself - or us - by mistake.”

“Oi! We wouldn’t do that!”

“We fought in the war!”

“But you’ve never handled guns in the field,” Harry replied. “Let’s get you suited up.”

“What’s this ‘laser tag’ anyway?”

“It’s called Ausbildungsgerät Duellsimulator, in German,” Ron explained. “It lets you shoot rays of light at each other instead of bullets, and records and reports when you hit someone.”

“It’s great for exercises,” Harry added with a grin.

“So we’re forming teams?” wizarding Fred asked. “Like for Quidditch?”

“Yes,” Hermione told him. “And I’ll be the referee, to ensure you don’t use magic to cheat.”

Ron took note of how the faces of the twins fell slightly in response to this. Really, had they expected anything else? “First, it’ll be you two against me and Harry,” he told them. “Later, we’ll switch the teams up.”

“Alright!”

*****​

“Well, that went… as expected,” Harry said an hour later, back in the warm laboratory’s lounge.

“Fred and George died five times each - and once they shot each other by mistake,” Hermione said, looking through the records on her computer.

“That’s because you cheated!” wizarding Fred protested. “You used smoke bombs.”

“Only magic wasn’t allowed,” Ron told him. “Everything else was perfectly fine.”

“That’s not fair! We didn’t know about all our options!” wizarding George added - a little more vehemently than usual, Ron noted.

“Exactly,” Harry said with a smirk, “and it’s best to learn in training that you are out of your depth rather than in the field. You won’t know everything muggles can do.”

“So… how common are smoke bombs?”

“Less common than flashbangs,” Ron replied, “but not very rare. If the police are called in and encounter the kind of resistance we can put up, they’ll call reinforcements, who will come with such grenades.”

“And they’ll bring assault rifles as well,” Harry added. “Anyway, you now know about crossfire and that you really need to check your target before you shoot.”

“And that you’re cheaters!” wizarding George repeated. “You used some muggle flying machines to track us!”

“Yes, we did.” Ron grinned. “Just to show that you can’t underestimate the muggle defences of the archives.”

“We couldn’t use magic or we’d have easily fooled your machines!”

“Could you?” Harry shook his head. “You were surrounded by snow, and we were using thermographic cameras. Even if you had disillusioned yourselves, we could’ve tracked the heat leaving your bodies.”

“And melting the snow,” Ron added. “Though you did erase your tracks quite competently.”

“Thank you. But those tricks won’t work inside a building!”

“That depends on how sensitive the camera resolution is. And how easily your surroundings absorb heat,” Hermione added. “It wasn’t a problem when we were infiltrating the Kremlin since we were shrunk to a size that was too small to trigger any sensors and were disillusioned. But we won’t be doing the same thing here.”

“Why not? If it works…” Wizarding Fred shrugged.

“It’s also quite dangerous,” she replied. “All sorts of insects and other animals are a threat. And if there are magical defences, we’d have to unshrink anyway.”

“Right, I’d rather not be eaten by a spider,” wizarding George said.

“Yes. It would make a terrible story,” his brother agreed. “Now if it were an Acromantula…”

Ron cleared his throat. He really didn’t want to think or talk about giant spiders killing people. Not even his brothers’ counterparts. “So… now that you know a little more about guns, remember: Don’t get in front of a gun. Stay behind us and let us shoot whatever needs to be shot.”

“We can do that. I think.” Wizarding Fred nodded.

“Unless Aurors start apparating behind us,” his brother added. “Then it gets confusing.”

“If Aurors arrive, we’ll retreat,” Hermione said.

“Standard Auror procedure is to cast Anti-Apparition Jinxes first thing,” wizarding Geroge pointed out.

“We won’t apparate,” Ron told him. “We have two escape routes according to Dumbledore’s plan.”

“But getting away will be a little tricky,” Harry said. “We’ll be making liberal use of smoke grenades and flashbangs.”

“No spells?”

“No spells that the average wizard wouldn’t be able to cast - that might cause suspicion to fall on us. That’s also why we will all be in disguise,” Hermione added. “Muggle disguises.”

“Oh! Neat!”

*****​

City of Westminster, London, Wizarding World, February 27th, 2006

“It looks deserted, according to our cameras,” Harry reported.

“It’s Sunday. Only people like Percy would be working in the Ministry,” Ron replied.

“Our Percy would live in the Ministry if his wife let him,” wizarding Fred said, chuckling.

Ron joined in, briefly laughing. His brother had actually stayed the night in his office a few times. Then he checked his watch. “Let’s get ready; our window of opportunity is approaching quickly.”

Fortunately, they were already in disguise, with wigs hiding their red hair and padded overalls hiding the shape of their bodies. Four men - the expected group of cleaning men for this weekend. According to the data in the government systems, of course, which had already been carefully manipulated by Luna.

Ten minutes later, they pulled up to the entrance of the underground parking lot for the government buildings in the area. The codes Luna had given them worked, and the bored-looking guard just waved them through after a cursory check of their documents. With their special gear and weapons shrunk and hidden thanks to Hermione, the metal detectors didn’t sound the alarm either.

And then they were inside the building. According to their surveillance, the lift wasn’t covered - but that was no reason to assume they would have privacy there. Not that they needed privacy - the plan was quite simple, after all.

Walk in, make your way to the archives, replace a certain file and adjust the electronic files. Nothing that should pose problems for a dedicated team.

Until, in a maintenance tunnel leading to the archives, Fred suddenly yelled: “Don’t move! There’s magic ahead!”

Ron froze, as did Harry. The two wizards passed them, wands flashing.

“Yes,” wizarding George confirmed. “A detection spell, I think.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Get rid of it, please.”

“Already working on it!” wizarding George replied. “This shouldn’t take long.”

“This can’t take long,” Ron told him. “We’ve only got two hours until the guards next make their rounds.”

“Don’t rush us; if that spell is linked to older spells, or even wards…”

Ron winced - he could imagine the destruction. But they were here for a reason, and he wouldn’t let anything stop them.

*****​

“Who would’ve thought Hermione Granger, teacher’s pet extraordinaire, would stoop to stealing school records?”

She scowled at Ron. “First, we’re not stealing any records - we’re merely copying them.”

“Well, isn’t that theft of intellectual property?” Harry asked.

She sniffed. “School records aren’t intellectual property.” Well, not in the muggle world.

“But they’re not meant to be public,” Harry said.

“This is an emergency,” she retorted. “We need to see Tom Riddle’s school records.” The boy whose diary they had found - and lost again - was at the centre of this whole affair.

Besides, she was curious what the school’s records would say about her - and how she matched up to someone who had received a special commendation from the school, and who had apparently created a unique magic item while he was still a student.

“Let’s go,” she whispered.

“Let’s check if there’s anyone around, first,” Harry corrected her.

“Yes,” Ron added. “Wouldn’t want you to curse Neville again.”

“That was one time!” she hissed. And Neville had deserved it, trying to stop them from doing what was right.

Harry disappeared under his Invisibility Cloak and snuck down the stairs to the common room - she heard some of the steps creak. She really needed to learn a silencing charm and the Disillusionment Charm; she didn’t like to depend on Harry’s heirloom for such things.

But first, they needed the records. She checked if the magical camera she had acquired was in working order - it was - before Harry returned.

“The coast is clear!” he whispered.

A minute later, they were in the hallway outside their dorm, making their way towards the dungeons of Hogwarts. Where the archives were supposed to be.

*****​

 

Chapter 63: The Records

City of Westminster, London, Wizarding World, February 27th, 2006

“This is odd, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. It’s an old spell - an old ward. Powerful. But it’s rather… simple.”

“Yes. Why would you cast a ward using such a simple spell? All the power it accumulates over time will be useless since it can be easily circumvented.”

“Yes. So… trap?”

“That would be the logical conclusion, wouldn’t it?”

“It would. But I haven’t found any sign of the trap, yet.”

“That means it’s been expertly hidden.”

“Yes. This might be trickier than we thought.”

No shit, Ron thought as he listened to the twins’ discussion. Of course it was a trap - it was the oldest trick in the book: an easy trap hiding a more difficult - and more lethal - trap. A dumb intruder would grow overconfident after dealing with the first trap and run straight into the real trap. Moody had given a few examples in training.

He tapped his radio. “We’ve encountered a ward,” he told Hermione. “The twins are on it, but it’s harder than expected.”

“A ward? Inside the building?” Hermione asked.

“In the tunnel leading to the archives,” he confirmed. “It’s a simple spell, though, so it must be hiding another spell - or a curse.”

“And whoever cast it was good,” wizarding Fred interrupted. “We still haven’t found even a trace of the curse.”

“Alright,” Hermione said. “Be careful. But don’t take too long, either - we don’t have unlimited time, and you don’t want to be stuck in a ward if anyone notices you.”

“We’ve done this before, you know,” wizarding George told her, his voice slightly tight. Not quite snapping at Hermione, but close.

The other spell must be hidden very well if tempers were rising already - the twins, at least Ron’s brothers, usually tried to appear amused and above petty concerns at all times. He cleared his throat. “Just do your job; we’ll have your back.”

“And our front and other body parts all over you, if we botch this up,” wizarding Fred replied - with forced and utterly out of place cheerfulness.

However, that was normal for him, or so Ron assumed. Which hopefully meant that things weren’t hopeless.

He looked at Harry, who was guarding their rear. His friend was tense. “We’ve got two hours until the next scheduled patrol,” he told Harry.

“I know.” His friend clenched his teeth. “And we can’t be seen, or they’ll check the archives thoroughly afterwards for any signs of manipulation.”

Disillusionment Charms would hide them, and if they were still detected, Stunners and Obliviation could deal with the guards, but Ron would prefer to avoid using either. In and out without being seen was the goal - provided the twins could find the magical trap.

Hell, it felt like one of the more stupid D&D campaigns, with the Killer DM who wouldn’t accept dice rolls for finding traps. Sometimes they had spent hours describing how their characters would search for traps. Once they had spent hours and there hadn’t been a trap at all.

He blinked. What if that was the case here as well? One obvious trap, to get the morons - and make the smarter intruders suspect another trap, stalling them as they looked for it, probably for longer than dealing with an actual trap would have taken…

“Mates, what if there is no second spell?” he asked.

“What would be the point?” wizarding Fred replied. His brother was too busy, apparently, to answer - or even react.

Ron told him.

But the wizard shook his head. “That would only make sense if there were regular patrols who’d notice magical intruders. And I don’t think the Ministry would waste Aurors or Hit-Wizards on such a task.”

“If they did, I would be very cross,” Hermione commented over the radio. “No resources to abolish Azkaban, but enough trained wizards to regularly patrol muggle archives?”

Ron bit on his lip - he knew that making a joke about the Ministry valuing paperwork more than lives wouldn’t be appreciated by anyone. Well, perhaps the twins.

So all they could do was to wait and hope the twins didn’t screw things up.

Who would’ve thought that breaking into a government archive could be as boring as filling out paperwork?

*****​

An hour later, the twins hadn’t made any progress. They hadn’t found even the slightest trace of a second spell, much less a second ward. And they were starting to run out of time - well, not yet, but their safety margin was being eroded.

Ron shook his head. “Mates, you haven’t found anything. Let’s try a walking trap detector.”

“A what?” wizarding Fred asked.

“Conjure a pig or something, and have it walk down the hallway,” Harry explained.

“That would trigger a trap - or an alert.”

“If there is one,” Ron told him. “We can’t spend forever here, watching you look for something that might not exist.” And whoever would have thought that seeing Ron’s most annoying brothers, or at least their magical counterparts, stumped and frustrated wouldn’t be amusing?

“I concur,” Hermione said before the twins could reply. “We have to risk it.”

“It’s on your heads!” wizarding Fred complained. But he complied - as soon as his brother had finished his latest attempt to analyse the ward, the wizard waved his wand, and a large pig appeared.

The conjured animal started walking down the hallway and reached the door to the archives without anything happening at all.

Ron managed to control himself and didn’t tell everyone that he had told them so, but he was grinning widely as they all approached the door. A door which wasn’t, as the twins confirmed, magically protected. “This doesn’t make any sense!” wizarding Fred protested. “A detection charm - a ward! Decades old! - in a maintenance tunnel, but no protection on the actual door leading to the archives? Who thought this was a good idea? The Quibbler?”

“Hey!” Ron snapped.

“Sorry. But this is… it’s insane, that’s what it is!” the wizard went on. “Who would create a ward with just a detection charm and no other spells?”

“Someone who really wanted to know who went through this tunnel?” his brother asked.

“We’re on a mission,” Harry told them. “You can speculate later about the motives of whoever cast this decades ago; now we need to get in and change the records.”

“And get rid of the pig,” Ron added, nodding at the animal. It wasn’t acting like an animal at all, standing perfectly still, but it was completely out of place here anyway. Now, if this were the basement of Parliament…

Grumbling, wizarding Fred vanished the pig while his brother unlocked the door with another spell.

“Alright,” Ron told them. “Harry’s on the computer, George and I will take care of the physical records and Fred’s on lookout duty.” Just as planned. He turned and walked towards the section Dumbledore had marked on the floor plans without waiting for an answer. They were on the clock. “We’re in,” he told Hermione over the radio.

The records they needed were recent - more or less - compared to the really ancient stuff in the archives - which were probably old enough to qualify for a museum - but he still had to walk past a considerable number of shelves.

“It’s almost as large as the Prophecy Room in the Department of Mysteries,” wizarding George commented. “Just with paper instead of spheres.”

“Spheres?”

“Yes. They hold prophecies.”

Ron glanced at the wizard, and his brother’s counterpart shrugged. “It wasn’t my idea. Someone probably thought it was the perfect solution for storing prophecies. Or there wasn’t a better way to record them at the time, and no one bothered to change the system after better ways were developed.”

Ron snorted - that sounded like what the British government would do, alright. His father complained about hidebound traditionalists often enough. “This is just one floor,” he told wizarding George, “there are several more below us.”

“Wow. And I thought our Ministry loved paperwork.”

Ron snorted again. But before he could reply, they reached their destination. “Here we are - London birth records.”

“But we’re from Devon.”

“Your branch of the family is. My completely fictive branch obviously moved to London at the start of the twentieth century.” Which church records in Ottery St Catchpole would confirm once the Lunas finished altering them.

“Ah. No spells, by the way.”

“Good.” That would’ve been a nasty surprise, finding spells on the archives here. “Let’s do it, then.”

“Yes, yes. Just like we practised.”

Ron suppressed a grin. Wizarding George might complain, but proper training prevented debacles. He’d rather not have his records spontaneously combust or turn into a rat after a day or two or something - something not entirely out of the question in light of some of Hermione’s tales from her classes at Hogwarts.

He sorted through the files - everything seemed in order. It wouldn’t do to replace the file and misfile it at the same time. Then he pulled out the first register he needed. “Alter this one.”

While wizarding George worked, Ron went after the next set of records. His fake identity needed a complete and convincing paper trail, back to his grandparents, after all.

*****​

They had about fifteen minutes left before the next guard patrol was scheduled when they finally finished and returned to the exit, where Harry and wizarding Fred were already waiting.

“Got it!” the wizard announced as soon as they reached him.

“What?” Ron asked. “And not so loud, please.”

“I know what was up with the ward,” wizarding Fred explained. “Someone needed to catch an intruder, but didn’t know when they would make their move, so they installed a ward to alert them and then never bothered to remove it!”

Had he spent the entire time pondering that instead of keeping an eye out for trouble?

“And why would they not simply cast the spell instead of creating a ward? Were they planning to be ready to intervene for years on end?” wizarding George retorted.

“The question should be: Why are we wasting time here instead of moving?” Harry snapped. “Let’s go!”

“Oh, alright, let’s go.” Instead of opening the door, wizarding Fred reached for their hands.

“No!” Harry shook his head. “We’ll leave as we came - as planned.”

Without magic. Ron wasn’t entirely sure how long traces of spells remained, but it was best to minimise the risk.

*****​

They made it out without trouble - which was a little suspicious, Ron had to admit. On the other hand, they had all the floor plans and schedules they needed, and the guards weren’t exactly alert. And since it was a Sunday, few, if any, civilians were out and about in the building. Or nearby. But Moody had taught them that you were the most vulnerable once you thought you were done with a mission.

Still, Ron couldn’t help expecting an ambush at every corner as they walked back to the flat they were using as a base. But nobody attacked them. And Ron couldn’t spot any attempts to follow them, either.

Very suspicious, indeed. What would Moody do in this situation? The old police officer would probably create a diversion to escape - or force the observers to reveal themselves. The latter was not a good idea - drawing attention was the last thing they wanted - and they’d escape as soon as they were reunited with Hermione, who was waiting for them in the flat.

As they entered the house, Ron clenched his teeth. He almost wanted to be attacked, just to break the tension. Almost.

“There you are!” Hermione greeted them, her beaded bag hidden inside a plastic bag which she had thrown over her shoulder.

“Where else would we be?” Wizarding Fred snorted. “Not even an age-old mystery was enough to stop us!”

She rolled her eyes at his boasting. “It was enough to almost stop you.”

“Almost catching the Snitch or Quaffle doesn’t count,” the wizard replied.

“Mission accomplished,” Ron reported. “Once the Lunas have altered the records in Ottery St Catchpole, my new identity will be perfect.”

“They finished - and without getting stalled, despite some rather interesting spells in the village church,” Hermione told him.

“Interesting spells?” George asked. “Do tell!”

“I don’t have details, but it seems that we aren’t the first wizards and witches to alter muggle records with magic.” Hermione flashed a toothy smile. “And guess who’re the main suspects?”

“It wasn’t us!” wizarding Fred protested at once.

“We hadn’t considered the potential of such manipulations, to be honest,” his brother added. “Although the real challenge is doing the same with Ministry records! Imagine if it came out that certain families never actually owned their land, but stole it from muggles…”

“‘I’m certain that that has happened more than once,” Hermione said, “and that no one in the Ministry cared.”

“Well, times change,” wizarding George replied. “And the current Ministry is very different to the old one. If they found traces of a blatant attempt to hide such manipulations...” He grinned.

“The new Ministry is also far better protected than the old one,” Hermione pointed out. “Or so I’ve been told. And we have too many important problems to solve to indulge in pranks.”

“Not to mention that all the bigots were dealt with anyway, weren’t they?” Ron added. “You’d only hurt a distant relative who didn’t have anything to do with the war.”

“Based on their voting habits, some of the new Wizengamot members probably only didn’t join Voldemort because he wasn’t pure enough for them,” wizarding George said.

“And it would be a challenge!” Wizarding Fred grinned.

They weren’t serious. Probably - Ron wasn’t completely sure. “Let’s go,” he said. “We can discuss things further back home.”

“Oh, no wonder you and Hermione got together - you think of her lab as ‘home’ as well!”

Ron rolled his eyes again. There were definite drawbacks to hiring his family’s counterparts.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, February 27th, 2006

“You know, the spells on the church register in Ottery St Catchpole…” Wizarding George slowly shook his head as he sat down in an armchair in the lab’s lounge.

“Which must have been the work of the Diggory family,” his brother interrupted him. “It wasn’t our family - we have it from a reliable source that we’re the worst delinquents in seven generations, and we didn’t do it - and it wasn’t the Lovegoods, because, well… you know them.”

With the exception of wizarding Luna, Ron actually didn’t know them well, but he nodded anyway.

“Anyway!” wizarding George continued. “The spell in the muggle archives… I think we should investigate it.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying for hours!” wizarding Fred exclaimed.

“Yes, but I’ve thought of a good reason for doing so,” wizarding George replied.

“Do you suspect a conspiracy?” Hermione looked very sceptical.

“Well… Not quite a conspiracy. But there has to be a reason for it. And since we - now - know how useful such records, properly manipulated, can be, it stands to reason that other wizards will have discovered this before us,” wizarding George told her.

“It could just be coincidence. Occam’s razor,” Hermione said.

“Occam?”

“It means that if you have two competing theories that make exactly the same predictions, the simpler one is the better,” Hermione explained.

“Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time it's enemy action,” Ron said.

“We only have two points of data,” Hermione retorted with a smile. “Coincidence.”

“Unless we find a third data thingie!” wizarding Fred piped up.

“That shouldn’t be too hard,” his brother agreed.

Ron wasn’t so sure, but he wouldn’t stop them. If they were busy investigating a mystery, they weren’t busy doing something more dangerous. And there was another point to consider. “What if the Ministry has copies of the records?” Ron asked. “If they check them for my identity…”

Hermione’s eyes widened, but the twins shook their heads. “I’ve never heard of the Ministry keeping muggle records,” wizarding Fred said.

“And Dad’s been working for the Ministry for decades - he’d have told us if they had muggle records. You know how he is about all things muggle,” wizarding George added with a nod towards Hermione.

“But would he have known about a rarely used archive?” Hermione asked.

“If they have such records, wouldn’t they have checked them already after you appeared?” the wizard replied with a glance at Ron.

That was a good point. Although… “Wouldn’t have Harry and Ron handled that?” Ron shrugged. “They know the truth, so they would’ve been able to cover for us.”

“Without telling us?” Hermione pursed her lips.

“They might not have wanted to give you another reason to criticise the Ministry,” Ron suggested.

“They know better than that!” she insisted.

They hadn’t seen her for seven years, though. Ron briefly bit his lower lip.

“We haven’t even determined yet whether any copied muggle archives exist in the first place,” wizarding Fred said. “Percy hasn’t mentioned anything like them, either. And he talks about the thickness of cauldron bottoms for hours if you let him.”

“That’s actually a very important regulation,” Hermione told them. “Defective cauldrons can cause lethal brewing mishaps.”

“Getting bored to death can also be fatal,” wizarding Fred retorted.

Ron was about to agree, but Hermione’s frown had grown more pronounced, so he cleared his throat instead and tried to get the conversation back on track. “Anyway, I think we should just ask your Percy if the Ministry has such an archive.”

“He’s a stickler for the rules, though family comes first, and you’re sort of family. Twice,” wizarding George said.

“Twice?” Hermione asked.

“Once for being a Weasley from another dimension, and once for being a sort of in-law, since you’re like an honorary Weasley yourself,” the wizard explained with a sly grin.

Hermione groaned, but she was smiling. And it was - for Fred and George - endearing. Sort of.

“But we really should first check if there are other muggle archives with spells on them,” George said.

“Alright.” Hermione nodded. “We don’t have to start the bribery right away, anyway.”

“And it’s always better to check if your cover story is solid before launching an undercover operation,” Ron added.

“Constant vigilance!” wizarding Fred exclaimed with a grin.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, February 28th, 2006

“So, we’ve got good news and bad news,” wizarding George said. “Which do you want to hear first?”

“Start with the good news, please,” Dumbledore replied. “I assume we will have to focus on the bad news, so it’s best to get the good news out of the way.”

“Alright! The good news is: The Ministry doesn’t care about muggle records,” the wizard told them. “So there are no hidden or secret copied archives.”

“Also, Percy was really annoyed at being woken up early in the morning for an emergency,” his brother added with a grin. “That’s also good news!”

Ron chuckled - he could imagine that.

“The bad news is, we’re definitely not the first wizards to meddle with muggle records,” wizarding George said with a sigh. “We’ve checked a number of church records and we’ve found three more warded ones.”

“Coincidentally, all of the spelled records were related to old wizarding families, often dating back to the time before the Statute of Secrecy,” wizarding Fred added.

“They’ve been adding people to families. Or removing them,” Hermione said.

“That’s our conclusion as well,” wizarding George replied. “Remove all records of squibs. Or the family members who married below their station.”

“Or pick an old family and create a cadet branch - either through a ‘squib line’ or by claiming they emigrated generations ago - and then return to reclaim your family heritage,” Hermione said.

Ron assumed she had considered that herself, at least hypothetically.

“Both are likely explanations, though some of those spells might have been cast to prevent such shenanigans,” Dumbledore told them. “However, this poses a problem for our plan.” His smile turned rather wry. “The Ministry might not care, but if such behaviour is or was common, then Gringotts might have developed procedures to deal with fraudulent claims against them.”

“And they could sell us out if they realise we’re using a fake identity,” Ron said. “Worse, they might wonder why we’re using a fake identity for me, since I should have one already, and investigate.”

“Indeed.” Dumbledore’s usually jovial expression turned serious as he spoke. “We should, therefore, verify whether or not the goblins have access to such records before we embark on our own operation.”

“That could be tricky,” wizarding George said. “Very few people have ever managed to successfully break into Gringotts. In fact, we only know of two of them - Voldemort and our very own Hermione, Harry and Ron. Our Ron. And it’s debatable whether or not Voldemort counts since he didn’t get what he wanted.”

“I think my involvement in the - completely justified - break-in won’t help matters. The goblins will have fixed the hole in Gringotts’ security that we used to break in,” Hermione pointed out, smiling ruefully. “Should we plan to approach them about this, then we shouldn’t mention my involvement; it will only serve to antagonise them.”

“Do they value revenge over profit, then?” Dumbledore asked.

“They prefer to make a profit and get their revenge, but… it’s hard to say which they’d favour if they had to choose,” she replied. “Gringotts lost a lot of face over our actions - they prided themselves on having perfect security, and we certainly damaged that reputation. Repairing the damage we caused by letting a dragon rampage through the bank must also have been expensive.”

“I see.” Dumbledore nodded. “How, if I may ask, did you bypass their security?”

“We combined Polyjuice Potion with muggle disguises,” Hermione told him. “That way, I looked the part at the entrance, and when the potion’s effect was cancelled by the Thief’s Downfall - a goblin invention - I didn’t change in a noticeable way.”

“How did you manage that?” Harry asked.

“We were fortunate that I was very close in height to my target, Bellatrix Lestrange. A veil and some padding did the rest, combined with specially cut clothes.” Hermione grimaced a little. “It was still a close call, though - it didn’t fool the protections inside the vault, and even though we overcame them, that tipped off the guards.”

“A sticky situation, indeed. But you managed to escape - a feat few could have duplicated, I imagine.” Dumbledore smiled widely.

“We were lucky that the goblins used maltreated dragons for security,” she replied. “And it was extremely close even so.”

“Muggle disguises… why hasn’t anyone else tried that?” wizarding Fred wondered aloud.

“It was only recently - relatively - that Muggle disguises reached a level of sophistication which would allow them to pass a goblin inspection,” Hermione explained.

“I guess they’ve also developed counters to shrunken intruders,” Ron said.

“Yes. There are ways around it - but all of them require at least one person to pass the goblin identification checks,” Hermione told them.

“Then it looks like we’ll have to use the human element. Or goblin, in this case,” Dumbledore said. He was smiling widely. “I’m looking forward to the challenge of turning a goblin.”

“You want to bribe a goblin?” Wizarding Fred shook his head. “That won’t work. They’ll take your money, and then they’ll sell you out to their superiors. And get a promotion in the process for foiling a wizard trying to rob Gringotts.”

“I’m quite familiar with that particular danger. In my old business, every attempt to turn an enemy risked getting fooled by - or creating - a double agent. Nevertheless, I was successful more often than not. However, I’ve never done this with a goblin.” Dumbledore beamed at them.

“You’ve never dealt with a goblin, have you?” wizarding George asked.

“No, I haven’t. But that is easily rectified,” Dumbledore said.

“If Dumbledore’s long-lost twin brother appears, the goblins will assume something weird is going on,” Ron pointed out. That would be counterproductive.

“Indeed. Fortunately, they won’t meet a Dumbledore.”

*****​

Diagon Alley, London, Wizarding World, March 1st, 2006

Gringotts did look very impressive. Wide stairs leading up to a front made of white marble, massive pillars decorating it, a gate that looked solid enough to stop a tank and armoured goblins guarding all the entrances.

And those were just the visible parts. According to Hermione and the wizarding twins, the building’s wards were amongst the strongest in the country - and older than Wizarding Britain itself, only beaten, although soundly, by those of Hogwarts.

And even though the guards were wearing medieval-style armour and weapons, they looked rather impressive as well. “Goblins in half-plate,” he muttered, “with polearms. If I’d brought this up in a game, you’d have called me a fool.”

Harry, standing next to him, snorted. “We aren’t playing games.”

“Dumbledore might not know that,” Ron said, watching the old man, disguised, walk up the stairs, in the company of Rosengarten. “He sounded like this was all a game to him.”

“Well, he’s risking his own neck, not ours,” Harry replied.

Though Ron was convinced that if he and the others didn’t have to stay out of Gringotts for a variety of reasons, they would likely be with Dumbledore at this moment.

As it was, Harry, Hermione and Ron himself were, in disguise, supposed to be the reserve element of this operation. Not that he thought that their chances of successfully intervening if Dumbledore got into trouble with the goblins were good - unless an altercation happened on the stairs, they would have to break into the bank to reach the old man, and that was a quite tall order for two muggles and one witch, no matter their combat experience.

On the other hand, it wasn’t as if Dumbledore was trying anything dangerous - this was just the first contact, so to speak. And the old spymaster would be playing it straight - a squib, recently emigrated from America, looking to sell some ‘family heirlooms’, which the goblins would assume to have been looted in the last war on the East Coast. Nothing dangerous at all. Just a business transaction. And if he sold low enough, the goblins would be looking forward to his next visit.

But a good police officer always worried, even about things out of their control. Goblins weren’t humans and would have a vastly different culture, and Dumbledore might be a little too smug or optimistic. Unlikely, but not impossible.

He felt a hand grip his own and suddenly realised that he had been staring at the bank in silence for a while. “Thanks,” he whispered, smiling at Hermione.

She nodded in return. “They’ll be alright. They have no known connection to me, and the goblins don’t have a reason to suspect anything.”

Well, she had experience with the goblins, so he was inclined to believe her. “Unless they think they’ll make a net profit, all things considered, if they simply take all his ‘wares’, then claim he was trying to rob them. Since he’s posing as a foreigner, they might be tempted to go for the short-term profit,” Harry said.

“I trust Mr Dumbledore to convince the goblins that there’s more profit for them if they work with him,” Hermione retorted. “Assuming otherwise is mere speculation.”

“He asked us to form a reserve in case something goes wrong,” Harry told her. “He wouldn’t have done that if he were convinced everything would go smoothly.”

“He’s covering all the bases,” Hermione snapped.

“Or he just wants to know what we’ll be doing so we don’t ruin any of his other plans,” Ron pointed out.

“Then we’d have Fred and George’s counterparts here,” Harry told him.

“They would ruin his plans out of sheer boredom,” Ron shot back with a grin.

“They’ve matured a great deal, in my opinion,” Hermione cut in. “I think their attitude is mostly an act now. They’re businessmen, married and have a daughter.”

Ron frowned. He wouldn’t agree with that assessment - his own brothers certainly hadn’t matured much. Although Hermione had a good point - having a family would have changed their counterparts. That, and the war they had lived through. Ron’s brothers hadn’t gone through anything like that.

“It doesn’t really matter if they are genuine or putting on an act if they mess up,” Harry said.

“They fought in the war; they wouldn’t fool around on a mission,” Hermione replied.

“Unless they thought it would be harmless?” Ron smiled wryly. His brothers weren’t stupid, but a few of their mistakes had been dangerous. Like producing fireworks at home. Fortunately, the fire hadn’t spread.

Hermione pressed her lips together and frowned at him. “They know that they can’t underestimate the goblins. And neither can we.”

There was no danger of that. Ron wasn’t about to underestimate a magical species, whether or not they were allowed to wield wands.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, March 1st, 2006

“...and the goblin, Mr Grimclaw, was most eager,” Dumbledore told them with a sly smile in the briefing room in the lab. “Of course, his first offer was about a tenth of the worth of our ‘heirlooms’ - which is, even for a fence buying stolen goods, rather low - and we had to haggle quite passionately. I do believe I’ve impressed him, at least a little.”

“Never show weakness to a goblin,” wizarding Fred said. “That’s what Dad always told us. That, and ‘never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain’.”

“That wasn’t quite as useful as far as advice goes,” wizarding George commented. “Though Mum’s reaction when we removed all the mirrors from The Burrow was funny.”

“Not as funny as Ginny’s, though,” his brother added. “Of course, that was before…”

“Yes,” Hermione snapped, glaring at both of them. “And entirely beside the point.”

“Quite,” Dumbledore agreed. “I will visit the bank again in a few days, to sell more ‘heirlooms’, and I will see if I can ask about record keeping as well.”

“As long as you don’t give them ideas about manipulating records themselves,” Rosengarten added. “That would be… problematic.”

“I would imagine so, yes.” Dumbledore smiled. “And while that might spur the Ministry to protect the records, it would hamper our own efforts.” He inclined his head. “In any case, things are, so far, proceeding according to plan.”

Ron really wanted to tell the old man that he had just jinxed them. And on Ron’s birthday, too.

*****​

The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, Britain, Wizarding World, March 1st, 2006

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Ro-ons, happy birthday to you!”

Ron leaned forward with his counterpart, and they managed to blow out all the candles on the cake.

Of course, the twins had replaced half of the candles with joke candles that re-ignited as soon as they were out, but that was to be expected. Wizarding Ron cancelled them with a wave of his wand and Mrs Weasley scolded her sons.

And Hermione looked like she wanted to scold them as well.

“Not going to, ah, hex them?” Ron asked her, sotto voce.

She shook her head. “It would only encourage them, and it would be rude to do so in The Burrow. It’s not my home, after all.”

“So you’d do it at the lab?”

She snorted. “You’re almost as bad as they are.”

“I grew up with their counterparts.” He shrugged with a grin. “Even Percy can hold his own against them in a verbal spar.” Otherwise, Ron’s brother would probably have gone mad.

“Ah.” She nodded again. “Would you have preferred to celebrate your birthday at home?”

“I’ve celebrated most of my birthdays at home,” he replied.

“That’s not an answer to my question.” She was frowning a little.

Busted. “No, it’s not,” he admitted. “But I don’t mind celebrating my birthday here.” Not really. “I couldn’t go flying back home, could I?” He grinned.

“Well… if I disillusioned you, or if you used an Invisibility Cloak, you could. We’ve got the brooms.”

“That’s true. But I’d miss out on watching someone else’s home being overrun and descending into chaos.” He nodded towards the cake, which was under assault by half a dozen kids - well, five: Roger, Victoire, James, Jean and Beatrice - while Mrs Weasley valiantly tried to uphold tradition. “You can’t cut it before the birthday boys have had the first slice!”

Uh oh. “Ron!” “Uncle Ron!” “Dad!” “You need to eat!” “We’re starving!” “Don’t forget the muggle Ron. We need both eating!” “Can’t Dad just take two slices?” “That’s not how it works!” “Please, Mr Ron!”

“Ron! What are you doing?”

“Luna?” Ron turned his head and saw that both Lunas, his own in a rather thin disguise, were glaring at him.

“I can tell you what he isn’t doing: cutting the cake!” Luna said. “And unless you’re currently busy saving the world, you’ve got no excuse for failing to do your duty and cutting the cake!”

Since wizarding Luna was twirling her wand between her fingers, it was probably - despite the ‘no hexing inside’ rule - safer to get on with it. Getting between Luna and pudding was never a good idea, and Ron didn’t trust the various kids too much, either.

As soon as he and his counterpart had had their slices - Hermione insisted on testing them for pranks, though she didn’t find anything - the kids all but climbed over each other to be next in line. Which quickly developed into a row, which kept the kids from getting any cake for a few more minutes.

Ron valiantly resisted the temptation to get another slice before the kids were sorted out by a rather loud Mrs Weasley. His counterpart didn’t, he noted, which started a round of complaining, protesting and whining that only stopped once every kid had their share of cake.

And then the adults could enjoy their cake as well.

“It’s remarkable,” Ron commented as he finished his slice.

“Hmm?” Hermione raised her eyebrows.

“Even with all the magic being thrown around,” he explained, “it feels a lot like home. Actually, the biggest difference isn’t the magic, but the kids.”

“Ah, yes. None of your siblings has any children yet.” Hermione looked pensive. “It’s actually quite common for wizards to have kids early. At least in Britain.”

“Ah. And it’s different at home.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “Of course, witches who want to focus entirely on raising a family aren’t the norm here, either.” Her glance towards Lavender left no doubt that she didn’t consider that a good life choice.

Ron nodded, even though he didn’t entirely agree with her - raising kids who could accidentally curse you was a little more demanding than raising kids who, at worst, might accidentally set their room on fire. Granted, Hermione had told him that accidental magic was almost never actually dangerous - but that didn’t mean it would never happen.

Still, looking at the Potter twins charming Mrs Weasley out of a third slice of cake, and Beatrice chatting animatedly with the Lunas, Ron couldn’t help wondering if he’d ever have a kid or two of his own. And if they’d be a wizard or witch. And if he judged Harry and Ginny’s expression correctly - with their disguises, it was a little difficult - he wasn’t the only one wondering. Although… “Where are Roger and Victoire?”

Hermione looked around. “They were just here… I’d expect them to be asking for another serving of cake. That, or…”

A whooping noise from outside interrupted her, followed by Mrs Weasley yelling: “Roger! Victoire! Both of you get down at once! How did you get into the shed, anyway?”

Beatrice looked a little guilty, as did her fathers, but Ron wasn’t sure if anyone other than Harry and himself had caught that.

Well, it wouldn’t be a Weasley celebration without some excitement. “Want to go flying now?” he asked.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Hermione replied before looking surprised for some reason.

*****​

“Come on! Let’s fly!”

She didn’t want to straddle the broom and fly. And not just because the broom Ron had handed her was old and, therefore, more likely to have defective enchantments. No, soaring in the sky sounded great - until you remembered that all that kept you from falling to your death were your hands and thighs gripping a thin shaft of wood.

She blushed. That sounded almost like some of the passages in those romance novels she didn’t read, but she was thinking about an actual broom. Not some… euphemism. “I don’t feel like it,” she said, raising her chin.

“Are you sick?”

“What? No! I just don’t feel like flying today!” Or any day until she learned a spell to keep herself from falling to her death.

“Why not? The weather’s great, the wind’s a gentle breeze and Ginny isn’t here to annoy us!”

“It’s just… I don’t feel like it!” she insisted.

“But…” He frowned, then his eyes widened. “Are you afraid of flying?”

“No, I’m not!” she spat. She was merely appropriately cautious. “I took all my flying lessons last year, didn’t I?”

“Well, yes, but the point of those lessons is that, afterwards, you can fly! And try out for the Quidditch team!” He beamed at her. “Think of it as an exam! You wouldn’t want me to beat you in a test, would you?”

As if she cared about getting beaten at broom flying! But to be thought a coward or unable to fly? That would hurt.

Gritting her teeth, she nodded. “Let’s go flying.”

*****​

 

Chapter 64: The Goblins

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, March 2nd, 2006

“Well, Mum’s not pleased about my decision to celebrate my birthday in another world,” Ron said.

“What do you mean?” Hermione looked up from her ever-growing notes.

He held up the package with his birthday gift. “It arrived a day late, and the home-made fudge is half the usual size,” he explained.

“Ah.” She nodded. “The other Molly has similar ways of expressing her disagreement with certain choices. Although... didn’t you explain that it was the safer choice to celebrate in my world?”

“She probably thought that was just an excuse,” he replied. It hadn’t been just an excuse, but it hadn’t not been one, either.

“Ah.” She shrugged. “Well, she’ll come round?” She cocked her head.

“In time.” Mum didn’t hold grudges like Ginny - who still brought up certain events from their childhood when she was mad at him - did, but it took time for her to forgive. Especially if it might require her to admit she hadn’t been entirely right about something or someone.

“Time… ask me for anything but time.” Hermione sighed.

“We’re working on everything we can,” he told her. “Dumbledore’s busy with the goblins, we’re working on the Fidelius Charm…”

“And we still need a plan to test ways of destroying a Dementor,” she said.

“That’s not as urgent as providing the Ministry with enough funding that they can abolish Azkaban,” he retorted.

“Bribing them to abolish Azkaban,” she corrected him.

He shrugged. “As long as the prison is abolished... the end justifies the means?” He didn’t have to point out that they had already broken a lot of laws dealing with the Russians and their stooges.

She frowned, then sighed. “I still don’t like it. You shouldn’t have to bribe the government to do the right thing.”

“Don’t tell our government that - some of the ministers might die from shock,” he joked.

She didn’t laugh. “I just want this to be over.”

He hesitated a moment, then asked: “Do you feel responsible for it? Azkaban, I mean.”

“No, of course not,” she replied - a little too quickly, he thought. “I didn’t install it. Or want it to continue. But if I could make it disappear and didn’t do so, I would be responsible.”

Ah. “Do you think your friends are responsible?”

Another sigh. “I don’t think so. They’re just… They have different priorities.”

He made a noncommittal sound.

“I think they’re just… too close to the Ministry.”

“They’re part of the Ministry,” he told her.

“Yes.” She frowned at him. “They’re caught up in all the paperwork and the meetings and the presentations, and the budget numbers. All the politics. And they forget that certain things shouldn’t be subject to compromises or deals.”

“Slippery slope?”

“No!” She shook her head. “They’re not corrupt - not in the sense of the saying. But they’re… I don’t know.”

“Part of the system?” He shrugged. “Luna had similar problems with my choice of job.”

“And you worked through it.”

“Yes. For a while, we couldn’t talk politics. Well, that wasn’t unusual - Mum forbade talking about politics after Luna and Percy had a go at each other when they both were teens.”

“I can imagine,” she replied.

He snorted. “Yes. Anyway, we just… didn’t talk about my job or her activities for a time.”

“And that worked?”

“Well, we could always talk about books and games, TV shows, music, movies…” He shrugged again.

And she frowned again. “We didn’t have much like that to talk about during the war. Harry and Ron had Quidditch, but… the muggleborn players had been banned, and that gave any talk of Quidditch a sour taste. And neither of them was much of a reader, not that I had many books with me that weren’t needed for the war, so…” She closed her eyes. “We mostly talked about school. What we did and what we missed.”

“Homework and studying?” He grinned at her.

She frowned at him but she chuckled as well. “Not often. And now both of them are married with children, and so…”

“...they talk about their kids all the time.” Ron had experienced that himself with some school mates who had gotten married after finishing school.

“Yes, and I can’t really contribute. I’m an only child, so I can’t even relate to having siblings.”

“Didn’t babysit either, hmm?”

“No.” The ‘of course not’ remained unsaid, but Ron still heard it clearly.

Yet… “Have you ever thought about having kids?”

“I don’t have time for kids. Not with everything that needs to be done.”

“I mean once you have the time,” he said. “Have you ever imagined having kids?”

“Who hasn’t, at least once?” She shook her head. “But it’s all pointless if we don’t resolve our current problems.”

He nodded, and they went back to researching wordings for her spell.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, March 4th, 2006

“I have good and bad news,” Dumbledore announced. “I shan’t ask you which you want to hear first, though,” he added with a smile that was just a little less sly than his usual one. “The good news is that I have successfully confirmed that Gringotts has sealed copies of a number of records dating back centuries. Which is also the bad news.”

Ron suppressed a groan.

Harry frowned. “They don’t have copies of every single record, then?”

“No, they don’t. Unfortunately, they have been keeping track of wizarding families, and the Weasley family is a rather old one as well as a prominent one, so I fear we have to assume that the goblins possess copies of the records we altered.” Dumbledore sighed, though Ron couldn’t help feeling that the old man wasn’t quite as unhappy about this development as he was acting.

“That’s a logical assumption,” Hermione agreed. “And while they don’t offer any of the services of a solicitor, it’s quite obvious that knowing about inheritances and who is eligible for them might well be very profitable.”

“Especially if they know who doesn’t know about a vault they inherited,” Ron added. The goblins could keep the contents of a vault if they were the only ones who knew an heir existed. Or they could sell the information to others - such as heirs lower down the line.

“But that means we need to break into Gringotts. Again,” Hermione complained, sighing genuinely.

“Well, there are alternatives to breaking into the bank, although they require turning a goblin - and, as with humans, I don’t think one should trust a traitor, even if they are working for one’s own side, with crucial information. It would be too easy for them to turn that into leverage,” Dumbledore said. With a smile, he added: “Therefore, I agree with your assessment.”

“But that’ll be very, very difficult. We managed it before, but our plan won’t work again. They check for muggle disguises on the way to the vaults nowadays,” Hermione told them. “I asked my friends. Without giving the game away,” she added with a frown.

“Oh, I wasn’t planning to copy your - quite effective and ingenious - plan, Dr Granger.” Dumbledore’s lips twisted into a hint of a smirk. “Although I am planning to use something you stumbled upon during your own mission.”

Hermione blinked. “Dragons?”

“Correct.”

“Dragons?” Harry asked.

“To be precise, the information that the goblins kept dragons chained up - and that one of the dragons went on a rampage inside the bank. You never found out what happened to the animal, did you?”

“It didn’t break out of the bank, so I assume it was either killed or subdued;” Hermine replied. “But what exactly are you planning?”

Dumbledore’s smile widened.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, March 9th, 2006

Goblins Torture Poor Helpless Dragons!

Statute of Secrecy In Danger Because of Gringotts?

Diagon Alley Was Almost Destroyed In Dragon Rampage!

Goblins: Die Unerkannte Gefahr

Gier der Goblins Gefährdet Drachen

Gobelins et Dragons: Un Mélange Explosif Pour Tout Le Monde

“It looks like Dumbledore’s media campaign is off to a good start,” Ron commented after looking through the half a dozen newspapers and magazines on Hermione’s desk.

“It seems so,” she replied, pursing her lips.

He frowned a little. “What’s wrong?”

“With the exception of The Quibbler, none of the newspapers or magazines is from Britain,” she explained. “It’s obvious that this is a campaign.”

“As long as it leads to the result we want?” He shrugged.

“We could’ve kidnapped a goblin, interrogated them and then obliviated them,” she said.

“If we found a goblin who knows what we want,” he retorted. “Which is probably difficult.” More difficult than finding a corrupt politician, at least. More dangerous as well.

“This just feels too... “ She waved her hand. “Too complicated. Too convoluted. All this just to get someone inside the bank to look at the tunnels?”

“That’s probably the point,” he said. “Who would suspect us to go to such length?”

She raised her eyebrows. “My Harry and Ron?”

“But they won’t oppose us, will they?”

“No, they won’t. They already know we’re planning something, but they won’t stop us,” she admitted.

They wouldn’t stop her - Ron had no doubt that Hermione’s friends would be acting differently if she weren’t involved. “So what’s really bothering you?”

She sighed once more. “Dumbledore’s too smooth. Running undercover missions in Wizarding Britain? Now a press campaign involving the Americas, Magical Prussia and Magical France? A few months ago, he hadn’t even set foot in this world.”

He nodded with a wry smile that lacked any humour. “I wouldn’t want him as an enemy.”

“I don’t want that either,” she replied. “And he isn’t our enemy. We have the same goals.”

But what if their goals started to differ?

*****​

Grimmauld Place, London, Britain, March 10th, 2006

“You haven’t played in any tournaments since last summer. Many experts are wondering about your ability to keep up with the top ten players on the Tour. How are you feeling about your chances?” The journalist asked, her notebook ready even though a recorder was running on the couch table in Sirius’s living room.

Ginny smiled widely, but Ron saw that she was leaning back a little in her seat. She wasn’t as confident as she was trying to appear. “Actually, I’ve used the time away to train hard - I’m fitter than ever!”

The journalist wasn’t letting up, though. “But you haven’t played a professional match in months. Such a lack of practice has often proved fatal for other top ten players trying to make a comeback.”

Ginny showed more teeth. “Well, we’ll have to see about that, won’t we? I’m planning to give a good showing at the French Open.”

“So you’ll be using the time until then to acquire match practice?”

“I never play a game just to practice,” Ginny retorted.

“Well, you certainly aren’t lacking confidence. Now there’ve been a lot of rumours about your break. You dropped off the face of the earth, and with your boyfriend involved in the Granger affair, which shook Britain and culminated in several violent incidents with high body counts, you must have been under a lot of stress.”

“Those were some very stressful months, yes. But that’s in the past, now.”

The woman leaned forward. “Anything in particular that was especially stressful?”

Harry, sitting next to Ginny, frowned. Ron did the same - this was supposed to be an interview for a sports magazine. But that question seemed to be more aimed at asking about the whole affair, not tennis.

Ginny, too, had realised that. “I’m not going into details. We’re here to talk about tennis,” she said. “Your next question?”

“Sorry. Since you haven’t played in months, you’ve lost a lot of points and therefore fell out of the top ten. Has that influenced your choice of tournaments?”

Ginny smiled widely. “I’ve already secured a wild card for the French Open as well as for Wimbledon. People have been quite understanding about my circumstances, for which I am grateful.”

Ron suppressed a chuckle. People understood how popular Ginny was - even or especially after her involvement in the ‘Granger affair’. And there was no way Wimbledon wouldn’t do everything they could to have the best female British tennis player take part in the tournament. The added notoriety would draw larger audiences.

He didn’t quite tune out, but he relaxed a little as the next questions were focused on tennis again. Things were returning to normal, at least in this area.

*****​

Ginny sighed as soon as the door had closed behind the journalist. “I hate her! Did you notice how she was fishing for information?”

“She’s a journalist; that’s her job,” Ron replied.

“Information about Hermione’s portal, not tennis - she didn’t even try to get any gossip about our relationship,” Ginny added with a glance at Harry.

“For which I am grateful,” he replied. “I’m also happy she didn’t try to pry answers out of me.”

“She probably knew it wouldn’t work,” Ron commented.

“And she thought it would work on me?” Ginny shook her head. “I’ve been handling interviews for years! There’ve been times when I’ve had more interviews in a few months than you’ve had in your whole life! Why would she think I would let something slip? I’ve got the most experience of handling the press out of all of us! I’ve got a good mind to call her boss and complain!”

“That would only confirm that you know classified information,” Ron pointed out. “Or start rumours about another crisis between you two. Like when we were guarding that princess.” That hadn’t been a fun month for anyone involved.

“Don’t remind me! That was your fault, anyway.” Ginny huffed.

“My fault?” Ron stared at her.

“If you had been more seductive, the press would’ve thought she was having an affair with you instead of trying to pin it on Harry!”

Ron scoffed. “Really? You think I should’ve seduced a spoilt princess who made Malfoy look like a humble saint just to spare you some gossip?”

“Can we skip the sibling squabble?” Harry cut in.

Ron nodded.

“Alright,” Ginny agreed after a moment. Then she turned to Ron again. “And how is the work on Hermione’s big spell coming along, anyway? I would like to be able to play at Roland Garros without having to worry about being kidnapped by spies.”

“We’re working on the wording.”

“You’ve been ‘working on the wording’ for weeks!”

“Well, you can’t rush these things. If something goes wrong, it could have disastrous consequences. Like people forgetting about you,” he added with a toothy grin.

“Well, you don’t need a spell to be forgettable!”

“What did I just say about not doing this?”

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, March 13th, 2006

“How are you doing?” Ron asked wizarding Fred and wizarding George - from the door of their recently installed laboratory, of course. You never knew when their experiments would have ‘interesting’ results.

“Hmm? Oh, we’re doing fine, Ron - other Ron,” wizarding George replied.

“Hermione’s Ron,” his brother added.

“And what are you doing?” Last he’d heard, they had finished their inspection of the magical defences, but Hermione wanted to go over their proposed additions before implementing them.

“We’re working on stones that are enchanted with Muggle-Repelling Charms,” wizarding George explained.

Ron frowned - he wasn’t a wizard, and he wasn’t an expert, but… “Isn’t that already a thing?” he asked.

“Well, if it is, we haven’t heard of it. Usually, such charms are cast on a place. Our method will allow you to cast them on a rock, and then take the rock with you.”

“Or drop it off somewhere.”

“Ah.” That would provide some advantages to casting the spell. Although… “Is there a demand for that?” Wouldn’t a Disillusionment Charm work better if you wanted to hide? Coupled with a Shrinking Charm? People suddenly avoiding a particular space would be distinctive to an observer - at least to other wizards.

“Well…” Wizarding Fred grinned. “We’ve got a huge pre-order for this.”

“‘Huge pre-order’?” Ron blinked. Who would… Oh, no! “Luna.”

Both wizards nodded. “She wants as many of these rocks as possible. So we’re looking into runes to make one spell affect multiple rocks,” wizarding George explained. “That would greatly speed up the process.”

And allow the Lunas to actually create the nature reserves they wanted. “You’re creating these rocks here?” They would drive out everyone except themselves and Hermione!

“Oh, no! Not with the Muggle-Repelling Charm! Do you think we’re fools?” wizarding Fred asked.

“Don’t answer that, please,” his brother added. “We’re testing it with a warming charm.”

“If it works, we can sell them as well. They should be quite popular in Scotland. Or in other countries.”

“We’re thinking of ‘Hot Rocks’ as a product name, but we’re not yet sold on that.”

Ron didn’t care about the name for that product. He cared - very much, actually - that the twins and the Lunas had apparently met and made a deal. “And how are the Lunas going to pay?” he asked. Neither of them was wealthy, and making so many stones had to be expensive. Although if that slowed down their plans...

“They gave us the idea,” wizarding Fred said. “And it has so many applications… I guess once we teach our Luna how to do it, we’re even.”

“And even so… imagine helping to fool millions of muggles into thinking they have no business in those areas.”

Both wizards grinned at him.

Ron closed his eyes. This was… bad, he guessed. Very bad. Although it could be worse. If anyone ever gave them the idea of self-replicating spells or items… They better never read some of his science fiction novels.

*****​

Once Hermione and Ron were back in her lab while wizarding Fred and wizarding George were presumably trying to develop said items, he asked: “How likely are they to create self-replicating spells or items?”

Hermione blinked. “Oh my…” She bit her lower lip. “As far as I know, it’s impossible. You can’t create spells with spells. Although an item that casts a spell on an item… that should be possible. In theory. In practice… no one has managed to develop such an item, and given the constraints that the need to cast individual spells on enchanted items put on the wizarding economy, I think if it were possible, someone would have done it already.”

Ron nodded, feeling relieved - mostly. He didn’t like to brag about his family, but his brothers were quite ingenious. And so were their wizarding counterparts.

*****​

Diagon Alley, London, Wizarding World, March 17th, 2006

“I still can’t really get over the fact that it took less than two weeks for the ICW to send an inspection team to Gringotts,” Ron said as he watched almost two dozen wizards and witches enter the bank under the watchful eyes of the goblin guards.

Hermione, who, like him, was in disguise, snorted. “It isn’t that surprising. First, Gringotts is technically a sovereign country, but isn’t part of the ICW. Ever since the last of the goblin rebellions, Wizarding Britain has controlled its foreign policies, and Britain’s standing in the ICW sank after Dumbledore’s death and the war. While sending an inspection to Britain in response to newspaper articles would set a precedent no wizarding country wants, sending one to Gringotts circumvents that. The unwritten rules don’t apply to goblins, apparently, and yet this will nevertheless be counted against Britain.”

Ron winced. So their ‘spy mission’ had already damaged Wizarding Britain’s international standing? They were off to a good start, and they hadn’t even set foot in Gringotts. But… “And second?”

She took a sip from her tea. “Second, I’m quite sure Dumbledore greased some wheels, so to speak. At dinner last week, Percy was complaining about unexpected support for the motion proposing this inspection from the New World - among them the representative of the Free Republic of Maine and Vermont. Who, incidentally, is part of the inspection team.”

“Ah.” Ron nodded. Rosengarten’s help, no doubt.

“Corruption is endemic in the magical world,” she said.

“In the muggle world as well,” he replied. Though usually a little more subtle, through lobbyists and lucrative contracts after leaving office.

“I’m aware of that,” she told him. “It doesn’t make it acceptable.”

He didn’t shrug. “At least we can use it for our own purposes.”

She frowned some more. “We shouldn’t have to.”

“We also shouldn’t have to break into Gringotts. For the second time.”

She glared at him, but when he smiled at her in return, she - after a few seconds - sighed and smiled back.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, March 19th, 2006

“Mr Blackburn was most helpful,” Dumbledore said with a smile that was a shade more smug than usual, pointing at a set of floor plans on the wall of the lounge. “Working with him and Dr Granger, I believe we have managed to pinpoint the location of the Gringotts archives.”

“It looks like it’s all the way down on the lowest floor,” Harry commented.

“Not exactly. There are more floors below that one - the oldest vaults, or so I’ve been told.”

“And they decided to open up all the floors to one giant shaft?” Ron frowned. That meant the goblins had abandoned most of the security that digging so deep had gained them.

“It’s more that the goblins didn’t fill up the shaft - it was originally a mine, as far as we know,” Hermione explained. “They converted the mining tunnels into vaults as they ran dry - originally for their treasures. After several wars, they had lost those treasures, though, and the reparations they were forced to pay were too high for their remaining revenue from mining. They could’ve sold their items - goblin-made tools of all sorts are very expensive - but that would’ve gone against their traditions, so they decided to offer their vaults to wizards.”

“And people trusted them?” Ron shook his head. If anyone had proposed letting the Germans take over the banking business in London after the war…

“Wizarding Britain had beaten the goblins in every war - that’s why they’re called rebellions, not wars, in the official records,” Hermione went on. “If the goblins had dared to betray their customers, the consequences would likely have been fatal for the goblins.”

“That sounds like a recipe for abuse. What stopped the wizards from claiming the goblins stole from their vaults?” Harry asked.

“Scrupulous bookkeeping - and, most importantly, sealed copies of every single record,” Hermione said. “Their copies of the muggle records don’t go as far back as we feared, but they still cover over two hundred years.”

Ron blinked. “And protecting those records meant protecting themselves against fraudulent claims from their customers.”

Hermione grimaced. “Yes. We have to assume that they are better protected than most of their vaults.”

That was, in light of the stories Hermione had told him about Gringotts, a very sobering thought. And how are we planning to do this?” he asked. It sounded as if breaking into Fort Knox - without magic - would be easier.

Dumbledore smiled. “We won’t be breaking into the archives - we’ll make the goblins deliver the records we need to us.”

Oh. Clever - if it worked.

“You want to challenge their records,” Harry said.

Dumbledore nodded. “Twice, actually. Once so we can find out how their records look and how they are presented, and then again to switch or alter them.” He smiled widely. “As I found out during my time as a field agent, it’s far easier to break into the office of a Swiss court than into the vaults of a Swiss bank. I have no doubt that it is the same for Gringotts.”

*****​

Ministry of Magic, Whitehall, London, Wizarding World, March 22nd, 2006

Breaking into a Swiss court might have been easier than breaking into a Swiss bank’s vault, but breaking into the Ministry of Magic wasn’t child’s play, either. Although it didn’t compare to breaking into the Kremlin, in Ron’s opinion.

And he wasn’t entirely convinced that using muggle means ‘because the Ministry will only guard against magic’ was the best course of action. Even though it meant that he got to take an active part instead of yet another wizard. Wouldn’t the magical defences work against both magical and muggle means, anyway? But Hermione was confident that this would work.

So he sighed as he listened to the over-eager young witch telling him all about how difficult it was for a muggle to buy property in magical locations. And ‘difficult’ meant ‘impossible’, from what he could tell - the clerk was just too polite to say so to his face. If he hadn’t been Hermione’s fiancé, he probably wouldn’t have even been granted a personal meeting with even a junior clerk in the Ministry.

It didn’t actually matter - he was only here so he could place a few bugs in the room - but it was still annoying. On the other hand, Wizarding Britain wasn’t the only country trying to keep foreigners from buying up their real estate.

When the witch had gone through all the supposed problems of verifying someone’s identity when they couldn’t use a wand for the second time, he cleared his throat. “Ah, excuse me - do you know where I could get a glass of water? I’m feeling a little parched.”

“Oh!” She all but jumped up - she was probably as tired of this charade as he was and needed the break since she didn’t just conjure a glass of water. “Don’t worry! I’ll fetch you a glass! I’ll be right back.” Good. That meant he didn’t have to step it up and have her call her superior to get her out of the room.

As soon as she left the room, Ron stood as well and stretched before wandering around, admiring the artwork on the walls - and hiding a few enchanted bugs the twins’ counterparts had come up with inside the room.

By the time the witch - Miss Browtuckle, he remembered her name now - returned, his mission was done. All that was left was another twenty minutes or so of listening to her explaining why the wizards didn’t want muggle neighbours.

He’d suffered through worse meetings in the past.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, March 24th, 2006

Hermione sighed as she leaned back and paused the recording - which had been digitised from a film from a magical camera. The face of Madam Rosemarie Blinkelstorf froze on the screen. The old witch had been meeting with representatives of Gringotts regarding the ownership of her house and the surrounding area, which had been suddenly and surprisingly challenged. At least according to the documents she had been sent - the Ministry would be surprised about their actual origin.

Hermione pointed at the heavy chest, reinforced with metal bands, that two goblins carried inside, behind the goblin delegation’s leader, with four more goblins guarding them. “If that chest is enchanted to block spells - and there’s no reason to assume it isn’t, given the rest of the security we’ve identified - then I don’t see a way to switch the records before the goblins take them out to unseal them.”

Ron nodded. “Not magically, at least.”

“Yes.” She frowned slightly as she looked at him. “Not to mention that we would have to copy the Gringotts’ seal as well as the Ministry’s seal.”

“And that’s not easy, I take it.”

She shook her head. “Well, in the old Ministry, I would have said we could’ve borrowed the seal without anyone noticing, and then return it once we’ve prepared the fake documents. It would be very difficult today, I assume. But the Gringotts’ seal? I wouldn’t claim that it’s impossible, but I don’t know any method of successfully duplicating it. As with the enchantments that protect wizarding coins from being duplicated, the goblins guard those secrets very well.”

“Hmmm.” He rubbed his chin. “But they do need to actually unseal the documents. Otherwise, the records couldn’t be read.”

“You sound as if you have an idea.”

He nodded. “I think I do. But it requires very precise timing - and for that, we need to prepare the room so we can alert someone outside.”

She bit her lower lip. “That’s… more complicated than bugging the place. The spells on the room prevent people on the outside from listening in - but they didn’t prevent bugs placed inside the room from recording the meeting to be recovered later.”

He nodded again - he had gathered that much.

“So, a device that picks up a signal inside the room, then moves outside to pass it on would work.”

“That would work, but the delay it would cause would make the timing very tricky,” he said.

“Better than impossible,” she retorted. “But what’s your plan?”

“A distraction at the moment that they unseal the records. Then we can switch them.”

“A distraction outside the room but noticeable inside?” She didn’t look convinced. “That’s a tall order. And it might draw attention to the meeting.”

“Not if it’s easily explainable,” he said.

“We can’t let the twins do it; they’ll be the main suspects,” she replied.

“It won’t be anything dangerous, just… noticeable,” he explained.

“That will just make even more people suspect them.”

“Well… if they’re going to be suspected anyway…” He smiled at her.

She scowled in return. “Harry and Ron will investigate. And the twins aren’t clever enough to fool them, no matter what they might think.”

Ron wasn’t entirely sure if she was right or if she was overestimating her friends. On the other hand, his brothers hadn’t been able to pull his or Harry’s leg ever since they had started being trained by Moody, so she was probably right. Hmm. Oh. “Well, then we’ll have to ask the Lunas for a suitable distraction.” He grinned. “Probably not a dragon going out of control, though - you already did that.”

She gaped at him for a moment before she shook her head. “Absolutely not!”

*****​

Unnamed Highlands, Scotland, March 24th, 2006

“Absolutely not!” Wizarding Luna shook her head so vehemently, her hair was almost flying around her face. “We won’t let you risk a poor defenceless animal as a distraction! The Ministry guards would hurt it! Or even kill it!”

“Told you so,” Hermione muttered next to Ron.

He glared at her. She didn’t have to rub it in. But he wasn’t willing to abandon his idea just yet. “Are there any animals the Ministry wouldn’t kill? Or couldn’t?”

“That might’ve worked before the war,” Hermione told him. “But the current Aurors and Hit-Wizards are fairly competent. And Harry and Ron could handle any animal. Even a dragon.”

“We don’t have a dragon anyway,” wizarding Luna said.

“I don’t want to use a dragon,” Ron said. “What about bugs? A swarm?”

“They would definitely kill them,” wizarding Luna replied.

“And some of the magical pests are dangerous. Doxies are venomous, for example. Enough of them could seriously hurt a wizard or witch,” Hermione added.

“Alright.” Ron rubbed his chin. “No using animals. But conjured animals aren’t real, are they?”

“No, but you can’t conjure magical animals,” Hermione explained. “You could transfigure something into a magical animal, but it would lack their innate magic. In order to create, say, a dragon, you’d have to add a lot more spells to allow the result to not only look like a dragon but to be able to fly and breathe fire - and it would still lack the dragon’s innate resistance to spells and curses.”

“I’m not planning to use a dragon,” Ron repeated himself.

“Well, a dragon as a distraction for the goblins would be a classic,” wizarding Luna said.

“Which is probably why they don’t want to use a dragon,” Luna added. “Even though no one would think we would use the same trick twice, so it would actually help with hiding our involvement.”

That would only work with conspiracy theorists, Ron thought. But they had clashed over that in the past, and he wouldn’t rehash it. “I’d rather not risk it.”

“And a realistic dragon transfiguration would be far too dangerous to unleash on the Ministry,” Hermione said.

“You did unleash a real dragon in Gringotts,” wizarding Luna replied.

“Yes. And I don’t want to do it again.”

Ron cleared his throat before the Lunas could push Hermione - it was obvious she didn’t want to talk about it. “Anyway. A swarm of conjured insects. Say… locusts.”

“Oh, yes!” Luna smiled. “Use the swarming African locust - they eat paper and parchment! Imagine the government with most of its paperwork eaten!”

“No!” Hermione protested. “Imagine the damage that would do to the Ministry’s records! Their work would be hampered!”

That was Luna’s aim, of course. “I think the Ministry employees could contain the swarm, couldn’t they?” Ron asked.

Hermione pressed her lips together for a moment. “Well… they should. But they might not be fast enough to stop such a swarm from devouring the files in a department.”

“That would be an acceptable loss. I suggest the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,” wizarding Luna said. “They have the most intolerant policies with regards to magical creatures I’ve ever seen outside some enclaves in the New World. If not for pressure from the ICW and the business interests of potioneers, they might have eradicated several so-called ‘pests’!”

“But they would be the quickest to react, wouldn’t they?” Ron asked. “They would know how to protect their files.”

“Most of them will probably be out, killing poor animals that just want to have a place of their own,” wizarding Luna said.

“How do you plan to conjure such a large swarm without being noticed?” Luna asked.

“By preparing a ‘cursed’ object, I think,” Ron said. “Like, say… a box that releases a huge swarm when opened.”

“That sounds like something Fred and George would do,” wizarding Luna said.

“And they would be the main suspects,” Hermione pointed out.

“For the creation, yes - but not for its use.” Ron grinned. “All they have to do is report it stolen.”

“That sounds like a rather transparent excuse,” Hermione retorted.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t work,” Ron said. “As long as we avoid leaving traces. And leave the right traces for the Aurors investigating the theft. Besides, the other Harry and Ron wouldn’t investigate the case since they’re related to the victims, right?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Wizarding Luna looked surprised. “They’d know them best.”

“The Ministry of Magic really needs better regulations for their Aurors,” Ron muttered. “That would never fly in the Met.”

“Don’t tell me that you wouldn’t have investigated a crime against your family.” Hermione snorted as she frowned at him.

“Well, yes - but not officially,” he admitted.

Hermione huffed. “Harry and Ron would realise who was behind this anyway as soon as they heard that your records were confirmed by Gringotts.”

“Right.” That meant they would have to ensure that the actual damage to the Ministry’s paperwork was minimal. Oh, no! “Percy would know as well.”

“Yes.” Hermione smiled far too sweetly. “So… You better not use paper and parchment eating locusts. I suggest harmless but dangerous-looking animals.”

She was right. Perhaps… “Death’s-head hawkmoths!” he blurted out. “Harmless, but creepy!”

“Oh, yes.” Hermione nodded. “That would work. A swarm of them would probably terrify some of the Ministry’s employees.”

“And the twins can claim that they developed it as a Halloween prank,” Ron added.

*****​

“You know, I can’t shake the feeling that something important - and bad - will happen today,” Harry said. “It’s Halloween. Something bad always happens on Halloween.”

She frowned. “We haven’t established that there actually is a correlation between the date and the events we experienced on that date in the past,” she told him. “It could just be a coincidence.”

“Well, Halloween traditionally is an important date,” Ron said. “Some spells and rituals are supposed to work best on certain dates. Mum always casts certain household spells on the summer solstice.”

“Yes. It’s also known as Samhain,” she told him. “And some dark spells might be tied to the date - but that doesn’t mean that something bad will happen to us.”

“Not to us. To me,” Harry said with a gloomy face.

“None of the events which occurred on past Halloweens exclusively affected you.” Really, sometimes Harry was a little… Well, it was understandable. “On our first Halloween, I was almost killed by a mountain troll, remember? And in second year, none of us was attacked, just Mrs Norris.”

“Yes, but…” Harry shook his head. “I’ve got a bad feeling about today.”

She suppressed a sigh. “Does your scar hurt?”

“No more than usual.”

She nodded. Voldemort wasn’t particularly active, then.

“Mate, we’re in the middle of a forest, protected by a lot of spells and wards. If the Death Eaters were able to find us, they would’ve done so already,” Ron chimed in. He clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Just relax. For once, we’re safe from whatever might happen at Hogwarts. And so are all our friends.”

Because none of them were at Hogwarts. But reminding them that the Death Eaters controlled the school would only make Harry feel worse. “Let’s have a fancy dinner today,” she said. At Ron’s glance, she frowned. “I’m not suggesting I’ll cook one.”

He sighed in a very exaggerated manner that had her frowning and glaring at him - she was no chef, but she could cook just fine! But then she noticed that Harry was chuckling. Ah. She shook her head. “I suggest we use Polyjuice Potion and visit a restaurant. I know one in Wales, it’s very good.

“Wales?” Ron didn’t look convinced.

“The restaurant is French, with some Italian dishes on their menu,” she explained.

“Ah! Sounds good!” He beamed at her, and, after some prodding, Harry started to smile as well.

Four hours later, they had to flee from the restaurant - Harry’s scar was bleeding heavily, and he was screaming from the pain. And from what he had seen through Voldemort’s eyes.

Voldemort was in Azkaban. Sacrificing people in a dark ritual.

*****​

 

Chapter 65: The Birthday Party

Black Lake, Scotland, March 31st, 2006

“There was a break-in at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Someone stole a few prototypes from the store.” Wizarding Ron, standing instead of sitting at the table in Ron and Hermione’s room, stared at them - and, or so it seemed, in particular at Ron.

Ron privately wondered if he looked like that - had looked like that - when confronting suspects.

“Oh, no,” Hermione said. “I hope they didn’t lose much of their work - I know what it’s like when you lose an experiment - though, with proper documentation, the damage should be limited.”

“Do you know anything about it?” wizarding Harry asked.

“About documentation?” Hermione cocked her head, acting as if she was confused. She was trying a little too hard, in Ron’s opinion.

And, judging by the glance her friends exchanged, they had seen through her act as well.

“Hermione,” wizarding Ron said. “We know that there’s something fishy going on. Fred and George aren’t half as sly as they think they are.”

“If someone had managed to break into their shop and steal their work, they would’ve been enraged - and concerned about their family’s safety,” wizarding Harry added. “They’re great wizards, but they’re not great actors.”

“Why would I want to steal prank items?” Hermione replied. “You know what I’m working on.”

“We know that the twins are working for you. Or for your Dumbledore,” wizarding Harry told her. “And we know that this ‘break-in’ is just a cover.”

“Plausible deniability,” Ron agreed.

Both wizards were staring at him again. “‘Plausible deniability’?” his counterpart asked.

“Someone stole the items from them. Whatever is done with them afterwards isn’t the twins’ fault any more,” Ron explained.

“You’re planning something,” wizarding Ron said, narrowing his eyes at Ron before he frowned at Hermione. “And you don’t want to tell us!”

“As Ron said: plausible deniability,” she replied. “You can honestly claim you had no idea.”

Wizarding Harry rolled his eyes. “We’ll know as soon as we hear of whatever you’ve planned.”

“But you won’t have any proof,” Ron pointed out with a grin, “so you won’t be forced to act or break your oath or whatever you did when you took the post.”

”Do you really think we’d come after you?” Ron’s counterpart shook his head. “Merlin’s balls, Hermione! You’re our best friend.”

“And you’re mine - and that’s why I don’t want to force you to choose between me and wizarding law,” she blurted out. “This is to protect you.”

“That’s just a technicality. We would still know you were behind whatever you’re planning, and we would still decide not to come after you,” wizarding Harry retorted. He leaned forward. “So, what are you planning?”

“We’re involved in this now, anyway - we’re the Ministry’s best Aurors, so if we fail to solve a simple break-in, people will suspect us regardless,” wizarding Ron added before Hermione could say anything. “Even though many burglaries remain unsolved. So we’ll have to arrange a better cover for whatever you’re up to.”

Ron saw Hermione clench her teeth in annoyance. He could understand how she felt - hearing from his and Harry’s counterparts that not only had they seen through their plan already but that said plan - which was mostly Ron’s - wasn’t just unneeded but also not very good? That was annoying.

But he wasn’t a teenager any more - he could admit his mistakes. He didn’t have to like it, though. “It was mostly meant to protect the twins,” he explained. “We didn’t think you’d be dragged into this like that.” And Ron hadn’t wanted to risk their plan by betting on their friendship with Hermione.

“Well, here we are,” wizarding Harry said. “So what is this all about? We can’t help you if we don’t know what you need.”

Hermione swallowed, then sniffled and then she went to hug both of them.

As moving as this was, Ron couldn’t help feeling… not jealous. Envious. This had been his plan, and if it had worked, it would’ve been his success.

*****​

“...and that’s about it. We’re still working on exactly how to trigger the distraction,” Hermione finished her explanation.

The two wizards nodded. “It’s not a bad plan,” wizarding Harry said.

“We’ve seen worse,” Ron’s counterpart added.

Ron managed not to sarcastically thank them.

“But the timing will be tricky.”

We know that, Ron thought. “We can easily stall them for a few seconds after they’ve unsealed the records,” he said. “Time enough for the bugs to swarm and the alert to be sounded.”

His counterpart chuckled. “A swarm of death’s-head hawkmoths in the Ministry - I know a few who’ll wet themselves!”

“They’re harmless insects,” Hermione clarified. “They won’t even bite anyone.”

“Just scare them senseless.” Wizarding Ron chuckled. “Oh, I can’t wait to see it.”

“That was another reason for not telling you,” Ron said. “We wanted your reactions to be as authentic as possible.” The other Ron wasn’t a good actor, either.

Wizarding Ron waved his hand. “Don’t worry - no one will be focusing on us when there’s a swarm of large evil-looking bugs filling the room. And all to pull one over the goblins! The buggers deserve it - do you know they still hate us?”

“Yes,” Hermione replied. “I’ve been avoiding the bank as much as possible.”

“Anyway, we can help you with the timing. We could release the swarm in an out of the way room, and then open the doors and sound the alert just when you need it,” wizarding Harry said.

That would be very helpful, Ron had to admit. Hermione didn’t have to beam at her friends like that, though. It was still his plan.

*****​

Ottery St Mary, Devon, Britain, April 1st, 2006

“This is a bad idea,” Ron muttered as he looked at his family home after closing the car door.

“It was your idea,” Hermione told him.

“We can’t skip another family celebration,” he told her. “Mum wouldn’t talk to either of us for months. And even Dad wouldn’t be fine with it. And Fred and George might decide to hold a grudge as well if we skip their birthday.” And that could spell disaster. The twins weren’t wizards, but if they put their minds to it, they could cause a lot of trouble for just about anyone - especially since they knew the truth about Hermione and could exploit that. Which they totally would. They wouldn’t actually betray them, but that was about the only line they wouldn’t cross.

“At least we know that the building isn’t under surveillance any more,” Hermione said. “But Molly - my Molly - won’t be happy, either.”

“Well, we can’t make everyone happy.” He snorted. “Can you imagine trying to celebrate a birthday with all the Weasleys in attendance? Mum and her counterpart would drive each other spare!”

She chuckled. “I’d rather not imagine that.”

“I doubt the building - whether magical or muggle - would be left standing.” He took a deep breath. “Well, let’s get this over with.” At least the Lunas would be attending the other Weasley birthday party.

“I can feel the love for your siblings,” she said, just as he rang the doorbell.

Before he could answer, the door was pulled open and Mum smiled at him. “Ron! And Hermione! Come in! Everyone else is here already!”

Which meant that they were considered late. Great.

“Ah, you finally arrived! Got held up in astral space?” Fred greeted him as they entered the living room. Which was packed, indeed - Harry and Ginny were on one couch and Dad was in his armchair, talking to Percy and Sirius. George, standing next to his twin, waved. Only Charlie and Bill were missing, and with both of them currently out of the country, they had been excused.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Happy birthday, Fred, George.”

“Congratulations,” Hermione added.

“Thank you! So, what did you bring us? A special gift, I hope?” Fred craned his neck rather theatrically as he peered at Hermione’s beaded bag of holding.

“Fred! George! Don’t harass them. We’ll eat before opening the gifts!” Mum yelled from the kitchen.

“But Mum!” Fred protested - pro forma. That had been a rule for the twins’ birthdays ever since they ruined the cake when the prank items Sirius had gotten them misfired.

“One of these days you might learn a little bit of patience,” Percy added in a rather snotty tone.

Ron didn’t mind the snottiness - it meant the twins were less likely to bother him and more likely to focus on Percy instead.

“Actually, yes,” Hermione told the twins - after casting a privacy charm. “We do have some gifts from my world.”

The twins’ faces lit up with huge smiles. “What did you bring us?” Fred asked eagerly. “Potions? A broom?”

Hermione smiled sweetly at them. “That would ruin the surprise.”

And their faces fell as they realised that now the waiting would be even worse. Something Hermione had intended, Ron was sure.

“We’re all glad that you could make it,” Dad told them.

“We wouldn’t miss this,” Ron replied.

“Two birthdays for the price of one - you won’t find a better deal,” Fred said.

“Unless you could have four birthdays for the price of one,” George added with a grin.

Ron forced himself to smile at that alarming thought.

*****​

“Who wants another slice of the roast?” Mum asked later as they sat around the dining table.

“I’m good, thank you,” Hermione said.

Ron was about to say the same, but Mum had already dropped a slice of roast beef on his plate and was serving the twins now. Well, her cooking was excellent as always, so Ron didn’t really mind.

He did do his best to finish it, though - the twins were getting really antsy. Fred was in danger of straining his neck from the way he kept glancing at Hermione’s bag.

“Too bad Luna couldn’t make it,” Mum said with a frown as she started collecting the dishes.

Ron knew better than to mention that Luna was celebrating the wizarding twins’ birthday in the other world. Everyone was aware of it anyway. She’d get to fly on a broom again - he felt a little jealous.

Then Mum came back with a huge cake - chocolate with vanilla, topped with whipped cream. His favourite. Perhaps Mum wasn’t as annoyed as he had feared.

The twins jumped up. “Let’s blow out the candles!”

“Wait!” Mum bellowed. “Song first! And I expect you to eat like civilised people, no matter how eager you are to see what gifts you’ve gotten.”

Before the twins could answer, the doorbell rang. “I’ll answer it,” he said quickly, standing up. He kept one hand near his pistol as he approached the door and looked through the peephole.

Luna was standing outside, smiling at the peephole. But… what was she doing here? She was supposed to be in the magical world!

“Hermione? It’s Luna.” That would warn her.

“Luna?”

“Yes,” he replied as she joined him - he saw she had her wand drawn, half-hidden behind her back.

He opened the door. “Come in,” he said.

“No sign and countersign?” Luna asked with a frown. “What would Moody say? I could be a terrorist in disguise!”

“We don’t have a sign and countersign,” Ron replied. Although they really should have one now that he thought of it. “And a terrorist would simply start attacking the house,” he added to make himself feel better about the oversight.

“That’s true.”

“I thought you were… at the other party,” Hermione said.

“I was!” Luna beamed at them. “And it was a great party.”

“It’s over already?” Ron asked. That was… well, he didn’t know when it had started, did he?

“Yes! So we decided to see if yours was still going on!” Luna nodded rapidly.

“‘We’?” Ron asked together with Hermione.

“We!” Luna replied, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small box. No, a shrunken trunk, Ron realised with a sinking feeling.

Before he could say anything, Luna had put the trunk down and flipped open the lid. A moment later, the other Luna appeared in the room with an almost headache-inducing twist of space as she stepped out of a trunk that was far too small to hold her. “Hello, everyone!”

“Luna and Luna?” Mum sounded confused. “I thought you were celebrating with the other Weasleys.”

“We were!” Luna told her. “But that celebration finished, so we decided to come visit you and join yours!”

“‘We’?” Ron asked again.

Before anyone could answer, another person stepped out of the tiny trunk: Wizarding Fred. Followed by his brother, their wife and their child. “Hello, everyone!”

Ron managed not to curse in front of Beatrice and his mum. The twins didn’t. And neither did Ginny.

“Blimey!”

“Bloody hell!”

“Damn.”

“Fred! George! Language!”

“Blimey! You sound like our mum!” wizarding Fred said.

“Of course she does,” his brother added.

“You look like Gran, too!” Beatrice added. “But you’re dressed funny!”

“Hello, Mrs Weasley. I’m Angelina Weasley,” Angelina said. “And this is Beatrice, our daughter!”

“Hi!” The little witch beamed at Mum.

As one would expect, any annoyance or anger Mum might have been feeling about the sudden intrusion vanished at once. “Oh, how precious! Would you like some cake?”

Beatrice nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes, thank you!”

“You already had three slices,” her mother pointed out.

“But this is a different cake!” Beatrice retorted. “Please! And we’ve travelled a lot!”

“Surely a slice can’t hurt.” Mum was already on the way to the kitchen.

And the little witch turned to Ron’s brothers. “You look like my dads. But you’re dressed funny too.”

“I’ll have you know that we’re dressed very fashionably - for this world,” Fred told her.
George was still staring - mostly at Beatrice, Ron noticed. Both his brothers seemed, well, more shocked than he would have expected - especially after asking to meet their counterparts so often.

“Your world dresses funny, then,” Beatrice shot back and sniffed.

“But funny is nice - we’re funny, aren’t we?” George tried.

“But not in the good way!” the little witch told him. “Not like… oh, cake!”

“Does anyone else want some cake?” Mum asked as Beatrice stopped criticising fashion and started stuffing her face in a way that definitely proved that she was wizarding Fred and wizarding George’s daughter.

And that gave Dad and Percy the opportunity to meet their interdimensional relatives - though Percy, probably with good reason given how Fred and George loved to prank him if they could manage it, cut his introduction quite short. Helped along by Hermione enlarging the living room and table so everyone could sit down.

*****​

“And you really married both?” Mum sounded like she still couldn’t believe it.

Angelina nodded. “Yes.”

“It’s not actually that unusual,” wizarding George said. “It’s an old custom in Tibet.”

“You married in Tibet?” Dad asked.

“No.” Wizarding Fred grinned. “We just put down both of us as grooms when we filed the papers at the Ministry.”

“And put a charm on it to keep anyone from altering the records until the deadline to contest it had passed,” wizarding George added.

“And no, we don’t know or care who’s Beatrice’s biological father,” Angelina said in a tone of voice that suggested that she had been asked that question a little too often.

“It would be hard to determine anyway seeing as you’re identical twins,” Hermione explained.

“Well, it’s certainly an unusual but fitting arrangement,” Fred commented. “And a great prank!”

George nodded in agreement. “We never thought of that.”

“We never found a girl to think of it with,” Fred added.

“Oh. You’ve never met my counterpart?” Angelina asked.

“No,” George said.

“Though we might now rectify that, having met you,” Fred added with a sly grin.

Ron glanced at Mum. She looked like she couldn’t decide whether she should be happy that the twins might be ‘settling down’ or outraged that they might want to copy their wizarding counterparts. Not that he thought that they were serious, anyway. But you never knew with the twins.

“Since there is no counterpart to Hogwarts in this world, the odds of everyone, no matter their family circumstances and geographical location, going to the same muggle school are quite low.” Hermione shook her head. “It’s already remarkable - and probably related to an effect I’ve not yet been able to identify - that Ron and Harry met at the same school.”

“Or that we actually know the Creeveys and Malfoy.”

“Though he is named ‘Damian Malfoy’ in this world,” Harry pointed out. “And still alive.”

“And a complete arse,” Luna added. “He isn’t a terrorist, though. At least as far as we know.”

“Probably too much of a coward for that,” Ron said.

“Hmm. I wonder if his blood would have gotten through some of the wards on Malfoy Manor,” wizarding Fred wondered. “Did you ever test that?”

Hermione looked surprised. “No, we didn’t. But we really should if we’re going to open a portal to a new world. If it works, then blood-related security charms will have a glaring weakness.” She took out a notebook and started scribbling in it.

“And we’ve lost her,” wizarding Fred said. “If we want to test this with the Malfoys, I volunteer to collect the blood.”

“There aren’t any Malfoy wards left. Nor any Malfoy Manor,” his brother pointed out.

“True. But we should still bleed Malfoy a little. He probably deserves it.”

“Oh?” Beatrice piped up, which prompted Angelina to glare at her husbands.

“Well, perhaps we should talk about something else,” wizarding Fred quickly said.

“Yes,” his brother agreed.

“Yes.” Luna nodded emphatically. “We should talk about what we can do to improve this world with a few good wands.”

Ron winced.

*****​

“...so just a dozen cursed items would stop most of the worst corruption in the country,” Luna finished. “If we pick the correct offices and items, then it won’t matter who manages to cheat their way to power - they won’t be able to do the bidding of either their oligarchy or their corporate masters.”

“What about the Shadow Government?” wizarding Luna asked. “Is it active in Brazil?”

“Their manipulations would be similarly affected, but since they aren’t aware of magic, they won’t be able to counter it. And by the time they figure it out or get lucky, they’ll have lost a great deal of influence,” Luna replied. “Nature should have recovered, and the common people should have taken control of much of the farmable land and capital.”

“That sounds a little too optimistic,” Ron pointed out. It sounded crazy, actually. You couldn’t take over a country with a few curses. Well, perhaps North Korea. But corruption didn’t vanish if you cleaned out the top - it was endemic once it took root in a society. “The lower ranks of government, and all the corporations, will still do business as usual.”

“Not if the government starts an anti-corruption purge,” Luna retorted.

“That will get the government overthrown,” Hermione said. She was scowling deeply. “Also, you can’t just take over a country like that. Much less a foreign one.”

“I think I’ve just demonstrated that it’s entirely possible,” Luna replied with a pout.

Ron saw Hermione take a deep breath. “I meant that you shouldn’t try to take over a country like that. Brazil is a democracy, not a dictatorship. And even if it were a dictatorship,” she went on, cutting Luna off before the other woman could protest, “replacing one dictator with another isn’t a good idea.”

“But we wouldn’t be doing that! All we’d be doing is ensuring that the government stays honest.” Luna smiled.

Wizarding Luna nodded. “By cursing the right documents, we can ensure that anyone who breaks their oath of office will suffer a curse that will prevent them from further governing the country. We would just be doing our civic duty of preventing crime. Imagine if Fudge had been under such a curse!”

“He’d have dropped dead after a day in office,” Hermione muttered. “But you can’t just curse president after president! I mean, you shouldn’t. All you’d achieve is further destabilisation of the government. And that means more corruption, not less. And more unchecked logging and other crimes.”

“Well…” wizarding Fred spoke up, “we don’t have to use a debilitating curse. We could use a modified version of our Patented Daydream Charms.”

“Yes,” his brother agreed. “If we make it give nightmares about breaking the law…”

Luna eagerly nodded. “That would be great! And a minor illness, so they have to stay in bed until they decide to be honest.”

“You could also add some Pavlovian conditioning - reward them with good dreams if they do good,” George suggested.

“I don’t know what ‘Pavlovian’ means, but that sounds like a good idea,” his counterpart said.

“Many members of Parliament and government employees swear an oath on a bible. If you put a spell on the right bible, they would be forced to be honest,” Fred said.

“That depends on the oath,” Hermione was quick to point out. “It could backfire and let a dictator control a country even more easily, as long as he stuck to seemingly legal orders.” She shook her head. “We went over this with Putin: You can’t just mind control foreign governments! The risks are too great!”

“That’s why we won’t touch their minds,” wizarding Luna retorted. “We’ll just punish crimes. That’s perfectly OK!”

“And we let them learn their lessons,” Fred added. “Also OK.”

Ron turned to Percy, who had been uncharacteristically silent - as had Dad - during the discussion. “Percy! Tell them why this would be a bad idea!”

But his brother had a pensive expression instead of the shock Ron had expected. “Forcing the Cabinet and Parliament to be honest would actually help a lot without disrupting too much of the work of the government,” Percy said. “Although it should be implemented subtly - as Hermione pointed out, the disruption from an unstable government would be much worse than the current state of affairs.”

“You have to be very cautious,” Dad added. “As much as I would love an honest government - and ours is doing quite decently…”

“Apart from their lies about the invasion of Iraq,” Luna interrupted him with a deep scowl. “And all the lies about their other policies!”

Dad coughed. “Well, Her Majesty’s Government isn’t perfect, to say the least. But it’s better than most.”

“That’s a really low bar, Dad!” Fred said.

“In any case, as in politics, slow but steady changes give the best results with the fewest disruptions,” Dad finished.

“The environment doesn’t have a few more decades for ‘slow changes’ to take effect,” Luna protested. “Drastic action is needed!”

“Well, at the very least, forcing the judges to be honest should help,” Percy said. “If the highest court is forced to be honest, that alone would have lasting repercussions.”

There wasn’t much Ron could say against that. And neither, it seemed, could Hermione.

Who would have thought that Percy would be someone who’d support the use of magic to manipulate others? After he had been the voice of reason and rules for so long?

*****​

A little later, Ron and Hermione had managed to get a little peace and privacy. The twins and their counterparts were swapping ideas for prank items, Angelina was talking with Mum and Dad, Luna was talking to Ginny and Harry about using their - mostly Ginny’s - fame to promote protecting the environment and Beatrice was talking to Percy. About what, Ron couldn’t fathom, but the little witch was apparently asking questions as fast as Percy could answer them, and Percy seemed to like the attention.

He turned towards Hermione. “Do you think they can actually do it? Influence the Brazilian Government to root out corruption and protect the rainforest?”

She sighed. “It’s possible, but it’s far more difficult than they believe. Or so I think, in any case - though it’s not my area of expertise.”

“They sounded pretty confident,” Ron said.

“Too confident. Manipulating people with magic isn’t easy. Unless you use the Imperius Curse. Which is why that curse is one of the Unforgivable - it’s too easy to use. The victim will do whatever the caster wants, and usually without even noticing that they are being controlled while they are under the curse. And you already know the risks of memory manipulation.”

He nodded. And didn’t that say something about Hermione’s world? There, muggles regularly got their minds wiped.

“Now, indirectly influencing people is a better approach - in theory. But people aren’t Pavlovian dogs. Not to mention that associating a bell with food is a far cry from changing someone’s behaviour by punishing them until they behave differently.”

“Well, our penal system is partly based on criminals learning their lesson and changing their ways,” he told her. “And punishment is part of that.”

She sniffed. “That’s different. If the Brazilian president or one of their ministers break or bend the law, they won’t just stop because they get hit with a Headache Jinx or a cold whenever they do so. They won’t associate the curse with the crime. And making them feel bad and guilty about breaking the law is much harder than simply creating a magical contract that curses them with a hex or jinx. But even if they did start feeling guilty, they’re unlikely to change their ways - many criminals feel bad about breaking the law yet continue to do so for a variety of reasons.”

“Well, some don’t feel bad at all,” he told her. “Some love breaking the law.” He had encountered a number of them.

“Yes. And some corrupt politicians will feel that what they are doing is OK. My point is that you can’t just change minds like that.”

“So that’s why you and Percy argued for a subtle approach?”

“I don’t know Percy’s motivation - he wouldn’t know about the limits of magic - but in my case, yes.”

“But the twins’ counterparts would know about those limits, wouldn’t they?”

She nodded. “They should - they took their N.E.W.T.s.”

“So do you really think they won’t know or realise that this plan won’t work?” He raised his eyebrows.

She pursed her lips in response. “I think they will have realised that more obvious methods won’t work - and will do more harm than good.”

“I hope you’re right,” he replied. “It’s scary what you could do with magic in a world without magic.”

“Well, technically, magic does exist in this world. If it didn’t, spells wouldn’t work regardless of whether or not you had a wand,” Hermione explained. “But as far as I can tell, in this world, no creature or organism ever evolved that could use magic.” She frowned. “I don’t know if the absence of magic users or their existence is more likely overall.”

“Well, you might find out as you find other universes,” he told her.

“It’s one possible area of research - though I think focusing on dimensional travel is more important and productive than a more academic research topic.”

He nodded in agreement. Visiting other worlds was certainly more appealing - and more exciting - than knowing whether or not worlds usually had wizards and witches. He sighed. “I’m still worried about, you know…” He nodded towards the twins, then at Luna. Wait… “Where’s Luna’s counterpart?”

Hermione looked around. “Perhaps she went to the bathroom. Or she stepped outside for a moment.”

“Or,” Ron said, wincing as he saw wizarding Luna reappear in the middle of the room, holding a cage with a dodo - no, a Diricawl - inside, “she just went to fetch an extinct animal to show off.”

Said animal promptly disappeared from its cage.

“Fiddlesticks!” she complained, wand in hand. “I thought I could cast the Anti-Apparition Jinx before Mr Dada realised where we are.”

“Where is it?” Hermione snapped, drawing her wand.

“He can’t have gotten far,” wizarding Luna said. “Their ability to apparate is limited to places they know, and he doesn’t know this place.”

But that meant…

“There!” he heard Beatrice yell, followed by the sound of someone crashing against the shelves next to the telly. And the sounds of dozens of DVDs tumbling to the floor. “Ow!”

Hermione whipped her wand around. “There! No more Apparition!”

“Beatrice! Sweetie, are you alright?”

“Ow!”

“Where’s the bird?”

“Mr Dada! Mr Dada! Please come back - you can’t survive here; it’s much too cold in winter!”

“Is it outside?” Ron checked the windows. He couldn’t see any sign of the bird, but that didn’t have to mean anything.

“My kitchen!”

That was Mum! Ron whirled and dashed towards her voice, followed by everyone else. He drew up short at the door and winced - the Diricawl was all over the kitchen, flapping its wings and jumping from the counter to the table and back, scattering spices, flour and any food on either surface.

“The poor dear! Not being able to apparate must have frightened him! Mr Dada! You’re safe!”

The bird didn’t listen - but faced with half a dozen people, it stood no chance. And a few spells fixed the kitchen and the living room.

“Luna! What were you thinking?” Hermione glared at the other witch as soon as she had finished restocking the DVD shelves.

“I was thinking that Beatrice wanted to see a Diricawl. And that Mr Dada would like the trip - he was getting restless in the habitat.”

“Yes, I did!” Beatrice confirmed.

“You brought a bird that was known to be restless?” Hermione asked with obvious exasperation.

“Yes!” Wizarding Luna beamed at her. The bird, which she held in her arms - with some difficulty - was still trying to escape, but she seemed to ignore that. “He’s quite lively.”

“How did you even transport it without it apparating away?”

“Oh, he wasn’t trying to escape when I stepped outside. But seeing so many people must have spooked him. Poor Mr Dada - don’t worry, they won’t hurt you!” She cooed at the bird. And Beatrice copied her, reaching out to touch its feathers, which triggered more squawking and escape attempts.

Ron sighed. That wasn’t an auspicious beginning for the Lunas’ project.

“I think I’d rather break into Gringotts again than attend another birthday party for Fred and George,” Hermione muttered next to him.

He nodded in agreement.

*****​

Black Lake, Scotland, April 5th, 2006

“We call it the ‘Signal Silverfish’,” wizarding Fred announced as he opened a small box that contained what looked like a dozen dead insects. Very realistic insects.

“How does it work?” Hermione asked, peering at the things.

“These will listen for a signal. Upon hearing it, they’ll travel the set amount and repeat the signal. Perfect to get word out of the area covered by a privacy charm,” wizarding George explained. “We wanted to make them send the signal, but we couldn’t figure out how without triggering security charms. They monitor the Wizarding Wireless these days, you know.”

“We can use a Protean Charm if you can make them climb over a coin or something,” Hermione said.

“Oh! We should’ve thought of that!” Wizarding Fred nodded. “And Harry and Ronniekins have the counterparts.”

“One of them should suffice,” Hermione said. “KISS.”

“Kiss?”

“K.I.S.S. It stands for: ‘Keep it simple, stupid’,” she explained.

“Well, we’re not stupid,” wizarding Fred replied. “Not any more. Just ask our dear wife. And Harry and our dear little brother might object to being called stupid as well - as Aurors, they are obliged to call the Hit-Wizards that.”

“With some justification, mind you. If the Hit-Wizards had been competent, the war would’ve gone differently,” his brother added.

“Certainly fits our brother, though. And Harry can be a little dim as well - remember how long it took little Ginny to get him to notice her?” wizarding Fred asked.

“Oh, yes. ‘Stupid’ definitely fits them. Let’s use it.” His brother nodded sagely, then grinned at his own joke.

Hermione sighed. “Can we focus on the matter at hand or do I have to hex you?”

“Alright. No need to become violent.”

“Well, I’d argue that she’s already violent.”

Hermione raised her wand.

“Alright, alright! Let’s focus on our latest invention!”

“And our next project will be the chill pill! Guaranteed to imbue the target with a temporary sense of humour!”

“You’ll need a Confundus Charm to go with that since your jokes aren’t funny,” Hermione retorted.

“Ow! Cut to the quick!”

“Slander!”

Ron sighed. The wizarding twins were talented, but their attitude… He was glad they wouldn’t be working with them on the upcoming mission, but with his and Harry’s counterparts instead.

*****​

Ministry of Magic, Whitehall, London, Wizarding World, April 7th, 2006

Ron’s wig itched slightly, and the makeup felt as if someone had put plaster on his face, but it was the inserts in his mouth that were the worst - even though they made masking his voice easy; it was a miracle anyone understood even half of what he was saying, not that he was actually saying much.

Unlike Hermione, who was similarly disguised - this time as a blonde with skin straight out of a tanning salon. Or a tannery, in a few more years. Her ‘Californian’ accent was atrocious, but the Ministry representative - Celeste Brown, a pureblood according to their intel - didn’t seem to notice. “Will the banker, like, arrive, anytime soon? We’ve been here for hours!” she complained between chewing gum and twisting her wand between her fingers.

“We’ve been here for fifteen minutes, Mrs Withersbury, and the meeting is scheduled to begin in two minutes. Representatives from Gringotts are generally extremely punctual,” Brown said with the sort of strained smile common to low-level clerks dealing with difficult customers.

“Fifteen minutes? Like, are you sure?” Hermione didn’t close her mouth as she chewed more gum. “It felt, like, hours. Can’t the goblins be early?” She tried to twirl her wand but dropped it in her lap.

It was a miracle, in Ron’s opinion, that they hadn’t already been thrown out given the attitude they were displaying, despite the rather high expediency fee they had paid. But Hermione had been right - as a pureblood employee, Brown wouldn’t dare throw out a foreign muggleborn witch trying to get an inheritance in Britain that might’ve been stolen by British purebloods. Even or especially if said purebloods were the Lovegoods - the Ministry was painstakingly avoiding even the appearance of favouring anyone.

“As I said, they are extremely punctual, Mrs Withersbury.”

Ron could hear the ‘née Stanley, you uppity gold digger’ tone without Brown having to express it.

“That’s, like, so rude - don’t you think so?” Hermione used the tip of her wand to scratch her scalp.

Brown’s polite smile grew even more strained, though Ron didn’t know if it was because of Hermione’s abuse of her wand or her tone. “The goblins have different customs which may often appear as rudeness to wizards and witches.”

“Well, why don’t they, like, adapt, then?”

“You would have to ask the goblins, Mrs Withersbury.” Brown’s smile showed most of her teeth this time.

“Perhaps I will - this is really not decent service.” Hermione huffed and popped a chewing gum bubble.

Brown looked like she wanted to draw her wand and make the gum - and perhaps Hermione - vanish. Or burn.

Fortunately, the door opened at this moment, and the goblin delegation marched in.

“There you are!” Hermione blurted out. “I was wondering if you’d, like, forgotten the meeting!”

Brown winced. “Greetings, Fleshripper.”

The goblin in charge scoffed. “Let’s get this over with. Time is money.”

“That’s what, like, my husband always said. When he was still alive,” Hermione cut in. “So, can we, like, step on it?”

Ron really hoped that no one present had actually been to California. Or watched one of the better TV shows set there.

Fleshripper glared at her as if he’d like to step on her. With a scoff, he turned to the two goblins carrying the chest and nodded once. They put the chest down on the table, which creaked in response. “We’re here to unseal the birth records of Ottery St Catchpole, eighteen hundred and fifty-one to nineteen hundred to verify that there was no Ottokar Lovegood born in the Lovegood family in eighteen hundred and seventy.”

“No, we’re like, here to prove that my husband’s ancestor was born here!” Hermione protested.

The goblin ignored her and bit into his fingertip, then touched several gems set in the chest’s front in rapid order with. The chest opened, and he pulled out a rather thick file with two prominent seals - Gringotts’ and the Ministry’s. He let it drop on the table with a sneer. “I state for the record that we’re unsealing the files at the request and in the presence of a representative of the Ministry of Magic.”

“Err, yes,” Brown said, clearing her throat. “I confirm the request and I have the seal here as proof.” She presented an old-fashioned seal.

The goblin grunted again and drew a dagger, which he used to break the Gringotts’ seal. Brown drew her wand and tapped the Ministry seal.

“You don’t use a dagger?” Ron asked, triggering the Signal Silverfish.

This time, she openly frowned at him - then again, he was supposed to be the muggle lover of Mr Withersbury’s widow. “It’s traditional to use a wand to unseal a file,” she said.

Ron nodded, counting down the seconds. Two. One. Now.

Fleshripper was just reaching for the file with a scoffing grunt when the alert sounded outside, followed by screaming.

Hermione gasped and jumped up, pointing her wand at the door in a sweeping motion. “We’re under attack!”

“No!” Brown yelled. “That’s the magical accident alarm. It’s not an attack.”

“A magical accident? We’re all going to be cursed!”

Ron resisted the urge to stare at the file. Even knowing in advance how Hermione would mask her silent switching spell, he hadn’t noticed any change.

“No, we won’t - this room is sealed,” Brown told her. “We’re perfectly safe.”

“Sit down, witch, and let us finish this or we’ll charge you a late fee!” Fleshripper growled.

“Why, I’ve never met such rudeness!” Hermione gasped again but sat down.

Fleshripper bared all his very sharp teeth in a smile while the rest of the goblins chuckled.

Ron resisted the urge to smile at them. They had no idea they had just been fooled.

*****​

As Ron had expected, as soon as the records had proved that whoever Mrs Withersbury’s British ancestor had been, they hadn’t been born a Lovegood - something both Brown and Fleshripper took great delight in rubbing Hermione’s nose in - they were almost thrown out while the alert was still sounding outside.

And as soon as the alert stopped, Brown genuinely smiled at them. “You can leave now, Mrs Withersbury. Right now, to be exact. We wouldn’t want to waste time, now would we?”

Hermione gasped. “Why, I never…” But she stood. “Come on, Bob! Let’s leave these rude people!”

Outside, the Ministry was still not back to normal - they had to walk through throngs of employees, all with their wands out, repairing what looked like craters in the walls and destroyed desks. On several floors.

Ron held his tongue until they had reached the designated Apparition point, but as soon as they reappeared in the Forest of Dean, he shook his head. “What happened?”

“I guess a few employees overreacted to the sudden moth attack,” Hermione said with a grimace. “We - Harry, Ron and I - should’ve expected that. A number of Ministry employees fought in the war, and this might have triggered them.”

“Oh.” Yes, in hindsight, they should’ve expected that. Ron hoped that no one got hurt during the distraction.

Then he saw that Hermione was still shaking her head, staring at the forest.

*****​

She was on the floor, hand grasping for a wand that wasn’t there. She was helpless - she was dead. She couldn’t fight. She had to flee. She had to...

“Hermione! It’s alright! It was just an accident. A car accident.”

That was Mum! No, not Mum - Ellen. She wasn’t at home. She wasn’t in the war. She was stranded in another dimension.

“It’s alright, Hermione. Can you stand?” Ellen was reaching down to her.

She nodded in response, gripping Ellen’s hand as she stood. It had been an accident. And not even a serious one - just two cars colliding at low speeds as one or the other driver hadn’t paid attention. Both drivers were already shouting at each other.

She took a few deep breaths. She wasn’t in the war. She wasn’t in any danger. She was safe.

She didn’t feel safe, though. Not without a wand.

*****​