Chapter 28: Raids
"Ah, Mister Potter. Right on time for your detention."
"Good evening, Headmaster." Harry Potter didn't let his slight unease show when he entered the Headmaster's office. At least he thought he didn't. The trilling greeting from Fawkes was as cheerful as ever.
"Please take a seat." The old wizard gestured and a chair appeared in front of his desk. "I have not informed the other teachers about the real reason for this detention. Even though it was done without permission, Miss Granger's curse is a rather clever way to protect yourself. I trust you will keep the secret as well."
Harry smiled, torn between pride and annoyance. "Of course, Headmaster."
"You might be asking yourself: 'If it was a good thing, why I am still being punished?'" Dumbledore looked at Harry over the rim of his glasses.
"Because we did break the rules, and such actions have to have consequences?" Harry answered.
"That's only partially true. One of the most important purposes of Hogwarts is to let children make mistakes without suffering drastic consequences - so they may learn from them. A detention should serve to teach rule breakers what they did wrong, and how to do better next time. Even if a few only ever seem to learn that they shouldn't get caught." Dumbledore smiled wrily and casually summoned the lemon drop bowl to his hands right when Fawkes was about to dive at it. The phoenix, bereft of its intended target, slid over the polished wood and launched itself into the air again, as if he had intended to do that all along. Not unlike Crookshanks, Harry thought, when the half-kneazle missed a jump from the bed to the window sill.
"Well, I know what we did wrong. We should have informed you, Headmaster, and asked for permission before implementing our plan." Harry smiled.
"I see Sirius told you about his own school years, Mister Potter." Dumbledore chuckled. "He tried to argue that each time he was sent to detention. And each time he was told that the fact he had earned another detention was proof that he had not learned his lesson, so to speak."
"I haven't earned near as many detentions as he did," Harry pointed out.
"No, you have not. Fortunately, since you carry far more responsibility on your shoulders than Sirius did. Which is why you are here by yourself, for Miss Granger would be here as well, if not for your special circumstances." The Headmaster popped a lemon drop in his mouth, which caused Fawkes to stick his head below his right wing.
Harry's smile grew a bit forced. He didn't regret becoming Hermione's Patron, nor did he think it had been a mistake. "My retainer and myself have already discussed her actions," he stated formally.
Dumbledore nodded at him, but did not comment on the matter. In a way, the occasional remarks from the Headmaster were much more annoying than Sirius's reminder of what he could do with Hermione. His godfather at least made it clear he was mostly teasing, and didn't really think Harry would follow his suggestions. Dumbledore though didn't seem to have the same amount of trust in Harry's handling of his duties.
"Do you feel that I have failed in my duties as her Patron, or that I am likely to fail?" Harry asked, maybe a bit too sharply.
"I do not think you have failed your charge, Mister Potter. But I found that past performance is not a perfect guard against future mistakes. On the contrary, complacency and overconfidence sneak up on even the most cautious wizard over time." He smiled sadly. "A few reminders of our own fallibility often are the lesser evil."
Harry gathered that the Headmaster was speaking from personal experience, and nodded. He wondered what kind of mistakes the Headmaster had made, in his long life.
"That said, it is time for your lesson. What kind of weaknesses does your scheme have?" Dumbledore leaned forward.
"It's centered on me. It won't detect someone wishing to hurt Hermione. Or my other friends." Harry answered. They had known that all along.
"That is just one weakness. Your spell depends on the intent to do harm. Someone who does not realize that whatever they are doing will be harming you will not trigger the curse. And there are multiple ways to achieve that - even without magic," Dumbledore explained. "Though, granted, Tom does tend to use magic for everything. And his followers, so blind in their belief in the superiority of magic, will likely do the same."
Harry was busy trying to think of ways to use a student as an unwitting tool. Most mental manipulation spells would leave some hint, changing the target's behaviour partially at least. Though to spot that would require some familiarity with the target's normal behaviour. He could not really claim he was close to most of the students visiting his lessons. But most of them came with friends as well, who would spot such changes. Especially if they learned about them in the next lesson. "I see. We might teach them about mind control spells next."
"That is a good idea. While many of the Dark Lord's followers prefer more obvious curses, others like to control and dominate their victims. A few though are imaginative and cunning, and no strangers to the oblique approach. A truly dangerous foe would not send a spelled victim to your lesson, not if the purpose was just to spy." Dumbledore explained with a smile.
"They could enchant an item to record us… or to harm us." Harry didn't want to imagine what an Erumpent horn would do, if smuggled into the room and detonated.
"The wards will take care of most of those ploys. Wizards thought of sending explosive or poisonous gifts to their enemies centuries ago, and counter-measures were created rather quickly." Dumbledore didn't smile. "But determined students could create dangerous items on the school grounds. While it would require great luck or skill to smuggle them past the various wards, it's not impossible."
"The dorms are heavily warded." Harry nodded.
"As are other rooms." Dumbledore sighed. "And yet, no defense is perfect. Students keep finding ways around the wards, if only to prank the other students."
Harry suddenly realized why the Weasley twins had been able to keep pranking for years, without a teacher stopping them for good. "Do they know they have been serving as testers for the school's defenses?"
Dumbledore simply smiled enigmatically.
"Do you consider Hermione's curse as a test as well?" Harry wanted to know if they had let them put a curse on students.
"In a way. It was harmless enough to not trigger any ward - at least as far as the obvious effect is concerned. And yet, even a Wand-Lighting Charm can have deadly consequences if it reveals an enemy hiding in the darkness." Dumbledore sighed.
"Hermione wouldn't go that far!" Harry stated.
"I think we both know she would go even farther, if she thinks it is needed to protect you." Dumbledore met his eyes again. "And so would you, for her."
Harry nodded, reluctantly. He didn't like to admit it. "We both have survived several attempts to kill us."
"That is correct. It would be unwise to hold you two, and your friends, to the same standards as other students." The Headmaster sighed. "Those are dark times indeed, when one has to contemplate students killing each other."
"We're only defending ourselves," Harry said.
"Indeed. And yet, I fear the definition of 'defending' will end up quite stretched, before this war is over." Dumbledore looked at the window for a moment. "But enough of that. I trust that in the future you will keep me informed about the measures you plan to take to defend yourself."
"Of course, Headmaster," Harry answered. Their defensive measures, but not the other ideas they had been throwing around.
He somehow doubted Dumbledore would approve of some of their plans.
*****
Hermione Granger was waiting in their room for Harry's detention to end. She felt slightly guilty - it was her fault that Harry was getting punished. Only slightly though, since it had been necessary, after all, and had been for his own good. She checked her watch, a gift from her parents, completely mechanical. She could have an electronic one now, thanks to the shielding ward she had developed, but she had gotten used to it. And not having to worry about a battery was nice as well. On the other hand, she also liked to know the precise time. Maybe she should get a radio-controlled clock with runes, to adjust her wrist watch to…
The door opened, and she tensed, wand in hand, before relaxing. It was Harry, looking a bit tired. They embraced as soon as the door had closed behind him, and she could feel how tense he was. Tenser than she would have expected. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but controlled herself and placed a kiss on his lips instead.
"Ron's not here?" Harry asked.
"He's with Padma," Hermione answered. She didn't even feel slightly guilty about sending their friend to his girlfriend so she could be alone with Harry. It was for his and Padma's own good too, after all.
Harry grinned, then pulled her closer again. For a bit, they simply stood there, in each other's arms. Then Hermione's curiosity won out over her desire to enjoy the moment. "So, what did the Headmaster say? And what did you have to do?"
Harry sighed, and went to sit down on the couch, summoning a soda on the way. Hermione followed him and slipped into his lap, leaning her head against his shoulder. He took a while to speak, gathering his thoughts. It must have been important then.
"We spoke about the wards, and our security measures. We weren't as clever as we thought." He finally explained.
"Oh? What did we miss?" Hermione asked, her pride stung.
"The Dark Lord'll probably use students as tools who don't know they are harming us," Harry explained.
"Mind control? That can be spotted. We can teach the others how to spot it too." She had to adjust the lesson plans, but they had been crafted with some leeway, to take unforeseen changes into account.
"Yes. But the worst danger will be those who are not under a spell."
Hermione took a moment to consider that. "Duped. Or interrogated and then obliviated."
"Yes."
"Well, we can't defend against that. But we can feed them false information that way." Hermione started to plan. If they downplayed their skills, they'd be underestimated by the Death Eaters.
"As long as it doesn't impact the lessons for the students. They need to learn how to escape an attack." Harry cocked his head to the side to meet her eyes. He was serious.
Hermione sighed, then nodded.
"Dumbledore was more concerned about dangerous enchanted items that might slip through the existing wards of the school, and the dorms. You wouldn't have an idea about such things?"
Hermione nodded. "I've had a few ideas." More than a few. She'd been planning how to wipe out the entire Slytherin House quite often in earlier years, given her feelings on their attitude towards muggleborns. Some of her plans hadn't been that impractical or impossible either.
"Anything they could use against us?"
"Hm. If they learn about muggle composite poisons, and explosives." It wasn't very likely, given their attitudes towards muggles.
"Wouldn't the wards spot that?" Harry frowned.
"Not before the reaction gets going. And with explosives, the wards can be overloaded. With poison… some poison doesn't trigger the wards. Like lead." Hermione smiled at the sort of pun.
"Are there any magical ways to duplicate this?"
"I don't know any offhand that would slip past the wards. Though if one used say one of the dueling areas in Slytherin, where the wards are less strict…" Hermione bit her lip as she was starting to plan that.
"Or our own training area?" Harry asked.
"Ah… yes. That's a possible weakness too. But still somewhat protected, as long as we are present. Someone would spot it, probably." Hermione nodded.
Harry didn't seem to be too reassured. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, until he was facing the ceiling.
Hermione ran a finger over his lips, pulling back before he could snap at it. "I doubt any junior Death Eater has the knowledge to pull this off. Can you imagine Malfoy trying that?"
Harry laughed. "He's more the type to ambush you in a dark hallway." Then he froze.
"We'll have to change patrol routes. If we're too predictable we're just begging for an attack. Or a trap." Hermione shook her head.
"The map will show us an ambush," Harry stated.
"But not a trap. Most of the traps are curses, and would be detected though. But if you combine enough weak, seemingly harmless effects…" Hermione trailed off.
"Great. How many pureblood bigots are dumb enough to follow Voldemort, and smart enough to pull that off?"
"Not many. Too much of a risk for the smarter ones." Hermione answered.
"Unless their family is held hostage." Harry said with a grim expression.
"Most of the families are moving to the old mansions for safety. And if we're taking precautions, like moving in groups, we should be reasonably safe."
"Best we can do, I think." Harry agreed. "At least the school's security is better than I thought. The Headmaster explained a lot today."
"That was a useful detention then. I should break the rules more often. Or, I should get caught doing it more often!" Hermione joked.
Harry huffed. "I should put you over my knee and spank you!"
Hermione was reminded of a fantasy she had had, and hoped she didn't blush. To cover it up, she leaned forward and kissed her boyfriend.
For quite some time neither one spoke, and when they broke apart again, both readjusted their robes and had to calm down their breathing.
"Dumbledore also asked about my, our plans for the time after Hogwarts and the war," Harry stated suddenly, right when the muggleborn witch was about to doze off curled up against him.
"Oh." She didn't say anything more.
"He was talking about my parents, the difficulties they went through."
Hermione knew what 'difficulties' he meant. James Potter's decision to enter a concubinage with Lily Evans, and his refusal to marry a pureblood wife to give him heirs had been very controversial. In the wake of their heroic deaths, and Harry's subsequent adoption that made him a pureblood that had been covered up, but Hermione and Harry had dug it up researching his family. Letters. Articles. Testimonies. Sirius and Remus generally didn't go into details, but Sirius had let a few things slip when he had drank a bit too much. It wasn't a pretty picture. And she wasn't looking forward to go through it as well.
"He said heroic deeds could move mountains," Harry went on.
"He thinks you will defeat Voldemort, and then follow in your father's footsteps?" Hermione asked, tensing up. Concubinage. Adopting his own children, so they'd be purebloods. They'd have to have children very quickly after Voldemort's defeat, so the fame wouldn't have faded and the Wizengamot could not refuse the petition. She would have to get pregnant quickly. Of course it all depended on beating Voldemort. But without defeating the Dark Lord, they'd have no future anyway.
And yet… even so, she'd remain the muggleborn witch. Granted, other witches would stop trying to seduce Harry, once he had pureblood heirs. Well, most of them. Some wouldn't. Like Greengrass. Hermione ground her teeth together. That stupid blonde had started the "Harry Hunting", which painfully reminded her each day that everyone expected her to become Harry's mistress while he married a pureblood witch!
Harry pulled her closer again, and placed a kiss on her forehead. "We'll find a way."
She nodded, even though she doubted it, sometimes. "We'll find a way."
*****
Ron Weasley wondered what Harry would have had to do during his detention. Some boring lines? Or some special assignment by the Headmaster? He would have liked to await his best friend's return in their private room, but Hermione had all but thrown him out. His other best friend had been rather stressed lately, so he had complied. And she had been right about his own girlfriend Padma needing him.
"Father wrote that he and mother have moved into the Brendelson Mansion. Our head of family has put them up, together with other families. It's more cramped than at home, but safer, or so he claims," Padma explained, looking worried.
"Lots of families are moving in with their heads. Even emancipated heads of their own families are moving back to their parents," Ron answered. The Black-Tonkses, for example. Grimmauld Place would be a bit more crowded.
"Your parents too?" Padma looked at him with wide eyes.
"No. The Burrow's pretty safe. That's why it's called the Burrow, despite being all above ground, my dad told me once." Ron sighed. "But it's crowded already, so Bill and his fiancée went to Sirius." He was rather certain that Fleur had insisted - she didn't get along too well with his and Bill's mum - but that wasn't something to be spread outside the family.
"Oh. And your other brothers?" Padma sat down next to him, hands in her lap closing and opening nervously.
Ron reached over and took her right and with his left, squeezing it gently. "Charlie's still in Romania, but he'll probably head back as soon as he settles with the preserve there." Family came first, after all. "Percy moved in already." And probably wasn't happy about it - his girlfriend hadn't come with him, or so Ron's dad had written.
"At least he'll be safe."
Ron winced. The wards were good, but not that good. But the Burrow had a number of escape tunnels, dating back a few centuries before the current house had been built. They'd probably have to rebuild the house, after the war - they were rather prominent enemies of Voldemort. That wasn't something to spread around either, not even to his girlfriend. She wasn't family after all. Unlike Harry and Hermione. "But the real problem will be the twins. Can you imagine living with them in the same house?" Well, they were in the same Hogwarts house, but it was different with close to one hundred other students, or just one family.
Padma winced, and he nodded and continued. "It's not so bad during the vacations, but I think everyone was hoping their shop would take off as soon as possible, and they'd move out." Even his mum, not that she'd admit it, of course. "On the other hand, it's good training - Bill likes to joke he only became a curse-breaker because he had to avoid the twins' pranks so often."
Padma frowned, and Ron almost sighed. His girlfriend really took her not so stellar performance in the self-defense lessons hard. She was like Hermione in that. He took her hand with his right hand, and wrapped his left arm around her waist, pulling her closer. "You know, it's all about training. You've got to let your muscles learn the moves." Hermione had said something about it, and she usually knew her stuff. He couldn't say that to Padma though, she was jealous enough already.
"It's just so frustrating! I try and try, and I get hit all the time anyway. And it hurts!" The Indian witch complained. "And they mock me!"
"That's just their way of teaching. They don't mean it," Ron tried to placate her. Sirius and to a lesser degree Remus had a peculiar style, one that took some getting used to. Of course, Ron, as the 6th son, was used to pranks, teasing, and worse. Padma… not so. "And it's better in the lessons with Harry."
"Marginally," Padma grumbled. "Everyone expects me to be as good as the rest of you! Just because I am your girlfriend!"
Ron briefly squeezed her against his side in response. 'Everyone' probably meant Parvati, or some of the Ravenclaws, or anyone else jealous of her.
"And in those lessons, I have to see that snake making eyes at you!" Padma hissed suddenly. "I want to curse her so bad!"
Ron winced, briefly. There she went again. And he had thought Hermione was the one who hated Parkinson the most…
"Once she tries something, we all will curse her," he reassured her. If only Hermione's curse would trigger already!
Padma huffed, then climbed into his lap.
Ron smiled, before he kissed her. There they went again. At least something good was coming from that snake's plot.
*****
Kenneth Fenbrick smiled at the pretty witch in the daring robe passing him and and his partner Bertha Limmington on their way to lunch. She smiled back coyly, or so he thought. Was she instead just too polite to show her real feelings? Did she just see the red auror robes - and wasn't it nice to wear them again, instead of some civilian disguises? - and an affair she could brag to her friends about? And why should he care about the real reasons she might want to sleep with him for, as long as she wanted to sleep with him? Why did he care?
He sighed, then saw Bertha staring at him. "What?"
She shook her head. "Nothing."
"You don't do 'nothing', Bertha!" He stared at her.
She simply continued to walk towards the tavern they had agreed on for their lunch. Huffing, he caught up to her. They didn't talk until they had ordered and the food was floating towards their table, and even then they chatted about meaningless things. Not about the thing Kenneth had declared they wouldn't speak of, ever.
He didn't think he would ever mind it when Bertha actually followed his wishes. 'Cool, classy, smart' had the spy-courtesan, Mathilda, called her. He was wondering about that, about her. And about himself. What was Bertha, to him, apart from being the best partner and friend he had ever had? What did he really know about her? Other than that she looked as attractive in really skimpy robes as he had hoped she would?
And, more importantly, would he look at her the same way he did, if she had slept with him? Was he simply interested in her - and he was, he could admit that, now - because she was not falling for him? Was it just the challenge that drew him, like some clients were drawn to a aloof courtesan, as Mathilda had explained it?
Life had been simpler before that ill-fated undercover mission. Easier.
"Do you ever think about what she told us?" It was a dumb question, he realized it right after he had blurted it out. Bertha was always thinking.
"That I act like a courtesan?" Bertha asked back, in a very cold tone.
"That was my blunder;" Kenneth admitted. "No, I meant, what witches see in wizards. And wizards in witches."
"Well, I don't see what they'd see in you," she answered.
He couldn't tell if she was making one of her rare jokes, or if she was serious. And it hurt.
"I don't see what you see in them, either," Bertha continued, after an awkward pause, and in different tone.
"Them?"
"The witches you sleep with," she explained.
Before that stupid mission, Kenneth would have answered the question with great, loving details about their bodies. Now he muttered "I don't know anymore."
The rest of the meal passed in silence.
*****
Draco Malfoy, Head of the Malfoy Family, smiled while he was walking towards one of the lesser used classrooms in the dungeons. Crabbe and Goyle were following him, as usual. "Stay outside, and don't let anyone enter!"
With a grunt, the two obeyed his order. Draco's smile widened as he opened the door and entered the room. Power. He deserved it. He had it. He loved it.
Inside the room, a smaller figure came out from the corner behind the armoire. Draco bowed politely to her. "Good evening, Miss Edgecombe."
He saw her stiffen, then she bowed as well.
"Good evening, Mister Malfoy." She sounded stilted, unable to hide her emotions. No wonder - she was but a lowly half-blood.
He knew she wasn't having a good evening. She didn't want to be here, didn't want to talk to him. And yet she had to. Because he wanted it. Because he could make her do it.
He sat down on the desk in front of the room, looking down on the half-blood witch. She was standing there, jaw clenched, hands kneading her robes. Not her usual, quite daring robes, but plain, drab ones. Her lips moved, then she pressed them together again.
He was waiting, enjoying the moment. Enjoying his power over her. She wanted to speak, wanted to get this done with as soon as possible, so she could leave, flee. But she knew if she spoke without having been given leave by him, she'd pay for it.
"Did you do something with your hair? That's a bold color," he commented, apparently idly. She flinched. He knew the Weasley twins had pranked her, they had been called to McGonagall's office. And he knew she hadn't been able to get rid of the spell, yet. She would probably have to visit St. Mungo's. Fortunately for her, the school would cover the cost.
"I didn't choose this, I was cursed," she answered, stiffening.
He grinned. "It's a rather benign curse then. In my circles, we'd not even call that a hex." That reminder of who he was, what he could do, sent her trembling. She was shaking, even, when he pulled out his wand and twirled it around his fingers.
He'd have loved to draw this out for the entire evening, to do more to the witch, to teach her her place, but it was too much of a risk, here, under the nose of Dumbledore. And his absence would be noted soon. "So… what did you find out?"
She swallowed, then began to report. "We trained dodging spells. And how to cast a shield spell. Point cast it."
"That's it?" He frowned. That didn't sound likely. "You didn't learn how to fight, just how to run away?"
"N-No. They said they want to train us to survive an attack, not to fight a war." She was shaking again. His ire was impressive. She didn't seem to be lying though.
"So." He paused. What was Potter up to? Why wasn't he building an army? Maybe this was just a test, and he'd pick those who showed talent for the real, secret lessons?
"So. You'll train hard and be among the best in those lessons, understood?" She was a 6th year, she had ample time to study and train, as long as she cut back on the fornicating.
Edgecombe nodded.
"Good. Do this, and your family's debts will not be called in." That reminder of his power over her made her nod, again. For a moment he was tempted to keep her here a bit longer. She was a 6th year, experienced. He shook his head at the thought. He couldn't take her as he wanted to anyway. And if he did, she'd have leverage over him. Not even obliviate would help - everyone knew that if you felt sore and didn't remember why, you went straight to a teacher. He wasn't that good with the spell to leave no traces.
She was still standing there, too afraid of him to leave without permission. He gestured to the door, not bothering with the pretense of being polite anymore, and she left without a further word.
He watched her leave, frowning. He really wanted to get a muggle girl, right then. It galled him that he couldn't.
Soon though.
*****
Hermione Granger, sitting in her and Harry's room, working on spell crafting, frowned at her notes. The Protean Charm Tracking Spell was working - with Protean Charms. It would offer a nice way to track stolen but marked goods. Or circumvent some of the usual counter-measures against tracking charms. But it wouldn't work with the Dark Mark. At least as far as she could tell, lacking a Dark Mark to study and experiment with. And she wouldn't get one either. She imagined asking the Headmaster for her very own Death Eater to experiment on, and giggled at the face Dumbledore would probably make at hearing that. Right before he called her a dark witch. She stopped giggling.
She was doing Sympathetic Magic. Commonly associated with voodoo. It wasn't illegal, at least not in principle, but it had a bad reputation, since it was most infamous for controlling and cursing others using a piece of them as a focus. It wasn't part of the actual Dark Arts, the Ministry's opinion notwithstanding. But it wasn't a subject taught at Hogwarts. She'd had to check the Black Family Library for tomes on the subject. And tracking was just one possible use for such magic. She had another use in mind.
One she'd have to study Harry's scar for. See if the connection he shared with Voldemort would be enough to work magic through. But that wouldn't be possible until she knew more about how such magic worked.
But nothing changed the fact that ultimately, she'd have to find a way to destroy a soul. It was the only way to get rid of all of the horcruxes Voldemort had made. And such an act certainly fell under the Dark Arts. To destroy a soul… wouldn't it anger the gods? If they existed, and cared. Would it stain her soul?
She knew of only one way a soul could be destroyed: The dementor's kiss. Wizarding Britain had used it as a way to execute criminals for centuries. Dozens, hundreds of decent wizards and witches had taken part in the destruction of at least one soul in their lives. No one, nothing, had cursed them for it. The Wizengamot certainly wouldn't risk their own souls, and they were the ones who ordered such executions.
So, at least the indirect destruction of a soul was safe. Had to be safe.
She could work with that. Had to work with that. For Harry.
*****
Keith Yennington observed the small cottage from afar. It looked like just any other house. Almost like a muggle one. But it was heavily warded, not quite on par with a mansion of an old family, but coming close. The DMLE didn't skimp when it came to the safety of their employees, even if they were low-ranking ones like Timothy Brannigan.
The Death Eater rubbed his left forearm. The Dark Lord had been generous after his punishment, and had provided him with information from one of his spies. Brannigan would be able to provide Keith with the names of the two aurors hunting him. Those responsible for his punishment! He still had nightmares!
Normally, Brannigan would be safe. His wards were strong enough to last until reinforcements arrived and he didn't leave his house, other than taking the floo to safe locations. But Brannigan had a weakness. A weakness Keith knew about.
He took a last look at the cottage and apparated away. If Brannigan stuck to his schedule, he'd call the whore soon.
Keith reappeared in a large and well-furnished room. A nude blonde witch was sitting on the big bed, nervously glancing at Hortensius Gimble, who kept his wand aimed at her. Others under Keith's command would have indulged their urges. Not Hortensius though. He didn't let the witch's body distract him from his orders. Keith nodded to his man and sat down in the armchair in the corner, outside the the field of vision anyone making a floo call would have.
The whore - she called herself a courtesan, but they were all whores - was known as 'Claire'. It certainly wasn't her real name, but Keith didn't care. All he cared about was that 'Claire' was Brannigan's prefered whore, trusted enough to visit him at his home. He narrowed his eyes, then gestured at the witch. "Move!"
She jerked, then stood up, taking a few steps. "Move?" She asked, timidly.
He frowned. "Just walk around the room. Seductively."
She complied, or tried to. He rolled his eyes. "Merlin's balls, girl! I am not about to rape you. I simply need to see how you walk when you meet a client. Now walk like you mean it!"
The whore started to strut, still too tense. If this was the 'Pixie', Keith would have her punished. But for this, it would do. It wasn't really needed either, more like a way to pass the time while they waited for Brannigan to call. It wasn't as if he'd be wearing her body that long.
After a few minutes, the floo lit up, finally. A nod from Keith had 'Claire' kneel in front of it, talking to 'her Timothy'. He didn't see any overt sign of her trying to warn the wizard.
"I'll be right there, just let me fetch my new robe!"
"I can't wait, cherie!" Brannigan said, then ended the call.
'Claire' stared at him, trembling, as Keith strode towards her, pulling off his own robes and undergarments with a flick of his wand. Hortensius handed him a vial, and a hair. A sip later Keith was wearing the whore's body.
While 'Claire' stared at him, he slipped the robe he had brought with him on. He had taken it from one of the girls at the 'Pixie'. A flick of his wand had it resized to his new curves. It would do. He glanced at Hortensius, who was looking him over. "Anything out of place?" Keith asked him, noticing how his voice had changed too.
The other wizard shook his head. Keith nodded to him, then stepped to the floo. "Brannigan's Bachelor Pad!"
He stepped out of the floo into Branigan's living room. The wizard was stepping towards him with open arms, but Keith stopped him before he could hug his temporary body. "Look at my new robe!"
Brannigan did, and Keith turned around himself, making sure they were alone.
"I've got another surprise for you!" he announced, taking out his wand.
"Oh!" Brannigan's eyes went wide. "Did you get a new…"
Keith cut him off with a stunner and the man dropped like a bag of galleons. No auror material, that one. He went back to the floo and called Hortensius. The Death Eater was still searching the man when Hortensius and the nude witch arrived. She saw Brannigan and at once opened her mouth.
Keith was faster. "Keep your mouth shut! He's just stunned."
He didn't find anything dangerous on Brannigan's body, but stripped him nude anyway before binding him with a spell and waking him up.
"Wha…" Brannigan stopped whateve rhe had been about to say when he spotted two 'Claires' in his living room, and a man he didn't know. "Polyjuice?"
He wasn't as much of a fool as he looked, then, Keith thought. "Exactly." He smiled at the man, holding up another vial. "Now open wide up, we have a few questions to ask you."
Brannigan complied. He was either a coward, or smart enough to realize that he couldn't avoid it anyway. Not bad qualities for a Ministry employee. If he was pragmatic enough he might keep his position, once the Dark Lord had taken over.
The interrogation was a quick and complete success - his master's spy had done well. Keith now had the names of his prey: Kenneth Fenbrick and Bertha Limmington. Veteran aurors both.
"Administer the antidote!"
While Hortensius made Brannigan drink another vial, Keith obliviated the whore. "You've just arrived, and your 'new dress' was a nothing more than few drops of perfume. Timothy loved the surprise." Another spell took care of Brannigan. Keith and Hortensius left the cottage before the spells wore off.
Back in the whore's flat, Keith scoffed. "Another 45 minutes to spend in this body…" and sat down in the chair again. He hated waiting. Hortensius didn't comment. He was Keith's best wizard, after all.
*****
"It's already as bad as during the last war," Sirius Black stated as he and his family walked through Hogsmeade. His extended family, to be precise - Remus, Valérie, Chantal, Eugénie and Laure, and Harry, Hermione and their friends. Nymphadora was around as well, providing additional security in various forms.
"What do you mean, Sirius?" Harry asked, looking around. Slightly behind him, Hermione frowned, following his example.
"The lack of students. Usually, more than half of Hogwarts is in the village on a Hogsmeade weekend. Now? Unless most of them are hiding in the private rooms in Madam Puddyfoot's Teashop, then not even a quarter of the students are in the village. Maybe even closer to a tenth." He made a sweeping gesture.
"There are private rooms in Madam Puddyfoot's?" Luna's eyes lit up.
Sirius nodded. "Yes. For a fee, you can rent a room there. There are a number of…" he trailed off as he caught Remus's glare. "Well, its for 6th years and older."
"Bah!" Luna frowned. "That's unfair!"
Valérie giggled, and Sirius had a feeling she wanted to pat the blonde's head. The four veela had taken a shine to the perky if quirky girl, despite, or maybe because, of all the questions she had posed them about the 'secrets of the veela'.
"Isn't that why we're out here? To serve as an example, to assure people that it's safe?" Ron asked.
"If we are, it doesn't seem to be working. We seem to be scaring them away more than reassuring them," Harry commented, nodding towards the people watching them from a distance.
"Well, letting everyone crowd us would be too dangerous for you and your friends. You are a personal enemy of the Dark Lord, after all," Sirius explained. "So, we do keep them at a distance. For their own safety as well as ours."
"That seems to defeat the purpose of the visit," Hermione remarked.
"It's mostly for the press, not for the people in the village," Luna claimed. "We can write up how Harry Potter and all his friends and family visited Hogsmeade for a relaxing afternoon in Madam Puddyfoot's private rooms! We don't have to mention that we're more resembling an armed patrol than a family outing."
Sirius chuckled while Hermione and Harry groaned. "You're right, Luna. It's mostly a morale booster for the rest of the country. Hopefully, people will take heart, and visit Hogsmeade again - it is one of the safest places in Britain. Even if the population seems not to know that." He shook his head. Those cursed fools, shaking in their robes from irrational fear. "Look at the houses - all closely built together. Old houses, with old wards. Not quite on the level of Grimmauld Place, but strong. And since it's the only pure wizard village in all of Britain, it got a permanent auror presence, and it's right next to Hogwarts, where Dumbledore resides. They are among the safest people in Britain. And yet, a few incidents on the streets have all of them cowed, hiding even. The shops must be suffering, those that can't offer Owl Orders at least."
"Another reason to visit Madam Puddyfoot's!" Luna piped up. The glances and even glares she received didn't faze her at all.
"The Dark Lord must have planned that. One attack, outside a pub, and the village economy takes a massive hit." Hermione pursed her lips. "We should do something about this."
"We are. Luna's not joking. The Daily Prophet will publish an article, and I assume the Quibbler will do so too," Remus answered the muggleborn witch. Sirius refrained from speculating what exactly the Quibbler would publish, but he was fairly certain it would be amusing.
"We should do a family outing in the muggle world," Valérie stated as they made their way towards Honeydukes. "It's far more relaxing."
"Ah… most of the family is a bit too young to appreciate the kind of outings you are talking about," Remus started to explain.
"That could be handled with a few fake IDs," Hermione said.
Remus stared at the witch while Sirius chuckled. She defended herself. "We wouldn't visit the strip clubs, of course. But it would be nice to relax at a place not filled with frightened people and guards."
Sirius looked at the rest of the students. Not everyone seemed as enthusiastic as Hermione, who probably was well aware that she could be far more open with her affection for Harry in the muggle world, but no one seemed actually opposed to the idea. "I'll see what I can arrange." He ignored the glare from Remus; his friend should know that Sirius didn't consider the school rules limiting the Hogsmeade weekend to actual Hogsmeade as anything more than a weak guideline for first years who were not yet officially allowed to leave Hogwarts at all.
After all, once you were allowed to visit Hogsmeade, its attraction diminished by quite a lot.
"Whee! An expedition!" Luna cheered.
Sirius suddenly wasn't certain that this had been a good idea.
*****
"Welcome, Amelia, Have a seat." Albus Dumbledore smiled at the Head of the DMLE. "To what or whom do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
The witch sat down. "To the fact that your office is probably the best protected room in Britain, and I don't want to risk getting eavesdropped on."
Albus nodded.
"I assume you have heard from your brother about the events in Knockturn Alley? The 'Pleasing Pixie'?" Amelia asked.
"Indeed. A venue operated and probably owned by Voldemort's followers," the Headmaster confirmed.
"More like a base. He's shuffling kidnapped foreign muggles through it. Sacrifices for rituals and dementors, or so we assume," she stated with a grim expression.
"That is a likely, if horrible explanation." Sadly, not everyone would consider stopping such as a priority.
"So, closing it down has a high priority. But I suspect there are spies in the Ministry, and such an operation could easily end in a catastrophe, if any information was leaked prematurely," Amelia explained. "I've picked out a group of my most trusted aurors and hit-wizards," Amelia continued.
He nodded, not pointing out that a number of his friends were among her most trusted aurors. That would have been a faux pas. "And you worry about Voldemort coming to the rescue of his men, once battle is joined," Albus stated. That was the most likely explanation for the delay: The fear of running into an ambush by Voldemort himself. That could not just cost Amelia her best wands, but would also be a terrible blow to the morale of the Ministry.
"Yes." Amelia didn't like to admit it, of course. She was a proud and capable witch.
"I will of course do my utmost to deal with him, should he arrive. Though should my presence be confirmed, he might use the opportunity to strike at another location." And yet, if he joined the fight from the start, it would be over far more quickly, and with less losses.
"That's all we need. We can handle his men, even his best Death Eaters. But we can't handle the Dark Lord. Not least because people panic as soon as he shows up." She sneered.
"Voldemort is a formidable foe, Amelia. People panic because they know he can kill them easily," Albus stated, gently even.
"People panic at the mere rumor of his presence. Fear of him and the mistakes it causes probably kill more of us than any one of his most powerful followers. It's a very good thing he never wore the mask his followers wear, or any Death Eater would be seen as the Dark Lord," Amelia scoffed.
"As long as they cannot even speak his name, I fear there is not much we can do about that." Albus spread his hands. "Though I think that if Voldemort would try to use the tactic you mentioned, it would not work for too long, and might even diminish the fear of him some, if people mistaken for him would be seen fleeing."
"Well, we can do something about his followers. The more we reduce their number, the more we hound the Death Eaters, the weaker the influence of the Dark Lord, Voldemort, grows. We'll strike tonight, at nine." She stood up.
"I will be there." Albus nodded at her.
*****
Keith Yennington had just settled in with his favorite drink at his usual tale on the second floor of the 'Pleasing Pixie', gazing down at the main room, when the wards of the building came under attack. "Matt, Killian, check who's trying to crack the wards!" he shouted down. It could be the 'old crowd' of Knockturn Alley, but his spies hadn't told him of any such plans, and he doubted they could prepare a coordinated attack without at least rumors getting to him. Hortensius at his side had his wand out already.
Before the two men he had sent to check on the street reached the door, it and most of the windows blew open, showering the room with glass and wood. Only the fact that he habitually sat where he couldn't be seen from the outside saved him from injury. Others were not as lucky. Pained screams and yells rose from the main room. Keith realized to his horror that the wards had been broken so quickly that the structures they had been anchored to had been destroyed as well. There were only two men in Britain capable of such a feat, he knew, and the Dark Lord wouldn't attack his own. Not like this.
He had to… but if he was wrong, the punishment… no, there was no other possibility! He pressed his wand tip into his dark mark, hissing at the pain this caused, then pulled out a small mirror. "My Lord!" he spoke quickly, "The 'Pixie' is under attack by Dumbledore himself!"
The mirror lit up and the Dark Lord's response was prompt: "Send your men into the fray. Stall him. Take hostages. Do what you can to keep him occupied for as long as possible, then escape yourself!"
Keith stammered "Y-yes, milord!" but the mirror had gone dark already. The Dark Lord wouldn't come to his aid. It made sense, of course - what use was a base that had been uncovered? Sooner or later it would fall, unless the Dark Lord managed to vanquish all of the Ministry's forces. And Dumbledore. And yet… this was Keith's fiefdom, so to speak. He had taken it, built it up, made it his. To abandon it galled him. But he had no choice.
"Wands out, they'll be coming at us! Cover the windows! Matt! Grab a few muggles and mudbloods as hostages!" Keith shouted down, and sent a spell through the remains of a window himself. Killian didn't look like he'd be able to do anything other than bleed for a while.
His men, not quite handpicked, but a cut above the usual scum found in the Alley, reacted. Spells flew from their wands, through the holes in the front wall. It was a good thing he had gathered enough to go after Fenbrick and Limmington. Vicious fighters, they'd stall Dumbledore's forces. With or without Keith's further direction.
He rushed to the stairs, Hortensius on his heels. Matt was there, dragging a mudblood out of the private rooms. "Shout that we have hostages! We'll get more!" Keith yelled, passing the thug. Matt nodded, not suspecting anything, and started down the stairs to the main room. Keith and Hortensius entered the next room. His man stunned the screaming young wizard there while Keith blew a hole into the floor. It wouldn't do to let the curse fodder defending the brothel against the aurors see their leader flee.
A drop later the two were on the ground floor, and headed to the basement, the young man floating after them - a hostage might be useful. Just as they were climbing down the stairs to the lower basement level, where the sewer access was located, the entire building shook, and the screaming from above grew in volume. Dumbledore must have entered the fray personally.
Keith's robe prevented the dust shaken loose from the ceiling from touching him, but the hands he had used to steady himself on the narrow stairs were covered with it, leaving a trail of dirt on the door when he pushed open. No matter - they were entering the sewers anyway.
"Seal the door behind us!" he yelled to Hortensius, then pointed his wand at a particular stain on the wall next to him and muttered "Incendio". Up front, the sewer tunnels lit up with dozens of fires as the curses laid down there went off. Screams told him there had been enemies ahead. Smiling cruelly, he led Hortensius down a side tunnel, past the smoking remains of two robed figures. One of them was still moving, but a quick piercing curse to the head ended that.
Soon they'd be past the anti-apparition wards.
*****
The Dark Lord Voldemort gazed at the ruins of what had been the ancestral house of the Cowden family. With Dumbledore engaged in Knockturn Alley, it had been ripe for the picking - wards weak enough for him to be taken down quickly, and filled with a family and their retainers that had escaped his wrath once before, in the First War. Back then the wards had withstood him long enough for Dumbledore and aurors to arrive, but the replacement wards put up since that day had not been nearly as strong.
Bella was torturing a mudblood, her laughter drowned out by the girl's screams. Rookwood and Travers had returned from plundering the family's coffers. The Lestrange brothers were letting Fiendfyre loose all over the building. That might take care of those still hiding in the burning house. It didn't matter, really - they had achieved what they had come for.
Time was running short. Yennington wouldn't be able to stall Dumbledore for long. It wasn't even certain the Death Eater would manage to escape, but the man had proven to be crafty. Even if his real identity was now known to the enemy, he could take over as Greenbrand, and continue his good work. And if he failed to escape… well, one Death Eater and a few thugs were a small price to pay for wiping out a prominent family that had opposed him for decades.
"Bella."
The dark witch stopped at once, and turned towards him. "Milord?"
"We need to leave."
A Killing Curse ended the mudblood's suffering, and his most loyal Death Eater apparated away. A glance to the other Death Eaters prompted them to follow her example. The Dark Lord looked at the burning ruins once more, smiling. This would show those who had lived through the First War that no one escaped his wrath.
He raised his wand to the sky.
"Mordsmordre!"
Chapter 29: Traps
