Divided and Entwined (Harry Potter AU) (Complete)

[Starfox5]

Divided and Entwined

Chapter 1: Descent into Darkness

'At the time of the Dark Lord's return, Wizarding Britain had been at peace for over a decade. Long enough to recover from the last war, but not long enough to be ready for another. Most of the Hit Wizards who had borne the brunt of the fighting in the Blood War had been released from service long ago. The Auror Corps had been deemed more than sufficient to guarantee the security of the country, and the gold so saved had been needed for rebuilding. The people had barely recovered from the ravages of that terrible war, and found the prospect of another war to be intolerable. In short, the the British Ministry of Magic had neither the means, nor the popular support to wage war on the Dark Lord.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, June 26th, 1995

"Cornelius, you know that Voldemort is back. You have seen Harry Potter's memories yourself. You need to act, now. Before he builds up his forces."

Albus Dumbledore spoke calmly, but the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot was anything but calm. The Dark Lord had returned from death. He had recalled his inner circle already, and the means he had used to resurrect himself might even have rendered Harry's blood protection powerless.

"And what would you have me do, Albus? Send the Aurors to war?" Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, scoffed. "They're not trained for war. Half of them are still children!"

Albus didn't point out that the hiring practises of the Ministry had ensured that the Aurors were not what they could be, to put it mildly. It wouldn't do to antagonise the Minister at this critical moment.

"If you're not doing anything, then Voldemort will just grow more powerful," the old wizard said, ignoring how the minister cringed at hearing the name.

"I will not plunge Britain into a war if it can be avoided! He just returned from death. He might have changed while he was… dead. His former sympathisers and the victims of his Imperius have been integrated into society for over a decade, after all," Cornelius said. "They're not ready for a war."

"That is exactly why we need to strike now, while he and his followers are still weak," Albus retorted.

Cornelius shook his head. "We cannot afford to push all those suspected supporters into his camp with such harsh and rash action. The public won't support a war either."

"Amelia is certain that the balance of power favours the Ministry." Albus had already spoken with the formidable head of the DMLE.

"Amelia lost her entire family but for her niece to the last war. Of course she will want revenge, no matter the cost to Britain!" The Minister stood up and started to pace behind his desk.

Albus narrowed his eyes. Cornelius was a good politician, but he was not usually that stubborn. Not unless… "You've spoken with Lucius, haven't you?"

The other wizard looked startled, then set his jaw. "Yes. And he told me that the Dark Lord does not wish a war either. If we adjust our policies a little, an accommodation can be reached."

"Lucius is a Death Eater. Of course he would claim this. He is manipulating you." Albus rued the fact that he had allowed that man to grow so close to the Minister. But the only way to prevent that would have been… He had vowed not to give in to that temptation after Gellert.

"He was a victim of the Imperius." Cornelius stood, facing Albus. "But even if he is… we cannot afford a war. Not right now. And neither can You-Know-Who. That means diplomacy is our best option. Compromise. We need to give peace a chance."

Albus could almost hear Lucius talking when he listened to the Minister. "Do you honestly believe that Voldemort wants peace?" he asked, incredulously.

"Didn't you tell me once that everyone deserved a second chance?"

Albus's long experience in politics allowed him to keep smiling politely. "I did. But I do not think that this is applicable when we are talking about Voldemort."

Cornelius snorted. "I've spoken with several Wizengamot members who share my view. My decision stands. We'll offer You-Know-Who … appeasement. A few concessions are a small price to pay, if we can avoid another terrible war."

Albus realised that the Minister wouldn't be budged from his - or rather, Malfoy's - decision. He would have to talk to the Wizengamot, but he was not optimistic. Cornelius was correct in that most of its members did not want a war.

"I believe this is a mistake. A mistake that will come to cost us dearly, in the future."

With those parting words, the Chief Warlock left the office of the Minister for Magic.

*****​

London, Kingston upon Thames, August 15th, 1995

Hermione Granger, sitting in her room at home, read her Hogwarts letter again. There was the usual booklist as well as the announcement of a new subject for all years, 'Wizarding Customs'. That sounded very interesting. There was nothing else, though. The young witch didn't consider herself presumptuous, but she had expected to be chosen as the female prefect for Gryffindor for their fifth year. Who else in her year was as smart, or rather, as academically inclined? Who else was as responsible? Certainly not Parvati or Lavender! And the other two girls in their year, Fay and Sally-Anne, were too shy to be prefects.

She bit her lower lip. Maybe… maybe the Headmaster didn't trust her to uphold the rules, given how often she and her friends had broken them in the past. For a good reason, of course, but still. If everyone followed their example, and with less urgent reasons…

She took a deep breath, fighting her disappointment down. If that was the reason, then so be it. She had done what she had thought was needed, and she would do so again. Not being named prefect was a small price to do what was right.

Besides, you did not have to be a prefect to become Head Girl. James Potter had never been a prefect, and he had been Head Boy. She nodded to herself. She would also have more time to study, without the responsibilities of being a prefect.

Her reasoning helped, but she felt down for the rest of the day anyway. She had hoped that the Hogwarts letter would cheer her up, after reading the latest Daily Prophet. The Ministry kept telling people that the situation with Voldemort was 'under control', but she had not seen anything about any action taken against the monster who had had Cedric Diggory murdered and had tortured and almost murdered Harry! Just a number of new laws and decrees being passed - apparently, the hiring standards at the Ministry were being raised, among several decrees concerning professional standards for current employees.

She had written to both Harry and Ron, but neither had been able to tell her what was going on at the Ministry. Apart from Sirius having been exonerated. Next to having had Kingsley Shacklebolt, an experienced Auror, appointed as DADA teacher, that had been the only good news she had heard lately. But she'd soon join her friends at Sirius's house. She'd get more information once she was there.

*****​

London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, August 21st, 1995

"Hermione!"

Hermione Granger had barely stepped through the door of the house when she was swept up in a hug by her friend, Harry Potter.

"Hello Harry," she managed to get out, surprised and pleased by his greeting - obviously, Sirius becoming a free man again and living with his godfather had been a very good thing for her friend.

Harry had barely released her before she was engulfed in a hug again, and lifted off the ground.

"Hello Hermione!"

"Hello Ron."

Her other best friend even twirled her around before setting her down again, despite her giggling protests.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Sirius Black said, bowing with a flourish.

Hermione looked him over. For a former fugitive from the law, he looked good. Still more than a bit haggard, but he was wearing expensive-looking robes, and a grin she hadn't seen often on his face. Not that she had met him often.

"Kreacher! Take our guest's luggage to her room!" Sirius bellowed. A grumbling house elf appeared right away, and started to take her trunk away. She thought she heard him mumble 'mudblood', but was not certain.

A short tour of the house later - or of the rooms already cleared of cursed objects, traps, and magical pests - she found herself alone with Harry and Ron in her guest room. "So, what have you been up to?" She asked while taking out her clothes and storing them in the armoire.

"I've been helping Sirius adjust to living free again," Harry answered, with a smile. She knew he'd not talk about his relatives much, so she didn't ask what he had been doing before that.

Ron shrugged. "Same old same old at home. Doing chores, flying… I've been visiting Harry as often as I could, as soon as their Floo connection was set up."

"And we've been visiting the Burrow as well," Harry added.

For a moment, Hermione felt jealous, though she had known that from their letters already. She suppressed that emotion by reminding herself of her vacation in France. "You wrote about that already." She folded her arms across her chest and looked at the two boys. "So, what's going on at the Ministry? About Voldemort?"

Ron flinched at hearing the name, which was expected. Harry winced, which was not a good sign. The two exchanged a glance, which was a worse sign. She gave them her best glare. "Spill it!"

"Appeasement," Harry spat out.

"What?"

"They're trying to avoid a war, and are trying to appease him," Harry explained.

Ron nodded. "A number of 'controversial' decrees and bills have been repealed. Dad's been livid since his muggle protection act was among them. The Minister said that it was 'needlessly provocative'."

Hermione gasped. "What? Are they crazy?"

Ron shrugged. "Hard to say. Dad said that the Ministry's been hiring more Aurors, but they've also been firing Aurors and other Employees. Some for violating new standards of conduct. Dad's been warned off from making waves, he said, by Dumbledore."

"What is Dumbledore doing, anyway?" Hermione asked.

Harry frowned. "I don't know. He's gathered his 'Order of the Phoenix', but that's all I know. Not even Sirius is telling me anything.

Ron nodded. "My parents too, but you know mum - she won't let us get involved."

Hermione felt relieved that at least the Headmaster was doing something against Voldemort. She sat down on her bed. "Have you bought your textbooks yet?"

"All but the one for Wizarding Customs," Harry answered.

"The Defense teacher is a brave wizard. With the curse on the position, and You-Know-Who's return… not many would risk teaching Defense." Ron shuddered.

"I've seen the note that the book for the new subject will be chosen later," Hermione said.

"Sounds like they haven't decided yet what will be taught," Ron said.

"That would be extremely unprofessional." She frowned.

"I've a brochure though, with some basic outlines," her friend said.

"What? Where did you get it?" Hermione stood up. Why had Ron received that, and she hadn't?

"It came with my badge. Apparently, prefects are supposed to uphold proper etiquette as well as the school rules," Ron said.

"You're a prefect?" Hermione blurted out before she could help it. She hadn't wanted to touch that topic yet; it was still a sore subject for her, but now…

He nodded, frowning. "Yes."

"I'm sorry," Hermione hastened to say, "I was just surprised."

"You haven't heard then," Harry said.

"Heard what?" she snapped. It was so frustrating, having to pull out every little scrap of information from her friends!

"They passed a new educational decree, making prefect a pureblood-only position," Ron said. "Do you think I would have been made prefect otherwise, with Harry in our year?" He scowled. "And Percy said that the only reason I was chosen as a prefect instead of Neville was that Dumbledore wanted to show his displeasure with the new decree."

Hermione knew that this was unfair, and that she needed to apologise, but all she could focus on right then was that limiting prefects to pureblood was a really, really bad sign.

For the first time in her life, she started to feel uneasy about returning to school.

*****​

London, King's Cross Railway Station, September 1st, 1995

For the first time in his life, Harry Potter had mixed feelings about returning to Hogwarts. The school still was the first place he had felt at home, but he had a real home now. And a real family. His godfather, Sirius, didn't have to hide from the law anymore, and had become his guardian.

"Come on, Harry, we're going to be too late to get a good compartment!" Ron shouted, pushing his trolley faster.

"And who's fault is that?" Hermione asked, frowning. Their friend had tried to get everyone ready to go at ten o'clock, together with Molly Weasley, but without success.

"It's always Sirius's fault, of course!" his best friend yelled over his shoulder, laughing. Harry blamed the twins, personally. They were still unloading their trunks from the car, under the watchful eyes of their parents. Since Ginny's trunk was stashed behind theirs, the youngest Weasley would be the last.

"Hey!" Harry's godfather protested, but he was grinning.

Harry would miss him at Hogwarts. He had spent the last months with Sirius in Grimmauld Place, getting spoiled rotten, if he was honest. But then, both Harry and Sirius had earned it, in his opinion. Sirius had spent 12 years in Azkaban, and Harry … he didn't want to think about his time with the Dursleys. Hopefully, the two weeks he had lived with them this Summer, until Sirius had been exonerated, would be the last time he had to see them.

The three entered Platform 9 ¾, which was filled with wizards and witches seeing their children off. Contrary to other years, there were more Aurors around though. A reminder of Voldemort's return. Like the Order members that had been following them discreetly.

Harry sighed. At least, he told himself, Sirius would be happy that he was safely at Hogwarts for the rest of the year. His godfather had said that often enough so Sirius might even believe it himself, Harry hoped.

*****​

Hogwarts Express, September 1st, 1995

Ron Weasley shook his head at the article he was reading. The Quibbler was as crazy as his mum had told him. 'Wrackspurt infection in the Wizengamot' - how did anyone come up with this? He chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Hermione asked, looking up from the book she was reading - 'The Wizard's Book to Etiquette', he believed. It had to be better than 'Etiquette for Witches', Ron thought. When Hermione had been reading that tome at Grimmauld Palace, she had exclaimed and even cursed regularly, and she had been in such a bad mood, even his mum had stepped lightly around her.

He held up The Quibbler. "A magazine published by our neighbour, Xenophilius Lovegood. His daughter is in Ginny's year, Ravenclaw. It's full of articles about animals no one knows. Lovegood claims they haven't been discovered or captured yet, but mum says they're all made up. Here, he claims that 'Wrackspurts' have infected the Wizengamot, causing all the new legislation to be warped." Ron chuckled.

Hermione didn't seem to see the humour. She frowned, even sneered. "That would be preferable to the Ministry becoming infected with Voldemort's ideology."

Ron shuddered at the name. He tried not to, but old habits die slowly, or so the saying went. He wished Hermione wouldn't be so bitter. He understood that she was disappointed that she hadn't been chosen as a prefect, but it wasn't the end of the world. Dumbledore would take care of it. Just as he had taken care of Sirius's Kiss on Sight order.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 1st, 1995

"And I remind everyone among us that no matter our origin, we are wizards and witches first and foremost."

Albus Dumbledore let his gaze wander over the Great Hall. Some students smiled at him, some avoided looking at him, some sneered, like Mister Malfoy. And, sadly, a lot of the Slytherins. He had expected that. Many of their parents were, if not outright supporters of Voldemort, then conservative enough to take offense at anyone questioning the status quo, as most muggleborns were wont to. And that stance was not limited to the parents of House Slytherin. The appeasement campaign the Ministry was leading was not helping, of course. Albus was working against it, but he had to step lightly - Voldemort's return from death had shaken Britain to its core. Tom's supporters were exploiting that, asking, in confidence and even openly, if the old Headmaster was strong enough to defeat an immortal Dark Lord. Words alone were not enough to counter this, Albus knew. Not with the lingering resentment in some influential circles about the egalitarian policies he had championed since Grindelwald's defeat. If they were at war, it would be different, he knew that. But with the Dark Lord hiding, and his mouthpieces and followers claiming they didn't want a war, there was not much the Headmaster could do to strengthen the backbone of those wizards and witches who were still opposing Voldemort's poison.

He couldn't even do as much as he wanted in his own school. Severus's cover depended on him appearing both useful and loyal to the Dark Lord. If Albus forced him to deal with the spreading bigotry in his house - a problem he had left fester far too long, the Headmaster knew - then that would throw doubts on Severus's ability to spy on Albus. But even if Severus was not hampered by his mission, there was another obstacle.

He glanced at the new teacher the Ministry had sent to him. 'The only one qualified to teach', Cornelius had claimed. It was even true - Dolores Umbridge had written the bill instating the new subject herself, and made certain that she was the only one qualified to teach it. He knew, of course, what her real goal was: Ensure that Hogwarts fell in line with the Ministry's policy of appeasement. He still had influence and friends in the Ministry. He did not know how exactly she was planning to do this, though. But he'd find out soon.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 4th, 1995

"Hello Students, welcome to Wizarding Customs."

The new course was taught by Dolores Umbridge, a witch in pink robes. Ron had told Hermione Granger that she was the Undersecretary of the Minister for Magic, and supposedly was teaching the course for a year to show how important it was. She also was said to be behind a lot of the changes to the Ministry's laws and decrees.

"We will be learning about our most valued traditions here. Most of you will have been taught about those already by your families, but there are always a few families who fail to teach their children good manners. And of course there are those among us who come from muggle families, and never had any chance to learn how to act in proper society. This course will remedy that - but only to a point. The ministry is well aware that to truly understand our traditions, you have to grow up in a proper family, but we'll do our best to teach you the basics."

Hermione raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss…" Umbridge trailed off.

"Granger, Professor," Hermione answered. She thought she saw a hint of distaste flicker over the woman's face, but the professor was quickly smiling, if a bit condescendingly.

"What is your question? Am I talking too quickly?"

A few of the Slytherins laughed. Hermione ignored them, with a bit of an effort. "Will the testing be taking those course aims you just stated into account?"

"Don't worry, you won't fail the exam if you study diligently and apply yourself."

Hermione heard more laughter from the Slytherins, and had to bite back a comment.

"Of course, for those from proper families, this should be an easy exam," the professor continued. "Now, open your books at page two, and start reading."

Hermione had read the textbook already. It wasn't written terribly well, but it was easy to read - even though the examples used every other page seemed to have come straight from the pages of some of those robe rippers Mrs Weasley claimed she did not read but Ginny said she did. Hermione had no problem with that. What she had a problem with was the subtle and not so subtle undertone in the examples, and the book. Muggles were not mentioned at all, and muggleborns only in menial positions. Or worse. And all the other books she had found showed a similar bias. It seemed as if they were written to teach muggleborns their place - serving purebloods.

She didn't like this, not at all.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 8th, 1995

"Granger! Casting spells in the hallways is forbidden!"

Hermione, on her way back from the library, turned around and faced Malfoy and Parkinson. Prefects Malfoy and Parkinson.

"I wasn't casting any spell," she said.

"Lying to a prefect? No wonder your kind were not deemed trustworthy enough to be prefects!" Malfoy sneered at her. "I saw you cast a spell. And Pansy did as well."

The sycophantic Slytherin witch nodded. She should really marry Malfoy, Hermione thought, the witch had the sneer down pat already.

"You must have imagined it then."

"You also show an appalling lack of proper respect for the authorities." Malfoy scoffed. "I'm certain a check of your wand will prove that you have cast a spell."

"Of course it will show that I have cast a spell! This is a school of magic, we cast spells in class!" Hermione huffed at the idiot, then saw him smile widely.

"Ah, so you admit it. Lying, lack of respect, and casting in the hallways. Appalling behaviour, but that's a mudblood for you. I'll inform Madam Umbridge." Malfoy laughed while Parkinson giggled.

Hermione gasped, then looked around. No one else was in the hallway. No one had witnessed the scene.

She swallowed what she wanted to say, and glared at the two Slytherins, then turned around and walked towards the teacher's quarters. She had to speak to Professor McGonagall!

*****​

Hermione was in luck. Her Head of House was in her office. She was even invited inside, and could tell her story. And that was where her luck ran out.

"There is nothing I can do there, Miss Granger. If two prefects claim you have been casting in the hallways…" The teacher looked like she had eaten something Hagrid had left out in stables for too long.

"Don't you believe me?" Hermione was shocked.

"Of course I believe you! But that is not enough to overturn the word of two prefects."

"Two pureblood prefects against a muggleborn? I guess not."

"Miss Granger!" The professor was glaring at her. "If you talk like this to Professor Umbridge, you will be in even worse trouble."

"Professor Umbridge?"

"She will be handling all the detentions and punishments of …" the witch hesitated.

"Of mudbloods?" Hermione said before she could control herself.

"Miss Granger!" McGonagall looked shocked.

Hermione looked down, but didn't say anything even though she knew the professor was waiting for an apology. Then she had a thought. "I can show you the memory! The Headmaster has a pensieve." Hermione knew that from Harry.

"He needs this for important work, Miss Granger." The way the old witch stressed work told Hermione that it was about Voldemort.

"It wouldn't take long, Professor! A few minutes, at most. You know that if they can do this once, then they will do it again. They can get anyone in trouble they don't like," Hermione said.

The Professor seemed to ponder this, then sighed. "Let's visit him then."

*****​

Donating a memory and watching it in the Headmaster's Pensieve was a fascinating experience. If seeing the whole incident again hadn't enraged her so much, she would have enjoyed it very much.

"Now you know I haven't been lying!"

"Yes, Miss Granger. And I will inform Madam Umbridge about this. But I fear your detention will not be overturned," the Headmaster said.

"What? Why not?" How could they do this?

"You were disrespectful to the two prefects, as the memory clearly shows," McGonagall said. She even sounded disappointed!

"But…" Hermione fought to keep her composure. To have been outmaneuvered like this by Malfoy and Parkinson…

"I do hope that this will keep them from lying about such things, but they will certainly try to provoke you again," Dumbledore said. "And I hope you will understand that my pensieve cannot be used all the time to clear up such accusations."

"Yes, sir. Will the two liars be punished as well then?"

"That is, sadly, up to Madam Umbridge." The Headmaster's tone told Hermione that they wouldn't be punished. "They'll do it again then," she said in a flat voice. And she wouldn't be able to use the Pensieve to prove her innocence again.

"I suggest you ask Mister Weasley to accompany you next time you would otherwise be alone. As a prefect, he will be able to vouch for you." Dumbledore smiled.

Had the Headmaster foreseen this, and this was why he had made Ron a prefect? Hermione couldn't tell. But even if this would help, it galled. "So, I will need a pureblood chaperone as a witness, to be able to escape abuse." She stiffened when she realised just how that sounded. And she felt a chill run down her spine when she realised that this was a very plausible threat too.

"I am working on resolving the situation, Miss Granger, but it will take time. Far more than your detentions are at risk here, as you know." The old wizard spread his hands in apology.

"Keep your head down until then," McGonagall added.

"So until then those Death Eater wannabes can abuse us with impunity. Voldemort would be proud."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione mumbled an apology she didn't really mean.

*****​

"Miss Granger?" Umbridge asked when she opened the door to her office. She didn't sound sweet anymore, or condescending. She sounded pleased. "Sit down!"

Hermione stepped inside. The room was decorated hideously with glaring pink plates with various motives, and framed pages taken from the 'Wizarding Customs' textbook. She sat down at the only desk there that had writing materials placed on it.

"Hand over your wand!"

The muggleborn witch hesitated just a second, then drew her wand and handed it over. Without it she felt vulnerable, weak, at the professor's mercy. Just what the woman had intended, she thought.

Professor Umbridge cleared her throat. "You've quite a history of infractions, Miss Granger." She studied a scroll of parchment. "Most of it covered up, or so I hear from respectable sources. But you ran out of luck today. Disrespect. Casting in the hallways. Lying to authorities."

"The two prefects are the ones lying, Professor. Professor McGonagall believes me." Hermione said, She knew she should have been quiet, but it was just too much.

"Two prefects, from proper, respected families, lying? About a habitual rule-breaker like yourself?" The witch scoffed. "You just added to your punishment. Your habitual rules-breaking ends now." She gestured to the parchment on Hermione's desk. "You will be writing 'I will not disrespect authority. I will not break rules.' 200 times.

Hermione blinked. Writing lines? She had expected something much worse. Snape's detentions were infamous, after all, and Umbridge seemed… she saw the glint in the woman's eyes, and fought not to shiver.

"There's no ink, ma'am."

"The quill gets its own ink, Miss Granger."

She found out quickly where the quill got its ink - each line she wrote felt as if it was carved into her flesh, written with her blood. There was no wound though, just the pain. No proof either, she realised.

Briefly she considered running out. But the witch had her wand, and she might be waiting for that, to make the punishment worse. Grinding her teeth, she wrote on, fighting back her tears, not wanting to give the witch the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

*****​

"How was your detention?" Ron asked when she made it back to the Gryffindor dorms. His tentative smile vanished when he saw her. Harry, standing next to him, drew a hissing breath. She must be looking as bad as she felt, Hermione thought. But her friends had waited for her return. It made her feel better.

"Horrible," she started to say. "I had to write lines with an enchanted quill that made it feel as if I was carving them in my own flesh. 200 lines," she added.

Ron stared at her, then set his jaw. "She can't do this!"

Harry nodded. "We'll tell the Headmaster."

"I doubt it'll help." She showed her hands. "See? No trace. No proof. It'll be 'the word of a respected teacher against a muggleborn rules-breaker'," she said, imitating Umbridge's voice. "Just as it was the word of 'two prefects, from proper, respected families' against mine," she added, not bothering to hide how bitter she was.

They sat down near the fireplace. Lavender, the other Gryffindor prefect, looked over to them, but a glance from Hermione had her vanish upstairs.

"I'll escort you from now on, like McGonagall said!" Ron declared.

"And I'll come with you as well." Harry nodded.

"Thank you." Hermione smiled. Her friends stood with her.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 29th, 1995

Another Educational Decree was displayed on the wall next to Umbridge's office. Hermione was on the way to read it, with Harry and Ron. The three hardly ever went anywhere alone anymore, not with Malfoy, Parkinson and the other Slytherin prefects just waiting to catch Hermione or Harry alone. Others, especially muggleborns, had learned the same lesson. Sally-Anne had had a nervous breakdown during her detention. The Hufflepuffs had closed ranks, but the Ravenclaws lacked such unity. Their muggleborns were suffering.

But those the Slytherin prefects missed, Umbridge often managed to provoke during her lessons. Justin Finch-Fletchley had taken one detention to learn to keep his head down. Hermione had, to her embarrassment, taken two until she had managed to bear the scorn and taunts from the Slytherins and the teacher, who barely bothered with hiding her sadistic glee. Seamus and Dean hadn't completely learned that lesson yet. Gryffindors to the core.

The three Gryffindors reached their goal. The board with the notices on it had been expanded, and the newest decree had been placed prominently in the center. Hermione read it, and couldn't believe her eyes.

"Only students who have achieved a passing grade at O.W.L. 'Wizarding Customs' will be eligible to sit their N.E.W.T.s?" She turned to Harry and Ron. "Do you know what that means?"

Ron looked confused, but Harry seemed to have an inkling. She didn't wait for them to understand it. "It means no one the Ministry dislikes will be able to take their N.E.W.T.s. They will not pass that exam. And you know who the Ministry doesn't like."

"But… that's Umbridge. The O.W.L.s have their own experts!" Ron said.

"It's a new course. Of course the Ministry gets to choose the expert for it. Just as they chose Umbridge." She didn't call that foul monster a teacher. Not unless she had to talk to the woman. Hermione had quickly learned to be as respectful as possible to that witch. Even if it made her madder than having to bow and scrape to Malfoy and Parkinson or suffer another detention for 'disrespect'.

"Dumbledore's working on it," Harry said. But he didn't sound very optimistic.

Hermione closed her eyes. This was a catastrophe. But somehow she feared that it was just the first step.

"That's insane! Why would they do that?" Ron asked.

Hermione looked at him, then at the door to Umbridge's office. She was supposed to have a lesson with the 6th years, but… "Let's move away."

She started explaining once they were on a different floor. "Don't you get it? Muggleborns are the 'concession' the Ministry is making to appease Voldemort. They think that if they do this, Voldemort will leave them in peace."

"But he won't! Dad said he killed as many purebloods as muggleborns or half-bloods in the war!" Ron shook his head almost violently. "He wants power more than anything."

"Of course he won't! But he won't do anything while the Ministry does his work for him. Each muggleborn gone, driven away, is one less supporter of the Ministry, once Voldemort attacks." Hermione ground her teeth.

"Dumbledore needs to stop that!" Ron exclaimed.

"I'm certain he's trying, but he's not achieving much, is he?" Hermione said. Privately, she had started to wonder why the Ministry was so quick to come down on muggleborns. They must have passed more decrees and laws in the last three months than in the previous three years.

She really had to take a closer look at those laws, she thought.

"But… if you can't pass that exam… will you be back next year? At Hogwarts?" Ron asked.

Both of her friends were staring at her.

"It only says I can't take the N.E.W.T.s, it doesn't ban me from attending school," Hermione answered. She even smiled, as confidently as she could, at her two best, maybe only friends. They looked relieved, and she felt guilty at not telling them that she expected another decree following this one, one that would stipulate that only those eligible to take N.E.W.T.s were allowed to attend Hogwarts for their 6th and 7th years. Probably giving the waste of gold as a reason.

Hermione hooked her arms through those of Harry and Ron, and tried not to think about the fact that she didn't expect to be at Hogwarts in a year. Not unless Dumbledore managed to do whatever he was working on.

And the longer that took, the less she thought of his chances of success.

And with what the Ministry was doing, in the name of appeasement, she started to doubt if she even wanted to return.

*****​

Hogwarts, October 15th, 1995

Hermione Granger had received the latest laws the Ministry had passed, courtesy of Sirius. She didn't know how he had acquired them, probably through an Auror member of Dumbledore's Order. His note had told her not to let anyone know she had them though, which was a bit worrying in itself. Not quite as worrying as the laws she had read, in the days since.

She leaned back in 'her spot' in the library, waiting for either Ron or Harry to appear so they could escort her back to the dorms without Malfoy accosting her. Again.

"Hey!"

Harry and Ron were approaching her table. She tried to smile at them, but her mood must have been obvious, since even Ron frowned and asked: "What's wrong? Did Malfoy do anything?" He hadn't dared to do anything in the library, not after Madam Pince had taken great offense to anyone accosting her favorite student.

For a moment, Hermione considered lying. Sirius had told her not to let anyone know about this. But Harry and Ron were her best friends. She wouldn't lie to them. She pointed at the parchment on the table. "It's those laws the Ministry passed."

"Oh?" The boys peered at them.

"What about them?" Harry asked.

Ron skimmed one. "Doesn't seem like it's something bad. Just a new bunch of rules."

She sighed. "It's in the details. Not many of them are openly discriminatory, but each has the potential to be abused. Easily." She pointed at the scroll he had in hand. "See there? The new hiring standards could easily be twisted to bar muggleborns. The tests for the existing staff members offer the same potential. There's no standard testing, so it all depends on whoever does the testing. Can you imagine Umbridge passing anyone she doesn't like? She just has to grill them on the intricacies of pureblood society until they make a mistake, no matter how tiny. Or," she added with grim expression, "she can invent a new 'tradition' just to make them fail."

The boys winced. Hermione was certain there was no 'specific way to hold a wand when receiving a flower bouquet after Yuletide', as Umbridge had claimed once when testing Hermione. She was also certain the witch knew that she knew that, and had done this just to show what Hermione had to look forward to, should she dare to aspire to anything as a muggleborn. Not that she could do anything against it - the kind of 'traditions' Umbridge was asking about were not written down anywhere, but taught to the pureblood children by their families. The young witch had ranted and vented for an hour after that debacle.

She took a deep breath, to the relief of her friends, and continued: "The new laws concerning businesses are less obvious, they mostly concern new standards for business with corresponding inspections, but the potential for abuse is there as well - it would be enough to simply be stricter with muggleborn-owned shops than with pureblood-owned. Or let it be known that those businesses who employed muggleborns in 'unsuitable' positions would face stricter and more frequent inspections."

Umbridge was fond of going on about suitable and unsuitable positions for the 'witches and wizards of various backgrounds'. And Hermione suspected that she thought the only suitable positions for mudbloods were as janitors, servants, or whores.

She looked at her two friends. "I just think that a Ministry where Umbridge is an Undersecretary will abuse those laws. Not to mention that they are requesting everyone to register their 'blood status'."

"They did that already," Ron pointed out. "Hogwarts does it too."

"Yes. So why make everyone do it again?" She paused a second, then went on: "They want to know where everyone lives and what they are doing."

"Isn't that a bit paranoid?" Harry asked, then winced at her glare.

"I think with Voldemort back, we all are not paranoid enough," she shot back, gathering her notes and scrolls. "Speaking of - I got those laws from Sirius, and he asked me not to tell anyone."

"But why would he ask that?" Ron blinked.

"Good question," Hermione smiled without any humour. "Why would he ask that of me?"

It was a very quiet trip back to the Gryffindor dorms. And Hermione hadn't even pointed out what she thought was a subtle change in the articles appearing in the Daily Prophet lately. In her impression, a growing number of articles included things that presented muggles and muggleborns in a bad light.

Or that she wondered if the Ministry, or Voldemort's followers were behind those laws - or if anyone would be able to tell the difference.

*****​

Hogwarts, November 10th, 1995

Dean Thomas's right hand was trembling but he didn't seem to notice, Hermione thought, watching her fellow Gryffindor, and fellow muggleborn, in the common room of their dorm. He was playing a muggle boardgame his mother had sent him with Seamus Finnigan, another frequent victim of Umbridge. The Irish student had a temper, and not as much self-control, and was probably the one Gryffindor that had had the most detentions with Umbridge. She hadn't seen much of Sally-Anne Perks. That witch spent a lot of time in her bed these days, with the curtains silenced, and when she was out of the dorms, she did her best to fade in the walls.

It wasn't just Malfoy and the other Slytherin prefects anymore who were 'reporting infractions' to Umbridge. Most of House Slytherin had started to do it, after Umbridge had emphasised 'the duty of all proper purebloods to keep an eye on the less cultured members of our society'. After that it had been open season on muggleborns. Or 'mudbloods', as many, even opportunists from other houses, called them openly now. Not in Gryffindor, at least. McLaggen had done so, once.

She saw Mary Smith sitting in a corner. The sixth year muggleborn had her wand in hand, and looked ready to hex anyone who looked at her wrongly. She had been largely responsible for McLaggen learning his lesson in tolerance and house unity. The witch saw Hermione looking at her, and nodded.

Hermione nodded back. She didn't fear any hexes from Mary. Muggleborns understood each other. Even across houses. Sometimes you didn't even need to speak, a nod or glance was enough. Getting persecuted by Umbridge had that effect. Most muggleborns had learned to keep their heads down by now, but that didn't mean they had accepted their treatment. Or forgotten. Hermione certainly hadn't. She had kept track of each detention. Each punishment. Each barb.

But as the muggleborns were finding unexpected common ground across the houses, so were the bigots finding support in the other houses. Hermione had stopped going to the teachers to complain. They too were keeping their heads down or so it seemed. And claimed that 'words don't hurt'. And the Headmaster was still 'working on it', as Harry had heard from Sirius and Ron from his dad.

Sometimes Hermione feared that Dumbledore would still be 'working on it' when the last muggleborn had been driven from Hogwarts.

*****​

Hogwarts, December 1st, 1995

Hermione had thought she knew what to expect. The new Daily Prophet headline proved her wrong: 'Muggleborn shop owner attacks Ministry Inspector, killed by Auror.' She quickly read the article. Apparently, Mel Fuller, owner of 'Fuller's Boots' in Diagon Alley, had failed a health inspection, and, in a rage, had attacked the inspector and her Auror guards, who killed him in self-defense.

She snorted. It could be true, of course, but she doubted it. A Health Inspector failing a bootmaker shop? The shop owner attacking at least three people, two of them trained Aurors? And he was killed in self-defense, instead of stunned? As if! She shook her head. That was simply too implausible.

But, she noticed, looking around, at least half the students seemed to believe it, judging by the amount of 'mudblood criminal' she heard. And judging by the glares from the muggleborns - by now she knew every muggleborn at school on sight - some were taking offense.

She glanced at Mary. Her fellow Gryffindor had been even more eager to start a fight lately, but today she seemed to be controlling herself. Gryffindor's table should be alright then. The Hufflepuffs wouldn't start anything either, but the Ravenclaws…

She almost winced when she saw spells fly. She relaxed a bit when she saw that Allan Becket was involved. The 7th year Ravenclaw was quick with his wand, and had a sharp tongue, but he generally was smart enough to let the pureblood bigot he clashed with make the first move. Flitwick broke the fight up before Umbridge could meddle, Hermione saw, and that seemed to have cooled tempers, somewhat.

Seemed. Hermione was asking herself, not for the first time, just how much influence Voldemort had at the Ministry already. If muggleborns were now getting killed in their shops by Aurors… She stiffened when she had another thought. What if those muggleborns were attacking, but under the Imperius? All the Death Eaters had to do to poison the public opinion further against muggleborn was to make a few of them attack purebloods.

*****​

Diagon Alley, December 23rd, 1995

'Don't buy from mudbloods!'

Hermione stared at the words, painted on the wall in Diagon Alley. She felt as if she had been punched into the gut. It wasn't just the words, no matter how much they made her think of another country, in another time. It was that they were still there. Dry. Dozens of passersby had walked past that wall, and no one had done anything.

Either they agreed with the words, or everyone who cared was too afraid to do anything. Too busy keeping their head down. She was very glad that she was wearing robes, instead of muggle clothes, right now. She hadn't seen anyone in muggle clothes during her trip to Diagon Alley, she remembered. She wasn't in Britain anymore, she realised. She was in another country. A country where such ugly, hateful words could be written on a public wall, and no one batted an eye. A country she didn't want to be part of.

"Kauft nicht bei Juden," she mumbled, walking away. When she was at the next corner, she turned around and drew her wand.

"Scourgify!"

Her spell wiped away the words, and much of the grime on the wall, leaving a shiny patch of clean bricks and mortar surrounded by filth.

A fitting image, she thought.

But the small amount of satisfaction this granted her couldn't push away the dread she was feeling. She knew where this country was headed. Voldemort had made his plans clear, and if the Ministry continued with their 'appeasement', he wouldn't have to do much to take over Wizarding Britain and finish it.

She had to do something. No one else was doing anything, and she wouldn't let history repeat itself.

She had to study, harder than ever in her life. And she had to talk to her parents.

*****​

London, King's Cross Railway Station, January 12th, 1996

"Hermione! I'm so sorry! The Headmaster has to do something about this!"

Hermione Granger stared at Harry, not certain what he was talking about, Had she missed something?

Ron, closing the compartment door behind them - even when staying at Sirius's house they were almost late, Hermione thought - kept her from asking. "The new Educational Decree! If you do not pass the 'Wizarding Customs' test you're not allowed to go to Hogwarts after your O.W.L.s!"

"Oh, that."

"'Oh that'?" Ron stared at her. Is that all you have to say?

Hermione sighed. "I expected that, months ago." She had much bigger problems than this, anyway.

"And you didn't tell us?" Harry sounded as hurt as Ron was looking.

She shrugged. "Compared to what's going on in Britain, that's not really important."

"Not really important? Are you sick?"

Ron tried to put his hand on her forehead. She slapped it away. Then she noticed that Harry was staring at her, and had his wand ready.

She rolled her eyes. "Dear Lord. I'm not under a spell, and I'm Hermione, not a polyjuiced impostor. Ask me anything!"

The resulting grilling took a while - almost long enough so the effect of a Polyjuice potion would have ended anyway - but her best friends finally were convinced she was their friend. Apparently, Mad-Eye Moody had been staying at Sirius's as well.

"So, why aren't you, you know, more worked up about this?" Harry asked.

"Yes. It means you won't be with us at Hogwarts next year!" Ron looked as if he was worked up enough for three of them.

"I told you, I expected this. And compared to what I saw in Diagon Alley, it's really nothing."

"What?"

"There were calls not to buy from muggleborns, written on the walls," Hermione said. Harry hissed, but Ron looked puzzled, so she added: "That's how the Holocaust started, in Germany."

Of course, she had to explain what the Holocaust was.

"But… that's insane, Hermione! That would never happen in Britain!" Ron protested, after a short but detailed introduction to the Shoa.

"Really?" Hermione stared at him. "The Ministry is driving us away. Out of the school, out of business, out of sight. All in the name of appeasing Voldemort. Who wants to kill us all." She leaned forward. "Do you think the Aurors will lift a finger to protect us, after they enforced those new laws? Half of them will probably help him!"

"But… the Headmaster won't let them do that!" Ron stared at her, desperation plain written on his face.

"He hasn't stopped them yet."

Hermione leaned back, folding her arms.

"What can we do?" Harry asked. Ron nodded.

"You can't do much. Don't tell anyone, but I've spoken with my parents. They're preparing to move." And hadn't that been a fun discussion. If her parents knew what else she was planning, it would have been even worse. But she was a Gryffindor because she was braver than she was smart - and she was the smartest witch at Hogwarts.

Her friends looked dejected, and she patted Harry's thigh. "It's not yet the end of the school year. Maybe the Headmaster will come through." She didn't expect it. She hadn't been at Grimmauld Place over the holiday, her preparations had taken priority, but she had written to both of them, and Harry had told her he was studying Occlumency - though the lessons he had received from Snape had sounded far more painful than the exercises she had found in a book from Knockturn Alley. She'd thought about giving him a copy, but that would mean Snape would find out during his next lesson". Hermione didn't want to risk that.

And hadn't that been telling, that she had felt safer in Knockturn Alley than in Diagon Alley?

*****​

Hogwarts, January 19th, 1996

The ongoing persecution of muggleborns had one advantage, Hermione thought, watching the students file into the abandoned classroom she had prepared. No one would miss them, since everyone was used to them trying to stay out of sight. She glanced at the Marauder's Map. No one was trailing the last stragglers either. She would have felt guilty at asking Harry to borrow the map, and to help create a diversion, if needed, if not for the importance of this meeting.

When the door had closed behind Colin Creevey, Hermione stood up from the desk the room had created for her, and stepped on the small platform in front of it.

"Welcome," she said, then waited until the whispering died down.

"I'm glad so many of us found the way to this room. We're here because we're all in danger. In greater danger than some of us might have realised."

"What do you mean?" Colin Creevey asked. "And why is Harry not here?"

"Harry is not here because he's ready to distract the prefects," Hermione said. And, she added to herself, because this was a meeting of muggleborns. Harry, despite his upbringing, was not facing the same problems as they were.

"But as to the danger we face," she continued. "Have you been to Diagon Alley lately? Have you seen the laws passed by the Wizengamot? The decrees by the Ministry? The articles in the Daily Prophet?"

The murmurs more or less agreed with her, she saw. But not many of them had understood what was coming. Allan had, she was certain - his expression was grim. Mary too, she thought. And Dean of course, who was nodding, with Seamus. Both had a special perspective.

She took a deep breath. "Does all this, the calls to boycott muggleborns, the articles about muggleborns 'killed while resisting arrest', the purges at the Ministry, remind you of something?"

Again Allan nodded, but most looked confused. She flicked her wand and ended the Disillusionment Charm she had cast on the board behind her, and gasps and shouts filled the room when the assembled muggleborn students saw her presentation. On the left side, she had listed the laws and decrees and calls she had seen in Wizarding Britain. On the right side, she had copied the historical documents from Germany in the 1930s. Voldemort was facing Hitler at the top.

"Do you see where this is leading? How it will end?"

Colin was trembling now, his brother was crying. Allan looked grim, as did Mary, Seamus and Dean. Many others were cursing.

"They already know where we live. Where our families live. They have taken steps to ensure we'll not get a higher education, keeping us weak. The Minister's own Undersecretary has been torturing us, trying to break us. They have fired our Aurors. With each day, we grow weaker, and they grow stronger."

She paused trying to meet everyone's eyes.

"Until Voldemort strikes, and the Ministry looks away - or helps him - while he slaughters us and our families." She flicked her wand, and a map of Magical Europe appeared. "If you think about leaving Britain, think again - the other countries don't like muggleborns either." At least not the average muggleborn. Hermione could probably get a place at Beauxbatons thanks to her talent, but she'd be one of very few, and she'd not just the mudblood, but the foreigner as well. Durmstrang didn't even let their own mudbloods attend. And her friends and fellow muggleborns would be left in Britain.

"But Dumbledore! He can save us!"

She didn't know who had said that - probably a Hufflepuff. But she scoffed in return. "He will save us, just as he has been saving us from Slytherins and other bigots? Just as he has been saving us from Umbridge?"

"No!" she shouted over the increasing volume of whispers and curses, "We need to stop them! We need to save our families!"

"How?" Allan spoke, for the first time. "How can we achieve what apparently not even Dumbledore can do?" He sounded sceptical, but his eyes told another story. He had understood, she knew.

"Dumbledore is a wizard, born and raised in Wizarding Britain. Over a century ago. We're different. We're muggleborns. We've been born and raised in the real world. We know things the purebloods have no idea about. They don't even know what electricity is!" She scoffed. "Their idea of war is a bunch of wizards casting spells at each other. That works against other wizards, or against outnumbered, helpless and surprised muggles."

The room was silent now. She lowered her voice slightly. "But we know how a real war is fought. A civil war." She nodded at Seamus. "We can use magic, and we can and will use technology. When they come for us, we won't let them slaughter us like animals. We will teach those bigoted bastards what war means." She snarled the last words through clenched teeth while the other muggleborns shouted their agreement.

When the students had fallen silent again, Hermione smiled. "And now, let's start preparing for war. We've got a lot to cover."

Seamus and Dean made a show of groaning, but they were smiling, if grimly.

"But first," Hermione said, holding up a parchment, "We'll ensure that no one of us can betray the others."

*****​

The rest of the meeting was spent organising a training schedule - Kingsley was a good DADA teacher, but every one of them would need to be able to apparate if they wanted to escape Death Eaters, or attack them. They had to prepare plans to protect and evacuate their families. Changing addresses would hopefully be enough for most - their parents didn't have to register, after all, being muggles. They'd have to find a way to contact the older muggleborns, especially the former Aurors and Hit-Wizards. They needed addresses, and contacts.

And they'd have to learn how to fight like a resistance, like guerillas. They needed resources. Wands without the trace. Muggle supplies. They needed to learn how to make bombs, how to get weapons - for their families, and for themselves.

Hermione had planned this for weeks, and had answers for a lot of questions, but not for all of them. Fortunately, she was no longer alone. There were others who knew the answers she was missing. Or, like Seamus, knew people who could help them.

The Muggleborn Resistance had been formed.

*****​

Hogwarts, February 4th, 1996

Harry Potter felt at peace, for the first time in days. He was flying in the sky above Hogwarts, alone. And he had no torture session with Snape in the evening. He had had one last night, and would have another tomorrow, but today he was free. Free of the pain and anger that was the inevitable result of those git's 'lessons'.

He flew over the Black Lake, and executed a Wronski Feint. Cutting it a bit too close - the tips of his shoes dipped into the water when he pulled out of the dive. He loved it. If Hermione saw him, she'd have a fit. He chuckled, then grew serious again.

If Harry was suffering from nightmares caused by his connection to Voldemort, which Snape's torture didn't seem to help against, Hermione was suffering from torture sessions by that bitch Umbridge. She wasn't the only one, but she was his best friend, apart from Ron. Harry wished he could help her. But short of killing another teacher, he couldn't do much. Dumbledore had been quite clear on that - the Ministry wouldn't take interference well, and things were apparently 'too delicate' right now to risk a confrontation. The Headmaster claimed he had a plan, but refused to share details, and each time Harry saw Hermione walk back from a detention, cradling her hand and trying not to show her pain, he lost a bit more confidence in Dumbledore.

And each time he saw her like that, hurt and vulnerable, he wanted to hug her and console her, and maybe something more. His relationship, if he could call it that, with Cho wasn't going anywhere. She was still hung up on Cedric, and while Harry couldn't fault her for that, he really didn't want to serve as a hug pillow, as Ron called it, for a witch in mourning. Not to mention that Cho didn't get along well with Hermione.

And if he had to choose between Cho and Hermione, well… it wasn't a choice, not really. He'd do anything to help her. So would Ron, Harry knew - they had an understanding. In that, at least.

*****​

Hogwarts, February 25th, 1996

Hermione closed 'On Guerrilla Warfare', disguised as a tome on magical plants. Mao had been successful, but not all of his lessons were applicable to the situation of the muggleborns. Though his advice on hiding among the population… that fit right in. The wizards would have trouble finding a muggleborn among the muggles. She looked at the next book on her pile. She had taken a lot of books, magical and mundane, with her. Including documentation on a number of the latest terrorist attacks. One of those, the one in Oklahoma, stood out - that one had not been done with commercial explosives.

Apparition training was going well, for the older students at least. Allan was not the best teacher, but he understood the matter perfectly, and he could deal with any accidents. She made a note to prepare more potions, and learn healing spells. That would mean another trip to Knockturn Alley over Easter.

The door to the common room opened, and Harry stumbled inside. He looked like hell warmed over, as Dean would say. She was up and at his side in a heartbeat, holding out a pain relief potion.

Her friend nodded gratefully and gulped it down. "Snape's killing me with his lessons."

"Do they at least help with the nightmares?" She had researched the matter, and while Snape's method was said to be the quickest to learn Occlumency, it was also the most painful - and most prone to failure. And the only one that let the instructor enter the student's mind. Which was the reason she hadn't told her friends about the Muggleborn Resistance. Or not what it really was. Ron and Harry thought it was a support group for muggleborns. Maybe. She was aware that they knew her too well and might suspect she was doing something more than exchanging advice with fellow muggleborns.

"Somewhat," Harry said. "Ron still on patrol?"

"He's still with Lavender," Hermione said. Probably on patrol, unless the girl had made her move, as she had heard Parvati calling it, one evening the other two girls had thought she was already asleep behind the curtains of her bed.

"Ah." Harry didn't say anything. His own pursuit of Cho had ended in dismal failure. She would have told him that, if she had thought it would do any good.

"Come on, let's sit down and wait for Ron."

"How's your hand?"

"It's fine," Hermione answered. Malfoy had managed to get her into detention yesterday. It had been painful, but Hermione had found some consolation in the knowledge that while Umbridge tried to break the Muggleborns, they were growing closer, and more prepared for the coming conflict. The worse that sadist treated them, the more determined the muggleborns grew.

The two made some idle chat - a welcome relief from the lingering pain of Snape's lesson for Harry, and a distraction from her planning she knew she needed for Hermione - until Ron and Lavender returned. Hermione was about to subtly check them for telltales of making out, but Lavender's frustrated expression and curt 'good night' told her all she needed to know.

Ron sat down in the seat next to them, sighing.

"Bad patrol?" Harry asked.

Ron shook his head. "No. Yes. I don't know. Lavender is …"

"Lavender is?" Hermione asked, curious despite herself.

"Well, I'd rather be patrolling with you."

"You would?" Hermione was surprised. She would have expected her friend to be happy to patrol with a pretty witch who didn't take rules as seriously as Hermione used to.

Ron nodded.

"Even though I'd make you work much harder in her place?" Hermione said, half-teasing.

"Well… maybe?" Ron grinned, and the three laughed.

For the rest of the evening, Hermione felt as things were back to how they had been. Though she didn't know if Ron wanting to patrol with her meant something, or not.

*****​

Hogwarts, March 4th, 1996

"Are you listening to me?" Lavender Brown asked.

Ron Weasley looked at his fellow prefect. She was pouting. He smiled, and tried to sound as sincere as he could. "Of course. Just checking if there's someone lurking around. I think I heard something."

He hadn't been listening to Lavender. He had been thinking. About his friends. They were not doing well. Harry was having frequent nightmares, despite - or, Ron thought, because - Snape's lessons in Occlumency. Hermione had said the method Snape had chosen to teach Harry was the quickest, but not the most successful. To think Voldemort - he could think the name now, though saying it still was a bit difficult - could invade Harry's dreams to torment him… he shuddered.

"Are you cold?" Lavender asked, stepping closer to him.

"No, no. I just remembered the last Potions lesson."

That made the witch shudder, and stop trying to wrap her arm around him. Ron was relieved. He didn't dislike the witch. It was even flattering that she was obviously interested in him. But he wasn't interested in her. Not in being her boyfriend, at least. And he was not the type of wizard to use a witch who liked him. Mum had raised him better than that, and Hermione would be furious at him if she found out. And disappointed.

And he really didn't want to disappoint Hermione. The poor girl was suffering. Ron felt enraged just thinking at what she was enduring from those Slytherin slimebags, and that ugly toad. He wanted to help her, prove he was a good friend, be there for her, but… she wouldn't let him, not much. She had become rather closed-off, lately. Moodier than Harry, even. And she spent more time with the other muggleborns than with Ron and Harry. He didn't like that, even though he understood she needed to.

His friend wasn't one to tolerate injustice. Or what she saw as it. Buckbeak, house elves, Sirius… she had thrown herself into helping them, no matter if they wanted it or not. At least the muggleborns wanted her help. Whatever kind of help she was giving them.

He wasn't dumb. Hermione was brilliant, but scary, and he knew her well enough to know that she was doing more than holding hands and consoling students. He just didn't know how much more she was doing. And he didn't know if he wanted to know.

But he was jealous anyway. She was his best female friend, after all. And he didn't want to lose her. Not when he was not certain if she might be more than that.

*****​

London, No 12, Grimmauld Place, April 4th, 1996

"Hermione, what a surprise! You should have called ahead though, Harry's off visiting Ron at the Burrow."

Hermione Granger nodded. "I know, Sirius. I'm here for you." They had told her their plans, after all.

Sirius flashed her an exaggerated smile. "Why, Miss Granger, that's quite daring of you! I knew you'd not be able to resist me forever!" He waved her inside, laughing when she rolled her eyes at him.

Inside the entrance hall, Kreacher was waiting, scowling. "Mudbloods in the halls of the Black's ancestral house! What a shame! To have them dirty up those floOOOF."

The foul little cretin smashed into the wall hiding the portrait of Sirius's mother, with permanent Silencing Spells on every brick around her. Hermione lowered her wand and stepped closer, crouching down next to the stunned elf.

"Call me 'mudblood' once again, and I'll petrify you, and then donate you to a muggle garden, do you understand?" she snarled at him. When he didn't answer at once, she dug her wand into his throat. "Do you understand?"

The house elf nodded shakily. Satisfied, she stood up. Sirius was staring at her, and she blushed a bit. "I'm sorry, but… too many have called me mudblood this year." She should feel guilty for hexing the poor house elf who didn't know better, but she didn't. Kreacher should know better too.

Sirius waved her apology away. "Don't worry, he had it coming. Remind me not to tease you though." More seriously, he asked: "Are things really that bad?"

Hermione snorted. "Worse. That's why I'm here."

"And that's why you came when Harry was with Ron?"

She nodded. "They have their own troubles, with those sadistic lessons for Harry, and Ron's family…" she trailed off. Everyone knew that Ron's father had been demoted because he liked muggles, even though the official reason didn't state so.

Sirius nodded, and led her to the salon. They sat down and the older wizard summoned two bottles of butterbeer. No glasses, but Hermione wasn't complaining.

"So, what do you need an old wizard who has just recovered from more than a decade in prison for?" He asked while toasting her.

"Money. Gold," Hermione said.

That made him blink. "Err…"

"I'll need your word that you will not tell this to anyone, before I can explain," she added.

Sirius hesitated. "That sounds dangerous."

She nodded. He would cave in, she knew that. Besides, he owed her for saving his life, in their third year.

After a bit, he nodded. "You have my word. Now spill!"

And Hermione explained about the Muggleborn Resistance. Not everything, of course. But enough so he'd know what the gold would be used for. Buying wands on the black market. Securing safe houses. Acquiring supplies, for potions and other things. Relocating families.

He listened, both bottles empty before she stopped. She was certain he'd agree - the Blacks were among the richest families in Britain, and he had spent half the sum she needed, according to her estimates, on Harry's firebolt.

"That's not all you need the gold for though, right?"

He was also smarter than he liked to appear, she reminded herself. She nodded. "Yes. I'm also planning to strike at the enemy."

"The Death Eaters?" He asked, his eyes not leaving hers.

"Anyone who wants to see muggleborns dead," she answered, meeting his gaze without flinching.

After a few moments, he nodded. "Can't say I don't understand, after Azkaban." He stood up. "I'll fetch the gold. Do you need an enchanted purse as well?"

"Two or three, if possible," she said at once - those could be used for other purposes as well.

He grinned. "I'll be right back."

Hermione smiled, relieved. Now she just had to start acquiring those supplies. Though she had a feeling that Sirius might be able to help her there as well. He had, according to himself, had a misspent youth, after all.

*****​

Hogwarts, April 28th, 1996

"You never learn, do you, Miss Granger? You keep breaking rules. It's a habit for you, isn't it? Not that this should surprise me, given your unfortunate origin. Blood will tell."

Hermione Granger stared at the ground, avoiding the gaze of the bigoted sadist masquerading as a teacher. Umbridge had stepped up her efforts after the Easter break. The witch had at least one student in detention each evening. Sally-Anne had spent two nights crying after her detention, and the girl hadn't done anything. Just like Hermione - 'disrespecting authority' apparently now meant not moving fast enough to the side when purebloods came along, even though she had been in a hallway wide enough for everyone to pass, with room to spare for a whole column. If the Weasley twins had not stepped up their undeclared prank war against the Slytherins, Hermione was certain someone would have lost it, and killed one of the snakes or other bigots by now. Dumbledore had to know that as well - he had personally taken over the twins' punishment, if you could call sitting in his office and listening to tales of his life that.

"Answer me!"

"Yes, Madam Umbridge," Hermione said, forcing herself not to let her anger show.

"A hundred lines! Maybe then you will learn."

She gripped the quill with a trembling hand and started writing, hissing with pain as she felt a blade cut in her flesh. They had tried everything to beat the quill. Numbing the hand before the detention didn't help. Invisible gloves didn't help. Lotions didn't help. Hermione was certain that the quill used a variant of the Torture Curse, since nothing could stop the pain, or relieve it afterwards. She had told McGonagall, and Shacklebolt, but nothing had been done.

While she tried to ignore the pain, she glanced at the witch. Umbridge was smiling widely. She was a sadist, Hermione realised. No matter what she or anyone else would do, that monster would keep torturing them. She hated that woman so much, if she had had her wand on her, she'd have hexed her and damn the consequences.

Umbridge would pay for her crimes, the young witch swore.

*****​

Hogwarts, June 1st, 1996

'Dumbledore duels You-Know-Who in Ministry!'

When Hermione Granger saw that headline on the Daily Prophet an owl had dropped off at the table in the Great Hall during breakfast, she immediately looked at her best friends, which were just arriving. "Did you know about this?" Both looked tired, and for a moment Hermione wondered if they had been involved. Without her.

Both looked guilty.

"Sirius told me late last night," Harry admitted. Through his communication mirror, no doubt. "The Order fought the Death Eaters there."

"Harry told me. I needed to know about my family," Ron added. His two eldest brothers were in the Order as well. "You were already asleep."

Hermione huffed, but she couldn't exactly encourage them to try to get to her when she was in bed, could she? She read the article. It was light on information, and heavy on speculation. Dumbledore claimed it had been an attempt to take over the Ministry. An attack. Fudge was calling every wizard and witch to remain calm until the situation was resolved - and claimed it was under control.

"I've been dreaming of him, you know," Harry whispered.

"Yes," said both Hermione and Ron.

"I saw him last night. In the Ministry. But not in the atrium. In a hallway, with a massive door at the end."

So much for the Occlumency lessons, Hermione thought. She would send him a copy of her own training plan and instruction manual, even if it would take him longer.

"Do you think this means we're at war with Voldemort now?" Ron sounded hopeful.

"Maybe," Harry ventured.

"It's too early to tell, I think." Hermione felt hope. If Dumbledore had saved the Ministry, or had managed to make them believe that, then those awful laws could be repealed. She would be able to return to Hogwarts next year. Be with her best friends.

It wouldn't be as before though. Too much had happened. Too many students had been revealed as bigots. Too much harm had been done. At Hogwarts, and in Wizarding Britain. She'd never be able to trust that Ministry again. Not after this year.

If the laws and decrees were repealed. The O.W.L.s would start next week.

*****​

Hogwarts, June 9th, 1996

Hermione Granger left the examination room with her head held high and an expression on her face that sent anyone nearby seeking cover. Anyone but Ron and Harry, and even her two friends hesitated just a second before approaching her.

But they did approach her, hug her, and tried to console her. They didn't need to ask how the Wizarding Customs exam had gone.

"Don't worry. Dumbledore will have the laws repealed over Summer. We'll all be together next year!" Ron said. He didn't sound that convincing though. Or convinced.

Hermione snorted. "They're still debating who attacked the Ministry. Malfoy's cronies claim that it was a trap for the Dark Lord." Which she strongly suspected was true. "I doubt they'll get around to repeal the anti-muggleborn laws until they finally admit that Voldemort is an enemy." And that, she suspected, would take a long time.

They passed Malfoy and his cronies, and Hermione did her best to not react to their taunts. Even if she had to clench her jaws together so hard, it started to hurt. And Harry had to restrain Ron from hexing the bigot.

They didn't go far. Harry and Ron still had to take their exam. But they stepped around the corner, out of sight of the other students.

"I expected that," she said, leaning against the wall. "I told you so, right when Umbridge managed to stay at the school."

"She'll be gone next year. She's apparently 'urgently needed' at the Ministry again," Ron spat.

"Your dad's demotion wasn't reversed either, was it?" Hermione looked at her friend.

"No. Dad says they have more important things to worry about than his career."

"It sounds as if a lot of 'not so important' things are getting sacrificed, while nothing 'important' is gained." She took a deep breath. "I'll be fine. You have your exams still ahead. Don't let Malfoy unnerve you."

"They could make us fail as well," Harry said, looking morose.

"The Boy-Who-Lived and a Weasley? No one would believe that. Or accept it." Even though Harry knew far less about Wizarding Customs than herself.

Her two friends looked away, probably feeling guilty for not having been born to muggles. She patted them on their shoulders. "Come on, go and blow them away! Do it for me!"

They'd be much safer at Hogwarts, Hermione knew, in the months to come.

She watched them go back to the waiting area, smiling. Then she turned around and started towards the Gryffindor dorms.

A voice coming from a dark alcove stopped her. "Failed?"

It was Allan. "As expected," she said, glancing at him.

"So, nothing has been changed." He sounded almost happy.

She shook her head. Dumbledore had wanted to start a war against Voldemort, had he? They'd give him what he wanted.

*****​

Hogwarts, June 16th, 1996

Dolores Umbridge was smiling when she entered her office. The year teaching those stupid children was finally over. If she had known how much work it took to make the mudbloods behave and obey their betters… she sighed. If the mudbloods acted uppity, it would provoke those among the purebloods with less patience, and might even start the war everyone wanted to avoid. Even the mudbloods were subjects of Wizarding Britain, after all, and you could only overlook so much before the power of the Ministry was threatened.

It had been hard, but someone had had to do it, and she had been the best choice. And, Merlin!, she had done it, for Cornelius, and for Britain. She hadn't been completely successful. Some mudbloods still hadn't learned their place, like that Granger girl. Malfoy had warned Dolores that the girl had no respect at all for tradition or purebloods - although the son of Lucius Malfoy wasn't the best source for unbiased information, and had clearly wanted to ingratiate himself with her. But Snape had warned her as well, had told her that the girl was a habitual trouble-maker, breaking rules, flaunting them, and was protected by McGonagall and Dumbledore. And Snape was Dumbledore's man. To tell her this meant that the girl was even worse. But now she was gone, from Hogwarts at least. She wouldn't ever set foot into those halls again, not as long as Dolores had a say in who took the exams for 'Wizarding Customs'.

"Petrificus Totalus."

The curse hit her before she realised what was happening. Stiff as a board, she fell down.

She tried to see who had dared to curse her, but she only saw the floor. Then she heard footsteps coming closer.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

She was levitated, no, her robe was, pulling her up, and she was floating towards her quarters, behind her office. Someone had covered the floor with a weird transparent material, she saw, before she was dropped on it, and not too gently.

"Good evening, Madam Umbridge."

She couldn't place the voice. Male, none of the teachers… a student! Attacking a teacher! Dolores couldn't believe it. That criminal would pay! Azkaban at least!

"I've taken the liberty to prepare your room. Wouldn't want the furniture to get dirty, would we?"

What was he talking about? Dolores started to get more worried than angry. This didn't look like a prank, or even… no!

Something metallic hit the floor next to her head. She could see it if she glanced to the side, it looked like some metal piece on a stick.

"I don't think you recognise this. It's a golf club. A piece of muggle sporting equipment. It used to be your favorite quill, by the way." The 'club' was pulled out of her sight.

"You've spent a year torturing all of us. Today you pay."

He was a mudblood! Dolores wanted to yell, to scream for help, to flee. She couldn't. She was helpless.

"They'll never find your body."

Then the blows started.

*****​

Hogwarts, June 17th, 1996

Hermione Granger looked over the Great Hall during breakfast, feeling both sad and angry. She was leaving Hogwarts for the last time today. She looked at the Slytherin table, where Malfoy and his cronies - most of the table - were sneering at her. They thought they had won.

They were wrong. She would study on her own. So would the other muggleborns. If Wizarding Britain didn't want them, then they'd create a society of their own. And they would be ready if the purebloods took offense at that. More than ready.

She looked at the staff table. Umbridge was not present, she noted. That was unusual; she would have expected the toad to be there to gloat. At least her last meal at Hogwarts wouldn't be spoiled further by that sadist bigot's presence. It was just a small consolation though. The witch glanced at the Ravenclaw table. Allan was sitting there.

He met her eyes and smiled.

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 2: The Fugitive

'Historians still debate whether the Dark Lord truly attempted to raid the Ministry on May 31st, 1996. While there is no doubt that he used the 'Year of Appeasement' to build up his forces, this act seems premature. His influence both in the Wizengamot as well as in key departments had grown considerably during that year. A 'peaceful takeover' had become very likely. Only a very reckless wizard - which the Dark Lord wasn't - would have jeopardized that by breaking into the Ministry. So why did he break in at night? Why did he fight Dumbledore? And why was Dumbledore present? All we know is that Dumbledore 'expected this', as he stated in the Wizengamot's emergency session. Following that famous duel, the opinion in the Wizengamot shifted, and the appeasement policy of Minister Fudge lost crucial supporters. If not for the controversy about the disappearance of Dolores Umbridge from Hogwarts a few weeks later, the appeasement policy as well as the muggleborn laws might have been repealed completely.
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

Hogwarts, June 17th, 1996

Albus Dumbledore stood at the window in his office and watched the students leave his school and board the carriages that would take them down to the train station in Hogsmeade. Usually, he'd smile at the sight of children returning to their families after a year at Hogwarts. Not today though. He had too much on his mind. Too much worry about. Too many of the children in the yard below him were facing an uncertain, even dangerous future.

After Tom had fallen for his trap two weeks ago, he had been certain that he could turn the Ministry around. The Dark Lord, breaking into the Ministry, trying to plunder the vaults of the Department of Mysteries, showing his true colours… it had been a perfect setup.

And yet it had failed. Not completely, no. Too many Wizengamot members took offense at such a crass, crude display of contempt for the Ministry for that. The increase in Aurors and Hit-Wizards he and Amelia had fought for had finally been granted. But the repealing of the muggleborn laws he had hoped for had not happened. Lucius was blocking his efforts with proposals for even stricter laws, to 'preserve order in these confusing times'. Albus had underestimated the number of bigots who would rather see the Dark Lord grow in power than restore the rights of muggleborns taken away by Cornelius's policies. He shouldn't have, Albus thought. In hindsight, it was obvious just how deep the rot went, just how many wizards and witches truly believed the lies of blood purity. The ease with which the new laws had been accepted. The eager compliance many showed when presented with the new rules. The hatred shown, on the streets, in the Ministry, and even at Hogwarts.

He had been blinded by his faith in people, and his need to keep up the spirits of his friends might have led to him lying to himself, partially. And his own vanity, of course - he had not wanted to admit that he had so little to show for, after decades in the Wizengamot. That despite his reputation and influence, he had not succeeded in changing the hearts and minds of the purebloods.

Sometimes Albus wondered if Britain was a country worth defending anymore. He was certain that most of the Wizengamot were in favour of a harder stance against the Dark Lord now not because it was the right thing to do, but because they had realised that they would lose their power should Tom take over. As long the Death Eaters were not attacking 'Blood Traitors' and the Ministry, the leaders of Wizarding Britain were all too ready to sacrifice the muggleborns.

And yet, he couldn't abandon Britain. Not while there were innocents and good people left. Not when people put their trust in him. Not when people were ready to risk their lives even, to fight against the Dark Lord. How could he do any less?

But he had to reconsider his plans. Question them, even. He couldn't afford more mistakes. Too much was at stake. The Order had been preparing for the war against Voldemort he knew was coming, gathering supplies, preparing safehouses, training, and recruiting. With the needed care and caution, of course - Pettigrew had shown all too tragically how much damage a single spy could cause. Albus had planned to focus on muggleborns, since they would be the least likely to turn traitor, but many of them seemed to have lost their trust in him, or had disappeared before they could be contacted.

Below him he saw Mister Malfoy board a carriage, in the company of Miss Parkinson, followed by Messrs Crabbe and Goyle. He knew how they had abused their positions as prefects this year. Knew it, but had not stopped more than the worst excesses. Had it been a wise decision to let Severus protect them and the others like them, all those years? The professor had gained the trust of their parents as a result, and the trust of the Dark Lord - as much trust as Tom was able to show, at least. But it had also resulted in almost a generation of Slytherin students learning that bigotry was acceptable. A lesson they had learned all too well, as the last few months had shown. And which had spread to other houses too. Dolores had had an ample base of support to draw from. And, he added, so had the Dark Lord.

Thinking of Dolores… he would have expected her to have shown up already. She had made no secret about her desire to leave Hogwarts and return to the Ministry as soon as possible during their last meeting.

He wasn't looking forward to meeting that disgusting witch again. But he was glad Hogwarts would be rid of her. And he would do what he could to ensure that her successor would not continue her work.

And no matter how long it took, he would see muggleborns return to Hogwarts for their N.E.W.T.s. Seeing a prodigy like Miss Granger outperform all the purebloods in her year was one of the best ways to disprove the ideas of blood purity.

*****​

London, King's Cross Railway Station, June 17th, 1996

There were more Aurors present when the Hogwarts Express entered the station than usual, Hermione Granger noticed. They were meant to ensure the safety of the students and their parents, but she didn't feel safe. She knew she was just a mudblood for many of the red-robed wizards and witches. Her parents couldn't even step on the platform. Scoffing, she stood up and turned away.

"Let me," Ron said, taking her trunk down for her.

"Thank you." She smiled at him.

"And here's Crookshanks," Harry said, presenting her with her pet.

"Thanks, Harry." She kept smiling, even though she felt more like crying. Judging by the glances the two boys exchanged, she hadn't managed to hide her feelings.

"Dumbledore will get those laws repealed. Or he'll find a rule that lets him decide who gets to attend and who doesn't," Harry said.

Ron nodded. "It's over two months away, plenty of time for it." With a slightly forced grin he added. "You'll have read all the books for next year in that time anyway."

Hermione chuckled at that, for a moment. Then she couldn't hold her tears back any longer and hugged them, hard. She just knew she wouldn't return in the fall. Dumbledore might try, but he'd fail. He couldn't change a country that allowed what she had seen, and suffered through. She felt the two stiffen, and awkwardly pat her back while she sobbed.

"You'll visit during the summer, right?"

That Ron asked, rather than stated it told her enough about what he really thought, but she nodded. "Yes, of course." She would, but she didn't know how long she would be able to.

"It'll be much easier, now, with me living with Sirius," Harry said. "You can easily reach Grimmauld Place, and Ron can Floo in."

"Something good that has come of this whole…" Ron swallowed what he had been about to say. "No more Dursleys for you."

Hermione nodded, even though she wasn't certain if, all things considered, the loss of the blood protection Harry's mother had granted him was worth leaving that abominable household. It would have been better, she thought, if Voldemort hadn't been rendered immune to it by using Harry's blood for his resurrection. But that couldn't be changed, and so it was better to focus on the positive result of that. And she would have to visit Sirius anyway. His gold was needed.

She stepped back, and cleaned her face with her wand. She grinned, but without humour. "That's another good thing: With me not allowed to return to Hogwarts, I'm no longer considered an underage witch out of school." No more trace for her. Dumbledore had managed that, at least.

"Would you hex me if I say I'm jealous?" Ron asked, semi-seriously.

"Maybe," she answered, sticking out her tongue.

"I should be jealous," Harry cut in. "I'm going to be living with Sirius, and I'm not allowed to use my wand to deal with him!" He was grinning while he complained, though.

They kept the light-hearted pretense up until Hermione stood in front of the portal that would lead her to her parents. She turned to her friends. "Enjoy your holidays, you hear?"

The two nodded. They didn't wish the same to her. They knew her too well. She hugged Harry, then Ron.

"Take care of yourself," Harry said.

"See you soon," Ron said.

Hermione nodded and turned to the portal.

She didn't cry when she left the platform, and with it, Wizarding Britain.

*****​

London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, June 22nd, 1996

"Hermione! Come in!"

Hermione Granger smiled at her best friend while stepping through the door. Once inside, she hugged him.

"I missed you," he said in a low voice.

"I missed you as well." It wasn't entirely accurate. She would miss him, once he would be back at Hogwarts and she … wouldn't be. It was weird how knowing - or at least, being reasonably certain - that she wouldn't return to school with her friends made her feel differently about not seeing them for a few days.

It affected Harry as well. He was still hugging her. She was tempted to make a comment about not going to vanish the second he released her, but decided against it and instead enjoyed the closeness. Living with Sirius was good for Harry; her friend had been a bit shy about hugs in the past.

"Do you want to skip the drawing room, and go straight to Harry's bedroom?"

Sirius's comment made Harry break off the hug, and glare at his smirking godfather. Hermione snorted; she had expected that from the older wizard as soon as she had seen him arrive.

"Hello Sirius."

"Hello Hermione." He bowed with a flourish. "Be welcome in my humble home."

"Ron's not here yet but he'll not be long," Harry said, taking her hand. "Let's go to the drawing room before Sirius tells Kreacher to enlarge my bed."

"Oh, good idea!"

Hermione chuckled at the antics of the two while they left the entrance hall. The drawing room sported a nice selection of snacks and drinks - even muggle ones - on the small table, and new furniture.

Hermione sat down on the couch. "So, what have you been up to this week?"

"I've gone and picked up the rest of my stuff from Privet Drive."

"Oh?" She had thought that Harry had taken all his meagre belongings with him when he left the Dursleys last year.

"They are moving, and they discovered things that belonged to my mum in the attic. My aunt left the stuff for me."

"That was nice of her."

He grimaced. "Maybe. Or she was simply afraid to make me mad. They were moving because they were no longer safe there, with the protection gone, and the Order was helping them."

Hermione thought that that was more likely, seeing what she knew of Harry's relatives, but refrained from commenting. She also didn't mention that her own parents were moving. Harry would feel guilty about it. And she didn't want anyone from the Order knowing where her parents were moving to. "Did you read the book about Occlumency I gave you?"

"I've started it. The method is very different from Snape's."

"It takes more time, but it has a better success rate."

"I see." Harry frowned, apparently remembering his torture sessions with Snape. "What have you been doing?" he asked, a bit hesitantly.

"I've been spending time with my parents." Organising the move. "And I've been buying lots of books to study." From Knockturn Alley. Her parents had already bought her more books about guerilla warfare. And chemistry. "I've also been meeting a few members of my former study group." In one of their safe houses.

Harry frowned at that. "Dumbledore will come through, trust me. You'll be at Hogwarts with us."

She smiled, and tried to sound as if she believed him. "I hope so."

He nodded. "Oh, before I forget: Here!" He handed her a small box.

She opened it, and saw there was a small mirror in it. A familiar looking mirror. "Is that Sirius's communication mirror?"

"Yes." Before she could hand it back, he stopped her. "He said you should have it. He doesn't need it anymore, you know, since I now live with him."

And it would allow her to talk to Harry and Ron when they were at Hogwarts. "Thank you." She smiled at him, feeling both happy and sad.

For a while, neither of them said anything. Then, Harry coughed. "You know…"

"Yes?"

"Master's godson's friend has arrived." Kreacher interrupted Harry before he could continue. Behind the elf, Ron waved at them.

"Ron!" Hermione jumped up and went to hug her friend. He had grown, she thought, even though she knew it wasn't possible. He felt taller though. And he hugged her tightly.

"Hermione. Harry."

"Hi Ron. Butterbeer?" Harry said.

The redhead seemed to hesitate, then she felt him nod and release her. "Sure."

"How are you doing? How's the family?" she asked once all were seated again.

Ron sighed. "I'm doing fine, but… It's just me and Ginny at home. The twins live above their shop. Mum doesn't like that. She and dad are tense, something's up with the Order."

"What about Percy?"

He scowled. "That git's still ignoring us. Trying to cozy up to the Minister!" He took a sip from his bottle. "He'll be kicking his girlfriend out any day now, so he's not tainted by her 'impure blood'!

"Clearwater's a half-blood," Hermione pointed out.

"So? That means she's 'half-tainted'. Our dear brother will be looking for a pureblood girlfriend soon enough so he can advance faster!" Ron spat out. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to bring this up... he just makes me so mad. Mum's been crying because of him!"

He waved his hands, and Hermione couldn't tell if he was apologising for bringing up family trouble, or blood purity in general.

Ron finished his butterbeer, and grabbed another. "What have you been up to? Are you traveling to France again this summer?"

Hermione repeated what she had told Harry, and added that they wouldn't be going to France this year. Soon all three were chatting about less troubling topics. Sirius's pranks. Tonks's clumsy entrance through the Floo connection a day ago, when she had managed to topple over three others. But mostly the past four years they had spent together.

*****​

The young witch met with Sirius under the pretext of searching his library for a book before leaving. It wasn't really a pretext - there were a number of tomes she'd like to read, and copy.

"How are things going?" Sirius asked, leaning against the door.

"As well as can be expected. We've set up safe houses. Most families are moving, or getting ready to," Hermione said. "We've made contact with a few older muggleborns as well." Among them a few Hit-Wizards who had been fired by the Ministry last year. The 7th years, like Allan, had done that; they had known them from school. Hermione herself hadn't really known any muggleborns that had already graduated.

The wizard nodded. "You haven't told Harry or Ron yet."

"No," Hermione said.

"Why not? They'll help you." Sirius was staring at her.

"I don't want them involved." She leaned against the closest shelf. "Harry will be safer at Hogwarts. With his link to Voldemort, he'll need that protection." It wasn't as if he had learned enough Occlumency from Snape to do him any good. "And he'll need Ron with him." Harry hadn't many friends he could trust. And, she added to herself, with his link and lack of Occlumency, Harry would be a danger to the muggleborns. If Voldemort could track him, then no safe house he visited would remain hidden for long.

Sirius nodded, apparently accepting her reasoning. "They'll not stay away if things start to get ugly."

"I know." She sighed. "Things might not become that bad though." Not that quick, at least. The Resistance still needed a lot of time before they were ready to fight back. Time to recruit, to train, to plan. To gather supplies.

Sirius scoffed. "Even if the Ministry stops its stupid policy, the Death Eaters will target you and your families."

"That's why most of us are moving. They won't catch us."

"They can set the muggles on you. Like they did when I escaped Azkaban. Brand you as criminals."

"They already had a lot of trouble for trying to get the muggle police to hunt you." Ron's dad had mentioned that before their fourth year. "The ICW was not amused about this 'blatant threat to the International Statute of Secrecy'. Fudge was so scared, he had his security detail doubled for a month."

Sirius laughed. Hermione didn't. The muggleborns would be safer in the United Kingdom, but they also couldn't get help from the government, and would have to be very careful about getting help from other muggles, like some of Seamus's extended family. Otherwise, the Resistance would be branded as a threat to the Statute. And that they couldn't afford. The ICW was usually quite ineffective, but when the Statute was in actual danger, they tended to react very harshly.

The African tribal shamans had found that out when they had used magic to fight against the muggle colonialist forces. These days, there were no native wizards left in Central and South Africa.

*****​

Hogwarts, June 23rd, 1996

Auror Brenda Brocktuckle stared at the hideous room, not bothering to hide her revulsion. "You know, seeing how Umbridge decorated her quarters here, she probably had to disappear before the Castle turned against her for inflicting those atrocities on its walls."

Her new partner, Radcliff Macmillan, a rookie fresh out of the Academy, scowled. The wizard had no humour at all.

She sighed. Sometimes she felt far older than her 30 years. "Check for magical residue. I'll search the room."

She doubted Macmillan would find anything. The last time the witch had been seen had been a week ago. But there might be some clues left among Umbridge's belongings. That was why Brenda was searching the room, and her partner was wasting his time casting spells.

She didn't find anything. No notes, no scraps of parchments in the wastebasket, nothing. Which was suspicious by itself. If Umbridge had had to flee in a hurry, she'd not have taken the time to clean up the room. If she hadn't been in a hurry, she'd have taken all her clothes, at least.

There were no portraits in the room to serve as witnesses. The dozens of kittens populating dishes and frames couldn't talk. If this had been a murder or a kidnapping, then the culprit had done his homework.

"Nothing!" Macmillan glared at her. "Why are we wasting our time here? We already know who did this!"

Brenda rolled her eyes. "Macmillan! We don't know who did this. We don't even know if a crime has been committed here."

"We've been ordered to arrest that mudblood, Granger."

She glared at him. The way he stressed 'arrest' reminded her of how some Aurors spoke of those arrests that led to fights. Fights that ended with dead suspects. "We'll be taking the girl in for questioning, nothing more."

"The Minister himself ordered it!"

"And Bones will have our hide if we don't follow procedure. We take her in for questioning, see what she says, and if there's a reasonable cause for it, we'll use Veritaserum. Understood?"

Her partner frowned, but nodded. She almost sighed again. Rookies either were too eager to follow procedure, not knowing when to bend the rules, or they had no clue about it and acted as if they were prefects at Hogwarts under Snape. Well, the idiot would learn. The Auror Corps was not Fudge's personal guard, no matter what some people thought.

"Well, we're done here. Let's go talk to the witch." She glared at him again.

*****​

London, Kingston upon Thames, June 23rd, 1996

Hermione Granger peeked out through the window above the door to her parents' home when she heard the doorbell ring. Two people outside, one man, one woman, both in mismatched clothes even she could tell had been out of fashion for a decade or two. Pureblood wizards then. She couldn't see anyone else around, but others could be hiding, or disillusioned.

"I'm getting the door, mum!" she shouted, and ran down the stairs. She opened the door, though not all the way, using it to hide her wand, which she had already drawn.

"Good evening. Can I help you?"

"Are you Miss Hermione Granger?" the witch asked.

She nodded, tensing up. "Who are you?"

The female Auror smiled at her. "I'm Auror Brocktuckle, this is Auror Macmillan. We need you to come with us to the Ministry to answer a few questions."

She could see the other Auror sneer at her. Macmillan… that was an old pureblood family. Quite obsessed with their ancestry, as Ernie Macmillan had demonstrated at Hogwarts. And, as the Hufflepuff had demonstrated as well, not fond of muggleborns. And why would they want to question her? She acted as if she was confused. "Questions? What about?"

"I can't tell you that since it concerns a criminal case."

The Auror was smiling, but Hermione wasn't really listening. Her mind was racing. She hadn't done anything illegal! Even the preparations for the Muggleborn Resistance were not against the law… apart from the books she had bought in Knockturn Alley. But why wouldn't they tell her the reason they needed to ask her a few questions? And why couldn't they do it in her home? The obvious answer was not one she liked.

"We're about to eat dinner. Can I visit the Ministry tomorrow?" Hermione asked, as innocently as she could.

The female Auror frowned, but her partner positively scowled and was drawing his wand! It was a trap! They had come for her! Hermione whipped her wand up and took a step back with her left foot, moving into a classic duelling stance. The female Auror's eyes widened, and her wand started to slide out of her sleeve.

"Stupefy!"

Hermione's Stunning Spell hit the witch in the chest before the surprised Auror could finish drawing her wand and the witch slumped over, starting to fall down. The young muggleborn spun around, her free hand grabbing the door and slamming it closed before she dived to the floor.

"You damned mudblood! Confringo!"

The door exploded, showering the entrance hall with splinters. They were here to kill her! She jumped up, leading with her wand. The male Auror was staring at his partner, who had probably been hit as well by his spell's effect. His eyes widened when he saw her, and he started to cast, but was too slow to stop her. She had trained months for this!

"Reducto!"

Her spell hit the man in the face, leaving barely more than the stump of his neck. Blood, bone, hair and brain matter was scattered over the lawn and driveway. For a moment Hermione started at the sight, shocked. She had killed a man. Bile rose inside her throat. She had killed an Auror.

"Hermione? Dear Lord!"

Her mum's scream broke her out of her shock. She had killed a filthy bigoted murderer who had wanted to kill her! And if she didn't get her act together she and her parents would be murdered!

"Mum! They are coming for us! You need to move at once!" she yelled.

"Hermione! You're bleeding!"

She blinked. Some of the splinters must have hit her. There was blood running down her face. Head wounds always bled a lot, she remembered. Then she started to feel the pain from that wound, and from others.

"Mum! They tried to kill me! Call dad, you need to move, now! More will be coming soon!"

"But… you're hurt!"

"Episkey! Scourgify!"

She closed the wound on her head and cleaned her face, hoping she hadn't closed the skin over a splinter in her head. "Not anymore. Please, mum, move!" She grabbed the enchanted coin in her pocket, and used it to alert the other members of the Resistance. If the Aurors were coming for her, then they'd be coming for everyone!

"Accio Emergency bags!"

Three bags came flying at them from upstairs. One for her, two for her parents - the Grangers had been prepared for this for weeks.

"Mum…" she hugged her mother, crying.

"Hermione…"

"Tell dad I love him. I'll call you as soon as I can do it safely." Which would take a while.

Two more spells removed her blood from her mother's and her own clothes. They really had to go now.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

She moved the stunned Auror and the corpse inside the house, put the witch in a Full Body-Bind Curse for good measure, then repaired the door and cleaned the lawn and driveway. The explosions and screams would have alerted the neighbours, but the hedges would have hidden what had happened, and this way, the police wouldn't be looking into this.

Her mother had already left with the car. Hermione took a last look at her home, then apparated away.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, June 23rd, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle almost pushed her quill through the parchment she was writing her report on. Her partner had been brutally murdered, and it was her fault! If she hadn't been surprised by a muggleborn witch who had just passed her O.W.L.s, Macmillan would still be alive. Probably. She didn't know what exactly had happened in the time between her getting stunned, and waking up, in a Full Body-Bind, next to her partner's headless corpse. No matter what exactly had happened though, Scrimgeour would have her ass for letting a kid get the drop on her.

And yet, despite her anger, she couldn't help but wonder about something odd: Why had she been stunned, and her partner killed? Tactically, it made no sense. If Macmillan had been quick enough, he could have ennervated her. But why hadn't he been stunned as well?

A junior Auror dropped off a report with a mumbled greeting, then walked away with such haste, she bumped into a desk and almost fell to the ground. Brenda sighed. It seemed that news of her blunder had spread to the rookies already. She was well on her way to become a pariah - no Auror wanted to pair up with a screw-up who let her partner die.

She read the report. Macmillan's last spell had been a Blasting Curse. Since he had apparated with her to Granger's house, he must have cast it in the fight. There hadn't been any sign of what he had hit though. The wizard in charge of the investigation, Shacklebolt, thought that he had hit the door, judging by the wounds Brenda had suffered from splinters. She frowned. Had that idiot almost killed her with his spell? And why had he used that spell, instead of a Stunning Spell, as Aurors were trained to use for arrests? Was that why the girl had killed him?

Scrimgeour thought this proved that Granger had been involved in the disappearance of Madam Umbridge. Not that it mattered - as the suspect in the murder of an Auror, the girl was now hunted by the entire Corps. They would find her, and they would arrest her. Or, Brenda thought, they'd kill her. No one would want to risk joining Macmillan in the grave and take his killer alive.

She saw Elmar Parkinson walk into the office, scowling. After a moment, she stood up and walked over to the Auror. She might be a pariah, but she'd not hide. "What happened?"

Parkinson looked at her, frowning, before he said: "Went to take in Allan Becket, another suspect in the Umbridge case. He wasn't home. No one from his family was."

"There was another suspect?" She hadn't been informed of that.

Parkinson shrugged. "Every mudblood 5th year and above is a suspect."

Brenda scoffed. "So what, the Minister fears a muggleborn conspiracy now?" She stressed the 'muggleborn'.

Parkinson had noticed that, and sneered. "If the mudbloods are hiding, then there's a reason for that. You complete the spell."

"The muggleborns might be hiding because the Ministry is persecuting them!"

Brenda glanced to her side. The clumsy junior Auror was glaring at Parkinson. Brenda recognised her now. Nymphadora Tonks, a half-blood. Of course she'd take offense at Parkinson's words. But the rookie should have known better than to defend suspects' right after an Auror had been killed.

Parkinson stood up, glaring at the kid. "The Ministry is doing what it can to keep Britain safe - from mudbloods and other threats. Our duty is to uphold the law. If you have a problem with that, you should quit before you get fired."

Tonks wasn't cowed, unlike most rookies faced with a veteran Auror dressing them down. Instead, she glared right back. "Of course you'd say that, wouldn't you? Parroting your uncle's words? Oh, wait, you can't, because your uncle was killed in the last war, fighting for the Dark Lord."

Parkinson ground his teeth. "Watch your mouth, rookie, or someone will teach you to hold your tongue," he growled. "Black's gold can't protect you from everything."

Black's gold? Brenda blinked, then remembered that Tonks's mother was Sirius Black's cousin. No wonder she was standing up to Parkinson; Black's name and fortune might not carry as much weight as it once had, but the family was infamous for protecting their own, and that was a tradition the new Head apparently hadn't dropped.

Tonks sneered at Parkinson, then turned away and left them. Parkinson sighed and sat down again. "I don't like this, Brocktuckle. First Macmillan gets killed, and now we can't find the mudbloods."

"We'll find them," Brenda said. "No one kills an Auror and gets away with it."

"Damn right they won't! Can't let them get ideas!" Parkinson nodded at her. "Don't take it too hard. My cousin told me that Granger was a sneaky bitch at Hogwarts, always hanging out with Potter and getting into trouble. Attacked other students too."

That would have been useful to have known before she had went to the girl's home, Brenda thought. She didn't say anything though, just nodded. "Thanks."

"No problem. Don't kill off your next partner though. I've a feeling that we'll need all the wands we can get."

Brenda scowled at Parkinson, who grinned at her. She just knew she'd be hearing similar comments for weeks. And it was all Granger's fault. Granger's and Macmillan's.

*****​

London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, June 23rd, 1996

Harry Potter heard his mirror buzz. Hermione was calling him. He smiled - he had been waiting for that call. She used to write him every day, so she certainly would not let the mirror lay idle. He put the book he had been reading down, grabbed the mirror from the side table and flopped down on his bed. "Hey there!"

"Harry? Are you alone?"

He blinked. She sounded tense. And why would she ask if he was alone. "Yes, I'm alone. Why? What happened?"

"Two Aurors attacked me at home."

"What?" Harry Potter all but shouted into the mirror. "You've been attacked by Aurors?" He jumped up from his bed. "Are you OK?"

"I'm OK. Barely hurt. But… I killed one of them. He tried to kill me with a Blasting Curse, and I blew his head off. Called me 'mudblood'. I stunned the other Auror, but… they'll hunt me."

"Merlin! Come to Grimmauld Place!" She was hurt. She needed help.

"I can't. They know we're best friends, so they'll expect that. They might even search the house. I killed an Auror, Harry."

Harry ground his teeth, He wanted to tell her the Aurors wouldn't search Grimmauld Place, but… even Malfoy Manor was raided once, and that had been when the Death Eater had been Fudge's best friend and the Dark Lord hadn't been back yet. "But where will you go then? What about your parents?" he added, a bit belatedly.

"I've been expecting this, just not that soon. I've been preparing for this."

"What?"

"My parents have moved to a flat. The Ministry doesn't know their new address. But I'm not with them. Even if the Aurors find them, they'll not be able to find me. And it might take them a while to track them down. We've rerouted the post to the clinic."

"But if you're not with them, where will you be going?" The Burrow? No.

"I'm headed to a safe house."

"A safe house? Where? I'll meet you there." He could grab a few potions from Sirius. A book or two, to distract her. Some food.

"No, you can't! They'll be keeping an eye on you, if they tie you to this you'll be arrested. Act surprised, don't defend me if they ask you about me!"

The hell he would. He didn't say that though, she had a point. But he needed to help her. "I can send Hedwig with supplies." Or he could take his cloak, and his firebolt.

"Owls won't reach me."

"What?"

"If owls could find me, Aurors could." She took a deep breath. "Anyway… I'll contact you again, once I'm in the safe house. Make sure you're at home and alone, or just with Sirius, when you answer."

"Sirius?" Harry blinked. It made sense. His godfather had been on the run from the Ministry for years, without getting caught. If anyone could help Hermione escape getting arrested, it would be him. "I'll get him!"

"No, I'll call later. I have to stop talking now. Bye, Harry!"

"Wait!" he said, but she had already deactivated her mirror.

He sat down on the bed. Merlin's balls! Hermione was being hunted by the Ministry. She had killed an Auror! He closed his eyes, cursing. He remembered killing Quirrell. And the ghost of Voldemort. She must be feeling terrible! He ground his teeth. She had just been defending herself. Those had probably been Death Eaters. Dumbledore! Dumbledore would be able to solve this. He froze. Dumbledore hadn't been able to keep Hermione at Hogwarts. And he hadn't been able to get Sirius exonerated for over a year. He punched his mattress out of frustration. How could he help her? How could anyone help her?

*****​

London, East End, June 23rd, 1996

Hermione Granger looked at the safe house. It was an old, almost derelict house. No one would be planning to buy and renovate it. No one would be missing rent from it after they had tampered with the records. She hadn't spotted anyone trailing her, nor had she seen anyone observing the house, and not many of the Resistance knew of this safe house in the first place - they had compartmentalised such knowledge - but if the Ministry had struck at all of them, then a number of the members could have been arrested, and the defenses they had prepared might not have been enough to keep the house secret. She needed to find out how to cast the Fidelius!

They hadn't placed any wards on the place in order to avoid attracting attention. It looked safe, but she still had her wand out when she entered the house.

The entrance hall was empty, no sign of any intruder. She took a deep breath, and continued to the stairs. Her side hurt - she had caught a splinter there - and her head was itching; she really hoped she hadn't closed the skin over another splinter. The stairs creaked, and when she reached the first floor, she saw that the door was ajar. Someone had entered the flat.

"Who's there?" she asked, wand aimed at the door's gap.

"It's me, Allan."

It sounded like him. She kept her wand aimed though, as the door was opened all the way, revealing the Ravenclaw. Former Ravenclaw, she amended the thought - he had completed his 7th year, even if he hadn't been allowed to take the N.E.W.T.s.

It looked like him. And if this was an ambush, then they'd have struck already. And if the Aurors had found this house, then she was probably doomed already. She wasn't in the best shape either, after traveling for hours.

"Good to see you." She lowered her wand and entered the flat, sitting down on the couch in the living room. Then she filled him in on what had happened. She didn't mention how she had emptied her stomach as soon as she had managed to feel safe enough to take a small break. And how ill she still felt thinking of how she had levitated the headless, bleeding corpse of the Auror into her home.

Allan nodded. "They've hit my house as well, though not at the same time. I was already gone by then."

"So it was either an incompetent operation, or they were after me specifically," Hermione said. If she focused on this, tried to make sense of this, then she didn't have to think about the headless dead.

"Both are possible," Allan said. "Let me check your wounds."

"Alright," Hermione said, "but not here. If they are monitoring magic, then we could compromise the safehouse. And I need something to eat first."

A bit later she was lying in her underwear on a bed in a hotel while Allan was running his wand over her, casting diagnostic charms. She would have felt embarrassed, but she was just a bit too tired, too hurt, and Allan was the closest to a healer she could get right now. She made a mental note to learn more diagnostic charms herself, and healing charms.

"You've got several splinters under your skin. None of them are deep though, and I can't detect any internal bleeding. The splinters have to come out though." Allan even sounded like a healer. At least like those in the wireless shows; Madam Pomfrey sounded quite different.

"Can you summon them out?" It would hurt, but it would be over in a second, and he could close up the wounds right away.

He stared at her, shaking his head. "Is that the result of hanging out with Potter?" He was grinning though. "I'll get them out with minimal pain, and we'll not have to use Essence of Dittany to avoid scarring that way." He winked at her. "It would be a shame to mar your skin."

That remark made her blush, and he laughed while he started working. She wondered if he had just tried to put her at ease, then pushed the thought away.

She had to focus on far more important things. She had killed a man. She was now a wanted fugitive.

*****​

Devon, Ottery St. Catchpole, June 24th, 1996

"What?"

Ron Weasley stared at Harry. He had wondered why his friend had Flooed over so early in the morning, just after his dad had left for work. That Harry had cast a privacy charm before talking was odd as well, but not too unusual, even if the twins didn't live there anymore.

"I said Aurors tried to arrest Hermione. She killed one and stunned the other, then fled."

"Merlin's balls! Why did she kill an Auror?" And how? Aurors were said to be the elite of the DMLE! He had known his friend was scary, but that scary?

"They tried to kill her. Well, at least one of them - tried to blow her up. She was hurt when she called me," Harry said.

"We have to help her!" How could that have happened to his best female friend? She wasn't a criminal!

"I know. But she doesn't want us to help. She said it'd be too dangerous, that we would be watched by Aurors." Harry's frown told Ron what his friend thought of that.

"That's probably true," Ron said. "If she killed an Auror, they'll hunt her down."

"They'll try. She's been preparing for that."

Ron felt a pang of envy. Why hadn't she told him? Why did Harry know that? He forced that feeling away; his friend needed help. "But if she's hurt, and can't go to St. Mungo's, what will she do?" Muggle healers were brutal, they cut you up.

"I called her late last night. A 'friend' has helped her," Harry said, frowning. "Apparently, he's great with healing spells."

"A 'friend'?" Ron repeated. He hadn't been aware that Hermione had other friends among wizards who were close enough to her to help her in such a situation.

"Must be a muggleborn," Harry said.

"Why can he help her, and we can't?" Ron asked.

"He's on the run from the Aurors as well, or so she said."

"Blimey! Did they go after all the muggleborns?" Ron hadn't thought things had become that bad. Not with his dad telling him that Dumbledore was making progress in the Wizengamot.

"Hermione thought they did, but she couldn't tell me."

"We could ask dad, but he'll not be home until the evening," Ron said. "And there hasn't been an Order meeting either." And there was still this mysterious friend with Hermione. "But what can we do? There has to be something we can do to help her!"

"She said to simply act normally, and do nothing until we know more. And not to tell anyone," Harry said.

Ron didn't like to lie to his family, but he could see the necessity of keeping secrets. And he didn't want his dad to lose his job. "I don't like this."

"I hate it," Harry said.

Ron nodded. He hated feeling useless. But for the life of him, he couldn't think of anything they could do right then. If Hermione had killed an Auror, then the only way their friend could be saved from the Aurors was to prove that the dead Auror had been a Death Eater or a traitor. And that was pretty much impossible without knowing anything more than what she had told them. There was nothing they could do. Unless…

"Harry! We have to go to Diagon Alley!"

"What?"

"We have to visit Fred and George."

"Hermione said not to tell anyone."

"We won't. But they have a lot of stuff made. Useful stuff. Remember the extendable ears?"

Harry grinned. "Hermione could use some of that."

Ron nodded. And so could they. It might not be much, but it was something. Ron hated feeling useless.

*****​

Kent, Greengrass Manor, June 24th, 1996

"Daphne?"

Daphne Greengrass looked up from the latest issue of 'Teen Witch Weekly' she was reading when her mother knocked at the door.

"Yes, mother?"

"We just received an invitation to the Summer Ball at Malfoy Manor."

Daphne raised her eyebrows. "A ball in summer?" Leave it to the Malfoys to champion wizard traditions, and yet come up with such a newfangled thing! Summer was for travelling, everyone knew that!

She must have let her distaste for the Malfoys show, since her mother frowned at her. "All the Old Families have been invited. This will be a memorable event."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Father will be 'networking', you will be gossiping, and I'll be stuck with Draco and his ilk."

"It's important to make a good showing, dear. Especially in those troubled times."

"You mean you don't want to make the Death Eaters mad at you," Daphne said, rolling her eyes.

Her mother's mouth turned into a thin line. "You don't remember the war. Gestures such as attending this event allowed our family to avoid it."

"I thought father voted to kick the mudbloods out of Hogwarts to avoid a war." At least that was what Daphne had understood his reasoning to be. It made sense to her. It wasn't as if anyone cared about the mudbloods anyway.

Her mother sighed. "It's a bit more complicated than that."

Daphne shrugged. She didn't care about politics. Sighing, she said: "I guess one evening in the company of idiots won't be too much of a sacrifice for the family."

Her mother didn't smile, so Daphne probably had overdone it a bit. "Will Tracey be there as well?"

"I believe so."

"Good. I'd hate to be without any pleasant company during the evening."

"Your sister will attend the ball as well."

"And?" Astoria was a stupid little girl. She would have fallen for Blaise's lines if Daphne hadn't told her what the git was like.

"Daphne! It will be her debut! You will not ruin that evening for her!"

Daphne rolled her eyes again. "Alright, I won't ruin the squirt's evening. Is that all?"

"Yes." Her mother frowned again, but left.

Daphne shook her head. The things she had to put up with!

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 3: The Spark

'To understand the Ministry's reaction to the disappearance of Dolores Umbridge, one has to understand the views of the time: It wasn't that the Ministry didn't know that Umbridge had spent a year torturing muggleborn students, it was that very fact that made them look at prominent muggleborns as the likely culprits. For over a year, Wizarding Britain had been presented with reports and tales of muggleborn aggression. Even the most peaceful purebloods lived in fear of a war provoked by muggleborns. It was therefore seen as simply logical that they would lash out at anyone tormenting them, with lethal means even. The fact that the muggleborns managed to evade the Aurors trying to 'take them in for questioning' was therefore seen as proof that there was a conspiracy of muggleborns working against the Ministry. Which, given the subsequent events, proved to be somewhat correct.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn

*****​

London, East End, June 24th, 1996

She raised her wand slowly, very slowly, but time seemed to be frozen for everyone else. The man's eyes were widening, his mouth opening, but he couldn't stop her.

"Reducto!"

The spell hit him right in the face and his head exploded, showering her with blood. Blood ran down her face as she turned, spotting his partner on the ground. The woman was awake, and staring at her. Pleading. Hands raised in supplication.

She pointed her wand at her.

"Reducto!"

The woman's head exploded. Blood splattered against her door, flowed over the entrance, until she was standing in a pool of red. Blood ran down her face, soaking her top. She was laughing.

"Hermione?"

She whirled around. Harry and Ron were standing there, staring at her with horror frozen on their faces. And she was raising her wand, aiming it at her friends.

"Red…"

Hermione Granger woke up screaming. She patted herself down. No blood. Just sweat. She wasn't at home. For a moment, she didn't know where she was, and grabbed her wand. Then she remembered. She was in the safe house. She was on the run from the Ministry. She had killed an Auror. She closed her eyes and started to calm down. A nightmare, again.

"Hermione?"

She was out of the bed and aiming her wand at the door before she recognised the voice. Allan.

"Hermione? Are you alright?"

She lowered her wand and took a deep breath. "Yes. Just a nightmare. Sorry."

"Can I come in?"

"What?" Her hand rose until she forced it down again.

"You don't sound as if you're alright." He sounded concerned.

For a moment, she was torn. She wanted to send him away, but she didn't want to be alone either. She wanted her parents. Or her friends.

"Give me a second."

She was a mess. Her T-shirt was soaked with sweat and her shorts were not doing that much better. And her hair looked frightening. Nothing could be done about that now, though. She changed into another T-shirt and shorts, then went to open the door.

Allan was wearing pyjama pants and a T-shirt himself.

"Did I wake up anyone else?" she asked, after she had closed the door again.

He shook his head. "No. I was awake myself, that's why I heard you. The rest are still asleep."

"I'd say we need silencing charms, but…" Hermione said.

"... it'd mean we'd not hear an alert, or even an attack." Allan nodded. "And we don't know how well they can detect magic."

"If they can't, then how do Obliviators work?" Hermione asked. Focusing on something, especially a problem, helped her. They hadn't done any magic in the safehouse so far, out of fear of attracting Aurors.

"That's a good question. The Ministry has to be able to detect magic, but it's not certain how capable their system is."

"Further testing is required," Hermione said, almost grinning.

"You should have been a Ravenclaw," Allan said, smiling. "The hat must have been confunded when it sorted you."

Hermione snorted. "I like to think I'm braver than I am smart."

"You must be the bravest girl ever then."

The compliment caught her off-guard. Was he humouring her, or simply trying to comfort her? Or, was he trying to impress the girl shaken by her nightmare? Allan wasn't like that, she told herself. Out loud she snorted. "Some brave girl I am, screaming because of a nightmare."

"You've been through a very traumatising experience. You've been attacked, hurt, and had to kill a man," Allan said. "It's natural that this will affect you. No one can deal with such an experience easily. You'll be feeling better soon. You only defended yourself and others, after all."

Hermione knew that, but the knowledge hadn't helped her. Hearing it from Allan though helped. A bit at least. She nodded. "You sound like you've got experience with that." As soon as she had said it, she regretted it. Prying, when he was trying to help her?

He smiled and shook his head. "I've just read about such things. Trying, you know, to prepare for the worst case."

Smart. But then, Allan was a Ravenclaw. And one of the best students in his year. "The worst case seems to have happened. They're hunting us all."

"They'll not find us easily. And they'll have an even harder time taking us." Allan sounded confident, even fierce when he said it.

Hermione wanted to warn him that killing wasn't easy, but she didn't. He knew that already, intellectually, and she feared he'd experience it himself all too soon, if things continued as they were. She shook her head. "No, they won't. We'll make them regret coming after us."

Hermione suddenly felt uncomfortable, standing there in her sleepwear, and sat down on her bed, wrapping the blanket around her. "I just wonder why they came at us, now. Did anyone of the Resistance talk?" The precautions they had taken should prevent that, but nothing was certain. They didn't know everything the Ministry could do, especially the Department of Mysteries.

"I doubt it. They probably simply realised that kicking us out of school and then trying to keep us from getting any work was bound to make us look for ways to show our opinion of them, and so tried to act preemptively." He took a step toward her bed, then stopped.

"Maybe. I'll ask my friends about it." Ron and Harry should be able to find out more, Hermione thought. Without endangering themselves.

Allan frowned. "Maybe."

"You don't think so?"

He hesitated. "They're not like us."

They were not muggleborns, he meant, Hermione realised. "They're my best friends. I trust them with my life. If we start thinking like the bigots, judging people by their blood, we'll be no better than them!" she said, with more than a little heat in her voice.

"I didn't mean that." he held up his hands. "It's just… if we trust them because they're your friends, then others will expect that their friends will be trusted as well. And those friends won't be Harry Potter."

Those friends could be spies or traitors, he meant. "We're talking about information. We'll be needing a lot of information about the Ministry and the Death Eaters. And that will come from pure- and half-blood friends."

"As long as it's just information it should be fine," Allan said. "I'm just concerned about setting a bad example for our security."

"I see." She bit her lower lip. He had a point, and she hated to be biased, but… Harry and Ron were her best friends. She trusted them with her life. Had trusted them with her life. And she missed them already. Terribly.

She forced herself to yawn. "I think I should go back to sleep now. Sorry about … you know."

Allan looked at her, then nodded. "Of course, that's what friends are there for."

He left with a smile, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

*****​

Hogwarts, June 24th, 1996

Albus Dumbledore looked at the clock on the wall of his office. Almost midnight. He ignored the glare from Fawkes; his phoenix was too protective and didn't understand that sometimes, his own needs had to give way to the needs of others.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. The incident involving Miss Granger was a tragedy. A tragedy he should have foreseen. He had known from Nymphadora and Kingsley about the attitude that was so widespread among the new Aurors.

He was not certain that he could have prevented it. Not unless he had warned Miss Granger of such a danger. And, given what had happened shortly after that disastrous attempt to 'take her in', he might have simply caused another tragedy. Might. Mister Macmillan would almost certainly still be alive, but Miss Granger would still be a wanted witch, her flight having been taken as proof of her being guilty. It was ironic, actually. Albus was quite certain that the Aurors wouldn't have found Miss Granger if the witch had been involved in Dolores's disappearance. She would have expected to be a suspect, and would have fled already.

None of that changed the fact that she was now a fugitive. She wouldn't be able to attend Hogwarts now, not even once he managed to get the laws repealed. The most brilliant witch of her generation, forced out of Hogwarts… it was a travesty. He would have to start working on exonerating her. Macmillan's views of muggleborns were well-known. It wouldn't take much to paint him as a Death Eater. Severus could almost certainly help there. And once Tom was fighting the Ministry, things would change with regards to the muggleborns. Even, or especially, with regards to those who had taken up arms against Death Eaters. He faintly smiled. If he played it right, then he could even use this to ensure that such laws would never be passed again.

If. He wasn't as confident of his influence as he had been. Not anymore. At least Miss Granger and her compatriots were not in immediate danger. They would be hiding in the muggle world, out of reach of the Ministry. The only danger right now, apart from rash action on the side of the muggleborn students, something he was certain Miss Granger would not condone, were the muggle authorities. Albus didn't think that the Minister would try to get them involved though - Cornelius had learned his lessons after he had set the muggles on Sirius three years ago. Still, it would only be prudent to leave Kingsley at 10 Downing Street, and keep the Prime Minister informed about the recent developments. Just in case. Fortunately, Albus had kept good relations with every Prime Minister since Winston.

He sighed, and returned his attention to the parchment on his desk. Young Percival had taken some risk, sending this report to him while the investigation into Dolores's disappearance was still going on and Aurors were looking into all of her activities, but it had been worth it. Two more names were added to the list of Tom's agents in the Ministry. A flick of his wand rolled the scroll up and he placed it in the expanded pocket of his robes.

He wasn't looking forward to the next Order meeting, despite this bit of good news. Molly would be blaming him for the whole incident with Miss Granger. She wouldn't be entirely wrong either.

*****​

London, East End, June 25th, 1996

Breakfast reminded Hermione Granger almost painfully of Hogwarts, with so many students, former students, present. Seamus, Dean, Sally-Anne, Justin and the Creeveys had appeared yesterday. They were fortunate, Hermione thought, that Seamus had been visiting Dean, or he'd be in Ireland still. Sadly, neither Jeremy Chadwick nor Louise Clifton, the two former Hit-Wizards she had met through Allan, had made contact yet.

The food was far from what was served at Hogwarts though. It was edible, and that was all that could be said about it. Hermione made a mental note to look into ways to improve someone's cooking skill. Her mental list was getting rather long.

"Has anyone heard from Mary, Martin, Tania or John?" she asked, once most had stopped eating, interrupting the talk about football between Dean and Seamus.

Allan shook his head, but she already knew he hadn't heard from his fellow Ravenclaw.

"Martin lives in Edinburgh, he should be making his way to us today," Justin said.

"Mary and Tania are together," Sally-Anne said. "They're camping." And scouting locations for some of the training they had discussed, as well as emergency rally spots.

"We need to get better communications." Mobile phones, though she was certain they wouldn't work in every part of Britain. Certainly not in the parts the muggles thought were empty wilderness. Alternatives were needed. They had already barred owls from finding them. Letters were too slow. Phone booths would do in a pinch, but wouldn't let people be called. E-mail needed a provider and a landline. "We need to test if the Ministry can track magic," Hermione said. "I'd hate to hamstring myself and rely on muggle transportation if we could safely apparate." Communication would be much easier as well.

Allan nodded. "We can prepare an ambush, in case they can track magic."

Seamus nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes."

Hermione frowned. "That's not a good idea. We still do not know what the Ministry was planning. Until we have more information, a more cautious approach is needed."

"What's to know? They came for us, just like we knew they would. We have to teach them to leave us be," Dean said.

"We might be playing into their hands if we blindly start fighting," Hermione retorted. Justin nodded.

"If we capture an Auror or two, we could get more information out of them," Allan proposed.

"We do not have Veritaserum ready for an interrogation. And none of us is a trained Legilimens," Hermione said.

"There are other ways to interrogate people." Allan licked his lips.

"What do you mean?" Hermione narrowed her eyes. Did he want to torture Aurors? Even if they were to stoop so low, everyone knew torture didn't work.

Allan met her eyes, then calmly said: "Like the police interrogate people."

Seamus snorted. "With rubber hoses?" He obviously was looking forward to a fight.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Fortunately, she was well-used to dealing with reckless wizards. "Even if we had a trained interrogator among us, we are not prepared for a fight." They had expected more time to prepare. Hermione hadn't thought the Ministry would move so fast against them. Fortunately, they had already set up a few safe houses. She looked at her fellow Resistance members. "If we go at this half-cocked, we might as well just surrender or flee. We need to be prepared. We need Veritaserum ready for interrogations. We need potions to treat wounds. We need more training. And we need more information."

Her not-quite-glare made the Gryffindors among the students agree quickly. Justin would follow the majority as the only Hufflepuff, Hermione thought. Allan seemed to ponder the matter, before he slowly nodded.

"Alright. We'll test the Ministry's magic detection capabilities first thing after this. I've an idea how to do it safely."

*****​

London, Silvertown, June 25th, 1996

The faint sounds of explosions reached Hermione Granger's ears. She sighed. Of course Seamus would use Blasting Spells for the test, and not the more sensible spells she had proposed. She consoled herself with the fact that the Millennium Mills, the abandoned complex of concrete granaries in the Docklands area of London, were big and stable enough to take the abuse.

"Fifteen minutes of constant casting between Seamus and Dean," she noted. "No response from anyone." At least not on the best areas to apparate to. She checked the walkie-talkie, then looked at Allan. "I guess the two do not get to use the escape tunnels."

Allan shook his head. "I concur. It does seem as if the Ministry cannot detect magic."

"Which begs the question: How can the Obliviators uphold the Statute of Secrecy if they cannot detect magic?" Hermione added. "Even if everyone followed the law, they'd have to cover up accidental magic at least."

Allan seemed to mull this over while they heard more explosions. "We could try to break the statute, and find out."

Hermione shook her head. "No. That's far too dangerous, given the possible consequences." Compared to intentionally breaking the Statue of Secrecy, murder or mass murder was a small thing in the Magical World. Even those purebloods who supported them might turn against the Resistance.

"They might try that anyway." Allan scoffed.

"I'm rather certain the Ministry will not dare to lie about this. Fudge already got into a lot of trouble when he set the police on Sirius Black two years ago." Arthur Weasley had been quite vocal about that during that summer. It was another reason - apart from the fact that the Ministry had the Prime Minister under surveillance, allegedly to protect him against mind-control spells and other magical assaults - why the muggleborns couldn't simply get help from Her Majesty's government.

Allan still looked unconvinced. Hermione sighed. "We'll test if they can track Apparition now. If they cannot track that either, then a lot of our work will be far easier, and we'll have to adjust our plans. We simply can't risk another confrontation right now."

Finally her friend nodded. They used their walkie-talkie to call the others, so everyone would apparate at the same time to the prepared spot near Victoria Station. Even if the Ministry could track Apparition they'd vanish in the throngs of people using one of the busiest stations of the Capital.

While she was waiting to apparate, Hermione was already making plans. Seamus would be able to reach Ireland and his 'contacts' there in a few minutes. They would have more options for safe houses as well, and for the planned 'school'. And they could place anti-muggle wards on the safehouse, to keep squatters or the police out, and renovate the inside with Repair Charms, and a few more exotic charms the Ravenclaws had dug up.

And she'd be able to meet up with Harry and Ron more easily. Once they had learned Apparition as well. Which they would, if they knew what was good for them!

The young witch was smiling when she apparated to Victoria Station.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, June 25th, 1996

"What? I didn't touch that monster!"

Harry Potter winced at the volume of Hermione's outburst and held the mirror a bit further away. Fortunately, he and Ron were in his room at Grimmauld Place, and the doors were charmed to keep people outside from overhearing whatever was said inside.

"And that would have been stupid anyway, giving them more pretexts to paint us as dangerous elements! If I'd have killed her, I'd have framed the Acromantulas, for example. That way, I wouldn't have been suspected. But this? Damn those bigots! They don't even know if she's dead, or simply got lost in Hogwarts due to her own incompetence, all they see is an opportunity to attack muggleborns!"

Harry saw that Ron shuddered at the mentioning of the Acromantulas. He was more concerned about the ease of which Hermione talked about murdering Umbridge. It sounded as if she had given that more than a little thought. He snorted. What was he thinking? He knew Hermione. She was always making plans and schedules; of course she would have made plans for this.

But she wouldn't have done this. He was certain. Mostly.

"Sorry…" his best female friend took a few deep breaths. "It's just… I killed an Auror because of this?"

"You had no choice," Harry hastened to say. Hermione looked very troubled, and with good reason, he told himself. He remembered killing Quirrell, and the nightmares that had caused. He hesitated, then added: "I know what you are going through, and if you want to talk, I'm here."

"As am I," Ron added. Harry shot him a glance. His friend hadn't killed anyone; he didn't know how that felt.

"Thank you, but…" Hermione trailed off, looking surprised, then embarrassed. "Oh, I forgot… I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't think about our first year."

"Don't worry, you've got a lot on your mind," he tried to reassure his friend.

She sighed. "Yes. And so much to do."

"We've been in the WWW shop," Ron said, leaning towards Harry so he could see the mirror better. "They've created a lot of useful things. You need to see their inventory."

"The twins… ah! Ask them to teach you Apparition. The Ministry can't track that. You'll need a wand without the trace on it, but Sirius can get you some."

Harry wondered how she knew all that, but he trusted her. He exchanged a glance with Ron, who smiled. "We'll do it." They knew what Hermione was telling them - if they could apparate, they could help her.

"We'll study hard!" Ron announced, grinning.

"You better!" Hermione smiled, but Harry thought it was a bit forced. "It's getting a bit late here… I'll call you tomorrow, same time?"

"Yes. Good night," Harry said. He would have liked to talk some more, but she needed her sleep.

"Sleep well," Ron added.

The image in the mirror faded out.

Harry turned to his friend. "She's not doing well."

Ron shook his head. "And she won't tell us about it. Like someone else we know," he added.

Harry rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored the remark. This wasn't the same. "We need to do more. Not just learning how to Apparate."

"Fighting, you mean." Ron grinned, but without humour.

"Yes."

They would show Hermione that they were her best friends, and could help her. Protect her. Better than that other friend of hers.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, June 26th, 1996

"Welcome to… oh. Hello, Ron. Hi Harry."

Alicia Spinnet dropped the overly cheerful smile and nodded at the two wizards who had just entered Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. "Fred and George are in the back."

"Hello Alicia," Ron Weasley said. "Thank you."

Harry smiled at the former chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. "We could be here to buy something, you know. No need to drop the friendly act." He grinned.

Alicia snorted. "If Ron wants something, he'll ask his brothers, and we have standing orders not to let you pay for anything."

Ron didn't want to be reminded of the state of his finances, and of Harry's, and tried to change the topic: "Are you now working here?"

"I'm just helping out," the witch said, "until my tryouts with the Harpies."

"Oh! So that was a scout at the last match!" Ron smiled.

"Indeed. There were a number of them, but most were checking out the Boy-Who-Lived," Alicia said, grinning. "But since Harry's simply not measuring up to the stringent standards of the Harpies, I had an easy time impressing her."

"And Angelina?" Ron asked while Harry snorted.

"She's trying out as well. It would be nice if we both made it, but…"

Ron nodded. All of them knew that the chances of that were rather slim. The 'Flying Foxes', as Lee had dubbed them, were good, but not that good compared to experienced professional players. "Well, good luck!"

"Thank you."

Harry and Ron headed to the back of the store, where the entrance of the twins' workshop was.

"Hi Fred, Hi Geo…" was as far as Ron got, before he had to duck to dodge a black blur that almost hit him in the face.

"Opps, sorry Ron. That prototype needs a bit more work," George said.

"What's it supposed to do?" Harry asked, peering at the black stain left on the wall behind Ron.

"Close the door and we'll tell you!" Fred, looking up from his desk, said. "Can't have anyone listening in; they might sell our secrets to Zonko's."

Once the door was closed, the two grew more serious. "So… did you give Hermione our 'samples'?"

"Not yet." Ron winced. "She doesn't want to risk visiting Grimmauld Place right now."

Harry nodded. "Which is why we need you to teach us Apparition, so we can meet her anywhere."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "While we tend to encourage rules breaking, you'll need a wand without a trace to escape notice by the Ministry."

"And breaking the trace is rather complicated and illegal," George added.

Ron snorted. Harry grinned. "Someone supplied us with two clean wands."

"I see." Fred shook his head. "They grow up so fast."

More seriously, George asked: "Do you know what you are doing? The Ministry's about to bring down the bat on muggleborns."

"Yes, we know," Ron said, indignantly. As if he and Harry would leave Hermione to the Aurors!

George nodded. "Alright then, we can teach you."

Fred looked at them. "There's more, right?"

Ron nodded. "We want to spy on the Aurors. Any warning before a raid could save Hermione's life." He held up his hand when George opened his mouth. "Not inside the Ministry. But there's that pub we heard about, 'The Thin Red Line'. We thought they'd talk about all sorts of things there." Tonks had mentioned it over the Yuletide break.

"They will be using privacy spells," Fred said, rubbing his chin. "But… an extendable ear, placed there before the spell is cast would probably defeat that."

George nodded. "We'd need to modify the ear, but… entirely doable."

"Placing them there though…" Fred shook his head. "That will be difficult. And if caught… That's not a prank."

"We've got my cloak, we'll be fine," Harry said.

Ron nodded. "We thought about asking Tonks, but…"

"You don't ask Prefects to help with Pranks, not even against Slytherins," George said, nodding. "Good thinking."

Ron would have helped with pranking the Slytherins, but he didn't say that. Once back at Hogwarts though, if the Snakes tried to lord it over them…

"It's settled then," Harry said. "What else do you have that'd be useful in dealing with Aurors?"

"Glad you asked. Did we ever mention our Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder?" Fred asked, showing them a small bag. "Instant Darkness. Nothing can penetrate it, and it's resistant to light spells."

"And here's a Screaming Skrewt," George said, holding up something that looked far too much like a spider for Ron's comfort. Then he remembered Hagrid's abominations from 4th year. "It doesn't blast things, but it screams and can serve as a nice distraction."

"A nice surprise to hide in the bathroom too!" Fred added. Ron just knew who his brothers had had in mind as the target for that

"Glamorous Glue." George held up a vial with a green liquid in it. "Spreads easily and will hold anything until dissolved with a special solution."

Ron exchanged a glance with Harry. If Hermione couldn't use those, then he had a few uses in mind already. And targets.

*****​

London, Silvertown, June 27th, 1996

"Stupefy!"

Hermione Granger ducked under the spell Dean cast at her, and stepped behind a concrete ramp in the Millennium Mills, disillusioning herself as soon as she had broken line of sight, then stepped back. As expected, Dean was casting a hex at the top of the ramp. Her own Stunning Spell hit his Shield Charm, shattering it, and her next clipped him on the side while he was throwing himself backwards. He landed unconscious on the dusty floor of the Granary they were duelling in.

"Good show," Allan said, clapping.

Hermione was pleased, but shook her head before waking up Dean. "Good fight, Dean. If you had guessed the right end of the ramp, I'd have been hit. I need to be quicker with casting a shield."

Dean chuckled, cleaned himself of dust, and said: "I'll take a break now, before I break something."

Hermione grinned while her friend went down to the rest area, to recover.

"A Shield Charm won't stop a Killing Curse," Allan said. The former Ravenclaw liked to discuss magic as much as she did, and was as tenacious about a topic.

She nodded, acknowledging the point. "That's true. But it'll stop a lot of other curses. Duellists vary their spells for a reason." Even the Dark Lord didn't use the Killing Curse that much.

Allan shrugged. "If you can hit them with a Stunning Spell, you can hit them with a Killing Curse."

"That doesn't apply to indirect spells, or to conjurations and transfigurations. And you can cast a number of spells much faster than the Killing Curse," Hermione said. "Our enemies can't be counted upon to stick to the Unforgivables."

"History shows that they were the Death Eater's spells of choice in the last war," Allan pointed out, "but I guess the Ministry will try other spells first."

"They're not allowed to use Unforgivables without a formal order from the Ministry," Hermione said. She had looked that up at Hogwarts.

"That won't stop the Death Eaters among them. No witnesses, no trouble."

"If they get caught the propaganda value would be immense though," Hermione said. If only they had a pensieve; they could take pictures of memories and use them for some leaflets. The Gemino Charm would let them create as many copies as they needed. That they wouldn't last that long was no problem with leaflets. It would even be environment-friendly, she thought with a snort.

Allan scoffed. "The purebloods won't believe us anyway. And the half-bloods should know better than to trust the purebloods in the first place."

She frowned. "Many purebloods disagree with the blood purists. They fought the Death Eaters in the last war, and will fight them again." Like Ron and his family. Hermione ran a hand through her hair and redid her pony tail. "Let's go down to the others."

"And none of them did anything during the last year, when the purebloods passed law after law to oppress us," Allan said, sneering, while they walked to the break area. "Or when the bitch tortured us."

"I hope she'll burn in hell forever!" Dean said, having caught the last line.

He was limping slightly. Maybe she had hit him harder than she had meant to during practise, Hermione thought. She snorted. "If she's even dead, and not just hiding, laughing while we're blamed for her 'death'." It would fit the evil toad.

"Umbridge?" Sally-Anne asked, standing up when she saw them arrive.

"Yes," Dean said, sitting down next to the girl.

"You think she's not dead?" Sally-Anne said, sounding horrified while handing Dean a pot of muggle salve to treat his bruises. They'd save the magical ointments for serious cases. And, Hermione thought, it would toughen them up some.

Hermione sat down and grabbed a soft drink from the cooler. "Who could have killed her? It wasn't anyone of us. And her disappearance has given the Ministry a pretext to attack us. We lost weeks if not months of preparation due to this." All her plans and schedules, wrecked!

Allan frowned. "She deserved death. And her death has helped us. Shown us that we can fight back."

Dean and Sally-Anne nodded. Hermione suppressed the urge to sigh. "That still leaves us scrambling to catch up. We haven't managed to get enough tutors. Aisla is good, but she's just one witch."

Allan shrugged. "She only has a few of us to teach."

Hermione frowned. Allan already had his education completed, even if he hadn't been allowed to take his N.E.W.T.s. And Hermione was almost as advanced, not counting the studying she had done for the Resistance. But Seamus, Dean and the others would need more help. Their education would be hampered. "It's not just us. If we had a decent alternative, the younger muggleborns wouldn't have to return to Hogwarts, and hope Dumbledore can protect them better than he protected us."

"Colin and Dennis won't return to Hogwarts," Dean pointed out. "They're too gung ho."

The two Creeveys were still training, with Justin as their spotter. Hermione pressed her lips together. She didn't want them to fight, they were too young. Even, as her traitorous mind told her, she had been doing worse at an even younger age. She'd do her best to keep them safe. As lookouts, maybe as couriers. Not on the frontlines.

"I hope Seamus returns soon," Dean said.

The others nodded. They hadn't heard anything from their friend. It had been deemed too dangerous for him to call back. His contacts in Ireland might be under surveillance by the muggle authorities. If the Resistance lost the muggle world as a safe haven, they were finished. If Seamus succeeded though… everyone knew that the IRA was among the most capable guerilla fighters - or terrorists, depending who you asked. A little bit of Semtex would be enough for a Gemino Charm, and Hermione wouldn't have to think about how best to use a fertilizer bomb anymore. And she really would prefer to use professionally made detonators, instead of her own designs.

Getting blown to bits by her own bomb would be a rather ignoble end to her burgeoning career as a freedom fighter.

*****​

London, East End, June 29th, 1996

"A ball?" Hermione Granger asked, frowning at the mirror in her hand.

"A Summer Ball, at Malfoy Manor," Ron explained. "On the 27th of July. Dad said that Malfoy has invited all of the rich pureblood families."

"He didn't invite Sirius though," Harry added. "Not that Sirius would ever attend a social gathering at the Malfoy Manor."

Of course he wouldn't, Hermione thought. Sirius hated Lucius Malfoy, and with good cause - the man had been responsible for Fudge issuing the Kiss-on-Sight order after Sirius's escape from Azkaban.

"A ball for Death Eaters and their supporters?" It sounded like such a gathering to her. 'Bigot Ball', she thought.

"Or for possible supporters and sympathisers," Ron said. "I checked with Neville; his family declined their invitation."

"Do you think this is a recruiting effort?"

"People use those events to make deals and alliances, in business and politics," Ron said. "So, Malfoy will definitely try to recruit more."

"Sirius said actually recruiting for the Death Eaters would be gauche, but he also said that holding a ball in Summer already was gauche. Something about the summer being the season for vacations, not balls," Harry said,

"I see." Hermione frowned. The enemy was recruiting, and the Resistance still had trouble getting more people. "So, how are you doing?"

"We're mostly waiting for Fred and George to finish an order for us," Ron said.

"You could use the time to do your homework."

"Err… " Ron and Harry laughed, slightly embarrassed, and for a moment Hermione almost forgot that she wouldn't be joining them at Hogwarts in two months.

"You've been flying and fooling around, hm?" She grinned, a bit wistfully.

"Training, actually," Harry said.

"Quidditch?" Hermione asked, trying to keep the tone light.

"Defense. Sirius is tutoring us," Ron said. "In secret. We're also learning Occlumency."

Hermione bit her lower lip. She felt jealous that her friend could learn from an adult with experience in the last war, while she and the rest of the Resistance had to make do with manuals and each other. She buried that feeling though - her friends needed the training, with the Dark Lord trying to kill Harry, and the Resistance would find more instructors as well. Muggles too, if Seamus was successful and they could get weapons.

"You could join us," Harry said. "Sirius would train you as well. No one would know."

Hermione was tempted. Very tempted. But she told herself that it would be too dangerous. And she had too much to do. And she couldn't leave the others to be with her friends. She had to set an example. So she shook her head. "I can't. Too dangerous for you. If something happens to you because of me…"

Ron looked like he wanted to argue, but Harry nodded. "Alright. But once we can set up a safe location to train…"

She nodded. She didn't think they'd manage. But it was a nice thought. And it felt very good to know her friends cared that much about her.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, July 5th, 1996

Harry Potter stared at the row of 'Wanted' posters attached to the wall of the 'Thin Red Line'. They showed various muggleborn students. Former students, he corrected himself. Hermione's poster was the most prominent one, offering the highest reward, and they had chosen to draw her as unfavorably as possible - her hair filled the picture and she was sneering more than Malfoy at his worst. The Ministry was really going all out in their manhunt.

He pulled his father's invisibility cloak a bit closer around him when he saw the door of the pub opening. A single wizard stepped out of it, pausing to take a deep breath. Harry slipped past the man, and into the pub before the door closed. The smell of beer and smoke made him wish he had cast a Bubble-Head Charm beforehand. How could people stand this stench? Even the Leaky Cauldron wasn't that bad in the evening.

He didn't dwell on the question, but sneaked to the back of the pub, avoiding the tables still occupied by red-robed wizards and witches. As Tonks had told him, the pub was a favourite among Aurors, run by a retired Auror. On the way, he stepped on a bottlecap, right when a witch turned her head towards him to order a last beer from the bartender. He saw her frown and she drew her wand before he could react.

"Homenum Revelio!"

The spell washed over him, and he froze. Busted. He remembered the excuse he and Ron had prepared. He was here to look for Tonks, personal matter. To his surprise, the witch blinked, and stared at the crushed cap.

"Brenda? What are you doing? Trying to blow up the pub?" the wizard at her table said.

"I thought I noticed a disillusioned intruder." She pointed at the cap, and Harry carefully took a few steps away. "Something crushed that cap."

"Well, unless you blew your spell, there's no invisible intruder in here," the other Auror said, grinning.

Another witch at the next table sneered. "At least her failure didn't get her partner killed this time." The Aurors at her table laughed. Brenda snarled at them, and for a moment, Harry thought she would curse them. She didn't though. Instead she threw a few coins at the bartender, who caught them with a Levitation Charm, and walked out.

"Stupid bint got beaten by a mudblood," the other witch muttered, glaring at Brenda's back before returning her attention to her drink.

Harry moved towards the back of the pub, choosing a spot in the corner. Now he just had to wait until the pub closed, and the owner was gone. It shouldn't take too long.

*****​

When the bartender had finally left, Harry had been fighting the urge to cough for what had felt like an eternity. He really should have cast a Bubble-Head Charm. After he had recovered his breath, walked to the closest table and pulled a bag of the twins' latest invention - the wireless ears - from under his sweater. He knelt down and slipped under the table, placing the first on the underside of the top, near the center. The ear adhered and changed color to match the wood. "Test one, test one," he whispered, then pulled back and stood up. He had a dozen more of the things to place.

The twins had assured him that the ears would not be affected by the standard privacy spells, being counted as another participant of the supposedly private talk. Dictaquills would note down what was said, on endless scrolls of parchment, inside silenced boxes. The whole setup had been rather expensive, in Harry's opinion, but Sirius hadn't even blinked at the cost. If it gave them information about Auror raids, if it saved Hermione, then it was worth every galleon anyway.

Now he just had to apparate back to Grimmauld Place. He raised his wand.

He couldn't apparate. The Pub was warded. He closed his eyes and cursed, bending down to the next table.

"Ron, I'm stuck here. I'll have to wait until the owner returns in the morning, to sneak out, or he'll know someone broke in."

He sighed, and went to the booth in the back. It'd be a long and uncomfortable night. Then he thought about Hermione, having to live in hiding, hunted by the Aurors, and felt ashamed for griping about a minor inconvenience. At least he was finally doing something to help her.

*****​

London, East End, July 8th, 1996

"Seamus is back!"

Hermione, reading the textbook for 7th year Transfiguration, looked up when she heard
Dean's shout, a smile breaking out on her face. After Martin Cokes, who had taken over a week to reach the safehouse because he hadn't known that Apparition and muggle public travel was safe, had returned, Seamus had come back now as well!

She closed the book and went downstairs. Their redheaded friend was surrounded by the other Resistance members, grinning widely.

"Seamus! How did it go?" she blurted out.

Seamus didn't take offense. "Oh, it went great. Took me a time to talk my cousin around - The years I spent in a 'Scottish public school' didn't do me any favours - but I managed to convince him I wasn't an English spy. My family moving helped - the rest of my relatives think I'm in trouble with the law. Mum told him something to that effect."

Hermione winced. She hadn't thought of that - and she knew what the IRA did to spies. Seamus had been in greater danger than she thought.

Dean laughed though. "Well, with your history, everyone would think you're in trouble."

Seamus chuckled. "Anyway, I met with a friend of my cousin. It was like in a spy movie - we were in the middle of nowhere, on a moor even. He was suspicious of me, but once I told him that I wanted to buy a sample of explosives and a detonator, and would pay in gold, he warmed up. I paid too much, but it was worth it. Even if he thinks I'm an idiot."

He grew serious. "I didn't get any help with getting guns though. And I didn't even ask about instruction. We'll have to find someone else for that."

Hermione nodded. She hadn't really expected the IRA to teach a bunch of British teenagers, much less share part of their support network. And it would have run the risk of attracting the attention of the British muggle authorities. If they were hunted as terrorists by the muggles as well, they would have lost the war before it started. "We can probably hire a mercenary for that kind of instruction." She had one in particular in mind, who had written a book about his activities. If he wouldn't do it, then he would know people who would.

"Good," Seamus said. "Here's the detonator and the Semtex."

Hermione took the package. "Radio controlled detonator?"

"Yes. Seemed the most useful. But give me some time, and I'll rig up timers too," Seamus said.

Hermione nodded. It should be safe enough if he only had a duplicated detonator to work with. She checked the bag. The sample of Semtex was far too small to blow anything up. No wonder the IRA had parted with it. A Gemino Curse would easily multiply it, of course."Good work, Seamus."

"Now we just need a target," Allan said. "Like a ball full of Death Eaters."

Hermione glared at him. He had been talking about blowing up the ball ever since she had told them about it. "We don't know if there will be just Death Eaters. And we're not ready to take that step yet." She had been making that argument ever since. "We are still too few to wage a war, even a guerilla war, and if we blow up Malfoy Manor, it will be war."

Seamus frowned. "Didn't you find more muggleborns?"

Hermione sighed. "It's harder than expected, though part of that is because we are hunted by the Aurors. That makes approaching others more difficult." Even those sympathetic wouldn't want to be seen with them.

"And those older muggleborns who'd be willing to fight are probably hiding already," Allan said.

"And you know old people," Dean cut in, "they will want to take over anyway. Even though we have done more than they thought of."

Hermione knew that this was a likely outcome. And she knew that she was fed up with following adults who didn't do as much as they could. Or hid information from her. And she certainly wouldn't trust any stranger. Not without them signing the enchanted contract she had created for the Resistance. Anyone who broke it would lose all the memories of the Resistance. It wouldn't work on muggles though.

"We're doing fine so far," Allan said. "And once we use the explosives we just received, they'll know what we are capable of."

That wasn't exactly a good enough reason to kill people, in Hermione's opinion. "We're not going to kill people just so we can impress older muggleborns."

"Of course not. It's just a side benefit of killing Death Eaters," Allan said, smiling.

Dean and Seamus, and the Creeveys eagerly agreed, laughing.

"Don't talk lightly of killing!" Hermione said. "You haven't killed anyone yet." She had, and had suffered from nightmares.

That sobered the group up. Allan frowned at her, but she stared at him until he looked away.

"We need more time, and more information," she said. No one disagreed. At least out loud.

"Now, let's celebrate Seamus's successful return!" Dean said.

As everyone grabbed drinks, Hermione forced herself to join in. She couldn't afford to isolate herself. Even if she wanted to return to studying. And talk with Harry and Ron.

*****​

London, Newham, July 15th, 1996

Hermione Granger felt nervous when she walked towards the Café overlooking a park. She wasn't afraid of Aurors spotting her, not with her wig and sunglasses concealing her identity without magic, but she couldn't help fearing that Seamus's contact with the IRA had been noticed by the muggle authorities. She didn't think they could have tracked him to their safehouse, but she was glad she had Justin with her, to provide backup.

A former mercenary and current author, she corrected herself. He was over 70 years old now, and hadn't been active in over 15 years. As far as she knew, at least. She spotted him at once - he did look like the picture on the back cover of 'A Tour in Africa'.

"Good morning, Colonel," she greeted him. Justin, at her side, nodded.

She noticed that Colonel O'Bannon's eyes widened slightly. "Miss Smith? I confess I had expected someone a bit… older." He sounded amused.

Hermione took a seat. "This is Mister Brown." She nodded towards Justin.

"Good morning, sir." Justin's upper class accent hadn't been affected by his years at Hogwarts, and Hermione saw the Irish mercenary take notice.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us," she said, before ordering. A discreet privacy spell followed.

"For that much money I'd meet with almost anyone," he said, grinning.

She nodded. Apparently the restored gold doubloon they had sent with the letter asking for a meeting was worth more than Hermione or Sirius had thought.

"I don't suppose you're just here to interview me about my books."

"I've read them," she said. "I like your style, though they were a tad light on military knowledge. But we're not here to talk about your literary career."

He nodded. The waiter arrived with their order.

"What did you want to talk about then?" he asked. He was smiling, but in a guarded way.

"We're looking for instruction in small arms and small unit tactics."

He chuckled. "And what would you need that for? Are you trying to follow in my footsteps? You're a bit young for that, dear, and it's not exactly a profession for girls." He nodded at Justin. "You'd could join the British Army for a stint. Or Sandhurst." O'Bannon leaned back. "It's not glamorous, it's not romantic, and if you can pay me in gold just to meet me, it certainly won't pay better than what you've been doing."

He probably thought that they had stolen the gold coin. Or that Justin and her were eloping, and he had raided his parents' safe. Hermione pulled her sunglasses off and stared at the man. "Colonel. We're not about to play mercenaries. We don't have any illusions about war. We have enemies who want to kill us, and we need training to survive."

He lost his smile, meeting her eyes. "If you have the money to hire instructors, you could as well hire bodyguards. Or people who solve your problem for you." He didn't sound convinced, but he at least sounded as if he took them a bit more seriously.

"That's not an option."

He raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yes." Hermione wished she could tell the man about magic. But she really didn't want to be seen as threatening the Statute of Secrecy. "We've got the money to pay anyone willing to train us. But hiring mercenaries to fight our battles is, sadly, not an option."

O'Bannon's eyes narrowed again. "I don't work with terrorists, and neither do my men," he said in a cold voice.

Hermione had been afraid of that. It was a logical assumption. "We're not terrorists. We're about to fight terrorists. Outside Britain."

"Girl, don't lie to me. If you were doing that, you could hire mercenaries for the job."

Hermione sighed, and drew her wand. "Do you know what this is?"

He looked confused. "A stick?"

She pointed it at him.

"Obliviate."

While the man's eyes lost focus, she looked at Justin. "Plan B." They should have started with that, but Hermione didn't like to lie to people she wanted to work with.

They waited until the man blinked.

"Colonel O'Bannon? Thank you for meeting with us," Justin said.

"Ah.. yes?"

"Are you well, sir?" Hermione sounded concerned.

"Just a … I'm alright." O'Bannon smiled. "You piqued my curiosity. Not many would pay me a gold doubloon to meet me."

Justin grinned. "We wanted to ensure that you'd not dismiss us as a bunch of kids. Money talks." He leaned forward. "We need your help, sir. I've recently inherited some property in a part of Africa you're familiar with. It's sadly currently occupied by some bandits. We need to hire a few specialists to secure it, and at least one instructor who can teach the locals to defend it afterwards." He grew serious. "My father tried to deal with the local authorities, if you can call those bastards that, but that didn't work out. I don't want to do the same mistakes."

"I see," O'Bannon smiled. "I can put you in contact with a few good men."

Hermione exchanged a glance with Justin. They smiled.

*****​

London, Waterloo Station, July 17th, 1996

"Take a look at this, Hermione!" Ron Weasley smiled, and pulled out the rolls of parchment the Dictaquills had filled since Harry had placed the wireless ears.

His friend's eyes widened when she skimmed them. "Wow…" she looked up at the two boys and smiled. "Thank you! Thank you!"

Ron was certain that if they hadn't been sitting at a table in a restaurant, she'd have hugged them. She might still do it, he realised.

"But… wasn't that dangerous? How dd you manage to get those?"

"It wasn't dangerous at all," Harry said. "I used my invisibility cloak.." Ron's friend proceeded to tell Hermione in detail how he had placed the wireless ears. Ron knew that it hadn't been quite as easy as Harry told it, but neither of them wanted their friend to worry about them.

Hermione nodded. "That was a very smart idea, to bug the Aurors."

Ron smiled. "Just a thought I had, when I saw the extendable ears." Her beaming smile at him felt very good.

"There's some speculation among Aurors about Malfoy's ball," Harry cut in. "They think it might be a recruiting attempt."

Hermione nodded. "That is almost certain."

"They think the Dark Lord himself could be in attendance," Ron said.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Really?"

She started to go through the scrolls. Ron exchanged a glance with Harry. "You didn't plan to, you know… attack the ball?"

Hermione looked up. "What? No. But someone else might. We're not exactly the only muggleborns who have gone into hiding. We're just the ones hunted by the Aurors."

"Going after students…" Harry scoffed.

"Former students," Hermione corrected him. "We've been banned from Hogwarts."

That was not a topic Ron liked to talk about. "Yes. So… how are things going?"

Hermione sighed. "We're still organising. It's a bit like a dorm, right now. Just without teachers."

That sounded like a nice setup to Ron. Although… "And you're acting as a prefect, right?"

She nodded, frowning. "I think that description fits well enough."

Ron looked at Harry. Both grinned. That was their Hermione.

She glared at them, but not for long.

*****​

London, East End, July 17th, 1996

Hermione Granger felt guilty about lying to her best friends when she arrived back at the safehouse. Despite her claims, she had made plans to attack the Summer Ball. She hadn't been expecting to actually do it, though. It had just been a mental exercise. This new information though…

She entered the 'living room', where the Resistance members tended to hang out.

"How was your double-date?" Seamus asked, grinning.

She rolled her eyes at him, but didn't react further. Taking a seat at the dinner table, she took a deep breath. She didn't like what she was about to do, but she had to. "I've got some new information. Aurors speculate that the Dark Lord himself might be present at the Summer Ball.

Allan jerked, and she knew he'd be smiling. "That changes things. If we can kill the Dark Lord with a bomb..."

Everyone perked up, as Hermione had known they would. "It's just a rumour. Speculation," She said. "We don't know if he'll be there."

Allan scoffed. "Even if he isn't, it's a ball full of Death Eaters and their supporters."

"And their families. Civilians," Hermione pointed out. The argument was now very familiar.

"Some civilians," Dean said. "Their gold will pay for the deaths of muggleborns."

"And for the deaths of 'blood traitors'," Seamus added. "But most important is the Dark Lord. If we have a chance to kill him, it's worth it."

Hermione didn't like it, but she had to agree. Everything had started with the Dark Lord's return. Without him, there wouldn't have been an appeasement policy. The purebloods would have hidden their bigotry still. They'd be going to Hogwarts in six weeks, instead of hiding in muggle Britain. She slowly nodded. "I agree. We still aren't ready for a war, but the chance to kill the Dark Lord is an opportunity we can't let pass." And if they succeeded, there wouldn't be a war. She suspected that even if they managed to kill the Dark Lord, he might return from death - he had done it before, after all. But it would take him time, and the Death Eaters would collapse without him to lead them, like in 1981. She didn't say that though.

That surprised the others. Seamus even gaped at her while Allan smiled widely.

"We'll bomb the ball. After midnight, so any children attending will have left already." Hopefully with their caretakers. No one opposed that statement. She took a deep breath. "We'll need a detonator, and we'll need to be able to levitate quite a lot of weight."

As she laid out her plan, Allan's smile grew, and Seamus's grin widened. Hermione hid her own feelings. As horrible as it was, this could end the war before it started.

And, as much as she hated herself for feeling that way, a lot of those purebloods attending the ball deserved it.

*****​

Hogwarts, July 20th, 1996

Albus Dumbledore looked at the assembled Order of the Phoenix. There were so few, he thought, not for the first time. So few left from the last war. They fit into his office with but one expansion charm. He didn't sigh though, but kept smiling. Confidently. Reassuringly.

"My friends, I thank you for coming." He stood in front of them. "You all know the situation: The Ministry is still foolishly insisting on persecuting muggleborns, instead of fighting the Dark Lord and his followers. Although we've been making progress in the Wizengamot. More and more members are realising just what kind of wizard the Dark Lord is, and what would await them under his rule. His attempts to influence them have grown cruder lately, after our fight in the Ministry."

"They wouldn't fight him for being a murdering bastard, but they'll fight him for being a rude bastard." Alastor sneered. "Bunch of worthless wankers."

Sirius chuckled, and Albus continued before the young wizard could say something even more inflammatory. "A few more weeks, and we'll have a majority in the Wizengamot."

"Unless Malfoy manages to bribe more people at his ball," Elphias pointed out. "He's invited everyone who hasn't been proclaiming their support for you."

"Is anyone among us attending the ball?" Remus asked. "It would be useful to know what happened there."

Alastor scoffed. "As if they'll let anyone they're not certain about attend the real meeting. And if we had a spy there, we'd certainly not mention it to you. That's how spies get killed!"

"Do you think there's a traitor among us?" Sirius asked, in a dangerous tone.

Albus smiled gently, even though he agreed with his friend. While he trusted the members of the Order, not many of them were accomplished in Occlumency. "I trust everyone here. But there are ways to extract information even from the unwilling." He wasn't that concerned about the Summer Ball, even without any of his spies being present. Severus would be able to inform him about any new developments later.

Sirius nodded, accepting that.

"Nymphadora, how goes the recruiting?"

"It's 'Tonks'!" she muttered, glaring at him for using her first name. In a normal voice, she continued: "Not that well. Most Aurors I talked to, carefully, don't like muggleborns much. Not after one of us was killed by Hermione."

"Bloody Death Eater deserved it!" Sirius said.

Albus knew that Harry and Mister Weasley were in contact with Miss Granger; only an utter fool would expect them to abandon their friend, but he didn't know if Sirius was privy to what they were talking about. His remark though seemed to indicate that though.

Young Nymphadora coughed. "Anyway, I tried to talk to a few former Aurors. Muggleborns, who had been kicked out. But some are hiding, and those I met don't trust me." She winced. "I'm not certain they're trusting anyone working for the Ministry. One almost hexed me."

Albus nodded. He knew the last year had caused a lot of resentment among muggleborns, and quite understandably, but it was still worth to reach out to them. That they were aggressive, even to Nymphadora, was a bad sign. As were former Aurors going into hiding. Things were already quite volatile, after attacks by Imperiused muggleborns. The damage even one misguided man could do was considerable.

He had to keep an eye on Miss Granger too, he knew. And on the group of students she was part of. It would be difficult though, since he doubted that she'd trust him. Albus would have to work through Harry and Mister Weasley. At least Harry could protect his mind better now. To think he had made such progress, after Severus had stopped teaching the boy…

"Thank you, Nymphadora. Now, how about our supplies? Were you able to acquire the potions we need, Emmeline?"

The witch winced. "I did, but the prices have risen considerably in the last month."

"People with more sense than most are stocking up, of course," Alastor grunted. "'fcourse, it doesn't take much to have more sense than most."

Albus sighed when a few more members took this as an insult. They were correct, but their bickering was proving Alastor correct as well. It looked like it'd be a long and tiresome meeting.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, July 18th, 1996

"I didn't expect you to visit. Much less when Harry isn't around."

Sirius was smiling, but his tone showed his surprise at Hermione Granger's arrival.

"I can't stay long," she said. "I just came to get more supplies, and to ask you something."

"And my hopes are dashed once more!"," Sirius said, handing her a bag.

She chuckled, briefly, at his joke, then met his eyes. "I wanted to check that none of our friends is attending Malfoy's ball."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "To my knowledge, none of my friends and colleagues will attend the ball."

She nodded. "Good."

"Should I hold a dinner party myself, at that date, to ensure no one tries to crash Malfoy's party?"

"That's a good idea." She didn't have to say anything else. Sirius's grim expression showed he had understood.

"I'll never forgive you if you get killed. Harry would be devastated."

"I know. I'll be safe." More or less.

Sirius frowned, but didn't press her further.

*****​

Wiltshire, Britain, July 27th, 1996

Hermione Granger could see Malfoy Manor in the distance. It was brightly illuminated, even shortly before midnight. She took a closer look through her binoculars. She didn't see anything suspicious.

"Are you ready?" She turned to Seamus and Dean.

The two former Gryffindors nodded, astride their brooms, with a large chest floating between them. "Remember to get enough distance before you trigger it. Too close and you'll get caught in the shockwave."

"It's not a nuke, Hermione," Seamus said, grinning. "Just a chest full of Semtex!"

"Allan?"

The former Ravenclaw smiled, holding up a bottle. "I'm ready."

"Be careful, everyone," she said.

"Always!" Dean said, as the three boys started to fly towards the manor, levitating the chest between Dean's and Seamus's brooms.

Hermione bit her lower lip nervously as she saw her friends disappear in the dark sky. She was worrying about them, and about her plan. If she had miscalculated the blast radius…

*****​

Wiltshire, Britain, July 28th, 1996

Daphne Greengrass forced herself to keep smiling when she left the ballroom in Malfoy Manor. Her idiot of a little sister was simply too stupid to listen to her, or their parents. The squirt had accepted Draco's invitation to show her the garden. Daphne didn't know what was worse, her sister's naiveté, or Draco's willingness to flirt with her. The two had danced so often together, Parkinson had left the ball in a huff. Not that that had been a loss. Tracey had gone home as well, or rather, had been sent home by her parents. Which had left Daphne bereft of intelligent company.

And now they were out in the garden. Her parents were in a 'private talk', so it fell to Daphne to act as a chaperone. Which meant she had to spend even more time with Draco, and without anyone else to act as a buffer. For a girl who should have gone home already. Daphne certainly hadn't been allowed to stay up that long when she had debuted! A Summer Ball was still a stupid idea anyway. It wasn't even on Solstice!

"Those trees were imported from the Amazon basin, and specially enchanted to grow in the colder climate of England," Draco was telling them.

"Oh… how exotic!" Astoria chirped.

Daphne rolled her eyes. Trees… were they Hufflepuffs, or Slytherins? Who cared about trees? "How fascinating," she said in the most bored tone she could manage.

"Daphne!" Astoria glared at her, but she simply smiled at her little sister.

"Yes?"

"Oh! You're impossible!" If she hadn't been wearing her new dancing shoes, Daphne was certain her sister would have stomped her feet. Or tried to step on hers.

Draco chuckled. "We've got a pond with various magical fishes too. Let me show you!"

"Oh!" Astoria chirped.

Daphne sighed, and followed them towards the small lake at the boundary of the estate. She doubted they'd see any actual fish.

She had been right, she thought a few minutes later, staring at a small lake.

"Look at the moon's reflection in the water!" her sister exclaimed.

Daphne rolled her eyes and sighed. She was about to make another sarcastic comment when she saw a group of wizards appear at the edge of the lake, almost hidden by the bushes there. In the moonlight she recognized the robes. Obliviators. But why would they…

Behind her, night turned to day when the manor exploded in a giant fireball.

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 4: Backlash

'There is a controversy about the exact start of the Second Blood War. Some claim that it started with the disappearance of Umbridge, citing her as the first casualty in the war. Others claim that the fight between Hermione Granger and Aurors Brenda Brocktuckle and Radcliff Macmillan was the first action of the war, causing the Muggleborn Resistance to take up arms. In my opinion, the war started with the bombing of Malfoy Manor. This was the first action taken by any side in the Second Blood War. It was a planned, prepared and well executed action by an organised group. Something that cannot be said about the other two incidents. With one blow, almost all of the Dark Lord's followers in the Wizengamot had been killed. As had many of their families. Cries for revenge were heard before the fires in the ruins of the manor had died down. After that night, the war was definitely on.
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

Wiltshire, Britain, July 28th, 1996

Daphne Greengrass whirled around and froze, blinking and gaping at the horrible sight. Most of the manor had collapsed, the ground floor buried under the remains of the upper floors. A huge cloud of dust had been thrown up, and as it slowly started to settle, she could make out the remains of the ballroom, covered with rubble. Someone gasped next to her, and she couldn't tell if it was Astoria or Draco.

"Merlin! Mother and father are…" she said, noticing that something was wrong with her ears.

Right that moment, huge flames shot up from the rubble. The already terrible scene turned into an inferno.

"Fiendfyre!" she shouted, horrified. What else could burn that fiercely?

"No, no… that's not Fiendfyre," Draco said. She didn't ask why he'd know. She barely heard him, and realised that her ears were ringing.

Astoria was shaking, and saying something Daphne couldn't hear. The fire was spreading, covering the entirety of the manor. A veritable firestorm. The edge of the garden was catching fire as well. To her horror, she saw someone stumble out of the flames, their robe ablaze, and collapse on the remains of the terrace leading to the gardens.

Movement to her side caught her eye. She turned around, shielding Astoria with her own body before she saw it was one of the Obliviators. She started to relax, then tensed up. They had arrived before the explosion. Why would…

The man pointed his wand at her, and she forgot.

*****​

Hermione Granger swallowed, lowering her binoculars again. The bomb and the home-made Napalm had worked as expected. With Apparition blocked by their spells, no one would have been able to escape from Malfoy Manor. She tried to calmly, clinically observe the effects, but couldn't. The sight of a human torch stumbling out of the fire while another figure twitched under a pillar, the flames coming closer and closer, had been too much.

She had done this. It had been her plan. No one else had thought of using Gemino-cursed bottles of Napalm right after the bomb. And no one, including her, had thought what that would mean for the people inside. What it would really mean. Next to her, Sally-Anne was mumbling "Dear Lord!" over and over again. Justin was simply swearing.

"Yes!"

She looked up. Allan and the other broom riders were coming down. The former Ravenclaw was smiling widely. "Your plan worked perfectly, Hermione! No one escaped!"

Seamus and Dean looked more shaken, but were smiling as well. They wouldn't have seen the effect, not from above, through all the smoke and dust and fire. She nodded, numbly.

"Yes."

"If the Dark Lord was in that mansion, then he's dead now!" Allan jumped off his broom and hugged her.

"Let's hope he was," she managed to say. It would make all of this worth it. She shook her head. "Let's go. The Aurors will arrive any second."

They apparated several times, until they reached a prepared ambush location, then waited half an hour to check if someone was following them. By the time they reached their safehouse, now very well-furnished thanks to magic, Hermione had managed to calm down enough to hide her emotions.

She just knew she'd have nightmares again though.

*****​

Wiltshire, Britain, July 28th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle shook her head in disbelief, staring at the remains of Malfoy Manor. The entire house was just a smoking ruin. And what her spells were telling her… she didn't want to believe them.

"Merlin's balls! Did a dragon attack?"

She sighed at her new partner, Martin Runcorn. Another rookie. "A dragon couldn't have done this," she said. "Not in the time this took, at least."

"But… what then? The Dark Lord?" The wizard looked around as if he expected Death Eaters to charge them right then.

"Why would the Dark Lord attack Malfoy Manor?" She stared at him, and his response died on his lips. Brenda didn't know what exactly had happened here, but she knew what or who hadn't done it. Or at least was pretty certain about that.

"Come on!"

She led Runcorn towards the terrace. To their left, the burned remains of a guest were levitated out from under the stone pillar that had killed them. It was impossible to tell if it had been a witch or wizard. She heard Runcorn choke, and hoped he'd not lose his dinner, or early breakfast, if the kid had been as dumb as to eat something before coming. Hopefully his Bubble-Head Charm would help.

Scrimgeour was there, staring grimly at the carnage. Over a dozen bodies were laid out on his side, covered by conjured blankets, from what Brenda could see, and more were being recovered.

"Sir," she greeted him.

"Ah, Brocktuckle. And…" he looked at her partner.

"Runcorn, sir, Martin Runcorn."

"Right," the Head Auror said in a tone that made it clear that he didn't care. "What do you have for me?"

Brenda took a deep breath. "One big blast took the house down. The wards couldn't withstand it. Afterwards, the fire was set using some inflammable liquid. No sign of Fiendfyre."

"What?"

"That's what my spells showed, sir." She had checked the results three time.

"But… a Blasting Curse that strong… with old wards…" Runcorn trailed off.

Brenda nodded grimly. Old wards, erected back in the day with blood sacrifices, were serious. Not even the Dark Lord had managed to power through them like that in the last war.

Scrimgeour cursed under his breath. "Who could have done this?"

Brenda shrugged. "Dumbledore might have been holding back."

Runcorn gasped, and Brenda and Scrimgeour exchanged a suffering glance. Rookies!

"More seriously, I don't know who had the means to do this. But there's one group with the motive," she said.

"Muggleborns." The Head Auror nodded with a grim expression.

"But how?" Runcorn stammered.

Both ignored him. If the muggleborns had done this, then the situation had just grown far worse than Brenda could have imagined a day ago.

"Sir! We've found the entrance to the basement! It's intact!" John Dawlish walked towards them, almost losing his footing in the rubble.

"Any survivors?" Scrimgeour asked.

Dawlish's grimace told Brenda all that she needed to know.

*****​

Dawlish's grimace hadn't told Brenda all that she had needed to know, she realised a few minutes later.

"It seems 'dear Lucius' had his dungeons stocked," Scrimgeour said in a cold voice. "Likely muggles or muggleborns, judging by their clothes. Suffocated by the looks of it."

Brenda agreed with the deduction. All that fire above them, no Bubble-Head Charm… a nasty way to die.

"We'll need to identify them quickly," the Head Auror said.

Brenda nodded. She didn't know what would be worse.

"Rufus! There you are!"

Brenda turned around and winced. The Minister for Magic was walking down the stairs, with Bones at his side. She suddenly was glad that after her blunder, there was no way she'd get the lead on this case.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, July 28th, 1996

"This is a catastrophe, Albus!"

Now he was 'Albus' again, Albus Dumbledore thought. The Minister had always been quick to adapt to 'changing circumstances'.

"I would agree, Cornelius." If not for the same reasons the Minister thought of.

"Three dozen members of the Wizengamot, killed! Entire families, wiped out!" Cornelius was pacing behind his desk.

"Including Lucius Malfoy himself," Albus pointed out. It was a bit petty, but Cornelius could do with a reminder of just who he had been so friendly with, even if their relationship had cooled down somewhat during the last year. Even the Minister had realised just how close the man had been to the Dark Lord.

"It's a miracle that the Obliviators acted quickly enough to restore the anti-muggle wards and had a muggle-worthy excuse ready, or we'd be in hot water with the ICW as well!"

Albus nodded. He had visited the site himself, earlier. He hadn't seen sights like this since the war in Europe. Which was ironic, since the excuse used had been an unexploded bomb from the Blitz going off. Which meant he knew very well who had done this. In hindsight, he should have expected it. You could only push people so far before they lashed out, and Miss Granger had been pushed far beyond the point at which others would have broken. To think the young witch would be capable of such carnage… once again, Albus told himself he shouldn't be surprised. He probably would have done something similar, in her place, when he had been her age. Before he had learned the cost of war.

"And Rufus and Bones think the muggleborns are behind this!" The Minister whirled around, facing him. "Is that true?"

Albus slowly nodded. "It is very likely, in my opinion."

Cornelius paled, and staggered over to his seat. "But… it can't be true! How could they have done this?"

"You really do not know anything about muggles, do you?" Albus asked, smiling mildy. Then his expression grew hard. "I warned you, Cornelius. I warned you against taking this course of action. I fought for a year to prevent exactly this situation from happening. But you didn't want to listen. And now Britain is reaping what you have sowed."

It was stretching the truth, more than a bit. Albus certainly hadn't focused on the danger muggleborns represented - that would only have played into Tom's hands. But if Cornelius had listened to him, instead of Malfoy, then the muggleborns wouldn't have any reason to consider the Ministry an enemy.

"But… what can we do?"

"You can repeal those cursed laws against muggleborns, Cornelius. Rein in your bigots, and hope that this will be enough to placate those who have done this."

"We can't do that! The rumour that this has been done by muggleborns has spread already. The heirs of the Wizengamot members killed today won't ever accept surrendering in the face of such … such…"

"The Wizengamot had no qualms surrendering the muggleborns to the Dark Lord," Albus said. He knew though that the Minister was very likely correct. 'Blood called for blood' was a saying many of the Old Families lived by.

"We didn't surrender. We compromised to avoid a war!"

"And yet, a war is the result. A war that will be more terrible than you and I imagined."Albus stood up. "Mark my words, Cornelius: If you do not change those laws, if you do not change your policy, then Britain will enter its darkest time, ever."

"I can't! You know they'll want revenge, not appeasement!"

Albus nodded, and left the Minister's office. If he couldn't change the Ministry's policy - and with the Wizengamot dominated by the families of those who had just been killed, that was very unlikely - then he could only hope that Tom's followers had been hurt worse by this attack than it seemed, or the Order would soon be facing not just the Death Eaters, but the Ministry as well. And he didn't know what the muggleborns would do.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, July 28th, 1996

Harry Potter was in the kitchen when he heard the tapping noise. He looked up and saw an owl on the windowsill. When he let it inside, he saw that it was carrying an Evening Prophet edition and he froze for a second. The Daily Prophet only put out a second edition if something very important had happened. Had they arrested Hermione?

Afraid for his friend, he all but ripped the newspaper off the owl, ignoring its screeching protests. "Kreacher, pay the owl!" he shouted, unrolling it. When he saw the headline, and the pictures beneath it, he gasped.

'Malfoy Manor destroyed! Dozens Dead! Dark Magic?'

He read through the article with a sick feeling in his stomach. So many dead...

"Harry?"

He looked up and saw Sirius had entered the kitchen.

"What's wrong?"

"Malfoy Manor was destroyed," Harry said, returning his attention to the article.

Sirius stepped up to him and started reading over his shoulder. "First ever Summer Ball at Malfoy Manor… dozens of the most prestigious families in attendance… debutantes… entire manor destroyed by a single explosion… survivors burned alive… "

Harry's godfather whistled. "Hermione doesn't do things by halves."

"What? You think she did this?" Harry gaped at him. He had told her about this ball. Had shown her the records from the Auror pub… Merlin! Was this his fault?

"Hm? I know she did it. She asked me to make certain that none of our friends attended," Sirius answered. "Oh… Draco survived. Damn! I had hoped the entire family had died."

"Hermione did this?"

Sirius nodded. "Yes, she did." He grinned. "And she did it well."

"But… she killed dozens of people!"

"Dozens of Death Eaters and their ilk." Sirius scoffed. "Malfoy… Parkinson… Nott… Selwyn… all of them voted to convict me at my trial last year, despite the evidence Dumbledore had gathered, and despite my testimony under Veritaserum! I wish I could have seen them die!"

Harry stared at the older wizard. "You… you think this is a good thing?"

"Of course it is!" Sirius said, narrowing his eyes. "What did you think this ball was, a party? It was a gathering of Death Eaters and their supporters. Murderous bastards, all of them. Do you know how many of my friends they killed in the last war?" He shook his head. "You should be glad none of those dark wizards and witches will be able to murder anyone else. Your parents would have approved of this."

"They would have?"

"Of course! They were fighting in the war. What did you think they were doing, holding hands? Lily and James killed their share of Death Eaters, before they had to go into hiding."

Harry blinked, trying to make sense of this all while Sirius continued reading. Would his parents really have approved of this… massacre? They weren't at war, were they? He still couldn't believe that Hermione, his best friend, had done this. Had murdered so many people. Even if they were Death Eaters… Then he remembered what Malfoy had done in their second year. How Cedric had been killed, on a whim. And those names in the article… he remembered those names as well. Voldemort had called them out, and they had come. Harry had killed as well. Quirrell, in his first year. Burned alive. But the wizard had been trying to kill him. To kill in cold blood, like this… to think Hermione could do this...

"Damn!" Sirius said suddenly. "According to this, 'the bodies of two muggleborns were found at the scene of the crime'. Did you call Hermione yet?"

Harry forgot about his turmoil. Hermione might have been killed? He pulled out his mirror at once. She had to be safe!

*****​

Devon, Ottery St. Catchpole, July 28th, 1996

Ron Weasley didn't remember ever seeing his parents like this. His dad was sitting on the couch in the Burrow's living room, shaking his head. Ron's mum was sitting next to him, holding his hand. She wasn't yelling, wasn't saying anything.

A crumpled Daily Prophet lay in front of them, on the floor. Ron had read the article. The elder Malfoys were dead. Killed with half the Wizengamot. With a single spell, according to the reporter. Dad had confirmed that - the rumours had spread like Fiendfyre through the Ministry.

"Who could have done this?" he asked.

"I don't care," Ginny said. "I'm glad Malfoy is dead," she added in a whisper.

Their father stiffened, and mum exclaimed: "Ginny!"

Ron's sister raised her chin. "What? Have you forgotten what Malfoy did to us? To me? I remember! I remember what that diary made me do! And it was all his fault!"

For a moment, Ron's mum and sister stared at each other, then his mum looked away, tears in her eyes.

Arthur hugged his wife and shook his head. "You don't understand. This is terrible!" He took a deep breath. "The entire Ministry is in turmoil. A lot of people have lost family. And they want revenge. Dumbledore was so close to repealing those laws, but now?" He shook his head. "I doubt people will come to their senses before the Wizengamot gathers again."

"What?" Ron was confused. Weren't all of those who had pushed those laws through now dead? Then he remembered that their heirs would be poured from the same cauldron.

"Some are already blaming the muggleborns for this because rumours claim that two muggleborns were found dead in the ruins." Ron's dad winced.

"But they say it was a single spell. How could they have done this?" Ron asked. "Only the Dark Lord, or Dumbledore could have cast such a spell."

"Do you know what a bomb is, Ron?" Arthur Weasley asked, then started to explain.

Ron had to struggle to keep his composure while his father told him about muggle explosive devices. Not just because the thought of bombs able to destroy entire cities was terrifying. But because he had just realised who had destroyed Malfoy Manor.

And that he and Harry had helped her.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, July 29th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle scowled when she entered the 'Thin Red Line'. Someone had torn down the wanted poster depicting the muggleborn students next to the entrance. She had felt like tearing down Granger's face herself, a few times, but to see that someone else had done it… probably a muggleborn, thinking they were unjustly persecuted.

"Two ales, Bran," she said while passing the bar.

Brandon Smythe, the bartender, nodded at her. Martin Runcorn wisely didn't protest her ordering for him. It wasn't yet noon, but still, she needed that. And the kid would drink as well. She wasn't in the mood for anything, anyone else going against her wishes. The Auror sat down on the bench at her usual table with a huff. Fortunately, the two pints were floating towards her before Runcorn had managed to sit down himself. Brenda grabbed one, and took a mouthful.

"Ah!" She closed her eyes and sighed, and smiled. It was rather weak, and didn't last long, but it was her first smile that day.

"Rough morning?"

She opened her eyes. Bran was there, looking concerned. He was mostly curious though, she knew that well. He had retired from the Aurors, but he craved gossip from the Corps like no one else. And, well, no one really quit being an Auror. She sighed. "The worst. Fucking politics!"

"Someone meddling with your case?"

"It's not my case. I'm just helping." And Brenda was damn glad it wasn't her case.

"Half the Wizengamot got killed. Of course everyone will be meddling." Bran snorted. He didn't launch into one of his own war stories though, so he was really curious. Not surprisingly - Brenda had dragged her new partner to a very early lunch.

She leaned forward. "You've heard about the two prisoners found in Malfoy's cells."

He nodded.

"We identified them. Kevin Baker and Joline Chase. Former Hit-Wizards. Fired last year."

Bran raised his eyebrows. "So, the story the Malfoy kid had been telling, about his father capturing two burglars during the Ball, and not wanting to disturb the event by calling the Aurors right away was actually true?"

"That's what the Minister wants to be the official story. Two burglars, caught and then killed in the attack. Nothing that could rile up anyone." Brenda snorted. "If Malfoy managed to capture those two by himself, I'm eating my robe. And I don't think they were trying to break into Malfoy Manor the day of the Summer Ball to steal things."

Bran's eyes widened. "You mean… they were part of the attack?"

Brenda shrugged. "Maybe. They were captured hours before the blast."

"Accomplices could have blown up the Manor," Runcorn said.

"With their friends inside?" Brenda scoffed. They had had that discussion before. She knew that anyone willing to kill so many people wouldn't balk at killing two of their own, especially if they had been captured and could look forward to execution or worse, but she had a feeling that there was more to this. And this was the only lead they had. They couldn't bury this, and investigate the case correctly.

"We haven't been able to contact Chase's sister," Runcorn added. "Unemployed enchanter, disappeared a week ago."

Bran cleared his throat. "Used to be, that meant the Death Eaters got another one, back during the last war."

"Well, we're not in the last war. She could have been captured as well, just taken somewhere else. Or she could have gone underground, like so many others," Brenda said.

Bran snorted. "We're not in the last war, Brenda. But I fear we'll be soon wishing we were."

Brenda glared at him, and drank the rest of her pint.

*****​

"Blimey!"

In the basement of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Ron Weasley was staring at the parchment in front of him, where the quill was still writing down the Aurors' conversation. Not even his dad had known about this! He copied the scroll and hid it in the enchanted pocket on his belt. He had to inform Harry about this!

If those Hit-Wizards had blown up the manor, then that would mean that Hermione wasn't involved. Unless she knew them. Had known them. But she would have told him and Harry, wouldn't she?

He stood up and hesitated, looking at the boxes laid out in the room. They needed to transfer those to a safer location. Keeping them below his brothers' shop was too dangerous. But it was the only place within range of the wireless ears. He frowned. His brothers needed to come up with a better solution, or they would be in deep trouble should the shop ever be searched.

*****​

London, Greenwich, July 29th, 1996

Hermione Granger, disillusioned, looked at the two boys standing near the Cutty Sark through her binoculars. Her Human-presence-revealing spell didn't reveal anyone hiding nearby. Not close, at least. Of course, anyone following them would be able to observe them from outside her spell's range. Or disguised as a tourist. Although she doubted a pureblood would fit in with the muggles. And how could have anyone followed her friends when they had disapparated from Grimmauld Place?

She shook her head. She couldn't be careless, especially not after Malfoy Manor, but if she couldn't trust her best friends, then who else could she trust? And she trusted them more than anyone else. Including Allan and the other Resistance members.

The young witch stepped back out of sight and ended her spell before walking towards the two. Harry spotted her and nudged Ron, who was staring at the ship's figurehead.

"Hermione!" the two said together, but she thought they were more tense than normal.

"Harry. Ron." She stopped two yards away from them and bit her lower lip. She wanted to hug them, but she didn't dare. What if they stopped her? They knew she had killed dozens of people. Did they hate her?

After an awkward pause, Ron pointed to the ship. "Why do they have a witch with her boobs hanging out mounted on the bow?"

Hermione snorted. "It's because of the name. She's a character in the poem 'Tam o' Shanter', after which the ship was named."

"And why is she half-naked?"

"That's because in the poem, she's wearing a cutty-sark that's too short for her."

"They named a ship after a witch's undergarments?" Ron shook his head in apparent disbelief.

"Yes," Hermione said.

"That's crazy!"

Harry laughed, Ron joined him, and Hermione smiled. For a moment, the awkwardness was gone. Then Harry grew serious again. "Did you, you know…" He trailed off. He hadn't asked through the mirror either.

Hermione nodded. "We wanted to kill the Dark Lord."

"He's not dead though," Harry said.

"Did you have a vision?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Not a real vision. My Occlumency shields worked. But I felt his anger yesterday."

Hermione closed her eyes, cursing under her breath. She had still held a faint hope that they had killed Voldemort. That would have made the deaths worth it. She opened her eyes again and saw that her friends were staring at her. "Do you hate me for what I have done?"

"No, no." Harry said. Ron shook his head. She didn't know if they were lying though. Or if they didn't know. She didn't know if she hated herself for what she had done, after all.

"They were Death Eaters and their friends," Harry added. "Sirius said they deserved to be killed."

Sirius would think so, Hermione knew. She had talked with the wizard often enough.

"Dad's not happy. Says this will lead to more violence. And more hatred against muggleborns," Ron said.

Hermione scoffed. "I doubt that. It might make them speed up their plans for the muggleborns though. But more hatred? They already hate us. They were already killing us, when they could get away with it." They had tried to kill her as well.

"That's what Sirius said as well," Harry said.

Ron looked like he wanted to say something, but he took a deep breath instead. After a pause, he pulled out a scroll. "Anyway… our spying operation gave us more information. Sorry."

He handed her the scroll, and she skimmed through it, then gasped. "Dear Lord…" She had killed two prisoners of Malfoy! She looked at the two.

"You didn't know," Harry was quick to say. "And Malfoy probably would have tortured them." That sounded like another line from Sirius. But Hermione wouldn't argue against it. She felt bad enough.

Ron nodded. "It wasn't your fault."

"It was my decision though. I decided that the deaths were worth it, that the chance of killing the Dark Lord and his inner circle was worth killing their families as well."

There. She had said it. She forced herself to meet their eyes. If she was honest with herself, then she'd do it again. She didn't say that though.

Harry nodded. "It might teach the other purebloods not to join him, or support him."

"Or it might make them fight you. For revenge," Ron said. "That's what dad thinks will happen." He must have seen her flinch, since he quickly added: "You didn't know the Dark Lord would survive though. If he had died..."

He hadn't, though. She still nodded. It wasn't an absolution, but she'd settle for this… understanding by her friends. Even if she still felt a tremendous amount of guilt for her actions.

"Thank you."

When she moved to hug them, they hugged her back.

*****​

London, East End, July 29th, 1996

"I'm sorry to bring bad news, but I just received confirmation that the Dark Lord is still alive."

Hermione Granger watched her fellow Resistance members react to her pronouncement. Allan, Dean and Seamus showed their anger openly. Sally-Anne, Justin, Mary, Martin and Tania seemed to be shocked, sad, maybe even sick - Sally-Anne was wiping some tears from her eyes and Tania looked rather green. And John … John was mumbling something that sounded like a prayer under his breath. Or maybe Hermione was just projecting. She wasn't socially inept, not anymore, but she wasn't exactly an expert at reading others, and she had felt all of those emotions, ever since she had seen Malfoy Manor crumble, and burn.

"It may be a small consolation, but we took a chance, and tried our best." She forced a smile. "I've also found out that there were two prisoners in the Manor. Two former muggleborn Hit-Wizards, who were allegedly captured trying to enter the manor. I think it's very likely that they had the same goal as we had, but failed."

"We killed muggleborns?" Sally-Anne sobbed. Mary slung an arm around her shoulders.

Before Hermione could say anything, Allan spoke up: "No. We didn't know Malfoy and his accomplices had kidnapped them. They were going to die anyway - tortured to death by the Dark Lord and his murderers. It's not our fault."

Hermione thought that was a small consolation, and not a good excuse - they should have thought of that - but she nodded. They couldn't afford to feel too guilty about this, not with everyone from the Ministry hunting them.

Allan smiled at her. "And don't forget: We might have missed the Dark Lord, but we destroyed a lot of his followers! You all know how the purebloods treated us last year. How they tortured us. Those we killed won't be able to do that to anyone else anymore."

Sally-Anne flinched again. Dean and Seamus nodded though.

"Yes. We dealt the Death Eaters a blow they won't recover from any time soon!" the Irish Gryffindor said.

Hermione nodded. "Draco Malfoy survived, and he'll inherit his father's gold and position. He'll not be even nearly as skilled at using either."

"Exactly. The Death Eaters lost their most experienced politicians," Justin said. "Maybe Dumbledore will be able to push through his proposals now."

Hermione shook her head. "There will be a lot of new members in the Wizengamot. Members he doesn't know that well. I don't think anyone can tell how they'll react." She didn't mention that Ron's father expected the Wizengamot to be radicalised.

"Sod the lot of them! If they continue to emulate Hitler, then we'll blow up the Ministry!" Seamus said.

Hermione wasn't the only one who gasped. "And kill everyone inside, even our friends and allies?"

"What allies?" Allan asked. "What did they do for us while the purebloods started their campaign to sacrifice us to the Death Eaters?"

"Where do you think I got this information?" Hermione asked, then regretted it at once.

"From Harry?" Colin piped up.

Allan scoffed. "Harry Potter doesn't have access to that kind of information. It has to be a Ministry employee." He looked at her. "But if they're a pureblood, they might try to manipulate you. You can't trust them."

"I know what I'm doing." She stared at him until he nodded.

"In any case, we need to plan our next action," Allan said. "While the Ministry and the Death Eaters are in disarray. We need another target, to keep them off-balance."

"Another Death Eater manor," Seamus said at once. "Or the Ministry if they don't repeal those laws!"

"We'd have to find one, first. Most of the known Death Eaters were at the Malfoys' ball. And we're not going to attack random purebloods; we're better than that." She looked around to drive that point home. "Further, the Aurors will be out in force, hunting us," Hermione pointed out. "And we're not ready. We only struck at the Malfoys because there was a chance to kill the Dark Lord. We need more training. "

"We did well enough," Dean countered.

"We were lucky as well. Unlike those two muggleborns," she said. "But you're overlooking something: Other muggleborns are fighting as well. We need to find a way to contact them. Recruit them, or at least coordinate with them."

Allan nodded. "Our attack on Malfoy Manor shows that we are to be taken seriously. That should help with recruiting more people."

"They'll be hiding though, and suspicious of anyone trying to find them," Justin said.

"And trying to find them will be dangerous," Seamus added. "Some of them could be plants, traps by the Ministry. Or they could think we are working for the Ministry."

This was likely based on what his 'relatives' had told him about their experiences in the IRA, but it was a good point, Hermione knew. That was why their had their enchanted contract, to protect them against traitors. But how many older wizards and witches would willingly agree to sign it? "We'll proceed with caution. Try to contact those a year or two above us, through their families."

"Allan and Tania are two years above us!" Dean said, grinning. When he saw her frown, he held his hands up. "Just kidding!"

"In the meantime, we need to train more. We can't count on being able to sneak up on a manor like we did before. We will be ready to fight Death Eaters," Hermione said.

"And Aurors. Though you already did that," Allan added.

She didn't want to be reminded of that fight, but nodded. If the Aurors were hunting them instead of hunting Death Eaters, then they would have to defend themselves.

"We can recruit those muggleborns who are not yet hiding. There are still shops in Diagon Alley that are owned by muggleborns, or at least employ them," Martin said.

Hermione was sceptical. "I am not certain they'd want to fight."

"They don't see what's coming. We need to tell them," Allan said. "We can tell them that the Ministry's trying to hide the fact that Malfoy had muggleborns locked up in his dungeon and was torturing them."

"That would mean admitting that we killed them," Hermione said. Which was hard enough to admit to herself.

"We can claim he killed them."

Hermione bit her lips. She didn't like to lie, but Allan had a point. Those people needed to know that they were in danger, and that no matter how law-abiding they were, the Ministry or the Death Eaters would ultimately come after them. "The first casualty when war comes, is truth," she quoted, nodding. "We can create a leaflet, and duplicate it. It won't be hard to charm them to spread through Diagon Alley."

It would be good to save people, instead of killing them. But she knew she'd have to kill again. After what they had done, all of them would have to if they wanted to survive this.

*****​

London, St. Mungo's, July 30th, 1996

Daphne Greengrass stared at the bodies of her parents on the table in the bowels of the hospital.

"Are you certain that those are my parents?" She hated to ask, but she had to. They didn't look like her parents. They didn't look like humans at all. Black, shriveled up, skeletally thin. Nothing of the two things reminded her of her family.

"Yes," the Healer answered. "They were still wearing the rings and other jewelry you've already received."

Daphne closed her eyes and took a deep breath, grateful that the Healer had cast a Bubble-Head Charm on her. And that Astoria hadn't come. She felt her uncle's hand on her shoulder, consoling her. She could have stayed at home as well, Daphne knew that. Eric could have handled it. But she was the heir, she had to come. She owed it her parents.

"Please have them delivered to to Greengrass Manor," Eric Greengrass said.

"Of course, sir."

The funeral would be in three days. It wouldn't be a big affair - too many important people had died, too many funerals would be held at the same time. She was glad. She didn't want more people telling her how lucky she had been to survive. More people offering their condolences while looking at her, trying to guess how she'd do as the heir. And more people trying to find out who'd she name as her proxy in the Wizengamot. Courting her favour even, for their own aims. As if her parents hadn't left a will dealing with all of that. Her uncle Eric was her and Astoria's guardian and proxy.

She was sick of those people. Her parents had died, had been murdered. She didn't want to think about politics, or anything. She wanted her parents back. But no one could do that for her. Not her uncle, not the Dark Lord, not anyone else.

In the lift taking her up to the hospital's Floo connections, she leaned against her uncle and shivered, fighting to keep her composure. She wasn't a child anymore; she couldn't cry in public.

"You've been brave, Daphne. Your parents would have been proud."

She nodded, even though she didn't feel as if she was brave. Or lucky. She didn't know why she had survived while so many had died. She took his hand and held it. When the doors opened and she stepped out, she didn't show her grief.

On the way to the Floo connections they met Pansy Parkinson and her Aunt, Petra Rowle née Parkinson. Daphne realised at once that they were there for the same reason she and Eric were. She nodded at her classmate. "My condolences, Pansy."

"Thank you. I offer you my condolences as well, Daphne."

"Thank you." She felt a connection to the other girl she hadn't felt towards anyone. Both had lost their parents. And both had only survived because Draco Malfoy had been flirting with Astoria. "When will the funerals be?" she asked, impulsively.

"Two days from now."

"If the bodies have been identified correctly," Pansy's aunt said, wrinkling her nose. "If the ineptitude of the Aurors has spread to the Healers, they might well have made a mistake."

Pansy flinched, and Daphne winced. She wouldn't have wished that attitude on anyone. Apart from the murderers of her family, of course.

"The Auror's ineptitude?" Eric asked. Daphne ground her teeth, She didn't want to talk, not about that, and certainly not with this horrible witch.

"They still haven't identified the mudbloods who committed this atrocity, much less arrested them!" The witch sneered. "Even though they found two of the mudbloods responsible!"

"I didn't hear that," Eric said, sounding puzzled. Daphne shared the sentiment - she certainly hadn't heard about this.

"Of course not! The Ministry is trying to cover this up, on the orders of Dumbledore. To protect his precious mudbloods!" Rowle spat.

"They should all be killed, before they murder more of us!" Pansy said through clenched teeth.

"Dear, not here," Pansy's aunt said, with a forced smile. She nodded to Eric and Daphne. "We have to go now. I assume we'll be seeing each other in the Wizengamot, next week, Eric."

"Indeed, Petra." Eric nodded at her.

Daphne wanted to say something to Pansy, but she couldn't think of anything that wouldn't sound stupid, and so she simply nodded as well, then followed Eric to the Floo connections. Her thoughts, though, focused on what she had learned.

Mudbloods had killed her parents. And Dumbledore was trying to protect them!

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, July 31st, 1996

A year ago, Harry Potter had thought that the first birthday he could celebrate with his godfather would be a happy occasion. All his friends from Hogwarts would attend, they'd have a big cake, lots of presents - even though he was not as obsessed as his cousin, he did like presents - and lots of fun.

He had his big cake, made by Ron's mum, he had lots of presents, and yet the mood was rather sombre, as Sirius had put it. Even with his godfather and the Weasley twins doing their best to outdo each other. All three were currently fixing what had happened to Ginny when she had accidentally been hit with their latest spells.

"Maybe I should have followed Neville's example, and canceled the party," Harry muttered under his breath.

"No," Ron said, sitting down next to him on the couch. "We'd still be feeling the same, but we'd not have cake." He handed one piece to Harry, smiling rather cynically. "You know, Neville would have liked to have a party, but his grandmother didn't want him to be seen with us."

"What?" Harry blinked.

Ron nodded. "Yes. We're too close to Dumbledore, who is apparently protecting the muggleborns who blew up Malfoy Manor from 'righteous retribution'." He nodded towards Sirius. "Him refusing to attend the funeral of his cousin Narcissa didn't help, or so dad said."

"Damn," Harry said, then winced, then sighed.

Ron nodded. "She should be here, nagging us about our language." He didn't have to say who he meant.

"And so should be Seamus and Dean," Harry said.

"What about the Chasers?" Ron asked.

"Try-outs for Angelina and Alicia. They're in training camp." And since all the teams of the league were owned by purebloods who had lost family at the bombing, attending his party wouldn't help their future careers. He had told them so. "Katie's in France."

Ron looked around, then leaned forward, and cast a privacy spell. "If anyone asks, we were talking about girls." He paused for a second. "Do you regret what we did?"

"Helping Hermione?" Harry sighed. "A bit. I have to admit that the number of people killed in that blast was a shock. But then, I'd not regret it if she had managed to blow up Voldemort with them. And Sirius is really happy about the attack anyway."

Ron nodded. "Dad's not happy. Mum says she isn't either. But I've seen her smile at the note of Malfoy's funeral. And dad's mostly unhappy about the consequences of the bombing, I think." The Weasleys hadn't forgotten or forgiven what Lucius Malfoy had done to Ginny.

"Maybe." Harry said. "You know we're accomplices." If the Ministry learned of their involvement, it'd be Azkaban for them. If they were caught. And for Sirius as well. He had no intention of letting them catch him or his godfather.

"I know," Ron said, rolling his eyes at him. "But they won't find out. Only Hermione knows."

"So, we'll keep helping her."

"Of course," Ron said. "We're her best friends."

Harry nodded. He still wasn't certain that what Hermione was doing was the right thing. But she was his friend, and he'd do anything for her. And he hadn't known what Hermione would do. But now he knew, and he still was helping her. Even if he felt bad about it. So many people had died. But he hadn't known most of them. And those he had known he didn't miss. And Sirius, who had known more of them, was glad they were dead.

And he knew he'd feel worse if anything happened to her.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, August 6th, 1996

"The chair recognises Madam Rowle."

Albus Dumbledore smiled politely when Petra Rowle née Parkinson stepped up to speak for the first time as a member of the Wizengamot. The whole morning had been spent welcoming the new members replacing those killed in Malfoy Manor, but the real session was now underway. And it wasn't going well, in his opinion.

"Honoured members of the Wizengamot! We all know why I'm standing here, instead of my brother. I am my niece's proxy, a niece orphaned by a cowardly attack like so many others." Petra looked pointedly at Eric Greengrass, the proxy for young Daphne, Albus noticed. He didn't know if that meant anything more than an attempt to curry favour.

"Three dozen members of the Wizengamot, murdered while they were enjoying a ball! And what is the Ministry doing in response? As my esteemed colleague before me already said: Nothing!" She took a - in Albus's opinion - rather theatrical breath before continuing. "Nothing! The bodies of two suspects were found in the manor. They were identified. But has anything been done to arrest their accomplices? No!"

"They were prisoners in Malfoy's dungeon!" Arlene Abbot shouted. "Do you think they could have blown up the manor from their cells?"

Petra glared at her. "Their accomplices did! And they did it even though they knew that they'd kill their fellow criminals as well!" She raised her chin. "That's how mudbloods act - like rabid animals! We've seen that in the attacks on inspectors of their shops in Diagon Alley, and now we have seen just how far they are willing to go! And the Ministry is doing nothing to protect us!"

"Madam Rowle, your language is out of order," Albus said. A year ago nobody would have dared to use such a slur in the Wizengamot. Times had changed.

The witch glared at him. "I apologise," she said, with a fake smile, "I was remembering my family's death at their hands."

Murmuring, almost all of it approving, filled the chamber.

"When will the Ministry act? When the next manor gets destroyed? When they attack our children at Hogwarts? I say: Let the Ministry hunt down those animals, and round them up before they murder even more of our families!"

Thunderous applause, and not just from the new members of the Wizengamot, filled the chamber. Albus didn't have to look at Cornelius to see that the Minister for Magic wouldn't be able to oppose that proposal. Fortunately, there were others.

"The chair recognises Madam Bones."

Amelia stepped up, her expression grim. "Madam Rowle demands and says a lot, but she certainly doesn't know a lot. We have found the bodies of two muggleborns, yes, but there is no evidence at all that links them to this attack. Our Aurors are tracking down other suspects, but this will take some time. Too many muggleborns have gone into hiding to easily find the suspects among them."

"That they are hiding proves their guilt!" Augustus Malfoy, a distant cousin of Lucius, and proxy for Draco, shouted.

"It proves nothing," Amelia answered. "We'll find the suspects, and we'll solve this case. The entire Auror Corps is hard at work. That they haven't found the suspects should not be a surprise to anyone - or do you expect that stupid criminals could have done this?" She scoffed. "Trying to round up the law-abiding muggleborns will not help, but hinder our efforts."

Albus saw that Cornelius was nodding, but Eric Greengrass was already raising his wand.

"The Chair recognises Mister Greengrass."

"Honoured members of the Wizengamot, we should not act in haste, driven by fear. But we do need to act deliberately and decisively to prevent another such attack. As we know from our past, murderers trying to sow terror in our hearts will not stop unless faced with determined force. That was the case in Grindelwald's War, and then again in the last war."

He didn't call it the 'Blood War", Albus noticed. A bad sign, or so he feared.

"We need to be united in the face of such atrocities! We need to show those cowards that we will fight them!"

"Like we were united against the Dark Lord?" Philip Bones shouted. "Or did you already forget what he did in the last war?"

That got a bigger reaction, and supportive as well.

Eric wasn't impressed though. "And what has he done since his return? Has he attacked us? Has he attacked anyone? Should we start a war with him while we are already at war with muggleborns who want to murder us all?" He looked at Philip. "I do not make light of your loss, but we are faced with a clear danger to us all."

"A danger we created by trying to sacrifice the muggleborns to the Dark Lord!" Arlene yelled.

"Even that was true, it wouldn't change the fact that they are a danger. If a werewolf threatens your family you kill it, no matter who is responsible for its curse."

Applause interrupted Eric's next words, and Albus knew that this session would not help Britain's future. They were refusing to acknowledge that they had created this conflict in the first place, and would persecute the muggleborns even more. He and Amelia would be able to blunt the worst proposals, but things would get worse for the muggleborns, again. And the more radical elements of the muggleborns, such as Miss Granger and her friends, would retaliate, again.

Albus would have to try to keep them from turning this conflict into a war against the Ministry. But with each decision those frightened fools in the Wizengamot took, it would get harder to prevent an even worse escalation.

He shook his head when Eric proposed to extend the trace on the wands of minors to all muggleborns, with harsh punishments for those who failed to comply. Judging by the approving comments, it would pass into law. Sometimes he wondered if he shouldn't simply try to protect the innocents, and let the bigoted fools reap what they had sown.

But he couldn't. He knew just how bad a war could get. He, unlike almost everyone else in Britain, had fought in Grindelwald's War and survived it. Compared to the horrors he had seen on the continent, the First Blood War had been a rather minor affair. More like a blood feud between a few old families and their allies. Gellert and his followers had waged total war, and the muggleborns flocking to his banner had not shied away from using anything at their disposal.

He would do anything to spare Britain such a fate. And yet he didn't know anymore if it would be enough.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, August 8th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle didn't like Knockturn Alley. No Auror liked it. It was a hive of thieves and other scum, and creatures like hags and werewolves. Rookies and Aurors who had messed up were those who got stuck patrolling it. Which currently fit her and her partner, Martin Runcorn. On the other hand, Knockturn Alley also offered opportunities. It was home to more than its share of muggleborns, including shop owners. Shop owners who, like most of Knockturn Alley, were more than a bit on the shady side, which gave a good Auror leverage. Especially with the new legislation the Wizengamot had passed in the last year.

Michael Beckett was one of those. He ran a potions shop near the entrance to Knockturn Alley. And he had just informed them on the Floo that one of the wanted muggleborns was in his shop. Sadly, it wasn't Granger, but at this point, any arrest of a wanted muggleborn would help Brenda get her career back on track.

She and Martin had apparated right to the mouth of the alley, and were making haste to the shop. On the way, she saw someone had stuck more of those 'Muggleborn Resistance' leaflets urging muggleborns to go into hiding to the walls. "Martin, cover the shop and the surroundings in Anti-Apparition and Portkey Jinxes," she ordered.

"Wouldn't the shop be warded already? To dissuade thieves?" the rookie asked.

"It would be warded, but I don't trust those wards to cover more than the shop. And I don't want the suspect to be able to jump out of a window and apparate away, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Martin sounded hurt. Maybe she had been a bit too curt, but she didn't want to lose another partner.

"Do we disillusion ourselves?"

"No. The door opening without anyone entering would alert him. We charge in and stun the bastard."

She was almost at the shop now. Unfortunately, the locals had noticed her and Martin, who was casting already, and were melting away as usual when they saw red robes. If that kid was paying attention…

The window to the side alley was blown out by a Reductor Curse. Apparently, the suspect had been paying attention. Brenda sprinted forward, casting a Human-presence-revealing Spell, followed by a Repair Spell that closed the window again. A glance over her shoulder revealed that Martin was covering the front door. Good thinking. She waved at him and pointed to her, then to the back of the building. He nodded, and started for her position, where he could cover both the front and side. What a change from her last partner!

Brenda sprinted through the side alley, to the back of the building, casting a Shield Charm as she went. An Unlocking Charm opened the back door, and she disillusioned herself before entering, wand out.

Inside a dusty storage room full of old and probably useless ingredients, she heard voices.

"Hey, you can't go through here!"

That was Beckett.

"Shut up!"

That had to be the suspect. He was trying to escape through the back. Right where she was. Brenda grinned. She heard shelves getting toppled and glass breaking. Someone was making a mess.

Then the door to the storage room was blown up. She side-stepped the splinters, and a marker appeared in the door's place. The suspect was disillusioned as well! A quick Finite rendered him visible, but also warned him and he managed to dodge her piercing curse. Angry at herself, she charged through the doorway.

The suspect banished the ruins of a shelf at her, but her Shield Charm held. His own shattered when she hit it with a Reductor Curse, but he jumped back, into the main room of the shop, before she could follow up with a Stunning Spell.

"Depulso!" That was Beckett!

A crash followed Beckett's spell, and Brenda rushed forward.

"Traitor!" That was the suspect!

She entered the room and saw that the suspect was lying crumpled up at the wall, on top of a shattered shelf. The vials on it had fortunately not been broken. He saw her, and pointed his wand at her, snarling.

"Reducto!"

She side-stepped the boy's curse, and sent a Stunning Spell back. He slumped over.

"Did you see what he did to my shop?" Beckett asked almost hysterically. She glared at him, and he shut up.

After a quick sweep of the shop, she called Martin. "All clear in here." While her partner came inside, she checked the suspect out. "That's Cokes. Your namesake. Hufflepuff 6th year."

"See? I told you, he was wanted!" Beckett said. "I did!"

"Yes, you did," Brenda said, already sick of the man's drivel.

Martin didn't react to the comment about him sharing the same name as the suspect. He was keeping an eye on the alley outside. He was shaping up to be a decent partner. And with this arrest, the two of them would hopefully move back into the good graces of Scrimgeour. No one else had arrested a fugitive yet, after all.

*****​

"What's your name?" Brenda asked, an hour later in an interrogation room in the Ministry of Magic.

"Martin Fitzgerald Cokes," Cokes said, tonelessly. A dictaquill was noting down everything he said, standard procedure for Veritaserum interrogations.

"What do you know about the attack on Malfoy Manor?"

"That...." the boy shuddered suddenly, blinking. "What?"

"The attack on Malfoy Manor. What do you know about it?" Brenda repeated her question.

"I don't know anything about an attack."

Brenda sighed. There went that dream of a promotion. Though if she was honest with herself then she had to admit that she hadn't really expected that kid to be involved in the massacre. Well, there were other questions to be asked.

"What do you know about Hermione Granger's whereabouts?" It was not exactly standard procedure, but she really wanted to know right away if he knew anything important.

"She's usually in class, or in the Gryffindor Dorms."

What? "Where is she now?"

"I don't know. I am not in her year."

What was the idiot talking about? This was not making sense. "When and where did you see her the last time?"

"This morning, during breakfast in the Great Hall."

What? Brenda stared at the boy. That was impossible… they couldn't be hiding at Hogwarts, not without the help of the Headmaster, but… "What date is it?"

"January 13th, 1996," Cokes said, still under the effect of Veritaserum.

*****​

"Obliviated, you say?" Scrimgeour looked doubtful.

"Yes, sir. He doesn't remember anything past January 13th this year." Brenda stood at attention.

The Head Auror sighed. "Someone must have obliviated him. Could it have happened in the fight?"

"No, sir. I took him down and then kept my eyes on him." She doubted Beckett could even cast an Obliviate.

"I see. We might have a traitor in the Ministry. Probably a half-blood."

Or one of the purebloods who loved mudbloods still, Brenda thought but didn't say anything.

"But you saw him fight you?"

"Yes, sir."

"And he was using potentially lethal spells."

"Yes, sir. A Reductor Curse."

"It's enough to take to court. Not that there will be much of a trial. A mudblood accused of trying to kill an Auror, judged by the Wizengamot? The only question is whether he gets the Kiss or the Veil." The Head Auror snorted. "Good work, Brenda."

She nodded. It wasn't Granger, but it was a start.

*****​

London, East End, August 10th, 1996

"They executed Martin Cokes."

Hermione Granger stared at the mirror. "What?" That couldn't… Martin had been missing for two days, and they knew he had been arrested, that was why they had moved out to another safehouse, hopefully only temporarily, but...

"They executed Martin Cokes. It's all over the front page of today's Prophet," Harry said. "Pushed through the Veil for the attempted murder of an Auror."

She wiped her eyes. She couldn't cry right now. There was too much to do.

"I'm sorry," Harry added. He must have seen her reaction.

"It's not your fault. How did they catch him?"

"He was caught in Beckett's potion shop, according to what we overheard. The shop owner called the Aurors when he recognised him, and they arrested him."

Rage replaced Hermione's sorrow. That shop owner was a muggleborn, and had sold them out?

"Someone obliviated him though - the Auror was angry about that. Cokes didn't remember anything that happened this year."

Hermione was relieved. Her plan had worked - Martin must have lost all the memories since the day he had signed the scroll she had prepared. And a few days before that date, to be precise. Then she felt ashamed. One of her friends had been killed. Murdered. And she was glad her plan had worked and she was safe herself.

"I see." They would be able to return to the old safehouse, which was in better shape than the temporary one. Which would be built up to the same standard though. They couldn't stay in the same location forever.

"Hermione…"

"Yes?"

"They executed him for attempted murder of an Auror...." Harry trailed off. She saw he was looking more worried than she had seen him in a long time.

"... and I actually killed one. I know." She smiled. "I expected that." She knew that she would be executed should she get arrested. After Malfoy Manor, no other sentence was possible. "They don't care what we did, they'll use any pretext to kill us. Either during the arrest, or afterwards."

"Tonks didn't say anything about that."

"Did you ask her?"

"No. I haven't seen her in a while either. I think she had a falling-out with Sirius."

That didn't surprise Hermione either. Tonks and Sirius were family, but she was an Auror, and Harry's godfather didn't exactly hide his opinion of the Ministry. At least in private - he controlled himself in the Wizengamot.

"Is there anything else you found out?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, that's all."

"Thank you." She forced herself to smile. "I'll have to inform the others now…"

He nodded and his image in the mirror faded.

*****​

"Can I come in?"

Hermione looked up from her notes and saw Allan was standing in the door to her room. They had returned to their old safehouse an hour ago, and she had retreated to her room rather than facing the other members of the Resistance while they were trying to come to terms with Martin's death.

She nodded. "Of course."

He stepped inside and closed the door.

"How are the others doing?" she asked, feeling more than a bit ashamed for not checking on them herself.

He sighed. "Not that well. Seamus and Dean are alright I think. The others seem to just have realised what we're doing, and what the risks are." He frowned. "They should have known better. Didn't they choose to join us because they knew the purebloods want to kill us all?"

"No one wants to contemplate their own mortality," Hermione said.

"Well, they know the stakes now. We either win this war, or we die."

She sat up on her bed and scooted over. Allan smiled and sat down next to her. "If we kill all the Death Eaters, they'll be hopefully so scared of us that they'll offer us peace." She hoped so, at least. The alternative would mean that the Ministry and the Wizengamot would rather risk death and destruction than appeasing mudbloods. And with such an enemy, there wouldn't be any peace.

"Hopefully." Allan didn't sound any more convinced than she felt. "But I want them to appease us. I don't want to go back to the status quo ante. Not after what they did to us. To Martin. We deserve more!"

He had a point, Hermione thought. After what the Ministry had done, the muggleborns needed more so they could be safe. Laws to ensure that this could never, ever be repeated.

Her friend sighed. "Damn… I should have gone with Martin. But he thought he was safe. He thought he knew that traitor." Allan rubbed his forehead.

"He said he has been buying from the shop for years. Stuff that wasn't exactly legal," Hermione said and out her hand on Allan's shoulder.

"Yes. Some of our experiments in Ravenclaw needed things we couldn't get legally." He chuckled. "We felt like bad boys, dealing with Knockturn Alley."

"Ah." Hermione didn't know what to say. She had done similar things, but she didn't like to talk about them. That was between her, Harry and Ron. Not something to he shared with others."

"Did you expect we'd end up in this situation when you learned you could do magic?" Allan asked, suddenly.

She shook her head. "No. I was convinced it was the best thing ever. That there was a magical world, waiting for me." A world where she'd find others like her, make friends. A world where she could do miracles. She had done that, actually.

"It was the same for me. My parents didn't like it - they had planned my life out already. I was to go to Harrow, then attend Cambridge." He snorted. "All the plans they had for me went up in smoke that day McGonagall visited."

"Theoretically, we can still attend University. We just need to study a few years to catch up," Hermione pointed out. That was what she had told her parents, back then, so they'd accept sending her to Hogwarts. Not that they had a choice, she knew that now. Every young wizard or witch had to attend.

Allan laughed. "Would you do that, instead of studying magic?"

"Well… maybe." She had a few ideas that required both muggle and magical knowledge. "Did you parents accept your choice?"

"Not really. They didn't realise that this was my life. That I'm a wizard, first and foremost. They didn't accept that my entire life changed."

"I guess having to hide because the Ministry wants to kill us all didn't help them accept you." Her parents certainly hadn't taken that well, and from what she could tell, her relationship to her parents was miles ahead of Allan's.

He shook his head. "No, it didn't. But to be honest - I stopped caring about what they wanted, years ago. I don't need their acceptance anymore."

"But it would be nice to have," she said.

He nodded. "We're a bit like the children of immigrants. Torn between two worlds, and not really accepted in either."

She thought they were far more like immigrants than 'a bit'.

He looked at her. "I'm not letting anyone take magic from me. Not my family, not all the purebloods in Britain."

She chuckled. "They can take our wands once they pry them out of our cold dead fingers?"

He nodded, entirely serious. After a second, she nodded as well. He stood up, and seemed to want to say something, but he only smiled at her before leaving her room.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, August 12th, 1996

"Shop's still closed," Hermione Granger said, staring at Beckett's Potions. She was wearing the body of a pureblood witch who had left her hairs in the Leaky Cauldron, but she still had cast a privacy spell.

"He might have cut and run," Allan said. He was polyjuiced into a rather ugly wizard.

"The shop's still stocked. He's probably laying low." Or, Hermione thought, he was in a cell for trying to cash in the bounty on Martin's head and 'overstepping his bounds'. It would serve the traitor well, even though their vengeance would be delayed.

Allan cursed. "Checking each day while disguised will get expensive." Polyjuice was not cheap. And it took a lot of time to brew.

"We can buy some more supplies while we're here. In Diagon Alley." She tried not to show how nervous she was. What if the Aurors expected them to 'visit' Beckett, and were waiting for them? But wouldn't they have made certain that Beckett was there as bait? Harry and Ron hadn't heard anything about such a plan, but the Aurors wouldn't discuss every operation in the Thin Red Line.

"Good idea." Allan said.

They were halfway to Diagon Alley when they heard the screams and yells. And saw the smoke rising. They exchanged a glance, and ran towards the mouth of the alley. There they saw the mob. And the burning shops.

And they understood what the mob was yelling.

"Death to mudbloods!"

*****​

Hermione's first impulse was to charge ahead, wand out. Allan held her back though.

"We can't rush in!" he said through clenched teeth, "There are too many."

People were running past them, away from Diagon Alley now. Scared, screaming people. She saw a witch clutch a child in her arms, waving her wand ineffectively - she must be trying to apparate, Hermione realised.

"We can't just do nothing! We have to at least know what's happening," she retorted, even though she had a clear idea of what was happening.

It turned out she had been wrong. What they saw when they reached Diagon Alley was far worse than what she had imagined. Several shops were burning - muggleborn-owned shops, so close to Knockturn Alley. And there were bodies on the street in front of the shops. Some of them far smaller than herself. Children. Dozens of wizards and witches were cheering when the roof fell in on what had been a shoes shop. She thought she saw someone move inside the flames, but she couldn't tell for certain,

"Burn like the people you murdered!" a wizard near her shouted. She almost killed him with a spell from behind.

More smoke was rising from further up the alley. She couldn't recall many shops owned by muggleborns there, apart from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, but the mob looked like it was out of control anyway. Maybe they were starting early on massacring the half-bloods, she thought.

A child's scream behind her made her whirl around. A young girl, too young even to attend Hogwarts, was dangling in the air, held up by a Levitation Spell. A man in dark-green robes was sneering at her. "Thought you could escape, you little mudblood, huh?" he said.

Hermione snarled and hit him in the head with a Pimple Jinx.

"No… what?" Allan sounded confused. He must have expected her to use a lethal spell, Hermione thought.

The man was screaming and clutching his face, which was covered with growing sores and boils now. He dropped the girl, and Hermione barely caught her with a spell of her own, after hitting the man's robe with a Colour-Changing Charm.

Half a dozen purebloods from the mob had turned around at hearing the screams. Before anyone could act, Hermione gathered the girl in her arms and shouted: "That mudblood tried to kidnap our child!" and pointed at the wizard she had jinxed.

The mob fell on the man with curses and hexes, cutting his protestations off. Hermione turned the girl's head away from the sight, but kept watching until she was certain the man was dead. Allan was grinning.

"We need to leave now," she said. "The Aurors won't be long."

"They'll take their time as long as it's only mudbloods that are dying," he said, scoffing, but then he nodded, and the two headed down Knockturn Alley until they were out of range of the Anti-Apparition Jinxes. Behind them, Diagon Alley was still burning.

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 5: Breakout

'The riot in Diagon Alley had profound effects on Wizarding Britain, arguably even more so than the attack on Malfoy Manor. The dead Wizengamot members were quickly replaced by their heirs. The radicalisation of the Wizengamot's policy towards muggleborns that had resulted from that had been blunted by the still-influential faction of Albus Dumbledore. But the death of dozens of muggleborns, as well as half-bloods and the occasional pureblood caught in a targeted shop, had far greater effects. Until then, the majority of muggleborns had been obeying the law and paying their taxes despite the persecution they suffered. After the riot, that changed irrevocably.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, August 12th, 1996

"A riot in Diagon Alley? Aren't those kind of events supposed to stay in Knockturn Alley?"

"If things were as they ought to be, we'd be unemployed. Now shut up and make haste!" Brenda Brocktuckle glared at Martin Runcorn as they rushed towards the Ministry's Floo connections. For a rookie, he was getting a bit too sassy. Though he was correct - Diagon Alley was supposed to be safe. Was that another mudblood attack?

Scrimgeour was standing on the main floor, directing the Aurors to the Floo connections. "Anti-Apparition Jinxes were spotted, so expect the worst. The Leaky Cauldron is safe to travel to, but the rest of the Floo connections are suspect. We're gathering at the Cauldron before moving into the alley proper!"

Anti-Apparition Jinxes? That sounded far more like an attack than a riot. Brenda cursed under her breath as she entered the Floo connection. Maybe they'd better send for the Hit-Wizards as well, but that wasn't her call to make.

She stepped out of the pub's fireplace into a scene straight out of a nightmare. Screaming people filled the pub, some bleeding or otherwise wounded or cursed, the worst cases lying on tables, whimpering with pain. No, the worst cases were on the ground, unmoving. More people kept coming in from the alley as red-robed Aurors all but fought their way through. "Merlin's balls!" she shouted. "Parkinson! Apparate back to the Ministry! Get some Portkeys to evacuate the wounded!"

"Why not use the Floo?" Martin asked, staring at the sight.

"We need the Floo to come in," she muttered, already moving towards the entrance to the alley.

"Merlin's arse, what's happening?" her partner yelled, following her.

"I don't know. But we're putting a stop to it!" she yelled back, shoving an elderly witch who looked unhurt but was not moving out of the way.

"Make way!" she shouted, entering the alley. The first thing she saw was the smoke rising above the crowd of fleeing people. "They're burning down the alley!" she shouted. After Malfoy Manor, they were now attacking the heart of Britain!

Then she saw the mob, and heard the cries. "Death to the mudbloods!"

"That's Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour!" Martin shouted. "But he's a muggleborn!"

"Those are not muggleborns. Those are purebloods…" Brenda said. For a moment, she was frozen. Could it be that the mudbloods had attacked, and the purebloods were driving them back? That would explain the Anti-Apparition Jinxes.

But there was no sign of a fight. Just a mob cheering at a burning shop. And, she realised with horror, a burning body. She cast an Amplifying Charm on herself and shouted. "In the name of the Ministry, stop this and disperse at once! Anyone breaking the law will be prosecuted!"

"Mudblood lover!" someone shouted.

"Traitors!" another.

"Useless!"

For a moment, it seemed as if the mob would turn on them. Brenda saw how wands were raised, how wizards and witches started to spread out. Then more red robes appeared at her side - where had the Aurors who had arrived before her been, she wondered briefly - and the mob faltered.

"Move away! Go home!" she ordered once again. "Or we will use force!"

Martin showed initiative and cast a Reductor Curse at the ground between the mob and the Auror line. The mob started to give way, a few actually running. Brenda noticed that a few wizards didn't turn away at first though, and only retreated after a few glances to each other.

She ordered a few Aurors to start containing the blaze - there was no saving the parlour anymore - and moved forward with the rest of the Aurors. It wasn't long until they saw the next body. She couldn't tell if it had been a wizard or witch, dozens of curses must have hit it. Martin swallowed audibly behind her. Up ahead, more smoke was rising. Far more smoke.

She set her jaw and pushed on. They had a duty to fulfill.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, August 12th, 1996

Ron Weasley was in the basement of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, checking on the reports from the Wireless Ears, when Fred came running down the stairs and yelled: "Ron! Someone just blocked Apparition!"

For a moment, fear filled him. An Auror raid? A Death Eater attack? "We need to remove the evidence!" he said.

"Yes." Fred was already waving his wand, and an instant later, the dictaquills were summoned into a box. "Collect the scrolls, and vanish them!"

Ron did as he was told while Fred turned the wireless receivers off. "They'll look like normal wireless sets now," his brother declared, summoning some boxes to store them in.

"Fred! Ron! Get up here! Diagon Alley's burning!"

George's shout made them stop covering up their spying operation, and run upstairs instead. Their brother was there, near the door. "It looks bad. I can see lots of smoke."

Ron could hear screaming before he reached the door. People were running towards them. Fleeing, he realised. He heard cries, screams, from further away.

"Merlin's arse!" Fred swore.

"Good thing we strengthened the wards last week," George added, in a grim tone.

"It's coming from Knockturn Alley," Ron said.

"The Aurors should be here before it reaches us, then," George said.

"I'm afraid that doesn't look likely," Fred added in a tense tone. "There's smoke on the other side as well."

"That's no riot then, that's an attack," George said.

"It's going to be a massacre," Ron whispered. A few meters away, a witch was running, dragging a child along. "Get inside!" he shouted, waving at her.

The witch ran towards him, followed by more panicked people. Fred groaned, but didn't say anything.

"Get to the back, to the back! The Floo's there!" George shouted at the people rushing inside. Some of them were bleeding, Ron noticed, but his attention was already on the alley. The shouting was getting louder.

He finally understood what the mob was shouting.

"Death to mudbloods!"

Ron almost smiled, feeling relieved. It was one thing to attack Malfoy Manor, chock-full of Death Eaters. It was another to attack Diagon Alley, full of ordinary people shopping and doing errands. If Hermione and her friends had been behind this…

Of course, there was a downside to this as well, he thought grimly, pushing a limping young wizard wearing muggle clothes under his torn robe through the door when someone screamed: "Mudblood lover!"

Right afterwards, a few spells splashed against the wards protecting the shop. He snarled, and sent a Stunning Spell at the first caster. The man went down.

"The Floo's not working!" George informed them.

Ron felt a chill run down his spine. A coordinated attack on the alley, and the Floo Network went down? He knew what that meant. Death Eaters. Trying to kill him and his family.

"Confringo!"

His next spell struck the ground between two wizards in long robes, blasting them off their feet. One of them, protected by a Shield Charm, stood up again, sending more curses at the shop. The other didn't.

His brothers joined in, Fred baring his teeth as he cast several borderline dark curses. George was running to the back again. "I've just the thing for those blighters!"

The wards were flickering - they'd not hold out forever, Ron knew. And the attackers had ducked behind what cover they had found. At least most of the mob seemed to be looking for softer targets. For a moment he wondered if this was how his uncles had felt, when Death Eaters had come for them in the last war. And if he'd take as many with him as they had.

Then George returned, his arms full of the twins' special products. He threw a disc at a corner behind which a wizard was hiding, and part of the street turned into a swamp. With crocodiles. One of them lunged, and a screaming wizard was dragged into the swamp.

That drove the rest of the attackers back. Ron grinned and grabbed a Screaming Skrewt. If they could keep them off-balance, they would be able to hold out until the Aurors arrived. And if the Aurors took too long… the swamp wasn't the most dangerous product his brothers had invented.

The screaming bug sent more fleeing, and a particularly nasty curse from Fred dealt with one of the more stubborn assailants.

Yes, Ron thought, they could win this. They would win this.

*****​

Hogwarts, August 12th, 1996

"Please have a seat, Severus," Albus Dumbledore said when his Potions Master entered his office.

"Thank you," Severus said. He sat down stiffly, but Albus couldn't see any sign of wounds, or curses. He might just be tired - it was close to midnight, after all.

"How did your meeting with the Dark Lord go?" he asked.

"As well as could be expected, given the circumstances," the younger wizard said.

Albus raised an eyebrow.

The Potions Master sighed. "He was not happy to hear about the attack on Diagon Alley. And he demonstrated his displeasure using the people responsible as an example."

Albus nodded. It had been rather obvious to anyone but the densest Wizengamot members that the 'riot' had been orchestrated. It had been far too coordinated, and planned out to have happened spontaneously. Blocking Apparition, and sabotaging the Floo connections of the shops owned by muggleborns and so-called blood traitors? Everyone knew the Death Eaters were behind it.

"Who was responsible?"

"Ackerly Nott was the one who had planned it."

That was a surprise. Abus would have suspected a younger, brasher wizard than the brother of the late Quentin Nott. "Will there be a new vacancy in the Wizengamot then?"

Severus shook his head. "No. That he is holding his brother's seat was what saved his life, or so I assume. But I doubt that he'll dare to do anything without his Master's permission anymore." He snorted. "Not even breathing. The Dark Lord was most impressive."

Albus nodded. "I presume that Tom is planning to keep waiting while the Ministry continues to do its worst to make the muggleborns raise their wands against it?"

"Yes. Though he doesn't like it. The attack on Malfoy Manor cost him most of his Inner Circle, and the new recruits are not yet used to following his every whim, nor are they as experienced in combat as those he lost. He must be aware that without more wands, he cannot currently hope to win against the Ministry, should it oppose him." He left unsaid what both of them knew: That this was only true as long as Albus stood with the Ministry. And that the Ministry was unlikely to oppose the Dark Lord with all its power.

Albus nodded. Tom always had had a temper. He generally could control himself, but not always. "I see."

"I'm not privy to all of his plans, of course," Severus added.

"Try to subtly influence him into taking more direct action. Tell him that I am confident that this incident in Diagon Alley will allow me to sway the public's opinion again, and reverse the latest laws."

Severus nodded. "Are you, then?"

Albus smiled ruefully. "Sadly, this tragedy will not sway that many of the Wizengamot members." Augusta at least had realised just who the real enemy was, as her missive to him had shown. And the mood in the Auror Corps was shifting again, or so Nymphadora claimed. Although that the Aurors had been attacked by both pureblood rioters and some muggleborns defending their shops had lessened the effect by some degree. "But if Tom thinks it will, then he might do something rash that will ensure a change of policy." It had to.

Severus nodded. "I'll do my best."

Albus knew he would. And he fervently hoped that the young wizard would succeed. If an overt action by the Dark Lord didn't change the minds of the majority, then Albus wouldn't be left with many legal options anymore. There were alternatives, of course. But he had learned, to his immense chagrin, decades ago that those kind of measures led a wizard down a very dangerous path.

A path he had turned away from far too late, once already.

*****​

London, East End, August 12th, 1996

"Mum! Mum! Where are you?"

The little girl was crying, tossing around, still affected by the nightmare that had woken her up. Hermione Granger did her best to calm her down, holding her in her arms.

"Shhh. Shhhh. It's OK. We'll find your mum tomorrow," she whispered, and hoped that she wasn't lying.

"Mum!" the girl sobbed.

Hermione held her, and gently rocked her back and forth on her lap, until the small witch had stopped crying, stopped trembling, and had finally fallen asleep again. She carefully laid her down in the bed and pulled the blankets up.

Outside, she leaned against the door and took a deep breath. That had been the second time the girl had woken up screaming that night. She hoped there wouldn't be a third time. And she wasn't looking forward to her own nightmares.

"We could have dropped her off in front of the Leaky Cauldron. She's not a muggleborn, she would have been fine."

Hermione turned her head and saw Allan was standing near the stairs. The former Ravenclaw had his arms folded, and was looking almost reproachfully at her.

She frowned. Allan had been saying that before. As soon as he had realised that the girl had to be a half-blood, since a muggleborn child her age wouldn't have been in the Alley and wouldn't even have known about magic yet. Not that it mattered - Hermione doubted that the wizard who had been about to kill the girl had known her ancestry.

She stared at Allan. "She was in danger from those bigots, and we saved her. That makes her our responsibility. We're not about to dump her on the streets and hope someone takes care of her."

He held up his hands. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong." He smiled, though it looked a bit forced in her opinion. "I'm just concerned about the risk to our security."

"What risk to our security? We'll find her family, and take her to her grandparents." They were muggles, so they'd be in the phone book. "We'll even obliviate all knowledge of us from her memory, so she can't be used against us."

She sighed. "Is this about the half-bloods again?"

He frowned, and she knew she was on the mark.

"I think it's safer to focus on muggleborns. They are much less likely to betray us."

"Like Beckett?" That traitor was the reason Hermione and Allan had been in Diagon Alley today, after all.

Allan ground his teeth, and for a moment Hermione wondered if she'd see him lose his temper for the first time. "After today, every muggleborn will know that they aren't safe, not even if they cooperate with the Ministry."

"The same goes for the half-bloods. Every one of them has at least one muggleborn parent," Hermione pointed out, as she had done before. "The 'blood traitors' were attacked as well," she added. Harry had told her that Ron had helped defend his brothers' shop. If her friend had been hurt, or worse…

"The laws don't discriminate against the half-bloods. They are not in the same position as we are. They usually have a pureblood parent as well." Allan scoffed. "And they didn't really show much support for us."

"Today's deaths will change that. That's why we made the leaflets to distribute. Everyone, muggleborns and half-bloods and 'blood traitors', will know that they are not safe as long as the Ministry is controlled by bigots trying to appease the Dark Lord." That's why the leaflets were urging muggleborns to leave Wizarding Britain and hide in the muggle world.

Allan's lips formed a thin line. She knew what he was about to say before he said it. "If they flee we'll have trouble contacting them to recruit them."

"We can contact them through their muggle families." Some at least, Hermione thought. It would have been easier if there was a network for muggleborns - but British wizards tended to network in their Hogwarts houses, not according to blood. At least not the muggleborns.

"Not everyone. And not easily."

"Yes. But if they stay they'll be in danger of getting killed in the next attack." And even if that would net them more recruits, Hermione wasn't about to sacrifice people in such a cold-blooded manner. "We've been through this before. Our first priority is to protect the other muggleborns."

"We can't do that if we're too weak, too few to fight the purebloods," Allan said.

"We'll manage. There aren't that many Death Eaters either - not after Malfoy Manor;" Hermione said.

"There are a lot more purebloods."

"We're not fighting all of the purebloods. We're fighting the Death Eaters and their supporters," Hermione said, staring at him.

Allan stared back for a moment, then he sighed. "I'm just concerned. We need more people. And it'll be very hard to find them if everyone is hiding by themselves."

"I know." She grimaced. "We should have waited longer, prepared more before we did anything. But we can't change that now, we can only move forward." If only they had been able to stick to her schedule, follow the plans they had. "Besides, we're not exactly ready to recruit an army anyway - we need more training. Or any new recruits will expect to take over, instead of joining us." Adults, at least - but they pretty much had recruited all muggleborn students already.

Allan nodded. On this, the whole group was in complete agreement: They wouldn't let anyone order them around. Especially not those who had done nothing for them. No adult muggleborns had contacted them while they had still been at Hogwarts. Either they hadn't realised what was coming, or they hadn't thought of warning the students.

Hermione and the others had foreseen what would happen. They had taken steps to protect their families, and themselves. And they had bombed Malfoy Manor and had killed more Death Eaters and their supporters with one attack than anyone else had managed in the last war.

They had no need to join anyone else.

"We better get some sleep. We need to be up early to distribute the leaflets," Hermione said.

"Dean and Seamus can do that," Allan said.

Hermione hesitated, then nodded. She didn't like to let others take risks instead of her, but Allan was right. And Hermione still had to prepare for the meeting with the mercenaries they had contacted.

"Good night."

"Good night," Hermione said. She entered her room and hoped she'd not have the same nightmares the young girl had.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, August 13th, 1996

"How could this happen? A riot, no, a massacre, in Diagon Alley?"

Cornelius was pacing again while Albus Dumbledore was calmly sitting in front of the Minister's desk, next to Amelia.

"It happened because we have inadequate numbers for our Aurors and Hit-Wizards," Amelia said. "I told you we needed to recruit more, and train them harder. You didn't listen."

"You received increased funds," the Minister defended himself.

"Far too late. Anyone we hired is still in training. And will be in training for months still, even if we rush them through the Academy." Amelia adjusted her monocle and glared at Cornelius.

Albus cleared his throat. "Even if you had double the number of Aurors, they would not have been able to prevent this. This was planned. Orchestrated. The Dark Lord has started his campaign, just as I predicted."

"What?" Cornelius stared at him.

"You have read the reports. You know that this was an organised attack. Anti-Apparition Jinxes covered the entire alley. The Floo Network was sabotaged - selectively. Shops owned by muggleborns as well as by 'Blood Traitors' were attacked. Who else do you think was behind this but the Dark Lord?" Albus didn't raise his voice, but Cornelius cringed under his glare. "Do you remember the last war? It is happening again. Saboteurs in the Ministry. Attacks aimed to sow terror, and make people lose their trust in the Ministry's ability to protect them. Imperiused people forced to attack their neighbours."

He knew he was laying it on a bit thick - he was certain a lot of the wizards and witches forming the mob had not been forced to attack muggleborns - but he had to make Cornelius see that their enemy was Voldemort, not a group of scared, desperate students.

"But… why would he do this? We haven't attacked him!"

"He wants to rule Britain, Cornelius. I know him very well. He is not interested in compromises as anything other than a means to facilitate his goal of taking over the Ministry."

"And he knows how weak we are. He has spies in the Ministry and sympathisers in the Wizengamot," Amelia added.

"But why would he attack now? With our Aurors hunting the muggleborn terrorists, wouldn't it be better for him to wait?" Cornelius asked.

The Minister was right, Albus knew. The smart thing for Voldemort was to wait until the Ministry had weakened itself further by fighting the muggleborns, which would also cause more people to join his cause. That was why Tom had been so angry with Nott. He wouldn't admit that, of course. Instead he said: "Some of his most powerful followers have been killed in the attack on Malfoy Manor. If he does not retaliate, if he does not avenge them, then he will lose the trust of those who have joined him." It was true, to an extent. But the Dark Lord could afford it.

"If he's fighting the muggleborn terrorists, then we can stay back and wait until both sides are weakened."

"That may be difficult." Amelia handed a sheet of parchment to the Minister. "Those were found all over Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, as well as Hogsmeade."

Cornelius read the leaflet, and his eyes widened. "This 'Muggleborn Resistance' is telling the muggleborns to leave Wizarding Britain? To protect themselves since the Aurors won't lift their wands against the Death Eaters?" He looked at them. "That's a lie! Our Aurors ended that riot!"

"They did," Amelia said. "But by the time they had ended it, too many muggleborns had already been killed. And since the Aurors started at the upper end of the Alley, many will believe that they were mostly concerned about protecting the pureblood businesses first."

Albus nodded. Miss Granger had a way with words. He had no doubt that the majority of the muggleborns would believe the leaflet. And act accordingly. Today's Prophet wouldn't help calm their fears either.

"But… would they really leave? Abandon magic?" Cornelius was shaking his head. He couldn't fathom that idea, Albus knew.

"They will not abandon magic. They will abandon Wizarding Britain," Albus said. "Which will leave the Dark Lord without his targets of choice."

"But…" Cornelius was ashen-faced now. "What will we do? We can't stop hunting the muggleborn terrorists, the Wizengamot will never tolerate that. Not after the massacre at Malfoy Manor!"

Albus wished it wasn't so, but the Minister was correct. It would take more atrocities by the Dark Lord to sway the opinion in the Wizengamot.

"We'll keep hunting this 'Resistance', and we'll hunt those who were behind the Riot," Amelia said. "But we need more wands."

"I think we can persuade the Wizengamot to increase the DMLE's budget further, after this," Albus said, smiling politely. "How to use the increased funds would of course be up to you, Amelia." Hopefully, she'd focus on the real threat to Britain. Amelia was devoted to upholding the law and not susceptible to bribes. It made her a very good choice as the Head of the DMLE, but it also meant that she wouldn't be able to let the muggleborns go.

That was a problem he'd have to tackle at a later date though. For now, he had to focus on opposing Voldemort. Miss Granger and her friends would be fine for the time being.

Or so he hoped, at least - he had been wrong about her far too often lately. But there wasn't much he could do but soldier on. Too much was at stake.

*****​

Harwich, Essex, August 13th, 1996

"That's my grandparents' home! I've been here before!" Lydia Baker said excitedly.

Hermione Granger smiled at the girl. She had to force herself to keep smiling when she heard Lydia's next words though.

"Maybe mum's there as well?"

"Maybe." She didn't think so. Today's Daily Prophet had been quite clear about the number of deaths in the riot. Several dozens. Not quite as many as those who had died in the bombing of Malfoy Manor, she reminded herself, but enough to shock Britain. And Lydia had been in the middle of it, running for her life, and her mother had been 'right behind me', as she had told them.

"Let's go ring the doorbell," she said. She had checked the area, and she had Justin as a backup, even though it was very unlikely any Aurors would be watching a muggle house.

Lydia eagerly rang the doorbell. An elderly women opened. "Hello, can I… Lydia!"

"Gran!" Lydia hugged the woman's legs. "Is mum here?"

"No, she isn't… did she say she was meeting you here?"

"Good afternoon, Mrs Brown," Hermione said, extending her hand.

Lydia's grandmother shook it reflexively. She was looking around, probably wondering where either her daughter or son-in-law where - and why a stranger brought her granddaughter to her. "Good afternoon, Miss…?"

Hermione kept a polite smile on her face and handed a copy of the Daily Prophet over to the woman. "There was a riot in Diagon Alley. Do you have a way to contact your daughter? When I saw Lydia, she was alone in the street, and in danger. I took her home with me when I fled myself since I didn't see her parents anywhere."

The woman paled, obviously understanding what Hermione was hinting at.

"There was a bad man chasing me. She hexed him good!" Lydia said. The girl's memories had been modified. She'd not remember where the Resistance was currently based, nor where exactly they had met her - it wouldn't do to tip off an Auror that they were hunting Beckett.

"I see. I can write to her. What's your name, Miss?"

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "I'm a muggleborn, like your daughter. You know about the troubles we're facing?"

Mrs Brown nodded.

"We're fighting back. We won't let another Germany happen."

"What happened in Germany, Gran?" Lydia wanted to know.

"Bad things, dear," her grandmother said. "Go on and see if you can wake up your grandfather, he's still taking a nap."

When the little girl ran into the house, the old woman met Hermione's eyes, and nodded. "Thank you for saving her, Miss."

She had to have lived through the war, the witch thought. She'd understood what they were facing. Mrs Brown took a look at the Prophet, and pressed her lips together.

"They wouldn't expect Lydia to be with you, so they will still be searching for her." If they were still alive, Hermione silently added. "We didn't want to let the authorities get hold of her."

Mrs Brown nodded. "Daria told us about the Ministry's new laws. But… she didn't tell us that it had become like this..." She gestured at the newspaper. "You're fighting those… purebloods?"

Hermione nodded. They were fighting the Death Eaters and bigots, not every pureblood, but, unfortunately, it was close enough.

"I wish you good luck then."

"Thank you, Mrs Brown. Good afternoon."

Hermione took a deep breath after turning away. The smell reminded her of the small ports at the Côte d'Azur. Where, if things were different, she'd be right now still, with her parents, enjoying the holidays. She glanced at Justin as she passed him on the street.

A short walk and an Apparition later, the two of them were back in the East End. Back in the war, she thought.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, August 13th, 1996

Harry Potter winced when he saw the burning figure on the front page of the Daily Prophet stumble and fall down on the street. Again and again. To think that the wizard who had taken the picture had watched the man die… then again, the mob had been there. Right outside the Daily Prophet's office, if Harry had placed the background of the picture correctly. He squinted, trying to take a closer look at the figures in the mob.

"It won't change even if you look at it a dozen times."

The voice of his godfather interrupted him. He hadn't noticed that Sirius had entered the drawing room.

"I was trying to see if I could recognise any of the people in that mob," Harry said.

"Good idea." Sirius nodded in apparent approval.

Harry shrugged. "I'm certain the DMLE did it already." He knew from Tonks that at least some of the Aurors were competent. And a few scarily so.

"I doubt they'll bother. The scum will claim to have been imperiused anyway, should they ever get arrested." Sirius scoffed.

"The Prophet claims they arrested a dozen people," Harry said, pointing at the article.

"And half of them or more will have been muggleborns who defended themselves." His godfather sneered at the article.

"What? Why would they do that?" Harry couldn't believe that. They only defended themselves, didn't they?

"Because they hurt or even killed purebloods. It's like in the last war. They only care if a pureblood gets hurt, no matter what the pureblood did." Sirius snorted.

"Not everyone is like that," Harry protested. "Tonks said there are a lot of good people in the DMLE."

"And those good people will still dutifully hunt down muggleborns like Hermione. Because the law says she's a criminal." The wizard sat down on the armchair next to Harry, propping his feet up on the table.

Harry couldn't say much against that. "It's the system that's at fault."

"And the system is propped up by 'good people' following orders. As long as scum like Fudge and the Wizengamot is obeyed, it'll never change." Sirius summoned a bottle with an amber liquid in it from the cabinet. "The rot goes too deep." He summoned a glass and filled it with the firewhiskey. "They didn't even clean up the damned bigots after you blew up the Dark Lord in 1981. Instead all the Death Eaters who had a tiny bit of cunning went free, and I was chucked into Azkaban without a trial." He slammed the shot back. "What Britain needs is a revolution."

"Is that why you're supporting Hermione?" Harry asked. "Do you hope she'll not just fight the Dark Lord, but the Ministry as well?"

Sirius stared at the window for a moment. When he spoke, his tone was flat. "She won't have a choice. The Ministry will not let a muggleborn who has done what she did go. They can't. It would give the rest of them 'ideas'." He turned his head to look at Harry. "The idea that they have the same rights as everyone else. And, more importantly, the idea that if they don't have the same rights as everyone else, that they can do something about it."

"But if Hermione is fighting both Voldemort and the Ministry… the Resistance are less than a dozen!" They couldn't win that war. Harry shook his head.

"They're less than a dozen now, but I bet that what they did already inspired more," Sirius said. "They know they can fight now. And they don't have much left to lose. Not after this." He pointed at the newspaper. Then he closed his eyes, sighing. "Merlin, I wish Lily could see this. She had predicted that unless the system changed, it'd end like this."

"Mum did?" Harry leaned forward. Sirius was the only one who told him about this side of his mother. Everyone else only talked about how talented, pretty and brave she had been.

"Oh, yes. She knew just how many traitors were in the Ministry. We all did. That was why we had joined Dumbledore, after all. To fight without worrying about being cursed in the back. Of course, no one thought Wormtail would betray us…" He closed his eyes, muttering a curse under his breath.

Harry knew that unless he distracted his godfather, Sirius would go on about Pettigrew for a while, and drink even more. He quickly said: "But Dumbledore isn't fighting now."

"But he will. Just like in the last war," Sirius said. "I just hope that this time, he'll not stop with the Death Eaters."

Sirius's smile reminded Harry very much of Padfoot baring his teeth.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, August 13th, 1996

"We really need to find a better place for them," Ron Weasley said, pointing at the silence-charmed boxes that he and Harry had just returned to their old spot.

"Your brothers haven't yet enlarged the range of their ears," his best friend said. "At least it's not suspicious to visit them each day."

"Easy for you to say," Ron said, "you're not the one faking a part-time job." Which, in his case, included actually working - the twins had insisted that this would help covering up his real activity. At Harry's confused expression, he added: "I'm officially a product tester."

"But… oh."

Ron nodded. "That kind of tester. I had hoped to be spared this, after they moved out of the Burrow."

Harry winced. "If it is any consolation, I'm living with Sirius."

Ron snorted. He honestly doubted Sirius was even half as annoying to Harry as his brothers were to him. Or, since they were two, a quarter. The man loved his godson, after all.

He twirled his wand. "All done now. We just need to turn the dictaquills back on."

Soon the scrolls of parchment were growing again, covered with - mostly useless - conversations from the Auror pub. The two stood there for a bit, watching and reading.

"How was it? Fighting the rioters, I mean," Harry suddenly asked.

Ron jerked, then took a deep breath. "I was afraid at first, but then… I couldn't really think much when the attack started. I just cast, and threw stuff from the shop at them, until the Aurors arrived, and the Death Eaters fled." He didn't mention that he had first been afraid that this was an attack by Hermione's group.

"Did you kill anyone?"

Ron sighed. "I don't know. Maybe." He remembered the wizard not getting up after he had cast a Blasting Curse at him. He hadn't really paid attention to what happened to the man. Not with others sending curses at him, and at his brothers. But between the swamps, and the blast curses… he probably had killed people.

Harry looked like he guessed that. He didn't say anything about that, though. "You said they were Death Eaters."

"Well… I reckon anyone attacking muggleborns like that is a Death Eater, mask or no mask."

"Sirius said they'll claim to be imperiused."

Ron snorted. "Probably."

"Some might have been imperiused."

Ron didn't want to think that some he might have killed had been victims themselves. "Most didn't look like they were under a spell. You are not exactly forced to scream 'Death to Mudbloods!' if you're imperiused to attack them, right?"

Harry nodded. "I don't think so. Remember the lesson in fourth year?"

Ron did. That had been embarrassing. Very embarrassing. "You resisted it."

"Yes. But I still felt the effect. I was feeling really good. I had no worries at all. I was… happy even."

Ron knew what he meant. He remembered the same. "Exactly. I doubt you can even hate anyone, under that effect."

"So, those people screaming death threats were not forced."

Ron shook his head. "No. They simply hate muggleborns. And blood traitors."

"There was an awful lot of them, according to the Daily Prophet's pictures."

"Yes." Ron conjured an armchair and sat down. "Bloody big mob."

Harry joined him in an armchair of his own. "Sirius said that the Ministry was riddled with spies and Death Eaters."

"That's true. Dad said the same," Ron said.

"And we know the Wizengamot is dominated by blood purists too."

"Yes." The laws they had passed, and had refused to repeal, had made that clear. They both knew that. Ron wondered where Harry was going with this.

"And now we saw that a lot of the normal wizards and witches share that attitude."

Ah. Ron understood. "Well, they follow the examples of the Ministry, and the Dark Lord. If the Dark Lord dies, the Ministry and Wizengamot will follow Dumbledore again, and things will return to normal. Like after you defeated him for the first time." Both his parents were hoping for this, Ron knew.

Harry winced, and Ron felt guilty for reminding his friend of the day his parents had died.

"But," Harry said, "even if things go back to normal - would that be a good thing? We now know just how rotten things were. So many purebloods were ready to attack the muggleborns."

"Don't forget the half-bloods who joined them," Ron added. "Too eager to forget their roots." He couldn't understand those people. One of their parents had to be a muggleborn. How could they go against their family like that?

"There aren't too many of them around," Harry said, slightly defensive in Ron's opinion. His friend was a half-blood himself, after all.

"Enough to matter. And as long as things don't change, their number will increase as many will want to suck up to the purebloods in charge."

"You're probably right," his friend admitted. "But… I'm just wondering: Is the whole thing worth it if we're just going back to how things were?"

"You mean…" Ron pointed at the boxes.

"The war." Harry nodded. "Our parents fought one war already, and now we're in another." He scoffed. "Shouldn't things be better at the end?"

"I hope so," Ron said. He hadn't really thought about that, so far. If the Death Eaters were gone and the war was won, wouldn't things be OK again?

But then, who were the Death Eaters they needed to… defeat? The ones sworn to Voldemort, or the ones he had seen in the mob attacking him and his brothers?

Ron didn't know. And he wasn't certain if he wanted to know, right then.

*****​

Kent, Greengrass Manor, August 13th, 1996

Daphne Greengrass was torn. When she had first seen the headline of today's Daily Prophet about dozens dying she had been afraid of another attack by the mudbloods. For a moment, she had been back at Malfoy Manor, seeing it burn, knowing her parents had been killed. Then she had read the article, and found out that the dead had been mudbloods. She had been relieved. And satisfied, somewhat. With so many mudbloods dead, she had thought, maybe those who had murdered her parents would now be suffering the same loss and pain as Astoria and she were suffering.

The small article about the missing girl, Lydia Baker, had changed that. That the girl had been a half-blood hadn't mattered much, but the picture of her, and of her dead mother… Daphne had realised that yes, others were suffering the same pain as she was feeling, but they were not those who had wronged her.

And yet… the mudbloods had started this. If they hadn't murdered her parents and their friends, there wouldn't have been a riot. All those deaths were on their heads. Heads she hoped she would see kissed by Dementors soon.

Someone knocked on her door, and she jerked. For an instant, she thought it was her mother, coming to fetch her for dinner. Then she remembered her mother was dead. Murdered. "Yes?"

"Daphne? Can I come in?" It was her uncle.

"Yes," she said, sitting up on her bed and smoothing her black robe out.

Eric Greengrass entered. He was wearing mourning colours as well, of course. He glanced at the Daily Prophet, then sat down on her bed, next to her. "You've been in your room all day."

She looked at him. Yes, she hadn't felt like going out, or doing anything. "I've been doing homework." She hadn't done much, actually. But it was a good excuse.

He nodded. "Astoria has been in her room as well."

Daphne felt ashamed for having forgotten about her sister in her own grief. Astoria was two years younger, and the loss of their parents had to be hurting her even more.

"She hasn't taken the news well," Eric said, nodding at the newspaper.

Daphne understood. If she had been reminded of their parents' death by this, then her sister… she stood up. "I'll go to her!"

She didn't know what exactly she could do, other than be with her sister, but it was better than staying in her room and doing nothing.

"Do you want me to buy your school supplies?" her uncle asked.

Daphne stopped, halfway to the door. She shook her head. "No. We'll visit the Alley as usual." Their parents hadn't died there. And it would be good to see the Alley, buy some new robes, maybe get a scoop of ice cream… she remembered that Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour had been destroyed. Another thing the mudbloods who had started this war were responsible for.

"Daphne?"

Eric must have noticed her reaction, Daphne realised. She sighed. "I just remembered that my favourite Ice Cream Parlour was destroyed."

"Yes, Fortescue's. I remember when it opened," her uncle smiled faintly. "Hopefully whoever takes over will continue it."

Daphne hoped so as well. The sooner things were back to normal, the better.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, August 14th, 1996

"Good evening, Sirius," Albus Dumbledore said as he stepped out of the Floo connection in Sirius's home.

"Good evening, Albus," the other wizard said. He sounded a tad suspicious, or so Albus thought. The Headmaster doubted that Sirius had completely forgiven him for his failure to ensure he had a trial. Or for placing Harry with the Dursleys. But there was nothing he could do about his past mistakes, other than strive to do better in the future.

"Are Harry and Mister Weasley here?" he asked.

"You asked to talk to them," Sirius said. "They're in the drawing room."

Albus nodded and followed him. The two boys were indeed there, and a bit nervous. He smiled gently at them. "Good evening, Harry, Mister Weasley."

"Good evening, Headmaster," they chorused.

He sat down on a chair opposite the two boys while Sirius chose the couch, placing an arm on the backrest.

"I trust you are well?"

"Fine," Harry said.

Mister Weasley shrugged. "I'm doing alright."

Both seemed nervous, or maybe even a bit guilty - and they were not making eye contact. That sign of distrust hurt a bit, but it was not unexpected. It was only natural that Harry would look up to his godfather, and Sirius had always been opinionated. And Mister Weasley was Harry's best friend.

He decided to skip further smalltalk and cleared his throat. "You might be wondering about the reason for my visit."

They nodded.

"I need your help," he said. That caught their attention. "I need you to pass a message to your mutual friend."

The mood in the room grew tense at once. Albus refrained from chuckling at their reaction. He held up his hand instead. "I am not spying on you. But I do think I know you two well enough to dismiss the possibility of you cutting off your best friend. I do not need to know how you keep in contact. All I need you to do is pass a message to her." For now, at least.

The two exchanged a glance. They hadn't relaxed. Neither had Sirius.

"Well, should she make contact, I suppose we can tell her your message," Harry said.

"Not that we know if she'll contact us, or when, or how," Mister Weasley added. Albus could see the influence of the twins there.

He smiled. "Please tell her that she should refrain from further actions until the Ministry is committed against Voldemort. It is imperative that the public realises who their real enemy is." And having both the muggleborns and the Ministry fighting the Death Eaters would not only hurt Tom's forces greatly, but would also pave the way to a future reconciliation. As long as no other group of muggleborns did something rash in the meantime.

"And when will that be?" Harry asked. "For a year, the Ministry has been appeasing Voldemort. Why should they suddenly turn around and attack him?"

The boy was not quite accusing him of lying, but his suspicion was evident in his expression. Albus kept smiling. "The recent riot has shown just how dangerous the blood purists are. The DMLE is well aware that it was planned and orchestrated by Voldemort's forces. And I have good reasons to suspect that Tom will launch another attack soon. It will be enough to turn the tide in the Wizengamot."

"Will they stop hunting her then?" Mister Weasley asked.

He shook his head. "I am afraid they will not. Not right away. But I think I will be able to exert some influence, and be able to make them suspend that particular case, provided there are no further incidents." In time.

Once again the two boys exchanged glances, then they nodded. "We can pass that on, if she contacts us. But that's all. How she will react…" Harry shrugged.

Albus smiled. He wasn't worried. Miss Granger was a brilliant witch. She would understand that another attack would be counter-productive for her goals.

If she trusted him, at least.

"And what have you been doing, Albus? Other than trying to get the only ones who are actually doing something about Voldemort and his scum to stop?" Sirius said, glaring at him.

"I have been trying to prevent a war between the Ministry and the muggleborns," Albus said.

"Doesn't look like you had much success, does it? Or is it already a success that this Wizengamot hasn't legalised hunting muggleborns for sport?" Sirius scoffed. "We're already at war, Albus. Against the Death Eaters. And against anyone who helps them. And so far, the Ministry is helping them."

"The Ministry doesn't see this as a war. Not yet. Once they do, they might see certain actions in a different light." At least the Minister might. Amelia… the very stubbornness and tenacity that made her such a good head of the DMLE meant she was not very inclined to let anything she saw as a crime slide.

"And if you fail? If the Ministry sides with Voldemort? What will you do then, Albus?" Sirius leaned forward, staring at him. Harry and Mister Weasley were silent, listening with rapt attention.

Albus met the man's eyes. "If the Ministry sides with Voldemort I'll do my best to destroy them." Just as he had done against Gellert.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, August 15th, 1996

Hermione Granger didn't want to be in Knockturn Alley. Even here there were too many Aurors around. And while her and Allan's polyjuice disguises shouldn't look suspicious - they had taken hairs from muggles this time, so there was no chance of encountering anyone who knew their current forms - there was always the risk of an Auror simply deciding to harass them, maybe even arrest them. That sort of thing was not uncommon in the kind of country Wizarding Britain had become.

Of course, any Auror trying to vent some frustration on them would be in for a surprise. Both Allan and she had trained hard every day.

"The shop's still closed," Allan muttered. "He might have bolted for good, after the riot."

"Maybe." Hermione was not quite as disappointed as she sounded. Harry had passed on Dumbledore's message, and while catching a muggleborn traitor wasn't quite in the same league as blowing up Malfoy Manor, it was a far cry from doing nothing. Especially since they couldn't simply make Beckett disappear. If they wanted to scare others off betraying them, he had to be made into an example.

Hermione hadn't been looking forward to that, even before Dumbledore's message. To kill someone in cold blood - execute, she told herself - who was at her mercy, unable to defend himself… she knew it was needed, and she wasn't the kind of witch to let others do her dirty work, but still. And to think Seamus had wanted to torture the man to death! She'd not let that happen! They were better than that!

Honesty compelled her to add: "I think his greed is stronger than his fear. He'll not abandon his shop without taking everything he can carry." That was her impression of the traitor, at least.

Allan nodded, after a moment. "We will return then."

"We will."

Hopefully, after the Ministry had declared war on Voldemort. If that ever happened.

*****​

Azkaban, August 24th, 1996

Azkaban was hell on earth, in the opinion of Ivor Branberry. Cold, wet, and surrounded by inhuman monsters that sucked hope and joy out of everyone in the vicinity, and their souls as well, if given the opportunity. Not that anyone asked for his opinion - he was but a half-blood rookie Hit-Wizard who had failed to make friends with the right people during his time at Hogwarts. Which was the reason he was spending his first tour guarding Azkaban, instead of Diagon Alley or the Ministry.

At least he had but four more months to go until he could apply for a transfer. And if he didn't mess up, he'd be off this rock for good then, and another stupid rookie would take his place. Ah… guarding the Ministry would be perfect. He would be able to go back home each day, could go out to Diagon Alley in the evening whenever he wanted, and would be improving his chances to be assigned to a security detail for someone important.

Until then he had to endure this place. He shuddered, feeling both cold and sad suddenly, despite the warm fire kept going in the fireplace. A Dementor had to have been passing right outside. It happened from time to time. He stepped closer to the fire.

He shuddered again. Another Dementor? Or the same one? Why wasn't that monster off to torture some of the prisoners? They deserved it, after all. Well, with the exception of Sirius Black, but that had been before Ivor's time.

"Branberry! Go check what those idiot Dementors are doing, it's getting cold here!"

That was Sergeant Shafiq, the current commander of the rock. Rumours had it that he had messed up as a Hit-Wizard so badly, not even his family had managed to save his career. But no one had been able or willing to tell Ivor what Shafiq had done. He was one hard and unpleasant man though, who knew exactly how to make a Hit-Wizard's stay at Azkaban even worse.

"Yes, sir," Ivor said. That was usually the best response to Shafiq, even if it meant stepping into the cold and wet night outside their tower, to see what the Dementors were up to. He checked that he was wearing his amulet that told the fiends he was off-limits, something every new guard here was taught to do without thinking, and headed towards the door.

It was close to the full moon, so he didn't need a lantern to spot the floating monsters. His wand would do. Ivor opened the door, and quickly stepped through - rookies learned not to let the cold into the tower right after they learned to never take off their amulets.

He gasped. Dozens of Dementor were surrounding the tower. No wonder it was growing so damn cold inside - he was almost freezing where he stood. "Hey! Go away, go back to the cells!" he shouted.

They didn't react. Cursing, he rubbed his arms, then raised his wand.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Silver mist appeared near the tip of his wand. Being able to cast a Patronus had netted him a good grade at the Academy, and was probably partially responsible for his current post as well. Usually, the Dementors retreated from the spell. Not tonight though.

They gave way, but didn't flee. It made no sense.

"Go away! Go back to the cells! Torture the prisoners, not us!" he yelled again.

What was wrong with those monsters? He was freezing here! Snarling, he took another step forward. A flash to his side made him turn his head. Right in time to see a red curse strike him.

He fell to the ground with his arms snapped to his side and his legs pressed together. Full Body-Bind Curse, he realised. Also known as the Body Freezing Spell. Given that he was in danger of literally freezing, should the Dementors not move away and no one come for him, a rather ominous thing to think about.

He caught something moving near him. Someone was walking towards him. His attacker! He couldn't see them yet though. But… there! Black robes… could be anyone, given how many people had died recently. And… he wanted to scream when he saw the white mask. A Death Eater!

He expected to be killed any second while the Death Eater stepped closer. When the wizard knelt down next to him and ripped his amulet off, Ivor wished he had been killed.

But he couldn't do anything, not even cry, while the Death Eater walked away and the Dementors swarmed him.

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 6: Recruiting

'While Malfoy Manor was arguably an attack on Death Eaters, it's widely acknowledged that the rioters in Diagon Alley were not targeting any Muggleborn Resistance members, but simply wanted to kill every muggleborn they could. However, despite some claims to the contrary, the attacks had not been spontaneous, but planned and coordinated, at least at the start. The fact that the mob had specifically targeted law-abiding, economically successful muggleborns, such as the widely-known Florean Fortescue, who had managed to keep his ice cream parlour prospering despite the discrimination, as well as prominent 'blood traitors' points to this. More telling, though, is that the entire alley had been covered by Anti-Apparition Jinxes and that the Floo connections of the targeted shops had been sabotaged, delaying a response by the Aurors as well as keeping the muggleborns from escaping. As a result of the riot, the muggleborns were driven out of Diagon Alley, and many left Wizarding Britain altogether.'
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, August 25th, 1996

"Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood, Ambrosius Mulciber, Horatio Travers, Hieronimus Yaxley, Tarquin Rosier and Crispin Flint."

Albus Dumbledore looked up from the parchment he had been quoting. The Minister for Magic wasn't meeting his eyes.

"Ten Death Eaters, Cornelius. Members of the Dark Lord's inner circle. Hardened veterans of dozens of battles." And after ten years spent in Azkaban, more than a bit unhinged and likely full of hatred towards the Ministry, if Sirius's state was any indication.

"I know, Albus. Merlin's Buttocks, I know!" Cornelius finally exclaimed, yelling with frustration: "I've read the report myself!"

"The Dark Lord has attacked Azkaban, massacred the guards there, and freed his most fervent followers. He has made his intentions clear." The old wizard leaned forward. "He intends to fight the Ministry."

"He already has fought us. A dozen Hit-Wizards were killed. Kissed by Dementors in many cases, as far as the Aurors investigating the breakout can tell," Amelia said. "As were a dozen other prisoners."

Albus nodded at her. It was a horrible tragedy. If only those monsters had been dealt with in the past. "Indeed. We are at war with him and his forces now. He has cast the first curse."

"First the muggleborns, and now the Dark Lord!" Cornelius rubbed his forehead. "How could this have happened?"

Albus shook his head. "You know why this has happened: Because you persecuted the muggleborns in a futile attempt to placate the Dark Lord. And now, instead of a united Britain facing a recently returned and still weak Dark Lord, we are divided among ourselves. The muggleborns have the strongest reason to fight the Death Eaters, having the most to lose, and yet they are being hunted by the Ministry and driven into hiding."

"They are hunted because they murdered dozens of people, Albus!" Amelia exclaimed.

Cornelius nodded eagerly. Albus hid his annoyance. "I trust you mean those suspected to have been behind the attack on Malfoy Manor, and not all muggleborns. Given recent events, it is sometimes hard to tell whether or not the Ministry knows the difference.

"We're not hunting law-abiding people, no matter their blood status!" Amelia said, clearly indignant at his accusation. "We're hunting those who broke the law! Those who killed more people in one attack than the Dark Lord ever managed!"

"And why did they feel they had no choice but to strike at Death Eaters in that manner? Because the Wizengamot and the Ministry have been taking away their rights piece by piece for over a year while doing nothing against the Dark Lord - who has, if I might remind you, fought a war against Wizarding Britain in the past which was so bloody, people still fear to say his name." Albus was not quite raising his voice, but he made it clear how strongly he felt about this.

"Are you proposing we pardon those criminals?" Amelia asked, her scowl showing just how little she thought of such a proposal.

He actually was planning to have them pardoned, though he knew it wouldn't be possible yet. So he said: "I am proposing we repeal the laws that were passed on the Dark Lord's behalf over the last year. We cannot fight both the muggleborns and the Death Eaters at the same time, and unlike the Muggleborns, the Dark Lord has directly attacked the Ministry and killed Ministry employees. Repealing those laws would be a powerful gesture, and might very well be enough to regain some trust from the muggleborns."

"The muggleborns have killed Aurors too!" Amelia said.

"I have looked into the incident concerning Miss Granger, Amelia. The Auror she killed had been trying to kill her first." At least that was a reasonable assumption given the results of the investigation. "And he has been known to have views of muggleborns that would not be out of place among the Dark Lord's followers. If she had truly meant to kill them, why did she spare the other Auror?"

"Murder is murder, Albus," Amelia said, her jaw set. Her passion to uphold the law would be admirable, if it did not extend to unjust laws as well, and if she understood and was flexible enough to accept that in times of war, politics and strategy took priority.

"And those laws won't be repealed. Not by the Wizengamot, you know that." Cornelius shook his head. "There are just too many members who lost family in that attack."

"There are also families who lost members in the attack on Azkaban. Or to those the Dark Lord just freed, in the last war," Albus pointed out. Augusta would certainly do all she could to oppose the Death Eaters.

"It won't be enough."

Not yet, in any case. But if Tom continued on his course of action, subtly prompted by Severus, the number of Wizengamot members who had lost family to Death Eaters could only increase.

"Leaving this matter aside, it is obvious that Britain can no longer afford to send so many Aurors after the muggleborns. Not with ten of the most dangerous criminals ever now free and ready to take up wands again, and the Dark Lord openly attacking the Ministry." He looked at Amelia. "Not with a dozen Hit-wizards killed in the line of duty by the Dark Lord."

"Yes, yes. Such a blatant attack cannot be ignored." Cornelius wiped sweat from his forehead.

Amelia nodded. "The Aurors will do their best to find those fugitives, and whoever helped break them out. And the Hit-Wizards will be on alert, to respond to further attacks."

It was less than he had hoped for, but the most important step had - finally! - been taken: The Ministry was moving against Tom. The Headmaster had considered openly defying the Ministry and Wizengamot. Declaring that Hogwarts would welcome any muggleborn, no matter their age or test results, would certainly draw a line in the sand. Alas, Cornelius was correct - the Wizengamot and Ministry were not willing to go that far. If he did this, he might even end up pushing them into the Dark Lord's camp.

But things would not stay like this. He just had to be a bit more patient. Hopefully, the muggleborns would be as patient.

*****​

London, Bexley, August 27th, 1996

Walking through the park where they would meet the mercenaries, Hermione Granger felt slightly uncomfortable in the clothes she was wearing. They were just a bit too posh, for her taste. And she was certain that she lacked the nonchalance Justin, who was dressed in similarly expensive garb, was showing. Anyone would be able to tell that she usually didn't dress up that much, or so she thought. At least their cover took this into account - she was supposed to be Justin's girlfriend, of not quite as rich parents as his.

On the other hand, their cover didn't take into account that she had not much experience as a girlfriend. She had dated, if she could call it that, Viktor Krum for a few months, and that was it. Not exactly a stellar resumé. Not that she had time for a boyfriend right now anyway. There was so much to do, so much to organise and learn and train. She had not even enough time for her friends, especially Harry and Ron. Allan was kind and understanding, and a fellow Resistance member, but he hadn't spent the last few years at Hogwarts with her. Damn, she missed them! Far more than she had missed Viktor, when he had returned to Bulgaria. She wondered...

"Something wrong?" Justin asked.

"Just thinking about the breakout from Azkaban," she answered. Justin didn't need to know about her missing Harry and Ron. Or other speculation. He needed the Hermione who was on top of things and had all the answers anyone needed.

"Ah, yes. Quite a mess, that."

"More so for the Ministry. They can't afford to hunt us now, not with the Death Eaters finally revealing their true colours." Hermione snorted, though without any humour. As if anyone with half a brain would have been fooled anyway.

"That's good for us. On the other hand, the Dark Lord just replaced the Death Eaters he has lost."

"He did, but those he freed were the most fanatical ones." She had read the transcripts of their trials, once. "They tortured and killed as many purebloods as muggleborns. If they continue that, it'll help turning more purebloods against them."

Justin nodded. He didn't comment on how cynical her statement was. Maybe he didn't care as long as purebloods died - but then, he wasn't as bad as Seamus and Dean. Maybe he was just too focused on their upcoming meeting.

Hermione hoped he was.

*****​

"You want to hire us to secure a ranch in Rhodesia?"

Major James Kolen sounded doubtful. Hermione resisted the urge to correct him about the name of the country. That would have been taken as a political statement they could do without. The Major - if that was his correct rank - and Sergeant Mick Boones pretty much ignored her anyway, other than briefly checking out her legs. Unlike the Magical World, The muggle world was overall still a man's world. Especially in the mercenary scene.

"We primarily want you to train us and a few others, before any operation," Justin said. "We're not about to try to hold a ranch against Mugabe's goons, but we'd like to be able to hold our own against bandits."

"Training a bunch of kids?" Boones chuckled.

"Essentially, yes." Justin kept his cool. Hermione had to sip from her tea to hide her frown. "We can discuss the operation once the training is done." He took out a bag and placed it on the table. "You will be paid generously for your effort. Gold or cash, whatever you prefer."

Kolen took the bag and opened it. The gold pieces inside made him raise his eyebrows. "We will be paid in full, even if you break off the training."

"That is acceptable, provided you do not try to make us quit. No more than you'd try to make a recruit quit," Justin added. Then he looked straight at the man. "We'll know if you do."

Boones chuckled again, clearly not taking them seriously, but Kolen shrugged. "Do you have a suitable training ground?"

Justin nodded. "Yes."

It was an old forest area, in Northern England, owned by his family as a hunting ground. Very off the path, and hardly used anymore. A few charms, and no one would hear any shots.

"How many will we be training?" the major asked.

"About a dozen. For four weeks."

"You'll not be soldiers after that. You'll be able to shoot and probably not get killed at once in the bush."

"That's all we want," Justin said, smiling.

It was clear that Kolen didn't believe, or didn't understand what they wanted, but the way he was eyeing the bag on the table showed it wouldn't matter.

"We want to be paid half in gold, half in dollars. Half in advance. And you'll cover any costs for the camp."

"Then we have a deal, Major." Justin held out his hand, and the two shook.

Hermione had a feeling those four week would be tough. But it would also mean the Resistance wouldn't be doing much else, other than some recruiting, and the essential training and preparation. Dumbledore should be happy about that.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, August 27th, 1996

"... and there was a task force created to hunt down the escaped Death Eaters. Dawlish leads it and Scrimgeour allocated a dozen of the most experienced Aurors to it."

Harry Potter had already known what Tonks just told him and Sirius over dinner thanks to the Wireless Ears, but he nodded anyway. The young Auror hadn't talked to them in a while, and not just because she was very busy. Everyone was, actually - Sirius was spending a lot of time enchanting another communication mirror, so they could keep in contact once Harry was back at Hogwarts.

"Are you in the task force?" Sirius asked, cutting his entrecôte with goblin-made silverware. "They might want a metamorphmagus despite your inexperience."

She shook her head. "Not permanently. I'm still in the 'assist whoever wants you' pool of rookies." Scowling, she added: "And since everyone can use a metamorphmagus sometimes, I'm unlikely to get assigned to a partner."

Sirius shrugged. "It means you'll be in a better position to spy on the Aurors."

"Did they stop the hunt for Hermione?" Harry asked.

He saw Tonks wincing. "She's a suspect in the attack on Malfoy Manor."

Harry had already been aware of that, but he didn't want to let Tonks know. "I bet that for the Death Eaters among the Aurors, all muggleborns are suspects just so they can kill them when they 'resist arrest'."

Tonks stiffened. "I don't know any Death Eaters among the Aurors."

Sirius scoffed. "Or pureblood bigots. Same difference."

"They executed Martin Cokes for 'resisting arrest'." Harry stared at Tonks.

"He was executed for trying to kill an Auror," the metamorphmagus answered, not meeting his eyes. She knew as well as he did that Hermione had killed an Auror.

"What would have happened if he had let them arrest him?" Harry sneered. "He'd probably have been sent to Azkaban for not complying with the Ministry's Nazi laws. If they hadn't executed him just to be seen doing something. Fudge is like that."

Tonks ground her teeth. Since her father was a muggleborn, she'd know about the Nazis. "Dumbledore's working on repealing those laws."

"He's been trying to do that for a year now," Sirius said, a bit too casually. "But our dear Wizengamot is quite fond of those laws. Too many Death Eaters among its members."

"The Corps doesn't like those laws either," Tonks said.

"And yet the Aurors still enforce them." Sirius snorted. "With great eagerness."

"We're hunting criminals. Mass-murderers," Tonks bit out.

"And muggleborns," Harry added. "What will you do if you're sent to arrest Hermione?"

Tonks stared at him. "I'm not part of the group hunting her."

Harry shrugged, hiding his urge to show how angry he was with some effort. "If you ever get assigned to that group, I hope you'll remember that hunting muggleborns is what Death Eaters are doing."

"We're just doing our duty. It doesn't matter if you're a muggleborn or a pureblood, a murderer is a murderer." Tonks sounded as if she was quoting someone. Probably Bones, Harry thought.

"Killing Death Eaters is not murder. It's self-defense if you're a muggleborn or a 'blood traitor'," Sirius said.

"That's a matter for the DMLE to decide."

"The same DMLE that enforces laws taken straight from Nazi Germany?" Harry scoffed. "After the war, the Nazis tried to claim that they had just been doing their duty as well."

"Are you saying that we're Nazis?" Tonks glared at him.

"The laws are the same, the excuses are the same… maybe you should think a bit more about what exactly your duty is," Harry said, standing up. "I'm full. I'll skip dessert."

Just before he left, he heard Sirius say: "And you should ask Dumbledore just what he thinks about enforcing laws that he spends so much time trying to repeal. And you should ask yourself just where your loyalties lie."

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, August 28th, 1996

Ron Weasley wondered sometimes if his family was not, in their own way, as tradition-bound as the other purebloods. The annual school supply shopping trip was one such tradition. He knew the schedule by heart now. Flooing to the Leaky Cauldron, getting gold from Gringotts, buying the books - second hand, if possible - then the other supplies, and finally robes and other clothes. They were currently in Flourish and Blotts, looking for the new Defense books.

As expected, they had a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Unexpectedly, and unfortunately, it was Snape. That meant a new Potions Master too, but Ron was mostly concerned that one of his favourite subjects would be unbearable this year. Harry had been livid when he had heard that. They both hoped that the curse would get Snape. Or Sirius - Harry's godfather had warned Albus that Snape would die should Harry come to harm.

On the other hand, they could learn Defense more easily on the side than Potions, especially with Hermione not coming back to Hogwarts. He ground his teeth. Hogwarts without Hermione was wrong. They were supposed to finish school together, all three of them. Maybe even get a flat together, after Hogwarts, until they had families of their own. Hermione had had plans...

"What's wrong, Weasley? Realised you can't afford new books?"

The hated voice of Malfoy interrupted his thoughts. The Slytherin was standing near the next shelf, wearing mourning robes. Silk, of course. Ron scoffed. He wanted to turn away, but he didn't trust Malfoy at his back. Not that letting the scum get so close without realising he was there was a good thing either. He needed to be more aware of such threats. More vigilant.

Malfoy sneered at him. His hair was styled as usual, and his clothes impeccably clean, though he seemed to be a bit thinner. Almost haggard even. "Not that you should bother anyway - without the mudblood, you'll fail all subjects anyway."

For a moment, Ron wanted to curse the git. End him and his evil family right then and there. He controlled himself though. Malfoy wasn't worth it. At least not when there were witnesses around. Instead of attacking the scum, he sneered back. "Shouldn't you be worried instead? With your father finally dead, you'll be forced to deal with your troubles by yourself."

Malfoy flinched and went pale, trembling with rage. Ron even thought he saw some tears in the git's eyes. "You… you…"

"Yes, me." Ron knew that he should feel guilty about his cruel barb - Malfoy had lost his parents, after all - but he didn't care. That foul arse had started this. "Or will you be running to your aunt? You know, the one who just escaped from Azkaban?"

Malfoy was still trembling, but he managed to talk again. "Will you be visiting your mudblood when she's in Azkaban for murdering an Auror? Oh, wait - she'll be executed. I'll have my proxy in the Wizengamot vote for the Kiss, too."

"I'd not worry about what you'll never see happen," Ron shot back.

He saw Malfoy was briefly confused, until he understood the threat. Before the snake could say anything, or start hexing - Ron was ready, his wand at his side - a voice interrupted them.

"Draco! What are you tarrying f… oh."

That had to be Augustus Malfoy. Another Death Eater, marked or not. He stared at Ron, who stared right back. The older wizard sniffed. "You shouldn't bother with blood traitors, Draco. They are beneath you."

"Yes, Uncle." Draco nodded, sneered at Ron, and the two walked away.

Ron didn't relax until he had seen them leave the store. He had known Hogwarts wouldn't be fun this year, but it might be even worse than he had feared. He almost wished he could leave and join Hermione's group. But that would leave Harry alone at school.

And his mum would kill him for abandoning his education, if Hermione didn't kill him first.

*****​

Cumbria, Britain, September 1st, 1996

"I'm suffering from flashbacks to 'Full Metal Jacket," Dean whispered. Hermione Granger knew what he meant - the whole Resistance was standing in a line, in a small clearing in the forest owned by Justin's family, dressed in camouflaged fatigues from an Army Surplus shop. And Sergeant Boones was walking up and down, glaring and cursing at them. Verbally, that was.

"You're the sorriest lot of recruits I've ever seen! A bunch of pampered students who have never done anything more strenuous than spending daddy's money! And you want to be soldiers?"

"Yes, sergeant!" Dean and Seamus yelled, with the rest joining in. Hermione didn't quite scream as loud as the rest, but she managed not to roll her eyes. They had expected this attitude. Hermione liked to think Major Kolen was trying to scare them off their apparent wish to become soldiers and die in Africa. Allan thought that the mercenaries simply wanted to scare them into quitting so they would be paid in full without doing the full four weeks.

Boones looked surprised for a moment, then he scoffed and glared at them again, focusing on Sally-Anne. "You, there, girlie! You think you have what it takes to learn how to fight? You think you can stand the training? Grown men have been broken by this!"

Hermione thought the act was more than a bit overdone. She didn't show it though. After Umbridge, and after being hunted by Aurors for being muggleborns, this was not really impressive. Unsurprisingly, Sally-Anne glared right back, pushed her chin forward and yelled into the man's face: "Yes, sarge!"

Once more taken aback, he just grunted, and turned to Hermione. "What about you? Can you stand not sleeping in a comfy bed, wearing posh clothes, or taking a bath each day?"

"Yes, Sarge!" She didn't yell. But she didn't flinch either. And of course, knowing that she could actually have a daily bath if she wanted to helped. A few of them would be apparating to London each day, to check if there had been any news from the families of older muggleborns they knew from Hogwarts. Hopefully, the request to respond by e-mail would be enough to convince the potential recruits that this was not an elaborate trap by the Ministry. At least, Hermione hoped, they'd be able to communicate with the muggleborns a few years above them. The rest would follow.

"What was that? I can't hear you!"

"Yes, sarge!" she yelled. He grunted, then walked along their line again.

"Drop and give me twenty!" Dean whispered, and Hermione almost giggled. The sergeant glared at them, then bellowed: "Now run on the course I've prepared! Two laps! Make that three, if you can whisper you can run one more!"

Hermione did roll her eyes as soon as she was past the man. She could have done without this. All she wanted was to learn how to use modern weapons. But she knew better than to tell the experts how to do their job.

And when she ran after Justin through the forest, she couldn't help but think of the irony that on the same day she was entering boot camp, Harry and Ron were returning to Hogwarts. Hopefully, they had a better time there than she had here.

*****​

Hogwarts Express, September 1st, 1996

"Look, I'm sorry for not attending your party. Gran said I shouldn't be seen with you."

Harry Potter glared at Neville, and the other Gryffindor winced.

"But you're now in with us in the same compartment, mate," Ron pointed out.

"Well, yes…"

"I guess after Voldemort broke out the Lestranges, your gran decided that muggleborns are the lesser evil?" Harry knew he was being unfair, but he was frustrated and angry. Hermione should be here, with them. Not out there, hiding. And he really wasn't fond of Augusta Longbottom.

Neville pressed his lips together. He looked angry now as well, but didn't say anything right then.

"Look, Neville," Ron said, leaning forward, "it's rather simple: Lucius Malfoy was a bloody Death Eater. Remember our second year? Malfoy tried to murder all the muggleborns using Slytherin's monster. Ginny almost died."

Harry saw that the youngest Weasley shivered and rubbed her arms, and smiled at her in an attempt to console the girl. She smiled back, if a bit weakly.

Ron didn't seem to have noticed, focusing on Neville. "And once the Dark Lord came back - after murdering Cedric, and a few more people - who spoke for him? Who passed on his demands? Malfoy."

"But they didn't just blow up Death Eaters! They killed everyone who was at the ball! That's how Death Eaters acted in the war!"

Harry ground his teeth. "Oh really?" he spat out. "You think they should have waited until Malfoy was alone?"

Neville swallowed, but nodded. "Yes!"

Harry scoffed. "You're stupid! Everyone knew Malfoy was a Death Eater. That's why your gran and you didn't attend. Everyone who was at the ball was either a Death Eater, or a sympathiser." He bared his teeth. "The kind of scum who made all those laws to persecute muggleborns!"

"Good riddance to them!" Ron added.

Neville stared at them. "But… they killed students like us!"

"So? The Ministry tried to kill Hermione, a student like us!" Ron answered.

"No, not like us, Ron. Did you forget? She's a mudblood. And those are different - according to the Ministry," Harry said, sneering. "That's why they passed all those laws."

"Hermione killed an Auror though." Neville was trembling now.

"In self-defense," Ron said,

"You don't know that!"

"We know Hermione. You know her as well. Or you should. You spent five years with her," Harry said. "And with Sally-Anne, Dean and Seamus. All of them are not here with us. All of them hunted by the Ministry, just because they are 'mudbloods'."

"Sod the Ministry!" Ron said.

"Your father works at the Ministry!" Neville was not giving up. He was a Gryffindor, Harry knew. It was too bad that he didn't understand just how bad things were at the Ministry, and in Britain.

"I don't know how much longer he will be working there," Ron said. "The Ministry's riddled with Death Eaters and their supporters. They still haven't repealed the laws that caused all of this. They want to push the muggleborns until they fight back, so they have an excuse to kill all of them."

"No, that's not true!"

"Really?" Harry scoffed. "Just think about this: How would your gran have reacted if those laws had been aimed at purebloods? If you had to pass a rigged muggle studies exam to be allowed to return to Hogwarts? If you had been tortured for a year? Would you still smile and nod, and let them do to you what they want?"

"Fortescue did," Ron added. "He's dead now."

Neville didn't say anything for a while, looking at the floor. When he spoke, it was in a whisper.

"That's what Gran's afraid of."

*****​

Daphne Greengrass, sitting in a compartment with Astoria and Tracey, looked up when the door was opened. Draco Malfoy was standing there, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Hello Daphne, Astoria. Davis." He nodded at them, almost bowing. "Can I have a word?"

Daphne gestured to the free seats. "Please."

"Thank you." He took a seat and his two friends closed the door, remaining outside. "Are you looking forward to Hogwarts?"

Daphne almost scoffed. Why wouldn't she be looking forward to returning to Hogwarts, to a place where she wasn't all the time reminded of her dead parents. "Yes, we are." At least the Greengrasses, unlike other families, hadn't moved out of their manors to avoid a similar fate as the Malfoys. Their manor had been unplottable ever since they had fought a feud with the Bones family in the 16th century.

Astoria shot her a glare. She hated it when Daphne spoke for both of them. But with their parents gone, Daphne had to take care of her little sister.

"It'll be good to be back in school, instead of…" Tracey waved her hand "... out there, where Death Eaters and mudbloods roam."

If Draco was annoyed about the comment equaling Death Eaters and mudbloods, he didn't show it. "There are mudbloods at Hogwarts still."

"Lower years," Tracey said. "They're not a problem."

Daphne nodded. They had been taught their place last year. They wouldn't dare attack purebloods.

"But there are blood traitors too. Among the upper years as well." Draco folded his hands in front of him.

"What about them?" Daphne asked.

"They're protecting the mudbloods. And if they are protecting those cowards who murdered our parents, what else will they do?" Draco hissed. "Can we be safe, knowing that next to us are people who think killing us a good thing?"

Daphne gasped. She hadn't thought about that.

Draco smiled cynically. "And the biggest blood traitor of them is the Headmaster. He's doing all he can to support the mudbloods. He wants them back at Hogwarts, and he almost had his way."

Astoria leaned into Daphne. She wrapped her arm around her little sister and felt her trembling.

"Snape will protect us. He always does," Tracey said, but Daphne could tell that her best friend wasn't that convinced.

"He'll try. But he can't be everywhere. We need to protect ourselves. By any means necessary." Draco leaned forward. "I have a plan."

*****​

Cumbria, Britain, September 1st, 1996

"This is a SG550. It's a very precise and very expensive and quite finicky assault rifle," Major Kolen said, presenting the rifle. "It uses what the Swiss call GP90, which is essentially a heavier 5.56 mm NATO cartridge." The man frowned slightly. "It's a very good weapon, but it requires quite the care."

Hermione Granger knew this already - she had read up on the weapon when the group had decided which one to acquire. Seamus had wanted an AK-74 or even an AK-47, but the Swiss rifle was far more precise. The Resistance didn't need an especially rugged rifle anyway - not with repair and cleaning spells available, if they didn't simply duplicate the 'master copy' instead. The weapon was very precise out to 300 yards, and easy to handle.

More importantly though was the fact that it was very easy to acquire - for a wizard. Practically every second Swiss man over twenty had one at home. There was no need to risk the black market for a Russian rifle of dubious origin and quality if you could simply confound a guy you met in a Swiss disco instead, and relieve him of the rifle at his home.

They would be getting more weapons, of course. Pistols, long range rifles, Machine guns and RPGs even. Maybe SMGs and shotguns. The mercenaries could help there. But training would focus on the assault rifle, then on pistols. Seamus had plans to enchant the weapons too - or rather, he had ideas Hermione was supposed to implement.

The major hadn't been too happy with the choice either. He had mentioned more than once that it wasn't exactly common in Africa. That it hadn't been tested in battle. That it had been a compromise between the Swiss military and the Swiss target shooters. Hermione couldn't tell him that most of his concerns didn't matter to the Resistance, but he had to suspect something.

Then the major demonstrated how the weapon was used, with all three firing modes. More tactical advice followed, which Hermione committed to memory. They were paying quite a lot for this training, and she was determined to get her - or rather, Sirius's - gold's worth.

Finally, after the physical training in the morning, and the theory, they were about to test the range they had created in advance. Hermione wasn't quite as eager as others, but she was looking forward to learning how to shoot.

*****​

"What's your game, Miss?"

Hermione stopped cleaning her rifle on a spread out shelter half and looked at the major. "Pardon?"

"With the money you have, you'd be training in the desert or the tropics if you were planning to head to Africa. You're planning to fight in Europe. Or Britain."

"We're not going to do any fighting in Britain." Not unless the Death Eaters forced them to.

"You're too diverse as well. All kind of backgrounds - gutter rat, immigrant, upper class - but you're a very tight group. It doesn't make sense."

"We're school mates." Hermione smiled at him.

He snorted. "There ain't any school in Britain where you'd find all of you."

She shrugged.

"You're too bloody intense. This is personal, for all of you." He shook his head. "Not my problem, in the end."

He left, headed to his own tent. The major and the sergeant were camped a bit away from the Resistance, to give everyone some privacy. Hermione checked if either was watching, then cleaned the rifle with a spell and reassembled it.

"Isn't that cheating?"

She frowned at the amused tone and turned her head slowly. Allan was leaning against a tree, arms folded. It looked casual, but somehow… rehearsed too. Or she was a bit too tired after all the training.

"It's not cheating. The major said we should train as we plan to fight."

"That he did. Even if he planned to scare us off training with them."

Hermione snorted. "They don't know what we already went through. He suspects something is off though."

"Should I obliviate him?"

She shook her head. "No. He's just wondering."

"He could try to sell us out."

"We'll check for that, later." They had some Veritaserum. Not exactly honorable, but they couldn't really afford to get into trouble with the muggle authorities.

Allan walked over to her and sat down on the same shelter half she was kneeling on. "I wish I had done more sports," he said, rubbing his legs.

"I did say we needed to be fitter." And she'd worked out a nice training schedule too. Not many had taken her offer though.

"I didn't think it'd be that bad. It's so… un-Ravenclaw."

Hermione giggled at that. "Don't let your Quidditch team hear that."

"They never trained as hard as Wood's maniacs." He looked at her. "You didn't strike me as the athletic type either."

She shrugged. "I didn't have to be athletic, back then." She was thinking of Hogwarts as part of her past. She didn't like that. She didn't want to think of her friends the same way.

"Things have really changed for all of us."

"Yes." And not for the better. Even if she was fitter now than she had ever been. If Harry and Ron could see her train… she wondered if they'd notice, next time they met. Which wouldn't happen for some time, sadly. They had to settle in at Hogwarts first.

"Thinking of Potter and Weasley? You've got that look in your eyes again."

"What look?" She frowned slightly. She didn't like to be easy to read.

"Nostalgia. Regret."

Her frown deepened. That wasn't what she was feeling. Not really.

He sighed. "They're at Hogwarts now. Safe. While we're being hunted by purebloods and learning how to fight. We're living in different worlds."

"For now. The war won't last forever."

"And once the war is over? Do you think that we'll be able to simply forget what we did, and return to our former classmates? Do you think that they'll be able to forget what we did?" He shook his head. "I'm not saying our friends will stop being our friends, but we'll never be as close as we were before all this. That's just the way it is."

She shook her head. "I know my friends." They had gone through so much together...

She noticed that Allan was frowning, but before she could say anything, he sighed and smiled. "I'm jealous, you know. I'd not trust my pureblood friends like you do. They're just too different."

"Well, Harry and Ron are special." She smiled, looking into the dark forest surrounding the camp. "They're the best."

Allan nodded and headed back to his tent. She sighed, then checked her watch. It was close to 'mirror time', as Ron called it. She entered her tent with a smile on her face.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 1st, 1996

Harry Potter stood next to Ron in the Gryffindor common room. It was shortly before curfew, but none of the students, not even the first years, seemed to be heading to bed yet. Perfect.

"Everyone, listen up!"

They did. He cleared his throat. "We're back for another year - or here for the first time," he added. "You all know who's missing. And why."

Mumbling and whispering rose briefly among the assembled Gryffindors.

"You know what happened over the summer. The Dark Lord has finally shown his true face and broke his Death Eaters out of prison."

"And the Death Eaters were blown up!" Basil, a sixth-year half-blood, yelled. He had lost his mother in the last war.

"As were a lot of innocents!" McLaggen yelled back. As most of the room stared at him, he hunched his shoulders, then stood straight. "What? It's true! The mu...ggleborns blew up a ball! My cousin was there as well, and he wasn't a Death Eater!"

"Shut up, McLaggen!" Ron yelled. "We all know what you think about muggleborns. You showed it last year!"

"Yes. Have you forgotten your lesson already?" Katie Bell scoffed.

McLaggen had probably hoped that with more than half of the Quidditch team gone, and most muggleborns not returning, he could spread his filthy views again. They had to nip that in the bud, Harry knew. He stared at the other Gryffindor. "If your cousin attended a ball thrown by Malfoy, then he wasn't an innocent. Have you forgotten what Malfoy did? He was a Death Eater! He followed the Dark Lord! In my second year, he tried to get us all killed by the basilisk!" Several of the older students shuddered. "You don't go to balls or parties of such scum! Not unless you share their views."

He stepped closer to McLaggen, until he was standing right in front of him. "Is that what you want, McLaggen? Join the Dark Lord? Kill muggleborns?" Harry looked at a frightened first year, a muggleborn. "Do you want to kill her? Hm?"

McLaggen swallowed, then cringed when the little girl began to cry. Lavender quickly hugged her to calm her down. "I don't want to kill anyone!" he said.

"Then don't support the Dark Lord." Harry stared at him until the other student looked away.

Ron nodded. "We're at war now, mates. You know the Slytherins. You know Malfoy. He never hid his views. He supports the Dark Lord. I'd not be surprised if he was marked already - he always followed his father, after all. He'll try to hurt us. Or worse. Don't go out alone. Don't leave anyone alone. Keep an eye out for Slytherins at all times."

"Not just Slytherins," Harry added. "There are Death Eater sympathisers in the other houses too. Stay together, protect each other. We need to work together."

They had failed the muggleborns last year. They'd not fail them this year, Harry vowed. Trying to obey the rules hadn't worked. This year, they'd do what they needed to keep everyone safe.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 1st, 1996

Like any other student in her house, Daphne Greengrass stopped what she was doing - reading in her case - and paid attention when Potions Master, no, Professor Snape now, entered. He was their Defense teacher this year, she reminded herself.

The wizard didn't bother with a greeting. He simply stood there, staring at the common room, until everyone was quiet and paying attention. Which took just a moment.

"My condolences to those among you who have lost family members this summer," he said. Daphne didn't know if he meant it - he didn't let any emotion show. She nodded anyway in response. Too many others did the same. The mudbloods had caused so much pain to so many families…

"I know some of you desire vengeance."

Daphne felt as if the teacher was addressing her personally. Did he know about her talk with Malfoy? She glanced at her fellow student, but Malfoy was staring at the professor.

"Some of you might even blame fellow students for your loss, or think hurting them will make the murderers suffer."

Daphne was now certain that their talk had been overheard. Or someone had told the teacher. But who? Who would betray them?

"Should you act on this foolish notion, you will regret it. The Headmaster has been quite clear that he will not let Hogwarts become a battleground." He glanced at Malfoy. "Some might have dismissed his words. Some might think that things will continue as they have in the past. That they can strike at other students with clever pranks and carefully cast hexes."

More than a few students exchanged glances. Daphne saw some smirk even.

"They are wrong. Things have changed. The staff has been informed that such antics will no longer be treated as students fooling around, no matter who started it."

He let his gaze wander. "And I do not have to remind you that the Headmaster has made his political views very clear. The Wizengamot's influence on Hogwarts is not what it was last year either."

Daphne had realised that when she had seen the new teacher for Wizarding Customs. Claudius Abbot was from an Old Family, but he had let his son marry a muggleborn. She slowly nodded. She had understood the warning. Snape wouldn't risk his position to keep them out of trouble. Not against the Headmaster.

She glanced over at Draco, who was frowning, and wondered if he had understood the warning as well.

*****​

Cumbria, Britain, September 4th, 1996

When she heard the cracking noise, Hermione Granger dropped to the muddy ground and rolled to the side, under the closest bush. She didn't stay there, of course, but crawled away at once, under a fallen tree, until she was behind a rock. Trees didn't offer cover. Not against heavy weapons. And a Blasting Curse would turn a tree into a cloud of deadly splinters.

No one had shot at her, but she couldn't be certain that no one was there. The two mercenaries were tricky and wily. Bruises on her body proved that. They knew how to hide, and how to move through the woods. If she cast a Human-presence-revealing Spell, she'd be able to spot them, but… that would defeat the goal of the training. And make the major ask more questions.

And she really wanted to beat them at their own game. It was a matter of pride now. She gripped her paintball marker and peered around the rock. Nothing. Licking her lips, she adjusted her protective goggles - she was already planning to enchant those, when they'd fight for real - and crawled forward. The 'enemy camp' was somewhere ahead, and as long as she was careful, and didn't expose herself…

She heard the dull thuds right before she was hit, painfully, in the back and the leg by two paintballs.

"Gotcha, girlie."

Looking up, she spotted the Sergeant in the tree above her.

"You need to remember to look up, girlie. Snipers like to hide in the canopies." The mercenary raised his marker in a mocking salute, and started to climb down.

Hermione got up, rubbing her aching kidney, and made her way back to the camp. The rest of her group was already there. Dean smirked at her when he saw her limping. "Letting us draw their fire so you could sneak up on them didn't work, hm?"

"I almost had them," she muttered, before sitting down at the fire and grabbing the teapot.

"Of course," Seamus said, grinning.

"How did they get you?" Justin asked.

"Sergeant was up in the tree."

"Death from above!" Dean chuckled.

Allan nodded. "It's a good tactic. Purebloods wouldn't expect that."

"But they can blow up trees easily, and they're used to brooms," Hermione mentioned. "Though they'd not use brooms in a forest, I think."

"They might try it - they haven't seen Return of the Jedi," Dean said.

"And some of them might even pull it off. Harry could do it," Colin chimed in.

Hermione took a sip of tea and winced when the movement made her back hurt again. She'd need more ointment in the evening. Even if the major had already commented that the group was quite quick to recover from a beatdown. But even if they were willing to suffer without magical help, they had four weeks, and would have to make the most of it.

When Sally-Anne stepped out of her tent, everyone turned to look at her. She had gone to London an hour ago. The girl was smiling widely.

"You look like you have good news," Justin said.

Sally-Anne nodded happily. "We've got a response from Clifton."

"Louise Clifton, the former Hit-Wizard?" Hermione asked.

Sally-Anne nodded. "That's the one."

"Or someone using her name. E-mail?" Allan said.

Sally-Anne's face fell. "Yes… but what pureblood could use e-mail?"

"A pureblood imperiusing someone," Hermione pointed out. "But it's unlikely. We still have to be careful."

"I just mailed her our prepared message."

"Good." They would need to mail back and forth a bit, sound her out and let her build up trust. And then check thoroughly if she was compromised, before meeting her. But if they could recruit her, a former Hit-Wizard, then the Resistance would gain a very valuable member.

The arrival of the major and the sergeant interrupted further talk about recruiting.

"Alright, lads and ladies! Gather up for the debriefing. Let's take a look at why you were killed today!"

Most of the Resistance stood up groaning, but Hermione was smiling and grabbed her notebook. While embarrassing and sometimes humiliating, those debriefings were always informative. And the lessons learned would help keep them alive.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, September 5th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle rolled up the report she had just finished and tossed it into the 'out' basket in her office. Just in time for the daily meeting, or, as she liked to call it, the daily waste of time. "Come on, Martin. Time for a break."

"Already?" Her partner looked, up, then grimaced. "Oh."

The two went to Scrimgeour's office. On the way, Elmar Parkinson joined them. "Hey, Brenda. Still didn't catch that mudblood bitch?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Still didn't catch those fugitives?"

"I'm hunting veteran Death Eaters hiding with the Dark Lord, not some mudblood youths," he said.

Brenda doubted that he was doing much to hunt the escaped prisoners. Why the Head Auror had assigned Parkinson to that case was a mystery to her. The other Auror would be much more motivated to hunt down muggleborns. "You're not the only one doing that though," she retorted, "while our task force has been gutted."

"Excuses, excuses," Parkinson said, right before he opened the door to Scrimgeour's office.

"Jerk," she muttered under her breath.

They were among the last to arrive, but the loud talk among the assembled Aurors told Brenda that Scrimgeour wasn't there yet. "Pointless assembly," she scoffed. "What are we, Hit-Wizards?"

Martin chuckled.

Even Parkinson snorted. "Some of the rookies don't amount to anything more but guard duty. Could send them to the Hit-Wizards, they'd still be better than most of the grey robes."

"Shut up, Parkinson," Tonks said. "They lost a dozen in Azkaban."

"So?" Parkinson sneered at the young witch. "The Wizengamot lost dozens to the mudbloods. We should focus on them, not on the Dark Lord. If those twelve dumb Hit-Wizards had fled or opened the cells, they'd not have been killed. They should have known they can't fight the Dark Lord and live."

Brenda saw a number of Aurors nod at those words. She wasn't quite certain how to react to that.

"That's what you would like, huh?" Tonks stared at the veteran Auror. "You want everyone to roll over for the Dark Lord, so he can take over, hm? Are you actually doing anything to find the escaped Death Eaters?"

"I'm doing my duty, rookie!" Parkinson spat out.

"Your duty to whom?" Tonks wasn't giving any ground. The rookie had guts, but not much sense, Brenda thought. It was hard to believe that she had been in Hufflepuff instead of Gryffindor.

"To Britain of course!" He hadn't drawn his wand, yet.

"And whose Britain?" Tonks snarled.

"Scrimgeour's coming," Martin suddenly said, and the room fell silent. At least one of them had the sense to keep an eye out, Brenda thought as Parkinson and Tonks stepped away from each other.

The Head Auror entered his office. "I was delayed by Bones," he said, then looked at the group of Aurors, narrowing his eyes. "Did anything happen I should know about?"

All shook their heads and Scrimgeour didn't pry further. Brenda was relieved - the Aurors still took care of each other, first.

"Alright. Now, what's the status of your cases? Dawlish?"

While Dawlish took five minutes to say that he had made no progress in the hunt for the escaped Death Eaters, Brenda silently sighed. Such a waste of time!

*****​

Hogwarts, September 7th, 1996

The mood in the Great Hall was tense. Ron Weasley had thought the welcoming feast had been bad, but things had grown worse since. Not only was there almost no talk between the house tables, something not too unusual, but the tables themselves were divided.

Ravenclaw was split into three groups doing their best to ignore each other. Parvati had told them that the house had pretty much fragmented into those who supported the Dark Lord, those who hated the Dark Lord, and those who wanted to avoid the whole conflict and focus on studying. He saw Luna Lovegood sitting by herself, and wondered what was up with her.

Meanwhile, Hufflepuff was pretty much split into two parts, and from what Ron had heard, they were ready to go at each other, to the point that Professor Sprout had taken to sleeping in the dorm. When he had told that to Hermione over the mirror she had said that it was understandable - loyalty like a Hufflepuff's, betrayed, made for the worst enmity.

Slytherin presented a united front, but Ron and Harry had noticed that they had internal divisions as well. Malfoy was in the thick of it though, which was bad news, but expected. They were not quite as visible though since the house had lost almost no students, unlike the other three.

Like Gryffindor. Too many seats were empty where muggleborns should have been sitting. Especially the one next to him. Hermione's. And the numerous empty seats allowed their trouble cases to gain some distance from the rest of the house as well, to some degree. McLaggen was sitting with Berley and Mickle, all three purebloods, of rich families.

A murmur went through the hall, and he noticed that Dumbledore was standing. The Headmaster cleared his throat, the sound amplified so everyone could hear him clearly.

"I have an announcement to make. Due to the urgent concerns about your safety, there will be no Hogsmeade weekends until further notice."

What? Ron stared at the old wizard. No Hogsmeade weekends? But… he had been counting on meeting Hermione with Harry during those! Sneak away and apparate to London. While everyone seemed to voice their outrage, he leaned towards Harry, lowering his voice. "Does he expect an attack by the Death Eaters on Hogsmeade?"

His friend frowned. "Maybe. Or he fears that Malfoy might try something in Hogsmeade, away from the teachers."

Ron scoffed. "If he tries something we'll end him." He blinked. "Do you think Dumbledore fears that?"

"Could be. We'll need to reschedule our plans though." Harry winced. Ron knew Hermione didn't like it when schedules had to be adjusted.

"Not necessarily," Ron said. They could still sneak out, and apparate away. But they'd need a way to be warned if the teachers went looking for them.

Harry nodded. "I doubt the Headmaster would be against it."

Ron agreed - Dumbledore wanted them to stay in contact with Hermione. Maybe he'd even cover for them. If not… they had done worse than sneaking out, and could always claim they had wanted to go shopping or such. It was a good excuse. Just two boys out for a stroll, instead of two boys meeting with a wanted witch.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 7th, 1996

"No Hogsmeade weekends? Is this a prison instead of a school now?"

Daphne Greengrass shook her head when she heard Zabini complain loudly in the Slytherin common room. She didn't care enough to correct him though. Tracey on the other hand rolled her eyes and spoke up. "Merlin's beard, Zabini! Are you so eager to leave Hogwarts and risk getting killed by mudbloods or blood traitors?"

"There are Aurors stationed there. And the mudbloods wouldn't blow up their own," the boy retorted.

"Do you think so?" Malfoy cut in. "They killed their own just to murder my parents."

And mine, Daphne silently added. And many others. Tracey must have noticed what she was thinking, since she squeezed her hand.

"Not that Aurors in Hogsmeade matter much when we have dozens of blood traitors at Hogwarts, ready to attack us!" Malfoy's voice had grown louder, and more students were listening. And many of them were nodding in agreement. "We need to be on our guard at all times, outside our dorm!"

"Snape has warned us," a younger Slytherin said.

"He said he wouldn't tolerate us starting anything. He never forbade us from protecting ourselves." Malfoy sneered. "Do you honestly think we'd be punished for defending ourselves? Not even the mudblood-loving Headmaster will go that far!"

"And even if we're punished, I'd rather be in detention than dead!" Nott added.

Daphne agreed with that sentiment. She didn't care much about hurting the blood traitors at school - they were not the ones who had killed her parents. She wanted the mudbloods to suffer. But she didn't want to get hurt either. And if any of the blood traitors dared to harm Astoria…

Malfoy let his gaze wander through the room. "I've spoken to you before, I'll tell you again: We need to protect ourselves from those blood traitors. They've been emboldened by the mudbloods murdering our parents, and if we're not ready to defend ourselves, we'll suffer."

"Big words." Zabini scoffed. "But what do you plan to do? Hex a few Gryffindors and make their teeth grow?"

"Of course not. The time for such pranks is past. If they attack us, we'll use real spells against them. They'll need to learn that attacking their betters will not be tolerated!" He raised his chin. "We need to train together!"

Daphne had heard that proposal before. It sounded good, but she knew that Malfoy had planned to provoke the blood traitors so they'd attack first. He had done that numerous times in the past, after all, and it had usually worked.

But that had been in the past. Before people had been murdered. Things were different now. She had hoped that with the older mudbloods gone, Hogwarts would be safe, but it wasn't. The blood traitors were almost as bad.

And yet, if they were not ready, then the mudblood lovers would hurt them, instead of getting hurt. They didn't care about who they hurt either. If she wanted to protect her sister and herself, then she had no choice than to go along with Malfoy's proposal. At least as far as the training went. If Malfoy hadn't given up on his former plan, even after Snape's warning, then she wanted no part in it.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 8th, 1996

"And I'm certain that Parkinson is not lifting a finger, much less his wand, to catch Death Eaters. If he's not a Death Eater, he'll soon be one."

Albus Dumbledore nodded as Nymphadora finished her report. "Thank you." He rubbed his chin. "So the influence of the Dark Lord among the Aurors hasn't been reduced so far."

Nymphadora shook her head. "He has killed a dozen Hit-Wizards, but the muggleborns have killed far more people." She grimaced. "Many of the older Aurors are firmly set against the Death Eaters though."

"They would be, having survived the last war." Albus knew though that even among their ranks traitors could and would lurk.

"Headmaster?" Nymphadora sounded hesitant.

"Yes?" He looked at her over his reading glasses.

"Bones says that a murderer is a murderer, no matter their blood." The young Auror fidgeted on her seat.

Ah. Albus nodded. "She would say that. An admirable stance, in theory."

"In theory?" Nymphadora looked puzzled.

"Amelia is very rigid. She feels that upholding the law is her duty, but she doesn't question the law itself." Albus sighed. "She also does not understand that we're at war now. She still tries to treat this conflict as a criminal case."

"Did the Wizengamot really take the laws from Nazi Germany?" Nymphadora looked younger than she was when she asked this. Insecure and worried.

"I do not think any of the Wizengamot members paid enough attention to the muggles to even know of those laws. Many of them do not even know anything about the Second World War. They think the 'Troubles of the Muggles' in the first half of the 40s were the result of the war against Grindelwald spilling into the muggle world." Albus snorted. "Their ignorance would be amusing, if not for its consequences."

"What?" Nymphadora was gaping. "They don't…"

"Indeed. But while they did not know about those laws, the actual laws the Wizengamot passed are quite close." He smiled gently. "I think you already were aware of that though."

She nodded. "I looked it up, after Harry and Sirius… told me off." She paused for a moment. "They said that if I helped hunt muggleborns, then I'd be no better than a Death Eater. But I swore an oath to uphold the law."

"But when you joined, the law was different." Albus smiled. "Would you still uphold the law if Voldemort had taken over the Ministry by force and passed new laws?"

"Of course not!" she said at once.

"Then does it matter if he is trying to do so through the Wizengamot?"

"But it's the Wizengamot's place to set laws, as well as judge people, and ours to enforce their laws and sentences. What if we start to ignore any law we don't like? If everyone does it, then the entire system would collapse and there would be no justice anymore!"

He could almost hear Amelia's voice. Albus shook his head. "But there already is no justice anymore. The muggleborns did not deserve to be excluded and persecuted. The system you worry about has already failed." He would remind her that her father, muggleborn himself, was being spared so far because she was an Auror, but that might drive her to feel pressured to obey Amelia's orders even more, to protect him.

"But if that's so, why are you still working within it?" She wasn't quite crying, but the young metamorphmagus was very upset.

He smiled. "I am doing that because I am trying to prevent the Ministry from committing even worse mistakes and crimes. If they continue to hound the muggleborns, far more people will be killed on all sides than if they focus on Voldemort. In politics, as in war, one often has to choose the lesser evil, and make compromises. But there are lines I will not cross. If I am forced to choose between my conscience and the law, then I will choose my conscience, even if it means I will be forced to fight the Ministry." Though he had been hard-pressed not to act when that poor boy had been executed. If he had seen any chance to prevent that… but he hadn't. He nodded slowly. "But there are more ways to fight something than with your wand. You know this, or you would not be spying for the Order."

"The Order hasn't blown up dozens of people," she muttered

"Not in this war at least. Or rather, not yet."

Nymphadora stared at him with wide eyes. He almost chuckled at the sight. "If I knew where the Dark Lord is hiding, or the bulk of his followers, I would arrange such a bombing myself."

*****​

London, Greenwich, September 9th, 1996

Hermione Granger finished typing her answer to Clifton's latest mail, then sent it and left the Internet Café. Things were progressing nicely, in her opinion, if slowly. But Clifton was in contact with Chadwick, another former Hit-Wizard, so that meant two potential recruits.

She bought a few newspapers at the newsstand, then turned into a side alley and apparated to the safehouse. Allan was already waiting for her. He was smiling widely, but coldly, and before she could ask what had happened, he spoke.

"Beckett's shop has reopened!"

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 7: Training

'Opinions differ whether or not the attack on Azkaban ultimately helped the Dark Lord. He did gain the services of ten utterly loyal Death Eaters, most of them very skilled fighters, veterans of the last war. On the other hand, after spending over ten years in the worst prison of the Western World they required a lot of care to recover until they could fight. More importantly, this open aggression against the Ministry convinced the Minister that Voldemort was an enemy who could not be appeased. After Azkaban, the Ministry, however reluctantly in some parts, was at war with the Dark Lord.
Many have speculated how the war would have turned out, had the Ministry abandoned its hunt for the Muggleborn Resistance at the same time, but as has been said before, after the bombing of Malfoy Manor, that was simply impossible.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn

*****​

London, East End, September 9th, 1996

Beckett's Potions was open again. The traitor was back. Hermione Granger had expected the man to run, but now he was reopening his shop? Did he honestly expect no retaliation? It was possible, but she didn't think so.

"It's probably a trap," she said.

"Probably," Allan agreed. "Unless Beckett's a bigger fool than we thought, he'd not have reopened his shop without some form of protection."

"Odds are that the Aurors are using him as bait, but he might have struck a deal with some of the other residents in the Alley." Some gangs might offer protection. Some might even try to deliver. She didn't know enough to know what was going on in Wizarding Britain's underworld. "We don't know yet if it's really him running the shop."

"It doesn't really matter. Anyone who helps him is an enemy. When we blow up his shop, they'll die as well." Allan was smiling.

"You'd have to destroy the entire building to be certain that he dies, instead of just the shop," Hermione said. "That would cause far too much collateral damage, and anyone planning to ambush us could be hiding in another building anyway." She'd do that, in their place. "And we don't know if there are innocents in the house either. What if he has rented out the upper floors? Some of the families who had lost their homes in the riots would be glad for such accommodations."

"We told them to leave Wizarding Britain."

"Not everyone will listen. And some will be half-bloods, who don't want to move to the muggle world." She saw him sneer for an instant, then he was smiling thinly again.
"If we investigate too much, we'll be at risk from getting ambushed." Allan shook his head. "We should simply blow the shop up. If we calculate the explosives correctly, nothing else will be destroyed."

That wouldn't be easy, Hermione knew. Though they knew how much space the shop filled, and the walls were plaster and wood… She stopped herself. No one knew what kind of potions and ingredients were in the shop, and how they would react to an explosion. "And what if it's not a trap? Just someone who took the shop over?" Hermione shook her head, the ponytail she had her hair in whipping around.

"They would have changed the name, at least." He sighed. "We can't let this betrayal go unpunished. Martin died because of Beckett!"

"We need to know more, first." She put her hand on his shoulder and forced herself to smile. "I'll check with my sources."

Allan didn't look like he expected much to come from that, but he nodded, although rather reluctantly. She couldn't blame him. He just knew that she was in contact with Harry and Ron, but not what they were doing. Had been doing, now that they couldn't check with their spying operation each day anymore, although Ron's brothers had stepped in. Ultimately, Sirius was supposed to take over monitoring.

Not that a trap laid by the Ministry was likely to be discussed in a pub, even among Aurors. But Sirius had other sources. Then again, if he had heard about this, he'd have already informed Harry, and her friend would have warned her at once.

She looked at Allan, who was frowning, no, scowling. He didn't seem to take well to training and preparing, she thought. It couldn't be helped though - the Resistance was not ready for a war.

"Let's head back to camp."

*****​

Cumbria, Britain, September 9th, 1996

"Sorry, Sirius didn't hear anything about an ambush being planned by the Aurors," Harry said. Hermione Granger could see that he was very worried.

She smiled. "We're not going to go near the shop until we know more."

Ron pushed his head into view, shoving Harry's to the side. "Just be careful. Very careful. Dad told me they haven't given up on hunting you, they just reduced the number of Aurors on it. More Aurors are hunting the Death Eaters though."

"Don't worry," she said again. "We're not about to do anything foolish." She hoped so, at least. "How is Hogwarts?" She couldn't hide the longing in her voice. For years, the school had been the place she had been the happiest. She had found her best friends there, and her calling. Not even the year suffering under Umbridge had been able to change that.

Harry grimaced. "It's tense. Very tense. Everyone is ready to hex the others. So far, nothing has happened, but… it won't take much."

"Parvati said that the Ravenclaws almost started a fight among themselves over a book from the library. If Flitwick had not been present…" Ron winced.

She could understand that. Books very important. Even more so now. She hated not being able to check with the Hogwarts library. She felt crippled.

"We've started training too. Defense. Snape is training the Slytherins, so we need to keep up," Harry said. Ron mumbled something about 'training Death Eaters'. "And his lessons… he's not a good teacher, as you know."

She knew that. Snape was a very good source of information, but he wasn't a good teacher. Hermione hadn't had trouble learning potions, but most students needed more help.

"Potions is great though. The new professor, Slughorn, is good," Ron said, smiling. "I got an EE in the first lesson!"

Hermione suppressed the jealousy welling up inside her. She wanted to be back at Hogwarts, learning magic, instead of learning how to wage a war and piecing together magic lessons from what books she had managed to acquire. "That's great," she said. "We're training too, of course."

"Oh, Sirius said he'll have your second mirror ready sooner than expected. Remus is helping him now." Harry smiled.

"Good!" Hermione smiled widely. That would help a lot. Communicating through Harry was cumbersome and prone to losing important details. She felt guilty at thinking so at once - it would also mean less contact with Harry and Ron. "So, how are the others in the house doing?" she asked, more to keep talking, than because she really wanted to know.

Harry and Ron soon had her up to date about the latest house news, though mostly focused on the Quidditch team tryouts. Ginny was a Chaser now, together with Demelza Robins - Hermione barely remembered that girl - and of course Katie Bell. Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote were the Beaters, and Ron had stayed Keeper.

"McLaggen tried out for Keeper, but the berk couldn't do much." He grinned, then his face fell. "But we're at a disadvantage. We've lost most of our best players."

Hermione hadn't expected ever to like talking about Quidditch, but right then, she loved hearing about normal, carefree things. Even though it tore her heart hearing about Hogwarts while she was a hunted fugitive who, she had come to realise, wouldn't ever return to school.

*****​

When she stepped out of her tent after chatting with her friends, she found the others sitting around the campfire. They fell silent when she approached, and Allan addressed her: "Did you find out if the shop's reopening is a trap?"

She grabbed a sandwich from the tray next to the fire and shook her head. "No. If it's a new development, I might hear about it in the next few days though."

"We should just blow the damn shop up. Teach them to betray us!" Seamus said. Hermione refrained from asking who the Irish wizard meant with 'they'.

"Yes!" Dean nodded emphatically. He wasn't the only one.

Hermione glanced at Allan. The older former Ravenclaw was smiling. She sighed, closed her eyes for a moment to gather her thoughts, then started to speak. "We can't just blow up a building without better information."

"We did it to Malfoy!" Seamus said, grinning.

"Malfoy Manor was a free-standing, isolated building full of Death Eaters." And some idiots who supported them, she added to herself, as well as two poor captured muggleborns. "Beckett's Potions is in the middle of a street, with many other houses nearby. A poor section of the Alley, where muggleborns and poorer half-bloods live." And the kind of creatures not tolerated in Diagon Alley. "If we hurt them, we harm ourselves."

"Bollocks!" Seamus said.

She glared at him. "It's not bollocks! We need the support of the population, of the muggleborns and half-bloods. Killing them will drive them into the arms of the Ministry. It's one thing to kill a traitor who sold Martin out, it's another to hurt and kill people who simply have the misfortune to live in a house nearby, or pass through at the wrong time." She sniffed. "And you can bet that the relatives of those we killed will be more willing to sell us out next time."

She saw Justin and Sally-Anne nod. Colin and Dennis looked like they understood that as well. Tania and Mary looked at least torn. Allan was frowning. Couldn't he see that killing the traitor no matter the cost was wrong, not just morally, but strategically as well?

"We will need to find out if Beckett is in the shop. If he is, we'll find a way to kidnap him or kill him that won't alienate half the Alley. But we need to be cautious above all - if this is a trap, which is likely, then they'll be waiting for us. We have to be smarter than them."

She saw Dean and Seamus look at Allan, who slowly nodded. Hermione didn't let out a relieved sigh, but she felt like it.

In a way the situation reminded her of trying to keep Harry and Ron from getting into trouble. But the stakes were now much higher, and her friends were not with her. She ate her sandwich while Justin started to talk about today's training, and tried not to feel too lonely.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, September 12th, 1996

"I'm telling you, the Grim was in the alley! Beckett's marked by death himself!"

Zacharias Fawley was shaking his head wildly in the small flat across 'Beckett's Potions'. Brenda Brocktuckle ground her teeth so she wouldn't lose her temper. She closed her eyes, and listed the ingredients for a Calming Draught in her head, then addressed her fellow Auror: "The Grim does not exist!"

Martin Runcorn coughed, which she hoped was masking his laughter, and not an attempt to correct her. Her rookie partner had grown quite cheeky lately.

"But I saw it! A giant dog, black as the darkest night, with teeth of moonlight, and red glowing eyes!" Fawley looked to his partner, Irina Selwyn, who avoided meeting his eyes - and everyone else's. So, she hadn't seen anything, probably because she hadn't been awake. Sloppy, but they only needed one Auror awake and paying attention to call in the ready team. One Auror covering the front and side, and another covering the back of the building.

"You saw a stray mutt looking for food, that's what you saw! If you had taken Care of Magical Creatures, you'd know that the Grim doesn't exist." Brenda shook her head.

"If a Grim existed, Hagrid would have had one as a pet," Martin added, grinning. Cheeky indeed.

"I wasn't the only one who saw it!" Fawley was insisting. "Two hags fled screaming, and the Grim was laughing at them."

Brenda rolled her eyes. "It was the middle of the night, and they made the same mistake as you did. There is no Grim."

"There is! Mark my words: Beckett is doomed, and anyone who stays around is doomed as well!" Fawley raised his chin.

"Wouldn't you be doomed too then? You saw it, didn't you?" Martin asked.

Fawley gaped at him, and started to shake like a leaf. Brenda glared at her partner. "Nice work," she whispered, "that's one less Auror we can use on the night shift."

The rookie had the grace to wince. He'd still take Fawley's place this night, Brenda decided. She glared at the other Auror. "Go home, Fawley. And take Selwyn with you."

The two apparated away, and Brenda sighed. "Merlin's arse! How are we supposed to catch those mudbloods if we have to work with such idiots?"

"Because the task force hunting down the Death Eaters received priority?" Martin asked.

"I bet they could do with expendable curse fodder too," Brenda muttered. When she saw his reaction, she sighed. "I'm kidding." Lose one partner and they never let you forget it…

"Well, I have to check up on our bait. If Fawley is in such a state, then Beckett must be close to dying from fear." She pulled out a vial of polyjuice to disguise herself as the witch who lived in the flat, and was currently enjoying a stay in a Ministry-owned cottage up north.

"He's a mudblood," Martin pointed out. "He might not even know about the Grim."

"That would be great. This operation has been too much of a pain already." Brenda grimaced, then took a sip from the vial. She closed her eyes while her body changed.

*****​

Beckett was nervous, Brenda saw that at once. But no more than he had been yesterday, when she had visited. Playing her role, she slowly walked over to the counter. "Hello, Mister. I need the usual."

He recognised her disguise, and nodded. "One mild Pepper-Up Potion, right?"

"Yes, please." Her changed voice sounded alien to her. She knew some people had no issues with using polyjuice, and of course there was Tonks, but Brenda hated wearing another's body. At least it was a witch's body - she hadn't asked Martin how he felt changing forms.

Beckett went to the shelf and grabbed a vial. "Here."

"Thank you." She coughed. "How are you doing? Your mother's doing well?"

"Ah, yes. Yes," Beckett quickly said, answering her coded question. Nothing unusual had happened then, and no suspicious people had been seen.

Brenda decided not to ask if he had seen a big dog - no need to spread rumours. She paid him for the potion and walked out. While she made her way back to the flat, she thought there were fewer of the scum around than usual. She smiled. The criminals might be scared of the Grim as well, and if they avoided the area, it would make spotting the mudbloods easier. Maybe she should put out some food, to keep the dog coming back.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, September 12th, 1996

Hermione Granger had her wand ready and was wearing a wig and oversized glasses as well as a rather daring robe - for purebloods - when she apparated to Sirius's and Harry's home. Sirius was expecting her, and he wouldn't be having guests over, but it was better to be prepared.

"Hello, darling. You look irresistible tonight!" Sirius greeted her with a leer. "I must say I've good taste in mistresses!"

She rolled her eyes at the older wizard greeting her. "You don't need to keep my cover if no one else is around."

He grinned. "But wouldn't it be safer if I did? Just to get into the habit?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "I can guarantee you that it's far more dangerous to try and treat me as you treat your real mistresses. For you, that is."

He winced, though quite theatrically. "You're scary if you try, do you know?"

She smiled. "So I've been told." Several times, by Ron.

"Ah." He grinned at her, wriggling his eyebrows even.

She didn't take the bait. "So… you told Harry you had something for me?"

"Right!" He pulled out a small package. "Here, a way for two lovers to keep in contact even when life and circumstances cruelly keep them apart."

"The mirror! Finally!" She opened the package to check.

"I knew you had fallen for me!" Sirius grinned and pulled out his own. "Lover," he said, and the mirror in her hands buzzed softly.

"Lover?" She asked, and her mirror activated. She almost added 'Seriously?', but controlled herself.

He grinned. "It's a good cover."

Hermione blinked. "That's actually true." At least for him. "Did you charm the mirror to show a disguise for me?"

He nodded. "The new and improved Marauder's Mirror!"

"Do I want to know how I'll be appearing in your mirror?" She raised her eyebrow.

"Err… no?" His grin slipped a bit.

"I see."

"In other news, I confirmed that your traitor is back in his shop. At least someone looking like him - it could be polyjuice," he said, suddenly serious.

She nodded. "Thank you. That helped us a great deal."

"I don't have to tell you that this is likely a trap by the Aurors, do I?" he asked, pulling out a stack of parchment from his pocket. "There's been talk about some boring assignment for the Auror leading the hunt for you, some Brocktuckle. No details though."

"We suspect a trap," she said, taking the parchment.

"But you'll kill him anyway."

"We can't let that kind of betrayal go." She looked at him, her expression grim.

Sirius nodded. "I understand." His lips moved into a smile that looked more like his animagus form baring his teeth. "Are you going to torture him to death?"

His expression reminded her that Sirius had been living for two years with a Kiss on Sight order hanging over him, and of his family's reputation. And the dungeons she had seen when she had visited Harry and Ron. She shook her head. "He has to die, but I don't think we'll go that far." There was a line she didn't want to cross. And didn't want to see her friends cross.

He nodded. "As long as he pays."

"That he will."

"I guess I should not visit the place again, should I?"

She shook her head. "We won't go overboard, but the shop's likely to be destroyed." She sighed. "I think it's too dangerous to try to kidnap him."

"Good." He smiled at her. "Just be careful."

She snorted. "First Harry and Ron, now you. Has everyone forgotten who the reckless wizards are, and who's the responsible witch?"

"Who's the Most Wanted of Wizarding Britain?" He grinned. "I have some experience with that position, as you might recall."

She chuckled. "Point taken. But trust me, I will be as cautious as possible."

"You better be. If something happens to you…" he trailed off.

"I know."

Harry and Ron's reaction wouldn't be pretty. But then, neither would hers, should anything happen to her friends.

As Beckett would soon find out.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, September 13th, 1996

"Are you out of your mind, Cornelius?" Albus Dumbledore asked in a clipped tone. The Minister flinched at his question - it didn't happen often that the Headmaster grew angry, but when he did, it was impressive as those who'd earned his ire could attest to.

"Albus…" The man swallowed. "We have to do something to protect the Ministry! The Department of Mysteries has informed me that should we be attacked with the same thing that destroyed Malfoy Manor, not even our wards would protect us!"

"It's a bomb, Cornelius. A muggle device." Amelia narrowed her eyes at Albus. "Some of my Aurors informed me of that a while ago, but I wanted to have it confirmed by experts."

Meaning, Albus thought, she wanted to have a source the Wizengamot would trust confirm it. The Unspeakables had taken their time to confirm this, though - he had to thank Saul Croaker later.

"Although I believe you realised what had been used there as soon as you saw the devastation, Albus." Amelia stared at him.

He met her eyes. "I had my suspicions, but I did not want to speculate." He knew that she didn't believe him, but he didn't care. He was not about to play stupid games when faced with such a travesty as he had just been told of. He turned to Cornelius. "And you want to protect yourself by taking hostages? Children?"

The Minister for Magic paled and wiped some sweat from his forehead. "We're not taking hostages. With the Dark Lord obviously not interested in keeping the peace, the muggleborns are in danger. You know how many were murdered in their muggle homes in the last war! Moving them to the Ministry for the duration of this… crisis… is just fulfilling our responsibility towards the future of Wizarding Britain."

Albus glared at the man and the weak smile that had grown during the explanation disappeared at once. "Do you think I am a fool, Cornelius?" He leaned forward. "Who proposed this plan? Petra Rowle? Augustus Malfoy?" Cornelius flinched. Albus had to control himself. "You intend to follow a plan proposed by a cousin of Lucius?"

"The Ministry has to abide by the decisions of the Wizengamot, Albus. That is the law," Amelia said.

He turned his head towards the Head of the DMLE. "This was not decided by the Wizengamot. Unless someone broke the law and held a session without the Chief Warlock."

"It's a proposal that will be submitted in the next session. Out of courtesy, Mister Malfoy has informed the Minister in advance, so he will be prepared, should the Wizengamot accept it." Amelia's mouth formed a thin line.

"And you both expect it to pass." Albus scoffed. They had good reasons to think so - the proposal was, on the surface, offering to protect muggleborn children from Death Eaters. A number of the Wizengamot members opposing Voldemort would vote for it just for that reason. And those sympathetic to the Death Eaters' cause would know its real purpose. Of course, he could work on the members, persuade them of the folly of this proposal. But to convince a majority, he would have to threaten to withhold his support against the Dark Lord. And if he did that, he risked to push the Wizengamot and with it, the Ministry into Voldemort's camp.

"It's a sensible proposal, Albus!" Cornelius exclaimed.

"It is hostage-taking! You are planning to take muggleborn children hostage, so the older children you are hunting will not lash out at you! Not even Grindelwald went that far!"

"Do you want the Ministry to be destroyed by murderous muggleborns, Albus?" Amelia had stood up. "While we are talking, they are preparing another attack. And we are the most vulnerable target. You've been saying for months that we need to focus on the Dark Lord; we cannot do so if we have to expect a muggleborn bomb!"

"I have been saying for a year that persecuting the muggleborns is wrong!" Albus said. He didn't raise his voice, but he came close. "I have been telling you to stop hunting them for months. Did you listen?" He shook his head. "And yet, instead of listening now, you propose to antagonise them even further by taking them hostage!"

"We are not hunting children, Albus, but murderers. Mass-murderers!" Amelia was not giving an inch. "Do you wish to see a repeat of Malfoy Manor? Our wards will not protect us. We cannot defend against those bombs. We are exposed, in the middle of muggle London. We cannot hide. How can we do nothing, faced with such a threat?" She glared at him. "Or do you know something we do not? Do you have any reason to believe they will not attack the Ministry?"

"Are you insinuating that I would know and influence whoever destroyed Malfoy Manor?" Albus asked, tensing up. If Amelia accused him of this - which was, technically, true - and enough people believed it…

"You said that. I'm just wondering why you do not seem to care about the safety of the Wizengamot and the Ministry."

"I believe that as long as there are good people in both the Wizengamot and the Ministry who strive to mend fences and end this pointless persecution of the muggleborn, they will not strike at us." Miss Granger was smart; she would know that attacking them would be counter-productive. And she would not want to kill Harry's and Mister Weasley's family.

"You put a lot of faith in murderers, Albus," Amelia spat.

"Murderers we created, Amelia. The Ministry has spent a year pushing them, hurting them, hunting them, until, finally, they pushed back. And yet they have not struck against the Wizengamot, which passed those unjust laws, nor against the Ministry, which enforced them. No, they struck at those responsible for the persecution instead, when they gathered at Malfoy Manor." He looked at the two. "Yes, I do think that such people will not attack the Ministry."

"Then there shouldn't be any problem with protecting the muggleborn children in the Ministry," Cornelius quickly said.

"If you believe that, then you are a fool, Cornelius." He stood up, glaring at the Minister for Magic. "If you pursue this plan, you will ultimately doom yourself, Cornelius." And he would deserve his fate. "Good day."

Before he reached the door, Amelia spoke up again. "You cannot protect murderers forever, Albus."

He turned to look at her. "Fiat iustitia, et pereat mundus, eh, Amelia?" Albus scoffed. She would see 'justice' done, even if it doomed everyone. "There are higher laws than the Wizengamot's, Amelia. And a higher court as well."

He left without a further word. It took more effort than usual to smile politely at the people he met on his way to the Floo connection, but he managed it. Once back in his office at Hogwarts, he dropped his facade though, and sank in his seat, wearier than he had felt in years while Fawkes flew over to land on his shoulder, butting his head against Albus's.

The Wizengamot would pass this insane law. It might even achieve its goal, and keep the Muggleborn Resistance from bombing the Ministry.

If they managed to 'secure' the children. The Ministry had the log of every incident involving accidental magic. They could find the muggleborn children with that. But they were not the only ones with this information. Hogwarts' vaults held the book of future students, and their addresses.

He stood up. He had to inform Sirius.

*****​

London, Docklands, September 13th, 1996

Harry Potter looked at One Canada Square, the tallest building in the United Kingdom. The massive skyscraper was a very impressive sight.

"Blimey!"

Harry glanced at his best friend, Ron. The redhead wasn't quite gaping, but he came close. "You know… each time I think I know them, the muggles pull something else. What do they need such a huge tower for? You could probably fit all of Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade and the Ministry in there, and still have room left over!" Ron said, shaking his head.

"I believe that the building was meant to house offices, mostly, not residents, though as far as I know, the owner had some difficulty finding enough tenants," Dumbledore said. "Although I confess I did not pay much attention to muggle economics; it was mostly the reports about a navigational obstacle for brooms and some concern about the tower disturbing post owls that made me remember it."

"Ah." Harry looked around their small group. Where was she?

"I believe Miss Granger is being cautious, Harry. She trusts you with her life, but you two could be under the control of another wizard, and we could be polyjuiced impostors," Dumbledore said, sounding as if he was at complete peace.

Which was quite a feat, in Harry's opinion. The Headmaster had sounded very urgent in the note Fawkes dropped on Harry - literally - earlier today, telling them to see him at once. He had taken them to London, after asking them to contact Hermione as soon as possible. The Headmaster had even made the rest of the school think they had a long talk with him, or detention while they traveled to London. And yet he now sounded as if he was just taking a stroll without any care.

"I still can't believe they'd do that," Harry muttered. The depths the Ministry would plunge to...

"I can," Ron said. "It's just logical." He shrugged. "They don't know what destroyed Malfoy Manor, not really. And they can't defend well against what they don't know. So, what else would they come up with? Hostages are a traditional means to deter an enemy from attacking you. And the Ministry's full of people who just love tradition."

Harry blinked. That sounded very unusual for Ron.

His friend rolled his eyes at his reaction. "Hey, I have been training too. And not just spellcasting."

Harry grinned. "Sorry… if Hermione could hear that…"

Ron smirked. "She'd think I'm an imposter?"

"Well…" Harry chuckled. Or she'd be very happy that Ron was studying seriously. Harry wondered if he should broaden his training as well.

"I believe you will be able to ask her yourself," Dumbledore said. "She has just arrived, unless I am mistaken." He flicked his wand, briefly, and Harry heard the sound from the city change some.

He looked at who the Headmaster was nodding at, but all he saw was a blonde girl in tight, stone-washed jeans and a leather jacket wearing oversized mirror shades.

"Hello. I'm Jean."

Her disguise was very good. The voice gave her away though. Harry coughed. "Hello."

Ron stared, then nodded. "Wow, I mean, hi."

Hermione grinned, though only for a moment. Then she grew serious again. "You requested an urgent meeting?"

"Indeed, Miss Jean," Dumbledore said. "Were you informed about the latest proposal to the Wizengamot?"

"The despicable plan to abuse children as hostages?"

"Yes." Dumbledore sighed. "I tried to dissuade the Minister from this foolish course of action, and I will do my utmost to sway the Wizengamot into not committing such a crime, but given its current composition, I do not expect to convince enough of the members. Hence my intention to provide them with a fait accompli, and deprive them at least of the youngest hostages."

"What about those at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

The Headmaster chuckled, but Harry didn't think there was any real mirth behind it. "Since the pretext is to protect the muggleborn children from attacks by Death Eaters, I do not think anyone will be as foolish as to claim Hogwarts is not safe enough. Should things escalate to that point though…" he sighed. "I will not let them drag children from my school."

"But you let them execute Martin Cokes." Hermione stared at the old wizard.

"To my eternal regret. They rushed the trial, and I was left with no legal recourse, nor time enough to plan a clandestine rescue. I would have had to openly raise my wand against the Ministry, a course of action that would have driven it into Voldemort's waiting arms." Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment. "I am deeply sorry for your loss."

"And how many more will you sacrifice, in the vain hope that the Ministry will stop turning Britain over to Voldemort?"

"I have taken measures to prepare for a similar occurrence now."

Hermione met his eyes, then nodded.

The Headmaster pulled out a roll of parchment. "I copied the addresses for the future muggleborn students from our records. There are 91 in total. Do you have the facilities to provide them and their families with new homes, temporary ones at least?"

Hermione nodded. "We can have them live in hotels, until we find enough safehouses. For those who don't have alternatives, at least."

"Merlin's beard, that must be expensive!" Ron exclaimed.

"Sirius has deep pockets," Harry said. His godfather was rich, after all.

"The Ministry lacks our records, but they have records of accidental magic. While not very likely, they might already be observing at least some of them. I would think it best if I and my colleagues contact the families, under the pretext of informing them about Hogwarts. Should you be seen, the consequences could be fatal," Dumbledore said. "They can contact you for further help and advice, I hope?"

Hermione blinked. "That is possible. But…" she bit her lower lip. "As far as I know, the Ministry cannot detect magic, outside the trace?"

"That is true. But the Obliviators monitor all threats to the Statute of Secrecy, which a child's accidental magic falls under," Dumbledore explained.

"But how can they do that, without being able to detect magic?" Hermione asked, and for a moment, she sounded as if she was back in Hogwarts, at least to Harry.

"While I am not privy to their exact methods, I do know that they employ most of Britain's seers."

"Oh." Hermione gasped.

"But do not worry - the Obliviators answer only to the ICW. In conflicts between wizards, they stay neutral, unless someone threatens the Statute of Secrecy." Dumbledore looked at Hermione over his reading glasses. "I trust no one you know will be as foolish as to contemplate doing that?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, sir."

Harry winced. Going up against seers… he was no fan of Trelawney, but her prophecies had come true, so far.

"Do you have a phone number for us to pass out?"

Hermione nodded, and handed a note to the Headmaster. "It's a mobile phone, we can be reached during the times I noted."

"Thank you, Miss Jean." Dumbledore smiled. "I'll take my leave now. I assume you'd like to pass a bit more time together, so you can return to my office through Sirius's Floo connection."

Of course he knew about their Apparition training, Harry thought. But he appreciated the gesture - they hadn't seen Hermione for too long.

Judging by her smile, she shared that opinion.

*****​

London, Docklands, September 13th, 1996

The Headmaster disapparated with a small popping sound. Ron Weasley looked around, then at Hermione. "Wow. You look really different like that."

"That's the idea of a disguise," Hermione answered, but she looked pleased, or so he thought.

"You look good as well though!" He blinked, realising just how that could be taken, then added hastily: "Not that you didn't look good before…" He trailed off, wincing.

Fortunately, his best female friend chuckled, then hugged him. "I missed you."

He closed his eyes, enjoying the closeness. "I missed you too. The mirror's just not the same."

"The school's not the same without you," Harry added.

"And without the rest of the muggleborns." Hermione released Ron and hugged Harry. Ron felt a little bit of annoyance at his moment with her having been cut short. Then he was ashamed for being so petty.

"Yes." Harry sighed.

"How long can you stay?" Hermione asked, after separating from Harry.

"The Headmaster told McGonagall that we might be away for the entire afternoon," Harry answered. "So… I guess we will be." He smiled. "If you can stay that long."

She nodded, then bit her lower lip. Ron had to smile at that familiar sight. "I can, but… I'm not alone here. I'll have to tell my backup," she said.

"Backup?" Ron asked. He didn't like that; he and Harry hadn't seen - the mirror didn't count - their friend for weeks, and he didn't feel like sharing her with the ones who could see her each day.

"Justin and Allan. Allan Baker." Hermione looked around. "Let's head over to that small park. We can meet them there."

Ron didn't really want to meet them - though Justin was an alright bloke for protecting Hermione, Ron didn't know Allan at all - and a glance to Harry told him his friend felt the same. Both nodded though, and followed their friend.

Hermione walked straight up to one man standing beneath a tree. Another man joined them from the edge of a small pond. Ron recognised the bloke as Justin, which meant the other had to be Baker.

Hermione introduced them to Baker. They already knew Justin, of course, though Ron hadn't seen him in those kind of muggle clothes. He didn't know why, but the Hufflepuff reminded him a bit of Malfoy. And his smile was just a bit too friendly. Even for a Hufflepuff. Baker though… that bloke was too old, Ron thought, and too cold. At least to Harry and himself.

"The Headmaster and a few other teachers will contact the parents of the children at risk, and have them contact us. They'll move to hotels first, then we can set them up with safehouses or flats," Hermione explained - or rather, told her two muggleborn friends. She hadn't lost her bossy ways in her exile, Ron was glad to notice.

Baker frowned. "We don't have that many safehouses." The wizard glanced at Ron and Harry as if he didn't want to talk with them there. Too bad for him, Ron thought. "And we might need them for us," Baker said.

"We can prepare more for us. Those people need help now. We can't let the Ministry take hostages. Especially not children!"

Hermione would have raised her voice, Ron knew, if not for them being in public. Baker should have known better, he noticed with some glee, than to suggest that they'd need the houses more than children. That had to be worse than ordering elves around in her presence.

Baker pressed his lips together and didn't say anything anymore. Justin nodded. "Let's go then."

"Ah…" Hermione hesitated. For a moment, Ron feared she'd leave them. He'd understand, and yet… surely, her friends could prepare this without her? "I'll join you later. I have a few more things to talk about with my friends."

Baker suddenly smiled. "Of course. We'll handle it." Justin grinned. "We still get out of doing pushups."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you."

The two muggleborns walked away, and she turned back to Ron and Harry. "So…"

"So. Can we get up on that building?" Ron pointed at the tower near them.

She shook her head. "No. It has a public area, but in the basement. There's no viewing area on top."

"Damn." Ron sighed. When she didn't call him on his language he blinked.

She must have noticed, since she chuckled. "Ah… I've gotten somewhat used to coarse language."

Ron exchanged a glance with Harry. If they found out who was corrupting their best female friend… it couldn't be Justin. The guy talked far too posh or whatever.

*****​

Harry Potter sipped from his soda in the café Ron, Hermione and he had gone to and smiled contentedly. Coca Cola was something he missed at Hogwarts. He looked at Hermione. He missed her more, of course.

"I can't believe the Ministry would do this," Ron said, after staring at his own Cola. "Dad would never go for that. At least Dumbledore is on the ball."

"This time," Harry said. The Headmaster hadn't managed to achieve much good at the Ministry, in his opinion. "And he doesn't think he can stop this in the Wizengamot either, or we'd not be doing this."

Hermione nodded. "I think he still hopes he can turn the Ministry against Voldemort."

"You don't think he can do it?" Ron asked.

She shook her head. "Not with the current Wizengamot. There are too many bigots among its members."

"Well, that could change," Harry said.

His friends knew what he meant, and for a moment, no one said anything. Then Ron spoke up. "Even if the current members leave, their replacements will not be any different."

"That's a consequence of a parliament that's made up of inherited seats," Hermione said. "And it influences the Ministry, of course."

"Not everyone at the Ministry is sharing the Wizengamot's views," Ron said. "Dad has a number of friends who think like him."

"Enough enforce the Wizengamot's laws though - blindly, or eagerly." Hermione shook her head.

"At least the Headmaster is doing something," Ron said. He sounded a bit peeved. Harry hoped the two wouldn't get into a row.

"I know he's doing something. I just fear it won't be enough." Hermione looked down, and Harry wanted to hug her. He knew Sirius shared that view. If anything, his godfather was even more pessimistic.

He didn't say that though. "At least every Auror and Wizengamot member he reaches is one less bent on hunting you."

"There's that." Hermione smiled. "Still…"

"Just give us time to get the good people out before you blow the Ministry up," Ron said. He laughed, but Harry didn't think he was entirely joking.

Hermione winced. "We're not blowing up the Ministry. That would kill too many innocents, and alienate too many people who might support us."

Namely Dumbledore, Harry thought. He noted though that she had said 'too many innocents', not simply 'innocents'. He didn't pursue the thought.

"Well, the Ministry's newest folly will be foiled," Ron said. "Do they serve food here too?" He rubbed his stomach. "We kind of skipped lunch. Not that meeting you wasn't worth it, but…"

Harry laughed, quickly joined by Hermione and Ron.

The Café served sandwiches, but not much more. They ordered some, and Hermione sighed. "I've been eating too many of those, lately."

"Oh?" Ron looked at her.

"We've been camping, mostly muggle style. We can't exactly cook well there. And the rations…" she grimaced.

"Boot camp?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded, and then both had to explain what that was to their friend.

"Blimey!" Ron commented. "Do you really think it'll be worth it?"

Hermione nodded. "We'll have to adapt it, of course, but it's teaching us a lot."

"We might have to do something like it at Hogwarts then, mate," Ron said. "That might give us an edge once the Slytherins do something."

"Is it that bad?" Hermione asked. She sounded concerned.

Harry shrugged. "The teachers are keeping a close eye on everyone. Even Snape." He sighed. "But… it can't last. You know Malfoy. Sooner or later he'll do something stupid."

"Too bad he survived the bomb," Ron said.

Hermione winced.

Harry didn't know if she felt bad about blowing up the manor, or missing Malfoy. And he didn't know if he wanted Malfoy dead, or not.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, September 17th, 1996

"The chair recognises Augustus Malfoy."

Albus Dumbledore watched closely as the proxy for Draco Malfoy stood up. Malfoy was dressed in the finest robes, and cut a dashing figure, even if he was not quite as handsome as Lucius had been.

"Honoured members of the Wizengamot! Three weeks ago, ten of the most dangerous prisoners escaped from Azkaban. None of them have been caught since. Our Aurors have been unable to find even a trace of them." The wizard paused dramatically for a glance at Amelia, who frowned at the theatrics. "But while some efforts have been made to find them, no efforts have been made to protect those in danger from them. The weakest, most vulnerable victims they could choose: The muggleborn children."

That sent some of the more gullible members murmuring. Albus paid particular attention to those who were not surprised - they would have been informed in advance. He didn't spot anyone he not already suspected of supporting Voldemort.

"Their parents are ignorant, they do not know about magic, and they certainly could not protect the children, should a wizard attack them. And we cannot station an Auror next to them, much less give them a way to call for help in an emergency, the risk to the Statute of Secrecy would be too great. And yet what country would we be if we left children in danger?"

Malfoy paused once again. Albus shook his head at the hypocrisy.

"For this reason I have prepared a bill: the "'Muggleborn Infant Protection Bill.' It will mandate the Ministry to evacuate the muggleborn children who are not yet attending Hogwarts from their unsafe muggle homes, and place them in safe quarters in the Ministry itself."

"You just want to have hostages at the Ministry because you fear an attack!" Amos shouted. "Shame on you!"

Albus smiled, though with some regret. Amos had grown very bold and radical in the last two years. Sadly, it was because he didn't think he had anything left to lose after his son had been murdered.

Malfoy sneered. "I reject this accusation. The Ministry does not need hostages, it is among the safest places in Britain. Or do you know of a planned attack on this building? A traitor among our ranks would endanger us, of course."

Amos gasped at that accusation. "You are accusing me of betraying the Ministry? While you work for the Dark Lord?"

"This is a ridiculous accusation. If I was working for the Dark Lord, would I wish to see the escaped prisoners caught and the muggleborn children protected?"

Albus shook his head as more members shouted accusations back and forth. Decorum had suffered since so many old members had been replaced. Before things degenerated further, he raised his wand.

"The chair recognises the Chief Warlock."

He stood up, and nodded at the Wizengamot. "Mister Malfoy claims that there are muggleborn children at risk. This is not true."

He patiently waited for the murmuring that caused to die down. Malfoy was staring at him, surprise slowly giving way to anger.

"Their parents have been warned of the danger they are in, and they have taken steps to protect themselves. I can confidently state that the youngest muggleborn children are as safe as they can be, given the circumstances." Safer than if the Ministry knew where they were.

"What? That's impossible!" Cornelius exclaimed. Amelia glared at Albus.

The Chief Warlock smiled. "Trust me. I have personally checked if there are any muggleborn children who are not yet attending Hogwarts in danger. There are none. The proposed bill is therefore unnecessary."

"We only have your claim that they are safe," Malfoy said.

Albus glared at him. "Do you suggest that I would be lying about this?"

"There will be more muggleborn children born. Many more. The bill is still needed for them!"

"There is no need for that. The existing structures can handle them as well." Albus let his gaze sweep over the assembly. He wasn't certain it would be enough to defeat the proposal. But at least the Ministry wouldn't be able to kidnap any children. His staff had worked hard to visit every family, and convince them to leave. A few times with questionable methods, maybe - but needs must. He'd rather scare the parents into leaving their home than have them lose their child to the Ministry's thugs.

"Existing structures? What are those?" Cornelius asked.

Albus smiled at the Minister. "Elaborating on them would endanger them."

The man huffed as if he had been insulted. "Do you suggest that there are traitors among our ranks?"

"I think that would be an astute observation," Albus said.

That caused the whole assembly to start talking and even shouting. He shook his head. Not for the first time he wondered if playing these games was worth it. His influence had waned, and Tom's had grown. He could delay it, curb excesses, but he couldn't turn the tide. It was tempting to stop playing by the rules that favored the Dark Lord's sycophants. To cut loose, cut down Voldemort's allies in this chamber.

But such an act would paint him as a Dark Lord himself, and alienate a lot of his support. He wouldn't be able to control the Ministry, not with so many Death Eaters among the employees. He would be forced to either leave Hogwarts, or turn it into a fortress. Either choice would endanger the students too much.

And yet, he thought as the ruckus died down, he might have to do it anyway, if his plans failed.

*****​

Cumbria, Britain, September 18th, 1996

An enemy appeared to her right, behind a bush, his weapon aimed. Hermione dropped into a crouch and shot him, twice, then rolled to the side, tucking her assault rifle in to keep the muzzle from slamming into the soft soil and getting clogged. The target flipped down, signaling at least one hit.

Next to her, Justin was crawling to the trunk of a tree that had fallen years ago. Her partner for this live-fire exercise was covered in mud head to two, only his weapon was clean. She didn't look any better - that trip through the muddy creek had left her soaking wet. She told herself that it improved her camouflage. If only she could clean herself- or at least dry herself - with magic without exposing herself to their instructors!

She followed Justin to the trunk. Up ahead she spotted two more targets behind a tree and another bush. He looked at her. "I'll cover you."

Hermione nodded, and moved forward to the end of the trunk. When Justin stood up and started firing, she dashed to a boulder about ten yards ahead and to the side. She slammed into the rock, wincing, then rose to shoot at the targets. Target - Justin had hit one. She nailed the other with her second or third shot and changed her magazine while Justin moved forward.

Both were breathing heavily now. That would make them less precise when shooting. After exchanging a glance, they continued forward until they were in a creek at the edge of a clearing. In the middle of the clearing was a foxhole, as the Major had called it. Inside was another target.

"Grenade," Justin said next to her, pulling out an egg-shaped hand-grenade from his web pouch.

"I'll cover you," she answered, moving up so she could start firing. Rapid semi-automatic fire, she reminded herself as she started shooting, sending round after round at the foxhole. She might have hit the target even, but that wasn't the point of the exercise.

Next to her, Justin rose and threw the grenade. "Fire in the hole!" he shouted, ducking back. Hermione slid down as well, a second before the grenade went off.

Mud rained down on the two of them, and Hermione ground her teeth when she realised that the foxhole had been filled with muddy water. At this point, the instructors were no longer trying to push some teenagers playing soldiers into abandoning the exercise with such 'pranks', she knew that, but it had become a sort of tradition. Which she hated.

"That looked almost like a soldier's exercise, if you squint and glare and are drunk."

Hermione exchanged a glance with Justin, and both jumped up and turned to face the Sergeant behind them. "Yes, Sarge!" they yelled together, grinning widely.

The mercenary glared at them. "Collect the targets and head back to base. We've got a debriefing to start!"

"Yes, Sarge!" They were still grinning, not letting him see how exhausted they were.

That had become a tradition as well. One Hermione rather liked.

*****​

"He has to die. We can't let him live. Not after his betrayal of Martin."

Allan folded his arms and stared at her. Hermione Granger suppressed the urge to sigh. They had gone over this before, and she was really tired of it. "I agree. I'm not arguing to let him live. I'm arguing not to be hasty. We don't know if it's a trap, although we have to assume that. If Aurors are waiting for us then we can't just charge in." She had wanted to say something nastier, but controlled herself. Even if Allan was testing her patience, she had to keep a lid on her temper. Her standing in the group would suffer otherwise.

"Who said anything about charging in? We don't need to. We can just blow the shop up," Allan said. Dean and Seamus were nodding. Hermione had expected that.

"We don't know what potions are in that shop, and how they would react to an explosion." She had said that already. Several times. "Imagine if he had an Erumpent Horn there?"

"He'd be a fool to store that kind of ingredient without some safety measures," Allan countered. "Besides, they are very rare."

"The fluid is a rather common ingredient of a few potions," Hermione said. "And the explosion would need to be powerful enough to overcome such protections anyway, or he might survive." She shook her head. Before he could mention sniping, she said: "Shooting him would reveal what our guns can do the Ministry, and through their spies to the Death Eaters. We've gone over this before. Why are you bringing this up again?"

She knew some of them were eager to 'go back into action', as Dean had put it. They had been training for almost three weeks now, and were at the point where they were getting a bit too confident, in her opinion. She looked at Justin and Sally-Anne, and and at Mary and Tania. She needed their support. "I'm simply saying that we shouldn't act in haste. We're still training here for another week. We don't need to rush off half-cocked."

Dean chuckled at the expression and she rolled her eyes.

"If we don't do anything we'll have trouble recruiting more people. Especially older people." Allan shook his head. "They'll not take us seriously."

"We blew up Malfoy Manor," Justin cut in. "If people won't take us seriously after that, then they are hopeless."

"They might not believe us." Allan stared at Justin now. Hermione felt slightly irked. Allan could be so considerate, so smart, and yet sometimes he seemed obsessed with killing Aurors and Death Eaters, and looked at anyone who disagreed as if they were the enemy.

"That's another reason to wait and prepare this thoroughly. That way, we can demonstrate what we can do to a new recruit," she said.

"We have to have a new recruit first," Seamus muttered.

"We're in contact with Clifton," Mary pointed out. "But we can't exactly rush that either. There's always the possibility of a trap."

"What we need is patience. Rushing into things when we don't have to is not a good idea. We had to scramble to help the children, but we don't need to kill Beckett right now." Hermione wondered what her parents would say, hearing her discuss when, not if she'd kill a man.

She saw that Allan was nodding, if grudgingly. He was a tad impatient, she knew now. Dean shrugged, and Seamus sighed. Hermione smiled, though she tried not to show her relief. She wished she could simply order people around. Having to convince them was getting tedious, and they would not always be able to afford the time for a discussion.

But at least she would have some peace for a week or so. Time to work and prepare. And train.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, September 19th, 1996

"Merlin's arse!"

Brenda Brocktuckle jumped up from the cot she had been resting on when she heard Martin Runcorn curse. "What did you see?" she asked as she stepped up next to him at the window.

"More of those leaflets," he said, pointing at half a dozen sheets of parchment littering the street below.

"Damn mudbloods," she muttered. "That'll stir up trouble again." She grabbed the vial of Polyjuice. "I'll grab one so we know what it's about."

"I can summon one," Martin offered.

Brenda shook her head. "Too risky. We need to play this by the book." She grinned. "But thanks for the offer. If you really want to be nice, you can take a sip and fetch it."

Martin shook his head. "No, no. It's your turn."

Brenda snorted, and drank the potion, grimacing while she changed.

A few minutes later, she was back with the leaflet. As she had expected, it was another work from the so-called 'Muggleborn Resistance'. They were the main suspects for the Malfoy Manor attack, mainly because they were the only muggleborn group known that was opposing the Ministry.

"Check this out: 'The Ministry is trying to take hostages. They tried to kidnap children, to take them from their muggle parents and imprison them in the Ministry. They failed, but they are looking for other hostages now. Muggleborns, don't let them catch you!'." She shook her head. "Bunch of bubotuber pus!"

Martin looked the leaflet over as well. "But they'll believe it. It fits what they think the Ministry is doing."

"Well, of course. But it's a lie. Hostages wouldn't work. Malfoy Manor proved that - they killed two of their own." Brenda shook her head. "Bloody mudbloods try to paint us as worse than Death Eaters."

Martin shrugged. "I just hope those who believe that propaganda leave Britain, instead of attacking us."

Brenda snorted. "You think we'll be that lucky?" She shook her head. "We'll be lucky if the Ministry won't get blown up in this war. That's why we need to find those mudbloods. We can deal with the Death Eaters, we know what they can do. But we haven't yet found a way to deal with whatever the mudbloods are using."

She looked down at the street.

"And the longer they do nothing, the worse it'll be once they finally do something again."

*****​

Hogwarts, September 21st, 1996

Daphne Greengrass sighed. If Hogsmeade weekends had not been canceled, she'd be shopping, instead of watching the Slytherin Quidditch team practise. But it beat staying in the dorms. And it let her keep an eye on Astoria. Her little sister seemed to have a crush on Draco, still. She was doing better, she didn't cry every night anymore, but she was far from well, and Daphne would not let her by herself, especially not near a boy. That's why she was sitting with her on the stands.

And, if she was honest, watching the practise was kind of entertaining - Urquhart had a temper and a loud voice. He was currently reaming the team out in very colorful language. Tracey, sitting on the other side of her, giggled at a particularly rude string of words. Daphne would have laughed as well, if not for the need to serve as an example for Astoria. Who was laughing.

She sighed. It was better if her sister was laughing rather than crying, so she'd have to let that slide. On the pitch, the team was mounting their brooms and lifting off. They were working on their individual parts - the Seeker and the Beaters practised together, and the Chasers tested the Keeper. Draco almost got hit by a bludger a few times, when Crabbe and Goyle missed their mark, but his new broom - a Firebolt, of course - was fast enough to easily outpace a training bludger.

We have the Quidditch Cup in the bag!" Astoria grinned. "The Gryffs lost most of their team."

"I'd not be so certain," Tracey said. "We had to replace two players as well."

"Not as many as the Gryffs!" Astoria insisted.

"Experience isn't every… Did you hear that?" Daphne blinked. That had sounded like some wood breaking. Not a noise you wanted to hear on a stand propped up by wood.

Tracey blinked. "Something broke?" She looked up. "The brooms look fine."

"Not the brooms… it came from behind us. And below." Daphne heard another crack. Louder this time.

Astoria jerked. "I heard it too." She looked nervous now, even afraid.

"I think we better get down," Tracey said.

Daphne nodded and stood up.

Right then the stands collapsed.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 8: Outbreak

'It is obvious that at the time it was proposed, the majority of the members of the Wizengamot realised just what the true purpose of the so-called 'Muggleborn Infant Protection Bill' was - those who voted for it on behalf of the Dark Lord, and those following Dumbledore's lead. Significantly fewer would have been able to predict the consequences of passing that bill. The realisation that the Wizengamot was trying to take the weakest muggleborns, the children not yet old enough to attend Hogwarts, hostage, outraged and radicalised many who had been holding out hope for a reconciliation. It is quite clear that the mere act of passing that bill, even though Albus Dumbledore had already taken action to remove the children from the reach of the Ministry, caused the opposite effect of what many of its, in hindsight naive, supporters in the Ministry had hoped for. Instead of less violence it caused more. Worthy of special attention is that while many historians correctly assume that the events at Hogwarts that followed had been inevitable from the start, it is evident that the 'Muggleborn Infant Protection Bill' certainly hastened those events along by a great deal.'
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

Hogwarts, September 21st, 1996

Daphne Greengrass screamed when she felt the boards she was standing on tilting and almost lost her balance. She grabbed her sister and tried to drag her forward, to the lowest row of the stands, while behind and to their side more students screamed in terror as they started to slip and fall down. The entire row of seats Daphne had been on broke up as if a giant had snapped it - one part dropping down, the other snapping up. Next to her, Tracey cried out and Astoria shrieked, but all Daphne could think of was to reach that lowest row, two yards away, before everything broke down.

She reached it and grabbed the railing with one hand, just as the bottom started to break away. Tracey had disappeared, but she still held Astoria's hand as they started to fall. For a moment, she managed to stop their descent, holding on to the railing and to her sister, then Astoria's hand was ripped out of her grip, and Daphne could just scream in horror as her sister fell, landing on a crumpled row of seats.

"Astoria!"

Her sister didn't answer. Daphne spotted more students nearby, some half-buried under the remains of the stands, many of them screaming for help. Pansy was screeching like a banshee, her leg impaled on a broken piece of wood, blood flowing between her hands.

"Astoria!"

Was that blood beneath her sister's body? Daphne was trying to pull herself up, so she could use her wand, but she was too weak. She felt her grip weaken; she couldn't hold on much longer, and her feet couldn't find any purchase to climb down.

"Daphne!"

She looked up. Draco was flying towards her, his hand reaching for her. He grabbed her around the waist before she lost her grip, and then steered his broom down.

"Astoria! She fell!"

"Hold on!" Draco yelled, landing next to the mass of wood and canvas.

Daphne saw that the entire Quidditch team was above them. Urquhart yelled: "Malfoy! Fly to the castle and alert the teachers and Pomfrey! Go!"

Draco hesitated for a moment, then cursed and mounted his broom, racing towards the school. Daphne stumbled on, climbing through broken beams and poles, crawling over scattered seats and under ripped canvas, until she reached her sister. Astoria wasn't moving. And there was blood dripping from the board she was lying on! But she was breathing! Daphne hugged her, crying, and simply held her.

Soon afterwards, help arrived. The teachers - and other students. She yelled: "Astoria here needs help! She's bleeding!", repeating herself until McGonagall, riding a broom, landed next to her.

With a flick of her wand, the old witch transfigured the broken stands around them into a bed for Astoria, then ran her wand over the Slytherin.

"Professor! She's bleeding!" Daphne panted, tears running down her cheeks.

"Calm down, Miss Greengrass!" McGonagall said. "She's not too badly hurt. I've stopped the bleeding, and Madam Pomfrey will fix her up as soon as she can."

"As soon as she can?" Daphne was about to protest, then she remembered the other students. Tracey! She looked up, and gaped. All around her, people were moving wounded students on floating stretchers or beds. The remains of the stands had all but disappeared - vanished or transfigured, probably. She saw Pansy floating by, her leg immobilised. The witch was unconscious, probably stunned. Millicent, bleeding from a cut on her face, was carrying a crying fourth year.

Then she saw Tracey, unconscious as well, on a stretcher, next to a grim looking Professor Snape, stashing an empty vial on his robe.

"Tracey!" she yelled, torn between staying with her sister and checking up on her friend.

Snape turned around, saw her and came over to her. "She will live, Miss Greengrass. Take this!" He pushed a vial into her hand.

"I'm not hurt," she protested. "They are!" Though her wrist was starting to hurt, now that she thought about it. She probably had it sprained.

"You're under shock. Drink this!"

"Oh." She blinked, uncorked the vial and drank its contents. She barely registered how the teacher conjured a stretcher for her while the potion took effect. Much calmer now, she sat down and watched as McGonagall levitated her sister and Tracey away, towards the Infirmary.

Under the influence of the Calming Draught, she didn't react much when Draco started shouting.

"What are you doing here? Trying to finish off those who have survived your attack?"

He was shouting at an older Gryffindor, she realised. A prefect who had come with the teachers, together with other students. Draco had his wand out, too. Aimed at the other.

"Malfoy! Granville!" Snape shouted. "Stash your wands! If I see anyone casting at another student, they'll wish they were dead!" He turned to the Gryffindor. "You can't help here, take the rest of your house back to your dorm and stay there! Everyone! The situation is handled. Go back to your dorms, you can visit the wounded later!"

While her stretcher was floating towards the school, Daphne watched the Gryffindors walk back. And she wondered who among them had done this. Had hurt her sister and her best friend like this.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 21st, 1996

Albus Dumbledore watched as Pomona entered his office, the last of the Head of Houses to arrive. The Herbology teacher looked as grim as he felt. This incident - he hoped it was an accident, but knew that it didn't really matter given the circumstances - was a catastrophe, and all teachers were aware of that.

"The students are confined to their dorms," Minerva reported. "The staff is patrolling, to ensure that no one is sneaking out. I've impressed upon the prefects the importance to keep a headcount, and immediately alert us should anyone be missing."

"Thank you, Minerva." Albus sighed. He hoped it would be enough. "I've spoken with Poppy. Of the thirteen students who were injured, nine will be back in their dorm tomorrow. The rest will have to stay a few days longer, mostly for observation."

"And who did this? Who tried to murder my students?" Severus asked in a clipped tone. The wizard was barely keeping control of his temper, Albus knew.

"Their injuries were hardly more serious than what happens in a normal Quidditch match, or so you claimed when Flint put one of my players in the infirmary," Minerva snapped. "I hope you didn't talk like that where your students could overhear you."

"Of course I didn't," Severus snapped back. "But this wasn't some contact sport. Someone sabotaged the stands!"

"It could have been an accident," Filius said. "What did you find out, Albus, while we kept the students under control?"

The Headmaster sighed. "I've investigated the remains of the stands." Those who hadn't been vanished in the rush to save the wounded students. "I've found that the foundations of the support struts have rotted away." He took a deep breath. "We checked the other stands. Those are in a much better condition."

"Sabotage then," Severus hissed. "This was planned."

"If it was planned, then it was remarkably poorly done. The first Quidditch match is scheduled for November 2nd," Albus said. "If the stands had collapsed then…"

Pomona gasped. "It would have been a catastrophe!"

"How was this done?" Filius asked.

"Wood-rotting potion," Albus said.

"There is such a potion?"

"Not exactly. But a mistake while brewing the Cure for Boils can result in that," the former Potions Master explained.

"And that's something first years learn," Minerva said. "It could have been anyone then."

"It would take an effort to create such a potion, and there's still the lack of opportunity . someone had to sneak there and apply it." Severus shook his head.

"I'll be looking further into this, rest assured," Albus said. He had a suspect already, although mentioning this would not be opportune right now. "But for now we have to be even more vigilant, to prevent this incident from starting a war in Hogwarts."

Albus knew he wasn't talking figuratively, or using hyperbole. Things were much worse than he had feared but a few months ago.

But then, he had been thinking that exact thought each day ever since Cornelius had started his attempt to appease the Dark Lord.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 22nd, 1996

Albus Dumbledore smiled gently at the young wizard entering his office. "Please take a seat, Mister Banks."

The Gryffindor 3rd year nodded, obviously nervous, and sat down on the edge of the chair in front of the Headmaster's desk.

"Do you know why you have been called to my office?"

"N-No, sir." The boy shook his head several times. "If it's about the broken pot in Herbology… It wasn't my fault."

"It is not about that," Albus said. "You are a good student. Best Gryffindor in your year in Potions for two years, and Professor Slughorn has said you might be the best student in your year." Severus obviously hadn't graded the boy fairly.

"T-thank you, sir." The boy swallowed. Sweatdrops were already visible on his forehead.

Albus didn't like what he was doing, but he had no choice. "Almost as good as Miss Granger was, I believe. Did she tutor you?" He slid his wand out of his sleeve, under his desk, and aimed it at the boy.

That made Banks flinch. "She did tutor all of us, in Potions, in our first year."

"You gave us quite a scare, last week. Disappearing for an hour on your way back from Herbology." Albus shook his head. "We feared the worst, but apparently you simply tried to find Bowtruckles at the edge of the Forbidden Forest."

Banks looked down at his lap, where he was wringing his hands. "I'm sorry, sir. I know I shouldn't have gone into the Forest."

"You shouldn't have. But you didn't go into the forest, did you?"

The boy gasped, and looked at him with wide open eyes, shock written all over his face.

"Legilimens," Albus whispered under his breath. He entered the boy's mind without any problem. He didn't like to violate a student's privacy like that, but he had to know.

"Your kind killed my uncle," whispered Selwyn while the two of them were fetching Doxy Wings from the ingredients cabinet. "I hope all you mudbloods die!" The Slytherin's face showed his hatred.

"Remember: Don't go anywhere alone. The Slytherins are just waiting to catch any of us," Ron Weasley said. "Half of them are just waiting until they are old enough to join the Dark Lord."

"Just wait until we have duels," Rowle whispered when they entered the Defense classroom, "I'll show you a real curse!"

"No, Hermione won't be returning to Hogwarts. The Aurors tried to kill her, and she defended herself, so now she has to hide." Harry Potter shook his head. "It's a bloody shame." He flinched, looking around, and then looked sad.

"I tripped right when I was on top of the stairs!" Anna said, crying and holding her shin. "Must have been a tripping hex," Ginny Weasley said. "Were Slytherins nearby?"

"The Wizengamot wants to kidnap the muggleborn children and send them to prison!" Brown said. "They passed a bill!" "They'll obliviate the parents, so they forget about having had a child," Patil added.

"Bloody mudblood. We'll get you one day!" Selwyn whispered.

Sally-Anne was shaking, trembling, crying without a sound. The other girls of her year were leading her upstairs. One of them, Brown, muttered 'Umbridge'.

"Mudbloods should all be killed, before they murder more of us!" Runcorn said loudly to the other Slytherins while he walked past the Gryffindors on the way to the Greenhouses.

"Draco wanted all of us to die in our second year. When the Basilisk started hunting us, he was cheering," Ron Weasley said. "And he's grown worse since."

"Bloody Goyle almost took my head off with his Beater bat last match we played them," Bell said. "I'm not looking forward to playing them this year, they're all blaming us for the Malfoy Manor attack."

"We need to train and study Defense by ourselves. Snape will favor his own students, just like in Potions last year," Harry Potter said.

He added the lacewings, then overheated the potion. This time, he got it right. The dark liquid didn't look like a Cure for Boils at all. He dunked a wooden spoon into it, to test it. It didn't take long for it to rot.

"You were busy pouring a wood-rotting potion you managed to brew on the Slytherin stands at the Quidditch pitch, weren't you?" Albus said while he skimmed the boy's memories.

Banks started to pant. Tears appeared in his eyes.

"There is no point in lying, Mister Banks. You had the means, and the opportunity. What remains is your motive. What were you hoping to achieve with your act of sabotage?" Albus asked, gently.

"I… I wanted to hurt the Slytherins!" The boy started to cry, but kept talking. "They lorded it over us all last year, took every opportunity to hurt us! And this year, they were even worse. Always telling me to die, to leave, to get away! Always calling me a mudblood! And sneering at us! Everyone knows they want to kill us all!" He sobbed for a few moments. "And their Quidditch team is the worst! They use the game to attack our players, and they are all Death Eaters, like Malfoy!"

"Why did you not wait to use your potion until shortly before the first match?"

He blinked. "I… I just wanted to do something right now. I just wanted to strike back. We've had to take it and take it all the time, especially last year. I couldn't take it anymore!"

He looked down at his lap again, and his shoulders shook as he cried.

Albus sighed. He had found the culprit. His suspicions had been correct. But now he had to decide what to do about it. If he informed the DMLE, the boy would be arrested and put on trial in front of the Wizengamot. They wouldn't see a young boy, they'd see a muggleborn who had attacked purebloods. And in the current climate, he'd be either sent to Azkaban for years, or executed. Not for the first time, Albus wished Wizarding Britain had special provisions for underage criminals, like the muggles. But the closest they had were the rules for underage magic. And that was a special crime only children could commit.

The boy hadn't wanted to kill the Slytherins. He had wanted to hurt them, but he certainly didn't deserve death for this. No, he couldn't deliver the child to the Ministry. Albus shook his head.

But he couldn't cover up the crime either. It hadn't been that hard to find Banks. Severus and Horace would be able to come to the same conclusion, once they remembered the missing Gryffindor from last week. And when the DMLE started investigating, they'd probably use Veritaserum on every muggleborn, glad for the occasion. Or, worse, on Harry and Ron Weasley. Amelia wasn't a fool; she'd suspect those two to be in contact with Miss Granger.

For a brief, horrible moment he contemplated sacrificing the boy anyway. One life against many. One life against the lives of those crucial for Voldemort's defeat. He was ashamed of himself for thinking that.

But he had to find a way to keep the DMLE from interrogating the other students. Amelia was no fool, she'd suspect… that might be the solution! He thought it through a bit longer, while Banks still cried, then nodded.

"Mister Banks."

The boy looked up. "Y-Yes, sir?"

"Obliviate."

*****​

"Mister Banks has been obliviated?"

"Yes, Minerva," Albus said. "Quite clumsily, actually." Or so it would seem to anyone checking the boy's memories.

"The brat probably did it himself!" Severus said. "The same happened to that Ravenclaw they executed."

"I assure you, this is quite different. Mister Coke's Obliviation was the result of a sophisticated conditional curse. This here looks like the hasty work of a student. Coupled with the fact that as far as attacks go, this was rather ineffective, I think that the true culprit was a student who did not really wish to harm the Slytherins."

"Wha… are you insinuating that this was done by one of my students?" Severus snarled.

Albus spread his hands. "Not necessarily. Although I cannot help noticing that you jumped to that conclusion right away, instead of assuming that this was the work of someone who wanted to harm your house, but did not wish to seriously hurt anyone." He shook his head. "I'll be taking Mister Banks to the DMLE, so they can check how much of his memories have been wiped."

And so they could find the traces he had left, pointing to Slytherin. Once Severus found the cauldron the potion had been brewed in near the dungeons, clumsily cleaned by Banks himself, that should be enough to redirect the DMLE away from Gryffindor and Harry. And should they insist on questioning the muggleborns or Gryffindors anyway, he'd be able to insist on doing the same to the Slytherins. Which should lead to the investigation being buried instead.

It might even keep the Slytherins from lashing out in anger at the muggleborns and Gryffindors, if they started to suspect that this attack had been the work of one of their own.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 23rd, 1996

"They try to kill us, and the teachers protect them! Over a dozen of us almost died!"

Daphne Greengrass rubbed her wrist while she listened to Draco. It wasn't supposed to hurt anymore, and it didn't, not really. But sometimes she thought it did. The wizard was pacing in the middle of the Slytherin common room. She nodded. Astoria had just returned from the infirmary. She had woken up the day before, as had Tracey, but both had had to stay there a day longer, in case there were 'complications'. Daphne had wanted to stay with Astoria, but Pomfrey had sent her away. Forced her to leave her little sister alone!

"The Headmaster said that the Gryffindor had been obliviated, and that it wasn't a real attack," Zabini said.

Daphne knew what the wizard was hinting at - rumours claimed that the real culprit behind the sabotage of the stands was a Slytherin wishing to frame the Gryffindors.

Draco knew it as well. "A baseless rumour meant to divide us. Are you actually believing such slander?"

Zabini shrugged. "As far as assassinations go, it was rather pathetic. Spectacular, yes, but not really that dangerous."

Daphne hissed while Astoria whimpered. Tracey glared at the boy. "Not really that dangerous? Over a dozen of us were in the infirmary! I had to stay several days there! Pansy was bleeding like a stuck pig!"

"Hey!" Pansy huffed at that comparison.

"I've seen worse in Quidditch matches. Or training." Zabini looked at Draco. "That doesn't keep anyone down, unless they want to manipulate the cup."

Draco sneered at the boy. "Are you accusing me of attacking our own house? Of hurting my fellow Slytherins? Harming the Greengrass sisters, who were at my side when my home was destroyed and our families slain?"

Zabini stood his ground. "I'm not accusing anyone. I'm just saying that for the mudbloods that killed so many purebloods, this was a rather tame attack."

Daphne knew that Draco wasn't behind this - he wasn't a good enough actor to fool her. It wasn't his style either. He'd have hexed one of his rivals, maybe Zabini, and framed the Gryffindors for it. She stood up. "Tame? Let me tell you, Zabini, it was anything but tame for those who were up on the stands when they collapsed! You'd not spew such drivel if you had been there, falling down on broken beams and struts!" She sat down again and hugged her sister.

Tracey snarled at Zabini. "I'd like to see you fall down a few yards, and break your legs or arms. Not your head, of course, that's too thick to get damaged by such a fall!"

A few students laughed, though most were glaring at Zabini. The wizard frowned, but didn't retort. Instead he turned around and went to his room.

Draco nodded at Daphne, smiling faintly, then addressed the room again. "We were lucky no one was hurt worse. Or killed. We won't be lucky forever. We have to do something!"

"You said you had a plan!" Nott said. "Nothing came of it, did it?"

"Do you take me for a Gryffindor, to rush things without planning?" Draco scoffed. Daphne knew many thought exactly that of him, but he had changed after his parents' death. "We've been training, and we've been preparing. But this incident has shown us that if we don't do anything, they'll attack us again."

"But who's 'them'? Do you think a third year Gryffindor is responsible?" Tracey asked.

"The mudbloods. Who else would do this?" Draco spat. "They murdered our parents, and now they want to murder us!"

He looked around, at the gathered students.

"We won't let them!"

*****​

Hogwarts, September 24th, 1996

Ron Weasley was in the common room, waiting for everyone to gather so they could head down to the Great Hall for lunch, when Lavender and Parvati entered, out of breath.

"There's a big group of Slytherins in the Great Hall," Lavender said, "making a ruckus! They are demanding to talk to the professors."

"We saw them when we were returning from Divination," Parvati added.

Ron nodded. "Good. Don't let anyone leave, I'll be right back!" He ran up the stairs to his room, taking two steps at a time. "Harry!"

His friend was on his bed, sorting his trunk's contents. "What?"

"Check the map - the Slytherins are shouting for the professors in the Great Hall," Ron said.

Harry pulled out the piece of parchment. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."

Ron craned his neck as the map formed. Lots of names were in the Great Hall. "There's Malfoy… Crabbe and Goyle… Parkinson, Davis, Zabini is back there…"

"There's Greengrass, alone," Harry said. "No, it's her sister. Astoria."

"Alone? She's a fourth year... " Ron blinked. Slytherins never left their dorm by themselves. "Where's she going?"

Harry looked at the map. "She's headed to the… side entrance." He looked up. "Our third years are returning from Herbology."

Ron looked at the list of names moving towards the castle. "If they hex her we'll have trouble. The Slytherins are just waiting for that."

"They won't. They know how stupid that would be," Harry said. "Look, Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall are in the Great Hall now. Talking to Malfoy it seems."

"I wonder what this is about," Ron said. "Should we head down? The teachers are there." Which meant the Snakes wouldn't try anything.

"I guess so," Harry said. "We should…"

Ron heard a faint explosion. "What was that?"

"Merlin's Arse! The third years!" Harry exclaimed, staring at the map.

Ron looked down. The Gryffindor third years who had been walking towards the castle, with the 5th year prefects escorting them, were now spread out, and only a few were moving. And Greengrass was running back towards the dungeons.

"Accio Firebolt!" Harry yelled, and his broom flew towards his outstretched hand.

Ron summoned his own broom, while Harry yelled down to the common room "Ginny! Inform the teachers! Something happened to our third years! Outside!"

Ron was already opening the window.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 24th, 1996

"It was Greengrass, sir. Astoria Greengrass," Harry Potter said in the Headmaster's office. "She was the only one on the map near them."

Ron, standing next to him, nodded. "I saw it as well."

Harry didn't think either of them would forget the scene they had seen today anytime soon.

He had bent low on his broom as he had flown around the Ravenclaw tower and dived towards the Greenhouses. Almost there…

"Merlin!" He had gasped and slowed down when he had seen the small crater in the middle of the grass, and the students scattered around it. A number had been getting up. The two prefects had been moving already, Dunn kneeling down next to a still body on the ground, Layton running towards one screaming child near the crater.

"Damn!" Ron had caught up to him.

The two had exchanged a glance, then had descended rapidly. Harry had spotted Professor Sprout rushing out of her greenhouse, wand in hand.

"What happened?" the teacher had asked, panting.

"Someone banished a vial at us from the castle. I cast a Shield Charm and it exploded when it hit," Dunn had said. He had looked bruised himself.

Harry and Ron had split up, checking on the third years. Harry had helped a dazed looking but not bleeding girl up. Next to her had been a boy, bleeding from his head, not moving. He had been breathing though.

"Those two need to be carried to the infirmary, at once!" Sprout had yelled, pointing at two bodies, two boys, next to her. Harry and Ron had jumped to it, levitating one each, and straddling their brooms. Then they had flown towards the castle, carefully staying low. Blood dripping from the boy floating next to Harry had left a trail of red spots on the stone floor inside the castle.

Harry shook his head, but the image of the trail of blood stayed with him.

Dumbledore sighed. "I see. I would ask if you are certain, or if the map was working correctly, but I know better." He closed his eyes and Harry was struck by how tired and old the wizard suddenly looked.

"What did the Slytherins in the Great Hall do?" Ron asked.

"They demanded to be able to eat in their dorms, 'separated from those dangerous muggleborns and those students who supported them'," Dumbledore said. "Quite vocally, and maybe a bit too loudly and vehemently. A diversion, I believe."

"Malfoy's plan!" Ron spat. Harry agreed with him - that sounded like a plan Malfoy would try.

"Probably, yes," Dumbledore said. "But it will be hard to prove it to the satisfaction of the DMLE. And nigh-impossible to get the Wizengamot to condemn him."

"What about Greengrass?" Harry asked. She had been the one to actually hurt the students.

The Headmaster frowned. "While I am confident I could talk her into confessing, though I'd have to hint at an ability to track students, I do not think she would be punished either. An orphaned young pureblood witch lashing out at a student that had attacked and hurt her sister and herself?" He shook his head. "While I am loathe to see her avoid the consequences of her actions, I fear that having her accused and then acquitted, would have disastrous repercussions for Hogwarts."

"The Slytherins would see it as permission to attack us," Ron said.

His friend was correct, Harry knew. He ground his teeth. "And we would attack them."

Dumbledore nodded. "The school would be turned into a battleground. We have been fortunate, very fortunate, so far that no one has died. But that will change should things escalate further." He stared at Harry and Ron. "I implore you: Do not strike back. Do not let your friends and housemates strike back."

Harry could understand that request, but at the same time, it galled him. "We can't let them attack us with impunity. Malfoy won't stop. If he gets away with this, he'll do it again."

"I will take steps to stop him and his friends. Trust me."

"How? They managed this, despite your precautions!" Ron leaned forward, his hands digging in his thighs.

"It is better you do not know, Mister Weasley." The Headmaster wryly smiled. "But consider this: The worse things grow, the harder it becomes to keep the DMLE from intervening. Imagine if they interrogated you with Veritaserum. Think of your family and friends."

Harry felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. Hermione! "They would use this to make us betray her?"

"Blimey!" Ron said.

Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed. The DMLE almost certainly suspects that you have not abandoned your friend, though they lack the leverage and proof to move against you."

"We can leave Hogwarts," Harry said. They could hide. Join Hermione. Fight the Death Eaters.

"That is a last resort, Harry. Things are not yet so dire. I remain confident that I can prevent a catastrophe. At least at Hogwarts. But I need your help."

Harry exchanged a look with Ron. His friend ground his teeth, but slowly nodded.

"Alright, Headmaster."

It didn't look like they had a choice. But they'd prepare to flee Hogwarts anyway. Just in case.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 24th, 1996

"What happened?"

Ron Weasley winced when the mass of Gryffindor students almost mobbed Harry and him right when they entered the dorms.

Harry shook his head and took a deep breath. "Someone attacked our third years. Threw something at them that exploded."

"What?"

"Are they hurt?"

"Who did it?"

"Cursed Slytherins!"

Harry held up his hands. "Wait, wait! We took them to the infirmary. No one died. The teachers are investigating."

Ron nodded. Though some had looked as if they were dead. Still, and silent. "Until they have found the culprit, we'll have to stay in our dorms."

"What? They're locking us up?"

Ron didn't catch who said this; too many echoed the sentiment. Harry shook his head. "They don't want this to escalate."

"It already escalated!" Neville said.

"They attacked us because Banks sabotaged the stands," McLaggen cut in.

"Shut up, McLaggen!" Katie said. "Banks was obliviated by the real culprit. It was a Slytherin ploy so they could do this to us and claim innocence!"

McLaggen sneered at her. "Of course you'd say that!"

Harry stepped in. "Calm down, everyone! We need to focus on staying safe, not on blaming each other. Dumbledore has the situation in hand."

"Doesn't look like it to me," McLaggen said, scoffing. "Almost thirty students in the infirmary within a few days? Dumbledore's losing it."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Katie said. "You'd like the Dark Lord to take over, huh?"

"Do you want us to attack the Slytherins so the Ministry can sack Dumbledore?" Harry said. "Is that your plan?"

"What?" McLaggen stared at him as the rest of the students started whispering and muttering. "No!"

No one was listening to him though, and with a curse, he pushed his way through the throng of students and all but fled to his room. Ron watched him go while Harry once again told the students to stay in their dorms and not attack anyone.

A tug on his sleeve made him turn around. Ginny was there. "Do you think McLaggen is working for the Dark Lord?" she whispered.

He shrugged. "I don't know. A bit far-fetched, I reckon, but it got the rest to stand down. We'll have to watch him though."

His little sister nodded. "I've been keeping an eye on the map. All students are inside their dorms. If they leave, we'll know."

"Good. We'll need to have someone watch the map all the time. There's more though." He looked around. Harry still had the attention of most of their house, but Lavender was looking at Ron. "We'll need to talk about that privately."

*****​

An hour later, Ron, Harry and Ginny were sitting together in a corner. Things had finally calmed down to the point where there was no chance of the house storming out to attack the Slytherin dungeons, or to lynch suspected traitors in their midsts. Lavender was still watching them, or Ron - he couldn't tell - but they had been given space enough to cast a privacy spell.

"So… what did you want to talk about?" Ginny asked, looking from Harry to him and back.

"We might have to flee Hogwarts, should the DMLE come down on Dumbledore," Harry said.

"What?" Ginny gasped.

"They might use any pretext to interrogate us with Veritaserum. We can't risk that," Harry said.

"But…" Ginny trailed off and Ron knew she had understood they couldn't risk anyone finding out about the meetings with Hermione. "Oh."

He nodded at his sister. "We'll need to be prepared to flee at a moment's notice."

"Does that include me?" Ginny said. She sounded almost afraid, but Ron couldn't tell if she wanted to come with them, or wanted to stay. She was supposed to have gotten over her crush on Harry, hadn't she?

"You don't know what we know." Ron shook his head. His sister wouldn't come with them. Mum would flip, and she was too young for this. "And someone needs to stay at Hogwarts. With the map."

"I can't do much by myself," she countered.

"That's why we need more people. People we can trust not to betray us," Harry said. "But apart from Katie and you, we're a bit stuck."

"Last year, I'd have picked the Quidditch team," Ron said, "but apart from us and Katie, all of them are new this year." He looked at Ginny. "Do you trust your dorm mates?"

Ginny hesitated, and Ron winced. Then he glanced at Lavender again. The girl was chatting with Parvati now.

"I think it's best to pick a few students we can trust not to betray our house, but don't tell them about the rest," Harry said.

Ron nodded. That sounded like a good idea. "The prefects. We need them anyway to protect the rest." And to keep them from going out of control.

Harry and Ginny nodded. Ron's sister then took a deep breath. "Do you really think you'll have to flee?"

Harry sighed. Ron shrugged. "I hope we'll not have to, but… things haven't been going well for over a year now, have they?"

"Will you be joining…" She looked around.

"Don't know," Ron said. When she looked at him, flinching, he added. "I really don't know."

But if they did join Hermione, should they flee, he'd not tell her either. For her and their safety.

Harry stood up. "Let's go and talk to Katie, and the prefects."

*****​

Hogwarts, September 24th, 1996

"I'm telling you, next time I see the twins, I'll give them a piece of my mind!" Katie said, shaking her head. "Claiming they were just that sneaky, while they had this to help them!" Most of the prefects agreed with her, chuckling. Jokes about not having to check all cupboards anymore had already made the round. Hopefully, they'd keep the map a secret, but even if they didn't - keeping the school safe was more important than keeping the map secret.

Ron himself was headed to his room. With everyone confined to the dorms, and lessons suspended until further notice, there wasn't much to do, no prefects patrols either, and he could use the opportunity to pack a bag, just in case he had to leave in a hurry.

He was halfway up the stairs when he heard someone running behind him. He whirled around, drawing his wand, and almost cursed a gasping Lavender.

He lowered his wand. "Why'd you run up the stairs?" To the boys' rooms, even.

She was slightly out of breath. "I need to talk to you. Privately."

Ron hesitated for a moment, wondering why she hadn't asked him in the common room, then nodded. "Alright. We can use the third years' room."

The room was messy, and empty - all of the occupants were in the infirmary still. He closed the door and cast a privacy spell, then turned back to the witch, who was standing in the middle of the room, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and back.

"Why did you tell us of this map?" she suddenly asked.

He was briefly confused. "The twins kept it a secret so they could pull of their pranks more easily. We kind of kept it a secret after they handed it to Harry. You know the things that happened at Hogwarts to him." And to Ron, and Hermione.

"I know that. But I'm asking why you told us the secret now." Lavender stared at him. "You could have kept it a secret among you, Harry, and Ginny. Maybe Katie too."

She was right, of course. He shrugged. "It's better if more people can keep watch. We're all in this together."

"Do you trust us that much then?"

"We'd not have shown you the map otherwise." Ron told himself he wasn't lying. If they truly didn't trust the prefects, they would have looked for others to help out.

Lavender smiled faintly. "You know, I had a crush on you last year."

Ron nodded. Even he had noticed that.

"You turned me down though."

He hadn't turned her down, technically. Not out loud. Just… ignored her hints. He still nodded in agreement.

"Because you had a crush on Hermione." She was looking straight into his eyes.

Ron could claim that just because he hadn't wanted to start something with her didn't mean he had a crush on someone else. But she was right. He had a crush on his best female friend. "Yes."

"Did she turn you down?"

He winced. He hadn't told her. Hadn't realised, really, until she had gone home, had to go into hiding.

Lavender must have misread his expression since she smiled and moved closer to him. "Well, I still have a crush on you." She reached out with her hand to his chest.

Ron shook his head. "I never told her."

The witch stopped, her arm dropping. Then she straightened. "Are you still carrying a torch for her? She's gone." She didn't add 'And I'm still here', but her stance and expression said enough.

Ron sighed. He couldn't tell her that he saw her each day in the enchanted mirror. "I'm still… you know. Sorry."

Lavender pouted, then slowly nodded. "Alright. But if you ever get over her…" she nodded again, turned around and left.

Ron wasn't certain if she had had tears in her eyes or if that had been a trick of the light. He felt bad anyway.

*****​

Cumbria, Britain, September 25th, 1996

Hermione Granger struggled and sweated despite the cool weather. Running through the forest, loaded down with her rifle and an RPG-7 weighing fifteen pounds by itself was exhausting. Though after almost four weeks of intensive training, she was in the best shape of her life. Which, sadly, didn't mean that much given that she had never been that interested in sports.

"Come on, Missy! There's an APC barrelling down this road, and if you can't set up an ambush in time, all your friends will be killed!" the Sergeant shouted at her.

Snarling, she sped up, jumping over a root and almost losing her footing when the ground was softer than she had expected. She ran on though, pushing herself until she felt like puking when she dropped in the ditch near the old logging road that cut through the forest, but she managed to prepare the RPG-7 for firing.

"There's the target! Fire!"

She got on her knees, the launcher on her shoulder, sighted down the road, and sent the training grenade flying at the canvas target raised there. As she had been told to, she didn't stay and watch if she hit, but dropped into the ditch and started to crawl away as fast as possible.

"That's a hit. Barely, but you did hit it." The Sergeant's tone carried some grudging respect, or so Hermione liked to think while she lay there, panting, on the ground, once again covered with mud.

"Alright. Head back to the camp before you die here, and send the next one up."

"Yes, Sarge!" she said, a far cry from her usual yell, and shambled off.

She felt better when she reached the camp and handed the RPG-7 to Seamus. "Here! Your turn to blow a vehicle up."

Seamus grinned. "It's not fun unless it's a real explosion."

She waved him off and walked to the 'fridge' with the drinks, grabbing two sodas and a sandwich, then fell more than sat down next to the camp fire, though still ensuring that her rifle wasn't stuck in the ground. Such habits all of them had picked up quickly.

"You look like you could use a break for a week."

Hermione looked up from her meal at Allan. After swallowing the bite in her mouth, she answered: "I'm OK. How are you doing?"

He shrugged. "So far 'sniper training' is just long-range target shooting. I do well though." He grinned. "I don't have to run as much as the others either."

She nodded, bit off and swallowed another chunk of ham and bread, then asked: "How's Justin doing?"

Allan frowned for a second. "He's doing well. He has some prior experience with hunting, I think."

Hermione knew that already. She shrugged, dropping her empty bottle in the container with the rest. "That won't help with sniping. Or so I understand, from what I read. I guess I'll find out in the afternoon." She'd have her own shot at sniper training then. Or what kind of training you could get in an afternoon. Even a week was far too short to become a real sniper. But… the boys had insisted on it. She knew that the same was true for their entire training - they barely knew enough to use the weapons, but they were far from being really competent.

"I've been wondering… you're the only one who doesn't focus on something. You've been trying out every weapon they brought to us. Why?" Allan sat down next to her.

She snorted. "I could say that I don't want to miss out on anything, but the truth is that I can't really make good plans if I don't have an idea about the different weapons and tactics." In the middle of a battle, she'd not be able to ask for advice from an expert.

"I see." He sounded angry for a moment, but when she turned her head to look at him, he was smiling. "I should have known you'd think like this."

Grinning at him, she nodded. "Yes, you should have." Rubbing her thighs, she added: "I'll be glad when we're back in London. Normal clothes are starting to feel weird."

He laughed. "I felt that way after my first year at Hogwarts. Wearing jeans was weird after a year in robes."

She smirked. "I just wore dresses more than trousers. But I know what you mean."

Allan jerked when the staccato sound of a light machine gun broke the brief silence. Hermione shook her head. "Dean's still not firing short bursts. Too many damn movies, as the Major would say. He will be shouting at him, right now."

As if on cue, the sound stopped. Hermione stood up. "Time to head to the range."

"Have fun," Allan said, waving at her.

She snorted, then realised, walking to the improvised range, that she was having fun. Shaking her head, she muttered: "If I don't pay attention, I'll start to prefer the gym over the library!"

And that was a horrible thought.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 28th, 1996

Daphne Greengrass knew something terrible had happened as soon as she saw Draco's expression when he entered the Slytherin common room. When the wizard made a beeline to her and cast a privacy spell, she felt her stomach drop.

"Daphne, we've got a problem," Draco said, without preamble.

"What happened?" Hadn't he simply gone to meet their Head of House? Crabbe and Goyle had remained behind - at the entrance, guarding it, she noted. "Did they find out about Astoria?"

"They know it's her."

Daphne gasped, and stood up. She needed to obliviate her sister to protect her.

Draco grabbed her hand. "Wait! That's not the thing I'm worried about."

"What?"

"The Wizengamot would never punish her for striking back against those mudbloods and blood traitors who tried to kill her," Draco said. "And Dumbledore can't punish her past a slap on the wrist without the Ministry getting involved." He shook his head. "No, the problem is that the Gryffindors have a way to track everyone of us! Even inside our dorms!"

She froze. "That's impossible."

"It's not. I have heard this from a trusted source, and I have been able to validate it from another." Draco shook his head. "But it gets worse. Someone is trying to frame us for sabotaging our own stands. They found some 'evidence' of brewing a rotting potion near our dorms. One of them tries to kill us, and Dumbledore blames us!"

"Does Dumbledore actually believe that?" The Headmaster couldn't be that gullible, Daphne thought. That was a ploy that anyone should have seen through.

"Of course not! He knows it's a lie, but it allows him to protect his precious Gryffindors. They can do anything to us now, between the tracking and Dumbledore's protection!"

Daphne swallowed. If they wanted revenge… if the Headmaster let them attack Astoria, knowing he couldn't punish her… They could track them, plan ambushes with overwhelming force. "But… it's Dumbledore! He wouldn't let them do that!"

"He's been trying to get the Ministry to declare war on the Dark Lord for over a year, despite the Lord's attempts to make peace. And he knows the Wizengamot won't condemn any of us." Draco sounded grim.

"Merlin's ghost!" Daphne was shaking now.

"He tried to make the Minister pardon the mudbloods! Even Granger, who murdered an Auror!" Draco shook his head. "Hogwarts is not safe anymore. I was a fool to come here in the first place. If I had known all of this beforehand..."

And she had been a fool to listen to him, and let Astoria attack the Gryffindors, Daphne thought. But that couldn't be changed anymore. "You plan to leave then."

He nodded. "And you and Astoria should come with us. The blood traitors will attack you."

"Us?" she asked.

"Me, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Theo. A few others." He looked around, scowling when he saw Zabini. That student wouldn't be coming with them, Daphne knew.

But should she join Draco? He had made a compelling case. Dumbledore was protecting murderers like Granger, her uncle had told her about the Headmaster's statements in the Wizengamot. And he was protecting the Gryffindor who had hurt her sister and so many others. No, she couldn't stay, she couldn't protect Astoria if they remained at Hogwarts.

"I'll talk to Tracey and my sister. When do you leave?"

"There's a staff meeting after dinner. We'll leave the dorms together and fly away on brooms, until we can apparate or reach a Floo connection. The Gryffindors won't be able to catch us if we're quick enough."

Daphne nodded. Snape was helping them, obviously, by passing this information to Draco. They could do it.

"We'll be ready."

She nodded at him, then went to find her sister, and her best friend. They didn't have much time.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, September 28th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle almost wished she was back on 'punishment detail' and patrolling Knockturn Alley. Waiting day after day in this flat for the mudbloods to attack Beckett was tiresome. Boring. Frustrating.

"Pointless," she muttered.

"What?" Martin Runcorn looked up from his book.

"Nothing. Just commenting on the sense of our mission here." Brenda sighed and returned her attention to the potions shop.

"You don't think the muggleborns will come?" her partner asked.

"I think they won't do anything as long as we're ready for them," Brenda said, cynically. "They have the advantage - they can choose where they will strike. We have to defend an entire country."

"We have more people to do it though," Martin said.

"We'll see how long they'll last when the first ambushes happen." Brenda scoffed. "That was how it was in the last war. Aurors were getting ambushed when they reacted to a call for help. The mudbloods will do the same. And with their 'bombs'... we'll have to be very careful when apparating in response to an alert."

Martin winced. "That's true."

Brenda snorted. "Some are already deserting. Have you heard of Smith?"

"Smith?"

"Vanished during a patrol in Diagon Alley. His partner had to go, and when he returned, Smith had vanished. Witnesses claim he stepped into a side alley, but they didn't find any trace there." Brenda shook her head. "Bloody coward."

"He could have been attacked and kidnapped," Martin said.

She snorted. "If he was, then we'd have heard of demands made by the kidnappers, or found his body parts strewn over an alley or field. No, the guy was too afraid to face mudbloods and Death Eaters, and ran."

Martin didn't sound convinced. "I know him. I was with him in training. He didn't strike me as a coward or deserter."

Brenda grinned, without a trace of humour though. "Training is training. You don't really know a wizard or witch until they've been in a fight. Or faced one, and ran."

"Maybe."

The rookie was still too inexperienced, Brenda knew. But he wouldn't run or desert. "Maybe we should take Beckett in. Arrest him for the shady ingredients in his storage room," she mused. That would end the mission. Beckett would be safe in a Ministry cell, even.

"That would be a poor repayment for his loyalty," Martin cut in.

"Not if it serves to protect him from the mudbloods." She glanced back and saw his expression. "You don't like taking mudbloods in for their own protection?"

"Taking them in against their will is a bit much."

"You've got a talent for diplomacy. Of course it's for our own protection as much as theirs." Brenda certainly didn't want to end up like Lucius Malfoy, bombed to death by mudbloods.

"Beckett wouldn't work out though - they want him dead." Martin shook his head.

"Spoil my perfect 'please everyone' solution, will you?" She chuckled. "Just for that, you can take your turn at the window early."

Martin grumbled and took her place at the window while Brenda sat down on the couch. At least they were not out there, trying to arrest more muggleborns for the Ministry. That could be dangerous - a few Aurors had ended up in St. Mungo's so far. No fatalities. Yet.

*****​

Hogwarts, September 28th, 1996

"Harry! Come quickly!"

Harry Potter shot up from his seat in the common room when Ginny called him. She had been with Katie, watching the map. That meant something was up.

He rushed to her, casting a privacy spell. "What's happening?

She pointed at the map on the table. "Look! The Slytherins are moving, a lot of them!"

"Half their house, I think," Katie said. "Mostly the older students. And most of the teachers are in that meeting."

Harry cursed. If they were attacking now… "Get the lower years in their dorms, and call the older years down. We'll be ready." He had to alert Dumbledore too.

"They're running. Up the stairs… They're not headed towards us. They're headed towards the gate!" Katie said, looking at him.

Ron arrived. "What's going on?"

Harry nodded at the map. "It looks like the Slytherins are fleeing from Hogwarts."

"Good riddance?" his friend asked.

Harry winced. He wasn't quite certain this was a good thing.

*****​

Cumbria, Britain, September 29th, 1996

"Hermione? Are you still awake?"

That sounded like Allan. Hermione stood up from her bed and walked to the door of her room. Allan was indeed standing in the entrance of the Wizarding tent, in front of her door.

She opened the door, and waved him inside. "Come in."

He stepped inside, raising an eyebrow when he saw her. "Were you already asleep?" he asked, gesturing to her tank top and shorts. He was still in fatigues, clean ones.

Hermione shook her head. "I was in bed, but reading." She grinned. "I'd not have answered the door otherwise. So, what brings you to my room past midnight?" The group had spent an hour discussing the news that most of House Slytherin had left Hogwarts, after Harry and Ron had informed her. Allan had wanted to hunt down Malfoy right away.

He sat down on her bed. "We've had some differences lately, as you know."

She made a sort-of-agreeing noise. His insistence on taking action prematurely had been irritating, if she was honest.

"I don't want this to come between us," he said. "We're all on the same side." Allan smiled at her.

She nodded and sat down next to him on the bed. "We are, yes. And I don't want to argue with you either." Or with anyone else. But she had to, to prevent potentially fatal mistakes. "Why are you so eager to attack anyway?" She quickly added: "I'm just wondering."

He looked grim. "It's for Martin. He was a good friend of mine, and he died because of that traitor. I can't stand the thought of Martin being dead, and his killer walking around." Allan ground his teeth. "I want to avenge him, and make certain that no one else will betray us again." He sighed. "I'm sorry if I made you angry."

Hermione smiled and put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm not angry. I understand what you're feeling." If Harry or Ron had been murdered, she'd feel the same. Or worse. "I'm just trying to keep us from being too hasty. We're almost done with our training here. We'll get Beckett, trust me."

He put his hand on her hand, squeezing gently. "Thank you." He smiled at her.

Hermione smiled back. "That's what friends do."

Allan nodded. He looked at her without saying anything for a moment. "Can I ask you something personal?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course."

He leaned towards her, his eyes not leaving hers. "Are you in a relationship with Potter or Weasley?"

Hermione blinked. That was more personal than she had expected. And why would he ask that? Was he.... suddenly, she was all too aware of their situation: Both sitting on her bed, their legs touching, and her in just a top and shorts… Had she unintentionally led him on? She shook her head, saw him starting to smile, and quickly said. "I'm not involved with anyone. I can't, anyway. There is so much to do for the Resistance." She smiled at him, hoping he'd understand.

He nodded, a bit stiffly. He had understood, then. "That's true. I better let you get some rest. Good night, Hermione."

"Good night, Allan."

She waited until he had left before closing her eyes and sighing, laying down on her bed.

That could have gone better.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, September 29th, 1996

Auror Karen Blinings hated the midnight to morning shift. But as one of the youngest Aurors, she was guaranteed to be on it. An older Auror had told her that it was usually an easy shift - not much happened when everyone was in bed. A peaceful patrol almost every time.

That had been before the mudbloods and the Death Eaters started their wars against the Ministry. Nowadays, Karen dreaded that patrol. Every dark corner or alley could hide an enemy. At least she wasn't alone, but had a partner. She looked at him. Jacob Parker had been in the same year as her at Hogwarts, but they hadn't had much contact, not with him in Ravenclaw and her in Hufflepuff. They had become friends during training though, and had been on the same assignment since then.

"Imperio! Kill him!"

Jacob gasped, drawing his wand. He was too slow to stop her though - and he had been looking for the caster of the Imperius at first. Karen's Reductor Curse blew his wand and hand up, splattering blood all over her and him. He opened his mouth, but she couldn't hear him scream. Silenced, probably. It didn't matter. Her next spell drilled a hole in his head and he dropped.

"Walk into that Alley and wait for me at the end!"

She nodded and started walking into the side alley the man had pointed out to her, ignoring the Vanishing Charms and other spells cast behind her. She had an order, and would obey.

She didn't have to wait for long. The other wizard came and bound her with conjured ropes, then silenced her. Then he ended the Imperius.

Karen wanted to scream, but no sound left her mouth. She had killed her partner! Her friend! She panted, crying, and looked at the man who had forced her to do this. Her eyes widened when the wizard pulled his hood back. She knew that man! From Hogwarts. Had to be a Ravenclaw. What had been his name again?

"Hello there!" The wizard student smiled. "Shouldn't have joined the Aurors. Now you've killed your partner. But don't worry - he'll get even."

What was he talking about? Jacob was dead!

The man brandished a club to her. A club in the same color as her own robes. She stared at it, then at the man. The wizard nodded. "I transfigured his corpse into a club. You'll be beaten to death with your murdered partner."

The wizard's smile widened as he lifted the club over his head. "But don't worry - no one will ever find your bodies."

Then the club came down, and once more Karen wanted to scream, but couldn't. By the time she died, her throat was raw.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 9: Payback

'Some of my colleagues claim that the flight of a substantial part of House Slytherin's students from Hogwarts in September 1996 effectively removed hostages from Dumbledore's control, allowing his opponents, both political and otherwise, to put more pressure on him without risking their children's lives. This theory completely ignores the fact that those students had just returned to Hogwarts a few weeks before. Their families certainly wouldn't have done that, had they feared that they would be hostages.
In marked contrast to this, the Ministry was at the same time still trying to acquire hostages. With their plan to take the youngest muggleborn hostages foiled, they went for those muggleborns who had not yet left Wizarding Britain - mostly the parents of half-blood Ministry employees because those still had some measure of trust in the Ministry. The claim of the Ministry that this was for the muggleborns' own protection was not entirely wrong, since the Resistance started taking action against 'traitors' and 'collaborators' amongst the muggleborn population, but at the same time, it caused many half-bloods to reconsider their own position.
The Ministry's policies had not directly touched half-bloods so far, and their parents had escaped the worst as well. That was all too understandable, since half-bloods had generally been raised in the Magical World and not many of the Dark Lord's sympathisers in the Ministry would be as rash and reckless as to even contemplate persecuting Albus Dumbledore and a third of Britain's population while they were already struggling to oppress a fifth of the British wizards and witches. But now, faced with either risking attacks by the Resistance or being used by an increasingly desperate Ministry, the half-bloods had a difficult choice to make.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn

*****​

Hogwarts, September 30th, 1996

Albus Dumbledore leaned back in his seat and looked at Amelia and Cornelius. It made for an interesting change to see them in his office, in front of his desk, like the students they had been years ago. Which was part of the reason he had not gone to the Ministry but had let them come to him, despite their Auror escorts.

"What is going on at Hogwarts, Albus?" Cornelius asked. He was trying to sound outraged, but his insecurity spoiled the effect.

"I suppose you are referring to the recent events," the Headmaster said.

"Of course we're talking about them!" Amelia said in a clipped tone. The witch was angry. That wasn't unusual for her, but unfortunately her anger had lately been directed more, far more, at Albus than at the Dark Lord. "Almost thirty hospitalised children, Albus! On your watch!"

"Minor injuries, for the most part, and easily treated by Poppy. Calling them 'hospitalised' would be making light of those who suffer from dark curses or life-threatening injuries. Something I'd expect from a politician in the service of the Dark Lord." Amelia gasped and stood up, outraged. Undaunted, he continued: "Incidentally, the Dark Lord's machinations are at the heart of this whole matter, as I have managed to deduce."

"What?" Cornelius asked.

Amelia stared at the Headmaster. "Are you claiming that this was the work of the Dark Lord?"

"One of his followers, at least." Albus stood up. "You are aware of the collapse of the Quidditch stands of House Slytherin a week ago."

"Yes. Sabotage, as you yourself found out!" Cornelius said.

Albus nodded. "Indeed. But as I also found out, sabotage done using a child as an unwitting, manipulated and obliviated tool. A ploy to make the Slytherins - a House without any muggleborn students - appear as the victims of muggleborn aggression while not truly endangering them." He made a dismissive gesture. "A fall from a height much lower than a typical Quidditch accident, close to the school, and with the Slytherin Quidditch team ready to help - and coincidentally, look quite heroic at the same time." He smiled without humour.

"Blaming the victims for the crime, Albus?" Amelia asked, glaring at him.

"Hardly. For a few days later, a Slytherin student threw a vial of explosive fluid at a group of children. Only the fact that the prefects leading them managed to cast Shield Charms in time saved their lives." Albus knew he was exaggerating a bit here, of course. But that was needed in politics. And this confrontation was all about politics, even if Amelia would deny it if asked. In her own way, she was quite naive. "This happened at the same time as most of House Slytherin were creating a diversion for the staff in the Great Hall - led by Draco Malfoy, the son of the Dark Lord's former right hand."

The Minister winced at that reminder, but Amelia didn't flinch. "Conjecture. A nice-sounding tale, Albus. Do you have proof for this?"

He smiled. "The cauldron the rotting potion was brewed in was found near the Slytherin dorms. Draco Malfoy was involved in both incidents, in central roles. But most importantly: As soon as he heard that I was aware of the culprit of this latest attack, he fled." He leaned forward, folding his hands under his chin. "As you are fond of saying: Those who have nothing to hide do not need to flee from the authorities."

Amelia's glare intensified. Like many hypocrites, she didn't like having her own words turned against her, Albus knew.

"He claims he was afraid for his life. That he feared Gryffindor aggression," Cornelius said.

"Of course he'd claim that. Even though he had not been attacked at all - despite his history of hostility and aggression." Albus scoffed. "If he truly was afraid, why would he flee now, after an attack on the Gryffindor third years, and not after the collapse of the stands?"

"He says the Gryffindors have a way to track everyone in school," Cornelius said. "Allowing them to strike at the purebloods with impunity."

Albus almost rolled his eyes. Didn't the Minister realise just how much like a puppet of Malfoy he was acting? A puppet of Draco Malfoy, a child, not even an experienced politician!

"He says a lot of things. If they had that, why didn't they use it to do exactly that, strike at the Slytherins? And why didn't they use this to hide the sabotage on the stands? That was discovered because the obliviated student went missing for an hour, something that could have been easily avoided." Albus scoffed. "It is a fairly obvious attempt to shift the blame, and hide his own guilt."

His two visitors exchanged glances. An uneasy one in Cornelius's case, and a frustrated one in Amelia's. Albus almost smiled. His plan had worked. Draco was no Lucius; he was more like Narcissa - easily spooked, and not quite as cunning as he thought he was. He had run, just as Albus had known he would.

"That still leaves the fact that two dozen students were hurt at your school. And that you had to lock up the students to prevent more violence," Amelia said.

It was a parting shot, nothing more. He shrugged. "No one was seriously hurt, as I said before, and the culprit has left the school. Lessons will resume tomorrow, though the staff will keep a close watch on everyone."

And Albus and Filius would be analysing this map, so they could help Remus and Sirius duplicate it. With Draco and his cohorts gone from Hogwarts, the Dark Lord's followers wouldn't have to risk hurting their own children should they strike at the school. Additional security would be needed.

"The Board of Governors might not share your optimistic view," Cornelius said. "They might consider your handling of this affair inadequate as the Headmaster of Hogwarts."

Albus narrowed his eyes. "Should they do that I might consider their actions as proof of their allegiance with the Dark Lord." Cornelius paled, and Albus glared at Amelia. "I am growing tired of struggling to protect the innocents while remaining within the bounds of laws passed by inept and corrupt people. I would suggest you stop pushing me, before you go too far." Amelia was about to answer him, but he cut her off. "Neither of you know what a real war is like. Ask some of the few remaining British wizards and witches who fought at my side in Grindelwald's War and you might understand why they and all of Europe scoff when you talk of the 'Blood War' twenty years ago that you fear so much. Ask, and then ask yourself if you truly wish to have me as your enemy. For if it comes to it, I will not merely fight you, I will wage war against you as I did against Grindelwald."

He hadn't raised his voice, not much, but Cornelius was cringing, and even Amelia looked shaken.

"Now go and take your Aurors with you, and do not bother me again when you are acting on Voldemort's orders!"

Both left his office, not quite running, but looking remarkably like cowed first years. Albus leaned back in his seat, sighing. He had almost lost his temper, but if Cornelius and Amelia continued on their foolish path… The Headmaster shook his head. He doubted they would actually seek out a veteran of Grindelwald's War. Or if they did, believe his tales. They didn't want to believe just how bad things could become. Not that there were many such veterans left anyway. He imagined the two talking to Aberforth, and snorted. That would be a memorable conversation. To see Aberforth's scorn turned on someone else… He closed his eyes, old pain filling him.

Albus shook his head. He had no time to waste reminiscing on the past. There was far too much to do. Even with most of the bigots of House Slytherin gone, Hogwarts was hardly as safe as it should be. Constant surveillance would be needed. Or constant vigilance, as another old friend of his would say.

But at least for now, this crisis had been handled.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, September 30th, 1996

"Bones is on the warpath," Auror Parkinson said to Brenda Brocktuckle as soon as she entered the office.

"And good afternoon to you as well," Brenda answered, as sarcastically as she could - she had just gotten up, having had a late shift in Knockturn Alley. She was in no mood for Parkinson's usual drivel.

The other Auror snorted. "It's not a good afternoon at all. Two Aurors went missing last night, and Bones was all but thrown out of Hogwarts by Dumbledore. She's livid."

"What?" Brenda stared at her colleague. "Who's missing?"

"Parker and Blinings. Didn't return from a patrol in Diagon Alley."

Rookies, both, but not the type to desert. Or so Brenda would have thought. "Both vanished?"

Parkinson nodded. "Neither was home when we checked. It didn't look as if they had been preparing to leave either."

"Were they a couple?" It was frowned upon, but it wasn't exactly forbidden, nor that rare. That was about the only explanation Brenda could think of for two Aurors deserting together. The other explanations for their disappearance were far worse.

"Not to my knowledge." Parkinson shook his head.

Brenda hissed. "Did you find any traces?"

Parkinson shook his head. "Nothing. No blood, no remains, no witnesses have come forward so far. I was actually hoping you might have noticed something."

Brenda sighed. "Sorry. I didn't spot anything out of the ordinary." She was aware that while he didn't know exactly where she was posted, or what she was doing, he knew the gist of it. You couldn't keep such missions a secret, not for that long.

"I didn't expect you to, not really." Parkinson sighed. "My gold's on mudbloods having kidnapped them. They've been quiet too long."

"Damn." Brenda wasn't that certain, but it was the most probable explanation, given the lack of a Dark Mark floating above mutilated bodies. But that might have been a mercy, compared to being kidnapped by the mudbloods. "If they are attacking our patrols like that…"

Parkinson shrugged. "How's the hunt going?" He didn't outright state that he thought this might have been been avoided had Brenda managed to capture the mudbloods, but he might as well have.

She glared at him anyway. "They haven't shown themselves so far." Brenda was still hoping they would make a move on Beckett - Granger was supposedly good at holding grudges. But so was Brenda. The mudblood would pay for murdering her partner. All of them would pay. She ground her teeth in frustration, before taking a deep breath to calm down. Somewhat. "What happened at Hogwarts?"

"Fudge took Bones with him to visit Hogwarts, to 'investigate' the reasons for half of House Slytherin fleeing the school two days ago." Parkinson didn't hide his disdain for the Minister. "Turns out Dumbledore is convinced that they ran away because they were behind both the sabotage of their own Quidditch stands and the attack on the Gryffindor Herbology class."

"What?" Brenda stared at her colleague. Did the Slytherins really go that far? "And Bones accepted that?"

Parkinson chuckled. "That's the interesting bit." He looked over his shoulder and lowered his voice. "I've heard this straight from Smith, who is on Fudge's protection detail: Dumbledore threatened the Minister and Bones, then threw them out, and told them not to bother him anymore, or he'd deal with them like he dealt with Grindelwald."

"Merlin's arse!" If they had to fight the Dark Lord, the mudbloods, and Dumbledore… Brenda didn't want to contemplate that.

"I guess the Headmaster finally lost his temper. Or his mind." Parkinson smiled. "Apparently, Fudge ordered Bones to leave Hogwarts alone. You know how she reacted to that."

Brenda nodded. Bones hated it when the Minister meddled with her department.

"So, what do you think? Is Dumbledore protecting the mudbloods while they kill off the pureblood students?" Parkinson leaned towards her, smiling.

Brenda shrugged. "I've investigated neither him nor Hogwarts, so I can't say what happened. But the mudbloods who destroyed Malfoy Manor would have killed the kids, not sent them to the infirmary."

"So you think the Slytherins did it?"

"I told you, I haven't investigated the incidents. And it doesn't look like I ever will. So, I'm not going to speculate." Unlike him.

"You might get your chance. Fudge will change his opinion as soon as the next batch of kids get hurt and their parents call on him," the other Auror said, grinning.

"Do you want to see more children hurt?" She stared at him.

"Of course not. I'm just being realistic."

He had been a Slytherin as well, she remembered. Maybe Dumbledore had been correct. "Well, there's paperwork waiting for me. Good day, Parkinson."

"Catch a mudblood, Brocktuckle."

She scoffed at him, and headed to her desk. Her partner was sitting there. He had finished all his paperwork already, she knew that - the rookie still came in early.

"Hi Martin." She sat down and started to sort through the memos and scrolls.

"Hi Brenda."

She looked up. "You don't sound as happy as a rookie should, having such an important assignment. What happened?"

"I knew Karen Blinings. We were in the same year."

Damn. "I'm sorry."

"They haven't found a body yet."

She nodded, though both of them knew though that the odds of his friend being still alive were very small.

"Damn mudbloods," he said.

She nodded again. Damn mudbloods indeed.

*****​

Cumbria, Britain, September 30th, 1996

"Well, you're not the sorriest lot I ever had as recruits," Sergeant Boones said, staring at the Muggleborn resistance lined up in the middle of their camp. "But don't think for a moment that you're soldiers! You barely know enough to not kill yourself with your weapons!"

"Yes, sarge!" the group yelled.

Hermione thought the dour mercenary was smiling, for an instant. At least his lips twitched. Then she turned her attention back to Major Kolen, who was sitting at the camp table with her. The man had realised that Justin wasn't their leader about a week into their training.

"He's right. You've learned a lot, but you haven't any experience. You don't know how you will react when the shooting starts for real. Whatever you're planning, you need a few veterans to lead you," the major said.

Hermione smiled. "Don't worry. We know that." She pulled out a bag and put it on the table. "The second part of your payment."

He snorted while he started counting the money. "I don't know what you're planning. But you are up to something. I'd have pegged you for communists, but you lack their rhetoric, and you'd have hired Cubans or former Soviets to train you."

"Whatever we will be doing, you won't be affected." It was eating him, she knew, to not understand what they were planning. She could understand that - she hated mysteries herself. It couldn't be helped though.

He snorted. "You keep saying that, and you sound like you even believe it, but it makes no sense. The gear, the training, the group - you're not some stupid kids playing war. If you were, you'd have dropped out of training after the first week. The money you spent would have paid for professionals to solve whatever 'problem' you have, but you plan to deal with it yourself. Yet you're not stupid." Kolen was grinding his teeth at the end. "It doesn't add up. The only thing that makes a bit of sense is that you're forming a guerilla group, but I haven't yet met any political fanatic who didn't start trying to convert me after a week or two working together."

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to wipe your memory," Hermione said. It wasn't telling him anything. It was simply a joke, unless...

Kolen laughed, then suddenly stopped and stared at her, then at the tents of the group. Tents neither he nor the sergeant had ever entered, without ever wondering why. She could almost watch how he connected the dots. "I've seen things, in Africa."

Hermione nodded.

"I would have never expected that. Not here." He snorted. "I guess I don't want to know what you'll be fighting."

She smiled. So, the tales of the African countries not being quite as strict with upholding the Statute as the rest of the world were true.

"Well, good luck, Miss. If you need some more help, you know how to contact me." He stood up and offered his hand to her.

She shook it. "Thank you, Major."

*****​

"We should have obliviated them. We could have taken back most of the money too," Allan said, after the two mercs had left the area. "They might betray us."

"We'll move the camp, and they know nothing else," Hermione said. "Betraying people just because it's convenient is not a habit we should develop." She would have chosen sharper words, but she didn't want to make things even more awkward between her and Allan - it wasn't often she had to turn down a boy who was interested in her. Not that Allan looked as if he had taken the rejection that hard. He was acting as if nothing had happened.

"Besides, we can afford paying them," Justin added.

Allan sighed. "I just worry. Martin trusted that traitor, and he died for it. I want us to be safe. Well, as safe as possible, now that we can start fighting back," he added with a grin.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. We have to plan our next operation. And we need to meet Clifton and Chadwick." They had finally convinced the former Hit-Wizard to meet them - which hopefully meant that they believed them that they were not purebloods trying to trap them. They would still take precautions, of course. But so would the Resistance.

"Our next mission is clear: Killing Beckett," Allan said.

Most of the group nodded.

"We should also look into killing Malfoy," Allan continued. "He tried to massacre children at Hogwarts."

Once again, the muggleborns nodded. Hermione agreed as well, though she had some small misgivings. She shouldn't though, she told herself - For as long as she had known Malfoy, he had been a cruel bigot. She had no doubt that if he wasn't already a Death Eater, he'd soon be one. And he had, as Harry and Ron had told her, tried to kill the Gryffindor third years. He deserved death.

She nodded. "He'll be hard to find though." She'd ask Sirius if he could help - Harry's godfather was related to the bigot, after all, and had enough gold to pay bribes and informants easily. "But we'll deal with Beckett first."

Everyone around her smiled.

*****​

Hogwarts, October 1st, 1996

Hogwarts felt different with most of the Slytherins gone, Harry Potter thought while walking back to the Gryffindor Dorms. They were still confined to their dorms, but the lessons had resumed. The tension that had filled the school for the last month seemed to have lessened as well - but that might just be the absence of the worst bigot and his cronies.

"Don't get lost in your thoughts," Ron said. "There are still bigots around. Constant vigilance, remember?"

Harry snorted. "Just because I'm not jumping at shadows doesn't mean I'm oblivious."

Lavender giggled. "You're a bit too handsome to be a younger Moody, Ron."

Harry saw Ron frown before his friend answered: "You can't be too paranoid, not with the Dark Lord out there."

Harry nodded. "And with most of the Slytherins gone, Voldemort's Death Eaters don't have to be too careful about collateral damage, should they attack the school."

That had been a bit harsh, he realised when he heard the others gasp. Neville said: "D-Do you think they'll attack the school?"

"I don't think so. They fear the Headmaster," Harry said quickly. "But we should keep our guard up - there are still bigots around."

"Yes," Parvati said. "The Ravenclaws are still split, though their bigots are now more nervous, and don't act as badly anymore."

"I wish all of them were gone!" Ron exclaimed. "And the muggleborns were back!"

Harry nodded. "I'd trade all of them for Hermione."

Harry caught Neville glaring at him. He glared back. "She's worth a dozen pureblood families full of bigots."

Ron laughed. "A dozen, or more!"

Neville trembled, then pushed his chin up. "She's wanted for murdering an Auror! What would you say if she had killed a relative of yours?"

Harry scoffed. "If they had tried to arrest her? I'd say 'good riddance'! If you arrest muggleborns, you might as well wear your Death Eater mask openly."

"You can't take the law into your hands!" Neville said.

Ron snorted. "And why not? Because you should buy it instead, like Malfoy and the other rich bigots did? Dad's in the Ministry, he knows all about how the Wizengamot handles the laws."

Harry nodded. Sirius was very vocal about the corruption of the Ministry as well. "If you have enough gold, you can buy your acquittal. If you don't… it's Azkaban for you. Even if you're innocent." He looked Neville straight into the eyes. "You should ask your gran what she thought when your parents joined Dumbledore and took the law into their own hands."

Neville didn't say anything after that and went straight up to his room once they reached their dorms.

*****​

"You know, Lavender seems sweet on you," Harry remarked half an hour later, sending a pawn to threaten Ron's knight.

"I know," his friend said, moving his bishop.

Harry blinked. Had Ron missed his threatened knight? But if he had, why wasn't the figure protesting the lapse? He took it anyway. "You don't seem to be sweet on her though."

"She's pretty enough, and she's nice, and she's in Gryffindor, so she's brave, but…" Ron moved his rook. "Check."

Harry stared at the board. If he moved his king, Ron's queen would … and if he blocked the rook, then the bishop would… and his figures were glaring at him. Sighing, he tipped his protesting king over, conceding. "But?"

"She's no Hermione," Ron said. Harry glanced at him. His friend wasn't looking at him.

"No, she isn't. No one is," Harry said. He didn't know how to react to this. Hermione was their best friend. But if Ron felt something more for her… He imagined the two together, and felt jealous. And not just because he might be left out. He wanted to ask Ron if he fancied Hermione, but he wasn't certain if he wanted to know the answer.

Ron looked at him, but didn't say anything either. After about a minute, he gestured at the board. "Another game?"

"I've got map duty in a bit, but OK," Harry said.

Neither of them mentioned girls for the rest of the evening.

*****​

London, East End, October 1st, 1996

"Home sweet home!" Seamus declared when the Resistance sat down to eat at the table in their safehouse.

"You know, we didn't exactly rough it in the camp," Sally-Anne remarked, shaking her head slightly at his antics while she put down a big bowl of spaghetti.

"It's the principle of the thing," Seamus said, grinning. "It's what you say when you get home from camping."

Hermione almost said that they were in a safehouse, not home, but snorted instead. She didn't know where her home was, anymore. She had had to leave Hogwarts, her family had had to leave their house… this safehouse might as well be her new home, even though she knew it should be temporary.

"The armory's finished," Justin said as he arrived. He took a seat next to Sally-Anne, and Hermione noticed the witch smiling a bit too much. Had they become a couple? Had she missed that? First Allan approaching her, then this - what did that mean for their group, if people started to pair up?

Seamus was already heaping pasta on his plate while Dean brought the sauces, causing Mary to berate him for not waiting until everyone was seated.

"Yes, mum," Seamus said, flippantly, then winced. "Sorry."

No one liked to be reminded that they all had left their families. Some had visited them during their trips back to London while they were at boot camp. Hermione hadn't. There had been too much to do, she had told herself. But she would visit them, properly, soon. As soon as she had the time.

The rest of the meal was spent chatting about the latest news from muggle Britain. After observing Justin and Sally-Anne, Hermione was certain they were a couple. She felt a brief flash of jealousy. Justin had been the one she had been closest to too, among the Resistance. It wasn't that she was interested in him, not like that, but him being with Sally-Anne just made her feel even more lonely, without her best friends. She told herself she could have returned Allan's 'offer', if she had really wanted a boyfriend, but… they simply lacked chemistry. There was no spark, some of the heroines in those books she didn't want anyone to know she read would say. Which was weird - Allan was smart, mature, and dedicated. She would have thought she'd fall for such a man. And yet…

After the table was cleared and the dishes were done - magic made both easy - Allan spoke up. "Now that we're back, and have moved the camp in the woods to a different location," Allan started, "What do we do about Beckett?"

"We could blow his shop up!" Seamus said. "Everyone would know it was us. And they'd know we did Malfoy Manor too."

That would help their reputation with the former hit-wizards they hoped to recruit, Hermione knew. But the Ministry would also know they were the ones responsible, and would focus their efforts on them. Hermione would prefer to leave the Aurors guessing. It would make it easier to fight the Death Eaters without having to fight the Ministry too. On the other hand, the Ministry was still hunting them, even though all they had done was defending themselves and hiding, as far as the Aurors knew. And they had murdered Martin.

"Blowing up the shop risks collateral damage, but I do not think sniping is a better option. And a fly-by shooting has to deal with the wards too," she added, with a smirk at the image that conjured in her mind.

"Machine gunner on a broom?" Dean grinned. "That sounds wonderful!"

"Apart from the wards Hermione mentioned, it's also dangerous," Justin said. "If there are Aurors waiting for us, not even disillusionment will protect us that well."

"The wards are the real problem. A blast powerful enough to go through them will lay waste to half the street if we use the same bomb that we used before..." Hermione had done the math and arithmancy. "That's not an acceptable price to pay; we'd risk alienating those half-bloods and purebloods who support us or at least are neutral towards us."

"Most of the half-bloods are no better than purebloods, and many are worse," Allan said. "We all knew them at Hogwarts - you couldn't tell who was a half-blood and who was a pureblood, most of the time."

"Unless you saw who the Slytherins were sneering at more," Dean cut in, grinning.

"That's because most half-bloods are raised in the Magical World," Hermione said. "They can't exactly spend too much time in the muggle world until they understand how to keep magic a secret. It's natural that they would identify with Wizarding Britain."

"We can't let Beckett live just because we are worried about how people who did nothing when the Aurors started persecuting us and hunting us might react," Allan said.

"We won't," Hermione said. "But we need to take the wards into account. And I think I have a way to do that."

She leaned forward and started to explain her plan.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, October 4th, 1996

Hermione Granger made a mental note to have the Resistance get some tunnel combat training when she, Allan, Justin, Seamus and Dean entered the maze of old, abandoned sewers and tunnels that criss-crossed beneath London's magical alleys. The assault rifles they were carrying were not exactly ideal for this. Though if all went well, they'd not have to fight.

Stopping at the first intersection, she pulled out the map she had acquired from the muggle offices yesterday, and checked their position. "We're on the right track. We'll take the left for about a hundred yards. If the map is correct." Which, given the age of some of those tunnels, and the fact that the map didn't show the magically concealed area, was not given.

But after about a hundred yards, Allan held up a hand. "Ward ahead." He waved his wand. "Looks like an Anti-Muggle Ward. A weak one."

"We're at the boundary then," Hermione said, marking the position on her map, then stuck a small spool of yarn down on the ground with a sticking charm, then grabbed the thread sticking out from the spool.

"Here there be dragons, deep dragons!" Seamus said.

Justin shook his head, but was chuckling. Hermione refrained from glaring at the boys' D&D reference. "There is a possibility that we'll encounter magical pests here. Creatures that won't flee from us like the rats we saw."

"Not all of those rats fled from us. A few were so big, they were eyeing us as if we were their food," Dean said.

"What are the kind of creatures we could encounter here anyway?" Allan asked.

"Vampires come to mind," Hermione said. "Most creatures would not find enough prey here, and those who did wouldn't be dangerous to humans."

"Great. We should have taken a flamethrower," Seamus complained.

"We're not giving you a flamethrower," Dean said. "You can set them on fire with your wand."

"They might not be hostile," Hermione said. "Though most of them joined Voldemort in the 70s," she added.

"Fry first, ask questions later, got it," Dean said.

Hermione nodded. She didn't like it, but the odds of a vampire that wasn't a criminal hiding in such a place were low. And those vampires who were criminals were likely to prey on humans - muggles - at least from time to time. "Keep your eyes open and on your sectors," she said.

Allan nodded, and took point. Seamus was behind him, keeping an eye on the ceiling. Hermione, who was casting the Four-Point Spell she had invented for Harry in their fourth year, and Justin followed, with Dean bringing up the rear. Fortunately, they were not in a sewer that was actually in use, so they didn't have to keep an eye on murky water.

They saw more rats - bigger ones, the size of cats - flee when the flashlights mounted on their weapons and headbands caught them, but didn't encounter any magical creature until they passed the ward again. Hermione checked the map, marked it, and checked how much yarn she had dragged with her. She smiled at the group. "It fits my estimate, and corresponds to our map of the Alleys."

It took another half an hour and two more tunnels to map out the entire area enough to pinpoint the location of Beckett's shop from the aerial picture they had taken two days ago. If not for Cleaning Charms they'd all have been covered with dust and dirt and rather wet. And complaining more than they already were. If Hermione didn't know better, she'd think some of them would prefer to bomb all of Knockturn Alley just to avoid the effort of finding the right spot. At least Seamus stopped complaining as soon as they took out the Semtex.

While the former Gryffindor prepared the bomb, Hermione transfigured the stone and earth above them into air, creating a vertical shaft until she hit the shop's warded basement. A quick Levitation spell later the Semtex with the timer running was in place and a few conjuration spells filled the shaft with stone.

"Let's move it," Hermione said. "We don't want to be here when the bomb goes off."

"I thought you had calculated the blast's power," Seamus said.

"For the effect on the building and ward," she answered. "I couldn't really calculate how the underground will take it."

With that, she apparated away to their rallying spot.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, October 4th, 1996

'Don't buy from Beckett's Potions! He's a traitor to muggleborns! And he'll pay for his crimes!'

Brenda Brocktuckle shook her head, skimming over the latest propaganda leaflet. The mudbloods had almost filled the alley with them.

"Do you think that's a warning, or a threat?" Martin Runcorn asked.

"I don't know if this means they will try something. But we know now that the mudbloods haven't forgotten nor forgiven Beckett." Brenda dropped the parchment and looked through the window in their flat.

"Or they simply want us to think so, and want Beckett to flee so he can be killed without us protecting him." Martin joined her at the window.

"That's a bit too clever for the mudbloods - they're all too young to have enough experience to think like that. They'd also need inside information and surveillance to track Beckett should we move him," Brenda said. "No, I think this is a cheap attempt to hurt Beckett's business because they can't get to him. Unless they are actually as foolish as trying to attack Beckett with us ready for them."

"Unless they drop a bomb from the air that takes out the Alley." Martin said what Brenda and anyone with any brains in the corps feared.

"I doubt that." If the mudbloods went that far, no one would be safe in public.

"Well…"

Martin was cut off by a massive explosion that shook the building they were in.

"Merlin's arse!" Brenda cursed, casting a Shield Charm. Where Beckett's Potions had stood a giant dust cloud had been thrown up, shrouding half the Alley. She quickly cast a Bubble-Head Charm as well and ran towards the stairs.

The street was covered with debris, some on fire. Next to the door she saw the remains of a witch, smashed to pulp by parts of the front of the shop. She gasped, then saw it wasn't a witch, but a hag when the cowl hiding the ugly face of the creature fell off. Then she heard the screaming. A wizard in a torn robe was staring at the bleeding stump of a leg, cut off above the knee. Probably by glass, she thought. A spell later, he wasn't bleeding anymore.

Nearby, more Aurors were coming out from the other flat. Martin, next to her, was guiding two coughing, stumbling elderly witches out of the slowly settling dust cloud. Brenda spotted another wizard, on the ground, coughing. She cast a Bubble-Head Charm on him. He kept coughing though. Then she saw blood dripping from his lips. A quick spell didn't show any injury though. But why...

"Damn!" She grabbed one of the bezoars she kept on her, and stuffed it down the man's throat. "Martin!" she yelled, "The dust cloud is poisonous as well!" And it had spread over half of the alley, and part of Diagon Alley!

Martin cursed, and pulled out his bezoars to help the two old witches with him. Brenda floated the still coughing, but also still breathing wizard towards him as well, then checked on the one missing a leg. He was coughing, but maybe just from the dust. She stuffed another bezoar into his mouth.

The Auror didn't see many other survivors. Whoever had been closer to the shop had been killed. And Beckett… he had been inside his shop. She doubted they'd find any of his body parts.

Wiping dust from her face with a quick spell, she stared at the destruction. There was but a crater left where the building had been standing. Most of the alley around it had been destroyed as well, and the rest was covered with debris, some of it on fire, or contaminated with ingredients. She saw more people moving through the still settling cloud, and from the looks of it, none of them were smart or skilled enough to cast a Bubble-Head Charm. St. Mungo's would be packed with people needing treatment. At least the wards on the neighbouring buildings had held, if barely.

She ground her teeth and vowed that she would bring the monsters responsible for this to justice.

*****​

Kent, Greengrass Manor, October 5th, 1996

Daphne Greengrass winced when she saw the headline of the Daily Prophet: 'Knockturn Alley blown up and poisoned!' She quickly skimmed the article. Apparently, the mudbloods had destroyed half of Knockturn Alley with explosions and poisoned dust, just to kill one mudblood who had betrayed them.

"Monsters. They are monsters." Astoria was shaking her head. "Mad beasts we need to take down before they kill us all."

Daphne nodded. All that destruction, all those deaths, just to kill one traitor? They had to do something. "But you're too young for this."

"What? I blew up the Gryffindors!" Astoria stood up.

"That was an exception." Daphne stared at her sister, then slapped her hand down on the newspaper, scaring some of the wizards in the pictures away. "The mudbloods who did this are experienced, not some third year students."

"Potter won the tournament and faced the Dark Lord as a fourth year!"

"You're not Potter!" Daphne snapped. When she saw the hurt look on her sister's face, she took a deep breath to calm down. "Astoria… I don't want you to get hurt. The Gryffindors already want to attack you. What do you think would happen if you were caught outside our Wards by this mudblood 'resistance'?" She stood up as well, and moved around the table, to hug her sister, but Astoria turned on her heel and ran away.

The witch sighed. That could have gone better. She'd have to tell their uncle to keep an eye on Astoria. And she'd have to call Tracey. And Draco.

*****​

London, East End, October 5th, 1996

Hermione Granger had miscalculated the explosion's effect. That much was obvious after reading the Daily Prophet and seeing the pictures Mary had taken. She hadn't considered the effect of a shop full of potions ingredients getting spread over half of Knockturn Alley. And probably overestimated the wards on the shop.

"Wow! Better than I hoped!" Seamus said, spreading his own copy out on the breakfast table. "Look at the crater!"

"People think we deliberately poisoned half the alley," Hermione pointed out. "That's not exactly good for our reputation." She shook her head. "We'll need to counter that with another leaflet. Knockturn Alley is filled with people and creatures unhappy with the current Ministry. Many of them would be natural allies for us." And many would side with Voldemort, but that was better than everyone siding with Voldemort.

"Blame the Ministry for laying a trap?" Justin asked.

Hermione nodded. "I somehow doubt that number of poisoned people too. There weren't that many ingredients in the shop, and a lot of it would have burned. Unless the Aurors prepared something, I think the article is lying."

"The Daily Prophet, spewing Ministry lies - how shocking!" Allan said, with exaggerated expressions.

Hermione chuckled, then grew serious. "Too bad there was collateral damage." Four passers-by or customers of Beckett dead.

"We warned them." Allan shrugged. "And we didn't use another bomb to kill the Aurors investigating the bombing."

Hermione looked at him, and just knew he'd have liked that. At least Seamus and Dean seemed satisfied with having blown up Beckett. She pursed her lips. "We need to focus on the Death Eaters and their supporters. And for that, we need to find the their manors and hideouts. And for that, we need information only they can give us."

"We need them to find them? That's a dilemma," Allan said.

"Not all of them will be hiding in their hidden houses. And even those will want some contact with others. Or services. We'll have to gather information carefully. Probably kidnap a few people to interrogate. If we obliviate them and release them quickly enough, they won't even know they spilled their secrets," Hermione explained. They would need a way to infiltrate the Ministry as well - if they could get access to the Floo Network…

"That's a drawback of the Slytherins leaving Hogwarts. We could have tracked them to their homes," Justin said.

Hermione nodded. "If the Headmaster had let us." She didn't say that Dumbledore might have some of the information the Resistance needed to strike at the Death Eaters. She'd have Harry and Ron ask him.

"We could blow up the Ministry next!" Seamus said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, we can't. It's in the middle of muggle London. Any explosion powerful enough to wreck the Ministry with its old wards would lay waste to a big part of London as well. And," she added with a glare, "if we did that, we'd have to deal with getting hunted by the muggle authorities as terrorists."

"It's not that bad. I've got relatives who are wanted," Seamus claimed.

Hermione scoffed. "And how well do you think we could fight, hunted in both worlds?"

No one answered her, though Seamus looked mulish.

"What about Clifton and Chadwick?" Sally-Anne said.

"We've got a meeting tomorrow, it's still on schedule," Hermione said. They'd need to be very careful, of course, but they could finally recruit experienced hit-wizards. If all went well.

*****​

Hogwarts, October 5th, 1996

"How fares the Ministry?" Albus Dumbledore asked, sitting behind his desk in his office.

"They're running around like a headless chicken. Bones is convinced you're close to declaring war on the Ministry. And that second bomb spooked most of the employees." Nymphadora scowled. "They now fear getting poisoned as well. I've heard that the Aurors who had helped the first victims couldn't replace all the bezoars they had used, because everyone in the Ministry grabbed as many of them from storage as they could."

Albus chuckled. "All for naught. This wasn't an organised poisoning."

"It wasn't? But the reports from St. Mungo's…"

"They reported the symptoms of poison, but the Healers did not investigate the circumstances. Nor did they, after the first few cases, check everyone thoroughly." He had studied the reports, just to check if Miss Granger had actually used poison on that scale. That was a line he sincerely hoped no one would cross.

"But…" Nymphadora looked thoughtful - or confused. Her hair colour flickered between shocking pink and pitch black.

"The 'poison' was likely ingredients of the shop that were not completely destroyed. Or simply dust thrown up that caused coughing." He smiled. "I'm rather certain that should the muggleborns start to use poison, they'd not pick one that's easily countered."

"That's not exactly reassuring," the young metamorphmagus mumbled. Then she looked at him again. "The Ministry's making another effort to get muggleborns to stay inside the building 'for their own protection'. They are asking the parents of half-bloods working for the Ministry now."

"Such as your father."

Nymphadora nodded. "But moving to the Ministry might make the Resistance mark dad as a traitor. And if they're killing traitors without a care for others…"

"I honestly doubt Ted Tonks will seek the dubious safety of the Ministry." Albus couldn't imagine the man brave enough to risk retaliation from the Black family for 'seducing' their daughter choosing to serve as a hostage. Unless someone threatened his daughter - but that would enrage Andromeda. He was a bit worried about the means used to kill this Beckett, but there had been an effort to spare innocents. Still, it was more ruthless than he had expected.

"My parents won't, no. They're not happy with the Ministry and mum doesn't trust them. And they're not the only ones. Many of the half-bloods in the corps have parents with similar views." Nymphadora sighed. "But going into hiding is a big step. The Ministry might consider that treason. More than enough Aurors think if a muggleborn flees from them, it's proof that they are guilty."

"An attitude Amelia shares, sadly." The Head of the DMLE would have made a great ally against Voldemort, if things had gone differently. As it was, she was too fixated on hunting down muggleborns. That would make working together with them nigh-impossible.

"So, is it true? Will you fight the Ministry?" the young Auror asked. Once again her hair color flashed between different shades.

"If they continue with their present course, I fear this will happen. I cannot let them target children, even if I could stomach their actions against muggleborns." Albus spread his hands. "Despite my efforts, they do not want to accept that Voldemort is their true enemy, and that their own folly has brought the muggleborn resistance down upon them. And the worse this war gets, the less people will care about individuals. Only which side you have taken will matter."

Judging by her expression, Nymphadora understood what Albus was saying. He didn't feel guilty about his implications either - it would be useful if Nymphadora decided to stay in the Auror Corps and continue spying, but she had to know the risks.

*****​

Dorset, Britain, October 5th, 1996

Draco's living arrangements had certainly changed, Daphne Greengrass thought upon stepping out of the Floo connection. If that was his current home, and not a temporary meeting spot that Tracey and she had just entered.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Draco was smiling at them. "Despite the circumstances, I'm glad you chose to visit."

"There's not much choice. Someone has to do something." They had had to flee Hogwarts, they couldn't let the mudbloods drive them from Diagon Alley as well.

"I've been saying that for a long time, but few, too few have listened."

He led them in an expanded living room. Crabbe and Goyle were there already, as was Nott and of course Pansy. Most of the Quidditch team, but not the former captain were present as well. No surprise there - Draco didn't tolerate any other leader. With one obvious exception.

Draco stood in the center of the room, smiling widely before growing serious. He was happy, she realised. Daphne almost turned around and left again. Then she told herself that there was no choice. If she wanted to do something against the monsters that had taken her parents, Draco was the best choice. And, she added, he probably was just happy that he could do the same - avenge his parents.

"You've all heard the news from Knockturn Alley. Another explosion, like the one that took our parents and relatives from us. Another blow from the mudbloods. So much destruction wrought, even on their own, to kill a single mudblood who had had the sense to remain loyal to the Ministry. If they will do this, what else will they be doing next, left unchecked?" Draco scoffed. "The Ministry's useless, worse than useless even, trying to hunt down those who had seen and fought the mudblood threat twenty years ago already while ignoring the real danger to Wizarding Britain! The blood traitors do their utmost to protect the murderers waiting in the shadows to strike at us! My family's Manor was just the start, after Knockturn Alley, Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade are at risk as well - if we let the mudbloods and blood traitors act as they please. Will we do that?"

"No!" shouted Pansy at once, and the rest of the room joined her, including Daphne. She wanted to strike back at those mudbloods, the ones responsible for the murder of her parents.

"We have to be smart and cunning, though. Blindly lashing out would make us no better than Gryffindors. Fortunately, we're not alone. You know who else is fighting for Britain."

This time, not one answered verbally, and even the nods were a bit shaky. The Dark Lord. Daphne had heard stories about the Blood War from her parents that had given her nightmares as a child. But then, the Dark Lord hadn't killed her family. Mudbloods had, and blood traitors were helping them.

Draco smiled widely. "We might not be able to strike at the mudbloods themselves until they have been found, but allies have provided me with a list of blood traitors."

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 10: Meetings

'With most of House Slytherin fled from Hogwarts, one might have expected the Ministry to put more pressure on Albus Dumbledore in response, since many of those students were relatives to influential Wizengamot members - some, like Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass, had even inherited seats but were not yet of age to exercise their rights. And yet, if such attempts were made in the wake of the flight of the Slytherins - records differ - they came to naught. They might even be responsible for the increasingly stiff resistance Dumbledore showed towards the policies of the Wizengamot and the Ministry.
However, the Second Blood War entering a very active phase at around the same time makes it hard to determine just what influence the events at Hogwarts had on this - other than the obvious consequences, of course.
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

London, Southwark, October 6th, 1996

A meeting on the Tower Bridge sounded like something straight out of a spy novel, Hermione Granger thought. On the other hand, it offered more ways to spot and escape an ambush than a building, or a crowded area. And given its prominence in muggle London, the chance of a pureblood attack was very low, especially if you considered the threat to the Statute of Secrecy any magical battle in such a public spot would be. So, she could understand Clifton's choice.

She still felt very exposed, waiting on the pavement, acting as if she was watching the river below and feeding the seagulls and pigeons while she was keeping an eye out for threats and the Hit-Wizard she was meeting. Justin was on top of the tower, disillusioned and with a broom and rifle. Allan was watching from the Southwark approach, Seamus was on the other side of the river, and Dean was a bit away, peddling religious literature as a cover. And if the worst happened, she could pull out a broom of her own and fly away. Or splash into the river and swim away, courtesy of a Bubble-Head and Cushioning Charm.

But there shouldn't be a problem. She had spent weeks on this meeting, asking and answering questions until finally, both her and Clifton had agreed on meeting face to face. She was even in disguise, though given that she was wearing a jacket with the logo of the "Arsenal Gunners" on the back as a recognition sign, her disguise wouldn't be of much use. And the wig itched.

"Disillusioned person approaching on the other side of the bridge," Dean told her and the rest through their radios.

"Covering the area. If you mark him, I'll shoot him," Justin answered. He could easily shoot the person from his vantage point, as soon as Dean either dispelled the Disillusionment or simply marked the person with a hex - a flock of birds attacking them would provide a decent enough target.

Just one? That wasn't enough for an ambush, she thought. Though you never knew with the Ministry - they could surprise you with their stupidity. Then she saw an older woman slowly walk towards her, carrying a bag with a flower pot in it - the agreed recognition sign. When the woman stopped next to her, Hermione mumbled "Louise Clifton?"

"Yes." The woman pulled out a loaf of bread and started to feed the birds as well.

"Is that Chadwick disillusioned on the other side of the road? Or does my backup have to shoot him?" Hermione asked, throwing a bigger piece of bread into the air, which was attacked by two seagulls at the same time in a loud and violent struggle.

"That's him, yes," came the answer. "Shoot him?"

"Sniper's covering us. We spotted Chadwick on the approach already. As the Ministry's most wanted muggleborns, we have to be cautious." Hermione turned around and leaned on the railing. "And that's why you wanted to meet here; to see how we'd approach the situation. Right?" There was not much of a point otherwise for this - if this was a Ministry trap, they'd wait until they had a location for a safehouse to spring it.

Up close she could see that the other witch's disguise wasn't the best. Thick makeup, and a rather obvious wig. Probably padded clothes as well, unless the fitness standards for Hit-Wizards were worse than she thought.

"Well, we wanted to see how you'd approach such a situation. Anyone can claim anything on the internet, after all." The slightly sheepish tone was replaced with a more confident one. "And you'd not lead us to your headquarters straight away either, would you?"

"We've safeguards against betrayal," Hermione said. "And no, they aren't Legilimency, nor an Unbreakable Vow."

That surprised the other witch. "Who's backing you? That's not the kind of resources teenagers have."

"We're no one's tools," Hermione said. "No one tells us what to do." She stared at Clifton. "I've been fighting Voldemort and his ilk since I started at Hogwarts, together with Harry Potter. I've organised this group. We moved our families to safety before the Ministry could catch us. Malfoy Manor? We did that because we had a chance at the Dark Lord himself, but we were still preparing for this war back then. Now we've finished the first stage of our preparations, and we're ready to start waging war."

She saw that the other witch was surprised, and taken aback. As planned - Hermione wouldn't let anyone waltz in and take over. Especially not some adults who had done far, far less than she had done to battle the Dark Lord.

She smiled widely. "Now, let's collect your friend, and move to a slightly less public space, so we can check if you're trustworthy."

*****​

London, Bexley, October 6th, 1996

The two former Hit-Wizards were taken to another safehouse - the upper two floors of a defunct radio and television business the Resistance had appropriated. Conjured furniture provided some comforts, but Hermione knew that no one would be fooled into thinking the muggleborns were staying there.

Neither Clifton nor Chadwick said anything about it, though they were looking around, and assessing the other Resistance members present, or so it looked like to Hermione. Mary and Tania met their gazes with some of their own. The two witches, as well as Allan and Justin, were holding assault rifles. Just in case.

"Here's the contract," Hermione said, putting the parchment down on the table. "It'll ensure you can't betray us." Most of the questions they had had been answered through e-mail already. But the Resistance hadn't revealed their security measure.

"What exactly does it do?" Clifton asked, eyeing the document with some wariness.

"Wipes your mind of all our information," Hermione said. "Anything you will have learned since joining us."

"Don't think that it will save you if the Ministry catches you - Martin lost his memory, and they executed him anyway," Allan added.

"It's to protect the rest of us," Hermione said, hiding her annoyance at the interruption - she would have covered that in the next sentence.

"I'd have expected something more drastic," Chadwick said, "after what you did to Beckett."

"Beckett sold one of us out. He paid for it," Hermione said. "But we can be put under the Imperius Curse, or dosed with Veritaserum. We don't kill victims."

The wizard exchanged a glance with Clifton and nodded. "Fair enough." He reached out for the pen, but his friend was faster and signed first.

"Welcome to the Resistance," Hermione said, smiling and shaking hands.

"Glad to be here." Clifton smiled. "Call me Louise then."

"And I'm Jeremy," Chadwick added. "So… what's with the guns? I haven't heard of any wizards getting shot."

"We haven't used them yet. There was no need to," Hermione explained. "We prefer not to give the Death Eaters advance warning of what we can do. But we've access to a wide range of firearms."

"And you'll get to be trained in their use as well!" Sally-Anne said, grinning. "Boot camp!"

"Boot camp?" Jeremy asked.

Hermione grinned. "Not a real boot camp, but if you want to use a firearm, you'll have to get the necessary training." She grew serious. "We don't fool around with weapons."

"We don't fool around, period," Allan said.

Hermione wasn't certain if that was a dig at her refusing his advances. Sally-Anne winced though, and so the witch added: "Not in combat or 'on the job'." They weren't some order of chaste knights. She really wished she could do all the talking. At least Dean and Seamus were providing security outside, instead of quipping inside. "You know our enemy is Voldemort. He and his Death Eaters are behind this whole war. We blew up Malfoy Manor, and while we managed to kill a lot of the Dark Lord's supporters, the rest became very cautious. So, our priority is finding the Death Eaters. They are hiding, but their supporters are still interacting with wizarding society. Even though the more intelligent of them stick to the Floo Network for travel, and live in secret manors as well, they are not untouchable. We will need to reach them when they are visiting public or semi-public areas." She grinned. "And I think your experience as Hit-Wizards should be useful there."

Louise grinned back. "Oh, yes. We've guarded those spots often enough."

Jeremy nodded. "I think the Ministry might soon regret that they kept us on security detail."

Hermione smiled. She had a feeling that these two would fit in nicely with the group.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, October 6th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle entered the Auror offices and didn't flinch when for a moment, everyone seemed to stare at her. She'd gone through this before, when that mudblood bitch had stunned her and murdered her partner. Everyone had blamed her. And now everyone was blaming her for getting Beckett killed on her watch. Literally.

She held her head high and met their eyes. It hadn't been her fault back then, and it wasn't her fault this time either. Nor her partner's, or the fault of the other Aurors with her. The only one at fault was the mudblood bitch. She pulled out a leaflet and slapped it on the desk of Martin Runcorn. "Check this."

Her partner picked the sheet of parchment up and read it. "The Muggleborn Resistance claims responsibility for the attack on Beckett, in retaliation for his 'betrayal of Martin Cokes to the blood-robed thugs in service of the Ministry's oppressive and inhuman policies'. Well, that's a new moniker for us…" He chuckled. Then frowned when he read the next part. "They're blaming 'a Ministry plan to poison muggleborns' for the disaster?"

Brenda nodded. "Hogwash, all of it, but the Alley trash is eating it up. I caught glares galore when I visited earlier." The scum shouldn't be that daring.

Martin muttered a curse. Then he smiled cynically. "At least the case's solved thanks to the leaflet. It's as good as a confession."

Brenda scoffed. "No case is solved until the guilty are caught or dead."

"That might be a problem," her partner agreed. "The mudbloods are too good at hiding. Can we ambush them when they drop the leaflets?"

Brenda shrugged. "If they're smart they'll portkey them in, or banish them at the street from high above while disillusioned."

"We could block portkeys, and then cover the air above the alley with ambushers," Martin said.

She snorted. Her partner was no longer a rookie, but he hadn't yet fully understood just how the Ministry worked. "No chance of that. After our stake-out blew up in our face, we won't get the approval for another attempt. Even if it might be a good plan."

"Might?"

"If we can spot them, they can spot us," Brenda quoted her old instructor. "According to our latest estimates, there are about a dozen members of that mudblood group. If they all come at us at once…"

"They're mudbloods, they won't be that good on brooms. And they don't have our training; most are students." Martin wasn't easily deterred. Another good quality for an Auror - sometimes you had to be too stubborn for your own good to solve a case.

"Soaking up curses is what Hit-Wizards are for. We're Aurors." Brenda shook her head.

"We could get Hit-Wizards for this. They are trained for that."

This time Brenda laughed out loud. "Hit-Wizards on an unsanctioned Auror mission? They barely ever cooperate when Bones makes them work with us at wand-point!" And the Ministry kept most of them around the Ministry building anyway.

"They've lost a number of their own. They are bound to be looking for some payback."

"That's true, but most of them want to avenge Azkaban," Brenda said.

"Most, not all," Martin said, in a lower voice.

Brenda knew what he was hinting at. Or who, to be precise. "Taking that kind of help means you might find yourself blackmailed into joining later." And she didn't want to end up a traitor, or an expendable wand.

Her partner frowned, but slowly nodded. "But what can we do then? We have to do something about the mudbloods!"

She had thought about that, a lot - even before Beckett had been killed. "I know. What we need is a spy."

*****​

London, East End, October 7th, 1996

Louise and Jeremy had been impressed, or at least had acted impressed, by the real safehouse of the Resistance - mostly the armoury. But to Hermione Granger's delight they not only understood the need to keep the Resistance hidden and safe in the muggle world, but also that Voldemort was the real enemy. Even though, the girl admitted to herself, the ex-Hit-Wizards might also prefer not to fight all of their former colleagues at the Ministry.

She glanced at Allan, who was frowning a bit more than usual, before she continued their planning session. "Now, I'll be looking into Death Eater info later today. The list of pureblood bigots you have compiled will be a great help," she added with a smile to Louise. "But now that we have finished boot camp and have dealt with the traitor, we need to step up our propaganda." She stood at the head of the table. "The key to winning this war is the half-bloods. So far, the Death Eaters and their sympathisers haven't as much as sneered at them in public."

"That's because most of the half-bloods act more pureblood than the purebloods," Allan said, scoffing.

"Some might. Others might play along, hoping to get overlooked while the bigots go after us. But every half-blood has muggleborn family. They may be raised in the magical world, and they don't know the muggle world as well as they could," - Hermione had heard enough stories about Nymphadora Tonks's forays into muggle London's clubbing scene from Sirius to know that - "but the main reason the bigots have not gone after them - yet - is that there are so many of them, and that Dumbledore is among them." She met Allan's eyes. "If we can make them see that the Ministry's policies will sooner or later cause harm to their families, then we'll gain not just allies for us, but will force the Ministry to either change, or lose the support of a third of the population."

"They didn't exactly care about muggleborns when the Nazi laws were passed last year," Dean said.

"They didn't. But a lot of people wanted to avoid war back then. Now that the Dark Lord's openly fighting the Ministry, things will have changed."

Allan snorted. "Such cowards won't do us much good."

"Even cowards can fight when backed into a corner," Hermione said.

"But as you said: The Death Eaters are not attacking them. They won't, as long as we're there to fight," Justin said.

"There were a number of half-bloods among the Hit-Wizards killed at Azkaban," Louise said.

"But they were killed because they were guards there, not for their blood status," Allan said.

Hermione cleared her throat. "We just need to make half-bloods think - realise - that their families are in danger as well, and that they themselves will be next if the muggleborns are dealt with. Playing up the half-blood victims of the Death Eaters will help there."

"It would be more helpful if some Death Eaters would attack half-bloods. Torch a shop or two," Allan said.

Hermione knew what he meant, and scowled. "Trying to fake attacks by the Death Eaters is too risky. One mistake, and they'll be able to blame their real attacks on us. We can't afford to lose our credibility."

Allan shrugged. "If we're careful enough, no one will be able to prove we did it."

"We're not attacking innocents while acting as Death Eaters," Hermione said through clenched teeth. "We're better than that."

"Having the moral high ground won't help us if we lose this war," Seamus shot back.

"Having the moral high ground is the best way to win this war," Hermione replied. "We need the support of the population; that's how civil wars are won." She stared at Allan, then went on: "And for that, we need to step up our propaganda. Leaflets are an easy and effective way to spread our message, but we'll need to reach more people - especially those who left the magical world."

"That's hard. They'll be hiding."

"I know. But many of them will be keeping some contact with Wizarding Britain. Newspapers, or the Wizarding Wireless." Hermione leaned forward. "We need to be able to interfere with those two channels, and set up our own." She smiled. "I've a few thoughts for that."

*****​

Hogwarts, October 7th, 1996

The office of the Headmaster hadn't changed in the years since his first visit, as far as Harry Potter could tell. Of course he didn't have a photographic memory, but the weird and exotic knickknacks on the shelves looked the same. And the office smelled the same as well. The Headmaster though looked different, somewhat. More tired, or more serious.

Or maybe that was Harry projecting. Keeping an eye on the map at all times meant taking shifts, and Harry and Ron had taken more than their fair share of late night vigils. Mostly because they tended to share their shifts so they could talk and keep each other awake.

"I suppose you are wondering why I have called you to my office," the Headmaster started.

"Yes, sir," Ron said. He looked as anxious as Harry felt, even though both knew that if there had been an emergency with either their family or friends, then Dumbledore would have called them at once, and not asked them to visit him after dinner. At least they were reasonably certain he'd do that. Hence the slight anxiety.

The old wizard sighed, then smiled. "You've shown remarkable ingenuity, courage and moral fibre during your time at Hogwarts. Always ready to do what's right, not what's easy - or legal, even. True Gryffindors, if I do say so as a member of that house myself."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Harry said. "We've just done what we thought was needed."

Dumbledore winced at that. "I know, and I am sorry that such a duty fell to you so often. I have failed you in the past. You and your friends."

Harry knew which friends the Headmaster was talking about. And which friend in particular. He would have said something about nobody being perfect, but it felt too cliched. Ron snorted, but didn't say anything.

"You both have learned Occlumency," Dumbledore continued.

Harry scowled. "Thanks to Hermione. Snape's lessons were useless." He wondered if the Headmaster had spied on him or tested his Occlumency himself. On the other hand, Sirius might have told the man.

"That was not his fault. I told him to choose the quickest method to teach you, knowing it was both painful and had a smaller chance of succeeding than other methods." Dumbledore sighed. "It was a gamble, which did not pay off."

"And caused a lot of pain to Harry," Ron said.

"I am sorry for that, but I deemed it more important to protect his mind from Voldemort. Another plan that did not succeed. The last year has not been a good year. If I hadn't checked, I would think I had been cursed." The old wizard chuckled without humour. "On the other hand, others have had more success with their endeavours. Your friend has formed a resistance group and dealt the Dark Lord a heavy blow. You two have helped her, and protected your house, and I dare say, the school as well." He leaned back and glanced at Fawkes, who was preening himself. "You know about the Order of the Phoenix."

"Yes," Ron said.

Harry nodded. He hadn't expected that to come up.

"I suppose you also are aware of what we do."

"Somewhat," Harry replied. Sirius had been at times more vocal about what the Order wasn't doing.

"Most of what the Order members do is kept secret. Even from most of the other members." Dumbledore frowned. "A lesson learned in the last war, at great cost."

"Pettigrew," Harry growled. The traitor who was responsible for the murder of his parents.

"Secrets you do not know you cannot betray - willingly, or under duress." Dumbledore looked at Harry. "Even Occlumency only goes so far."

"I'd rather die than betray my friends!" Ron spat.

"I do not doubt you. But sometimes, you are not given that choice, and sometimes, it is not your own life that is on the line. But I digress." The Headmaster folded his hands over his stomach. "I would like to recruit you for the Order of the Phoenix."

Harry blinked. He hadn't expected that. He glanced at Ron, who seemed just as surprised.

"Blimey!" Ron's smile didn't last long though, turning into a scowl. "Mum's never going to allow that. She threw a fit when Charlie and Bill joined."

"Molly lost her brothers in the last war. She is understandably unwilling to see her children risk their lives, even though she did not hesitate to do so herself when I called the Order up again," the Headmaster said. "In any case, I do not think she should be told about this, nor should anyone else but Sirius, and maybe a few others, should their help become necessary."

Harry stared at the old wizard. Ron was gaping.

Dumbledore nodded. "Secrecy is safety."

"Yes. Mum would kill us all if she knew," Ron said, wincing. "But what do you need us for, sir? We're already watching Hogwarts through the map, so you'd not need us in the Order for that."

Harry nodded. And once Sirius and Remus had the map copied, Dumbledore wouldn't need them for that either. Not that he truly needed them, Harry knew - if the Headmaster asked, they'd give him the map.

"You are correct. And while you have proven your resourcefulness and dedication, and would make very valued additions to our ranks just for that, there is another reason you are needed." He looked at Harry. "You know that you and Voldemort have a link. What you do not know is that your fates are tied together far tighter than you could imagine. There is a prophecy about you and the Dark Lord."

Ron cursed while Harry clenched his teeth. He just knew he would hate what the Headmaster was about to tell him.

*****​

Hogwarts, October 7th, 1996

"... born as the seventh month ends."

Albus Dumbledore looked at the two boys sitting in front of his desk. Harry was rigid, clenching his jaw together, and staring at the wall behind the Headmaster. Mister Weasley was glancing at his friend, biting his lower lip, and fidgeting.

"Blimey…" he muttered, shaking his head.

Harry took a deep breath. "So… that's why my parents died? Why he is so fixated on me? Why he needed my blood to revive himself?"

Albus smiled gently, and nodded. "To be precise, Tom's belief in the prophecy is what drove him to attack your family. He didn't need your blood to be resurrected; he chose it so he would be immune to the protection your mother had granted you."

"The blood protection," Harry said.

Albus nodded. He didn't know what Lily Potter had done to protect Harry. All her notes had been lost - or deliberately destroyed. He had his suspicions, of course. Harry thought, like most of Britain, that it was his mother's love that had protected him. From a certain point of view, that was correct. Lily's love for Harry had driven her to take such measures. And it wouldn't do to let Britain know that the Boy-Who-Lived had most likely been protected by highly-illegal blood magic.

"So… I'll have to face him." Harry took a deep breath. He was being brave.

His friend put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Not alone, mate. We'll be with you all the way."

Albus smiled. "Actually, you have the power to vanquish him. That doesn't mean you have to face him like I faced Grindelwald. Or even meet him on the battlefield."

"But…" Harry trailed off.

Mister Weasley blinked. "Oh! You mean it's something more abstract. Like his fame, or influence."

He nodded at the boy. "Prophecies are notoriously vague. 'Power' has a lot of meanings. We can but hope that Tom will keep thinking it is the kind of power he knows best - the power from spells and curses."

"It's not that then," Harry said.

Albus shook his head. "No, it's not. I do think I know what it is, but to be certain, I need to do more research. Assuming instead of knowing could be a fatal in this case."

"So… that's what you need me for." Harry looked resigned.

"Not entirely." Albus sighed. "The Dark Lord has taken measures to cheat death. To cling to life even after his body died."

"As a shade." Harry shivered, no doubt remembering his past encounters with the Dark Lord.

"That is the result, not the cause of his unnatural existence." Albus paused. He had the full attention of the two boys now. "He has created Horcruxes. Anchors, of sorts, for his soul. Creations of the darkest arts that keep his soul from passing on after death."

"The diary!" Harry exclaimed.

Dumbledore nodded. "That was one of them. His first, and somewhat different, if I am correct. I will not tell you how he created them; suffice to know that the very act of creating a Horcrux irrevocably stains your soul. Even with his Horcruxes gone, Tom will be doomed to never pass on. To never find peace. To suffer a half-existence in the realms between life and death for eternity. A fate worse than death."

The two boys shivered. Ron swallowed. "And we'll have to hunt them down?"

Albus nodded. "Harry's link to him will help there."

Harry nodded slowly.

"You will need training. Horcruxes corrupt people. They attack your mind and soul, inserting doubts, weakening your resolve, and encouraging selfish desires. You have learned Occlumency, but you will have to master it to hunt Horcruxes. I will train you, but I have to warn you: It will be painful, exhausting and frustrating. More so than you can imagine."

"Can't be worse than Snape's lessons," Harry muttered.

Albus suppressed a wince at hearing that. If the boy knew why Severus had taught him like that… Out loud, he said: "It is time for you to retire to your dorm, and think about this. Discuss it. Even with your friend, though in person, with no one able to listen in."

That surprised the two, but it pleased them as well. As Albus had known it would. They left his office in higher spirits than they had entered, or so he assumed. His own smile vanished as soon as the door closed behind them, and he closed his eyes as he fought his guilt.

If they knew the full prophecy… he remembered it, as clearly as the day he'd first heard it.

… and he and the Dark Lord will be one, and either will crush the other, for neither can let the other survive or they will lose what they hold most dear. The one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month ends.

Albus sighed. He was certain that he knew what the prophecy meant. What Harry would have to do. But to tell the boy could ruin it. And if the Dark Lord found out… no, it was better to let everyone think that the Horcruxes were the key to Tom's defeat.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, October 8th, 1996

Hermione Granger apparated straight to the entrance hall of Sirius's house. She had contacted him beforehand to check that he had no visitors, but she was still tense. Between the Imperius and Polyjuice, a trap remained a possibility. But if she didn't take any risk at all, she'd never be able to win this war.

Sirius was waiting for her, leaning against the wall opposite the door. She checked her sides and the ceiling at once for a possible ambush before smiling at him. "Good afternoon."

He raised his eyebrows. "Are we getting paranoid?"

She snorted. "A month dodging ambushes in the woods leaves an impression." It had also left her behind on her personal studying schedule, but that she could make up. Even though she doubted she would take exams or tests any time soon, she tried to study as if she could return to Hogwarts any day. She'd not abandon her education completely. She'd not grant the pureblood bigots that victory.

Sirius shook his head. "The things you kids get up to…" He gestured to the door leading to the living room. "I assume you're not here hours before Harry and Ron can sneak out of Hogwarts because you've got designs on my body." He leered at her and added. "Though if you have I will, of course, do my utmost to accommodate you!"

She chuckled. "You're correct. I need information and help."

They sat down on old, soft armchairs, and Kreacher arrived with the tea and snacks. The house-elf glanced at her briefly and vanished quickly. He hadn't forgotten the lesson she had taught him.

"So… what do you need?" Sirius asked, his cup in hand.

"Information about Death Eater sympathisers. We need to interrogate them to find where the Death Eaters are hiding," Hermione said, putting her own cup down. She didn't need to tell him what they would do to those Death Eaters they found.

Sirius nodded. "Their sympathisers in the Wizengamot are well-guarded. They're scared of sharing Malfoy's fate, and would apparate directly into their seats for a session, if they could."

"I expected that. But they'll have younger relatives in the Ministry. Aurors. Hit-Wizards. People who can't stay behind wards all day." Hermione bit into a small cucumber sandwich.

"That they do. Though their elders might not share many of their secrets with them." Sirius sipped from his cup. "And with the recent disappearance of a few Aurors, they have increased their own security as well."

Hermione frowned. Another unexpected wrench in their plans. She told herself that the Aurors deserting was a good thing. And even if they were killed it would mean that someone else was fighting them. "That can't be helped. We will be careful, and quick, so no one will be the wiser. If needed we can create a distraction. But we need names, and a way to identify them." She didn't have access to the patrol schedules of the Aurors, but the Wireless Ears Harry and Ron had placed in The Thin Red Line gave them enough information about patrols - it was amazing how often Aurors complained about their shifts.

"I'll see what I can do. Nymphadora might be able to help there, but I'd rather not risk her." Sirius refilled his cup. "You're going on the offensive then."

Hermione nodded. "We're still not as prepared as I'd like, but some of the boys are getting restless." She frowned. If only Allan, Dean and Seamus had more patience!

Sirius grinned. "The boys not listening to you?" He ignored her glare. "Not like Harry and Ron then."

She scoffed. "Harry and Ron would push for action as well."

"But you'd not give in."

"I'm not their mum."

Sirius chuckled. "Definitely not. Although you might be as scary as Molly. Maybe even scarier."

She blinked, then scowled. "What do you mean?" She wasn't that much of a nag.

"Molly doesn't like to talk about it, but she was a right terror in the last war. After her brothers were murdered by Death Eaters, she paid them back. With interest, if you get my meaning. Of course she might be rusty after all these years, and she has gained some pounds on her hips, but she's not a witch many want to cross."

Hermione wasn't certain if Sirius was pulling her leg or not. To imagine Ron's mum on the battlefield… on the other hand, she was an impressive witch, with a temper to match. She'd ask Ron later, to confirm the story. "There's another thing. We need information about the Wizarding Wireless Network. Preferably from a maintenance wizard or witch."

"What are you planning? It's based in Hogsmeade."

Did he think they'd blow up the village? "We want to create our own wireless broadcasting station."

Sirius whistled. "That's ambitious. But to imagine their propaganda shows getting hijacked…" He grinned widely. "You'll need some specialised equipment too."

"Yes. That could be tracked if purchased legally. We plan to steal it from the Network, or purchase it abroad." She finished her cup. "But we need to understand how it works first. Hence the need to interrogate a maintenance wizard."

Sirius nodded. "Shouldn't be too hard. They won't be expecting to be kidnapped."

"It's still Hogsmeade. Lots of patrols there," Hermione answered.

"They might be watching out for Dumbledore more than for muggleborns, these days." Sirius chuckled.

"Oh?"

"Our dear Headmaster is losing his patience. He all but told Fudge and Bones that if the Ministry kept trying to push Voldemort's agenda, he'll react accordingly." Sirius grinned. "Took him long enough."

Hermione frowned. On one hand, Dumbledore opposing the Ministry was a good thing, on the other hand… "If he fights the Ministry, Hogwarts will suffer. They'll try to take it over, and he can either let them, or turn the school into a fortress."

Sirius scoffed. "That'll happen anyway. The Ministry won't change. The purebloods have too much power, and they are too afraid. Dumbledore can only delay the inevitable. And Hogwarts is too important to be abandoned to the enemy."

Hermione hissed. If Hogwarts was turned into a battleground, then Harry and Ron…

"You know they'll fight anyway, don't you?" Sirius asked, smiling sadly.

The young witch frowned. She didn't like that she was so easy to read.

"You can't keep them safe. And it would be hypocritical to risk your own life, but not let them risk theirs." Sirius took another sip, then put his cup down.

She glared at him. He held up his hands. "I don't like it either. But do you honestly expect them to stay of the fighting? It's a miracle they didn't found their own resistance group months ago. And if they hadn't been able to spy on the Aurors, they'd probably have run off to join yours." He grinned. "They might still do that."

Hermione smiled, imagining it, then frowned. She didn't think the other Resistance members would like that. Allan would be insufferable, Dean and Seamus probably as well. They'd see her friends as interlopers, trying to take over. And the others… She shook her head. "That wouldn't work out."

Sirius looked at her, then nodded. She didn't know what he thought, and didn't want to ask.

She grabbed another sandwich. "So… I've got a few things I'd like to check your library for."

The wizard chuckled. "Ah, that's why you came so early!" He stood up. "I'm not about to get between you and books - as everyone tells me, that's far too dangerous."

She scowled, but he just laughed. Then she smiled. The banter felt almost like when she had visited the house for the first time. Before Wizarding Britain had decided to persecute her and the other muggleborns.

Then she remembered what she was researching, and her smile faded.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, October 8th, 1996

Harry Potter stumbled out of the Floo Connection and barely managed to avoid falling down. As far as Floo travel went, it was one of his better trips, even if Sirius was shaking his head at him. Ron stepped out of the fireplace as if he was walking through a door.

"Harry!"

Hermione was chuckling at his wobbly entrance. He felt a brief spark of anger at his problems with magical travel, and some jealousy at others' mastery of it. Then he took a closer look at his best female friend. She looked different. Not just because she had cut her hair short. She looked a bit leaner too, in jeans and a t-shirt. And when she hugged him, she felt… fitter, kind of.

"Blimey, Hermione! You've cut your hair!" Ron said. "Looks good though."

She released Harry and hugged Ron, smiling. She didn't blush, as far as Harry could tell. "It's more manageable that way. And I can wear wigs more easily."

Harry grinned. Of course Hermione would have practical reasons for the change. He embraced Sirius.

Ron shook his head. "You kept your hair long while you were living in the woods, and now you cut it when you're back in London? Mental!"

Hermione pouted. "It was a matter of pride. Our instructors wanted me to cut my hair. Said I couldn't manage."

"Well, charms don't care how long your hair is. Although yours might have given them pause." Ron grinned, then held up his hands when Hermione glared at him.

"We missed you," Harry said, before his two friends could start a row, or something else. "How are you doing?"

The witch sighed as they walked towards Sirius's living room. "I'm behind my study schedule. I want to keep pace with the material for sixth year, but I didn't get much studying done last month."

"Which means you're just a month ahead, not two?" Ron snorted.

Hermione didn't answer that, so his best mate was probably correct. "I've been reading up on counter-curses in the library here. There are a number of dark curses that normal healing spells won't work on." Her expression left no doubt that she thought Harry and Ron should do the same.

Harry nodded. She was right, of course. "I guess between Bellatrix and Malfoy's mother, the Death Eaters are bound to have learned some of those curses."

"Exactly." Hermione smiled at him.

"I doubt that they have taught the more exotic spells in our library to everyone. They were raised very traditionally, as you know. But they'd have taught them to family members, like the Lestranges, and of course Draco," Sirius said.

"And Malfoy's probably planning another attack right now," Ron added. "Not on Hogwarts though."

"Voldemort might not let him do as he pleases. And there haven't been many attacks by Death Eaters," Harry said.

"Not many that we know of," Hermione corrected him as she sat down on the couch. Harry sat down next to her, grabbing a sandwich from the plate on the low table, while Sirius and Ron took the seats across from them.

"They might be behind the vanished Aurors," Sirius said. "At least some Aurors suspect that."

"Well, it wasn't us," Hermione said. "But some other muggleborns could have done it. We're not the only ones hiding. We're focusing on Death Eaters anyway."

"Aurors are easier to find than Death Eaters," Sirius said.

"The Ministry's not the real enemy. Once Voldemort has been killed and his followers dealt with, the Ministry will fall in line. We can't waste our efforts on spineless worms when there are murderers to deal with." Hermione's expression made Harry suspect that if the Ministry didn't change rapidly after the Dark Lord's defeat, then there would be hell to pay.

He didn't care. The Ministry hadn't done anything for him, and the Aurors had tried to kill his godfather and his best friend. Though there were some people in the Ministry he did care for, he added to himself with a glance at Ron.

"Shouldn't underestimate them. Dad says the Ministry can be very stubborn and even more stupid." Ron grabbed a sandwich himself, and opened a butterbeer.

"I know. But if we start attacking the Aurors, we play into Voldemort's hands. He can just wait and build his forces up while we weaken each other." Hermione scowled. "And we'd push more people into his camp."

Harry patted her shoulder. "They're hunting you though."

"I know." The witch sighed. For a moment, she looked tired and very vulnerable to Harry. He wanted to hug her. Pull her into his lap. "And I know there's a lot of Death Eater sympathisers in the Ministry. And more in the Wizengamot. But the real enemy is Voldemort." She pushed her chin up. "And we'll go after him and his. It's too bad the Slytherins fled from Hogwarts. If we had found a way to tag them with trackers…"

"That would have been nice. I'm certain Fred and George could have whipped something up." Ron smiled.

"We can still use such things. Electronic trackers don't work correctly. And the spells I've found are well-known," Hermione said. "Their counters will be common as well."

"I'll ask the twins," Ron said. "It'll have a silly name, and it'll look silly as well, but it'll work. Probably."

"Thank you Ron." The witch smiled at him. Harry felt some jealousy again, and fought it down. Both were his best friends. And Hermione wasn't flirting with Ron.

"Be very careful. If your tracking method gets discovered, you're bound to run into an ambush. Voldemort's smart," Sirius pointed out.

"Speaking of Voldemort…" Harry took a deep breath. "There's something Dumbledore told us that we didn't want to tell you through the mirrors."

*****​

When Harry had finished telling them what he had learned, Sirius was pacing in the living room, cursing loudly in several languages, and Hermione looked like she wanted to jump up and scour the library for every bit of information about Horcruxes.

"The Headmaster's working on it already," Harry said, trying to make them feel better.

"That doesn't mean we can't work on it as well," Hermione said.

"Of course not… but you've other plans as well. The Resistance is counting on you, right?" Ron asked. "Wouldn't do anyone any good if we fixate on the Horcruxes while Voldemort takes over Britain. In fact, if we could kill him again, finding ways to deal with the things might be easier since he'd be busy trying to come back again."

That was a good point, Harry thought. Even his godfather and their best female friend agreed, if slightly reluctantly and after a while. At least neither had issues with Harry and Ron getting recruited into a secret Order cell, as Hermione called it.

"Your parents don't know about that, do they?" she asked, with a grin.

Ron winced. "No, they don't. Mum's going to explode once she finds out."

"If she finds out," Harry said.

"She will," Ron said. "She always caught the twins. And you know how sneaky they are."

"That's hard to prove. If she didn't catch them, you'd not know about it," Hermione pointed out. "Although judging by what Sirius told me, she might have caught them every time."

Harry looked to Sirius, and a quick glance told him that Ron looked as confused as he felt. "What do you mean?"

"Molly went on a rampage after Ron's uncles were murdered," Harry's godfather said. "Killed her fair share of Death Eaters."

"You're kidding!" Ron said. "Mum did that?"

"You didn't know?" Sirius looked surprised.

"Of course not! She never told us anything about the war. Neither did Dad."

"Ah… I better not spill the beans then. No more than I already did. Wouldn't want to get her mad at me," Sirius said with a grin, and Harry couldn't tell how serious he was. To think of the witch who had taken him in as a…

"We're dead then. Dumbledore, and us," Ron said, staring at the floor. "Mum's going to kill us all."

"We'll blame Dumbledore," Harry said. Though he hoped that they wouldn't have to do that until after the war.

"Well… he did recruit you," Hermione said.

"We just don't have to mention that we were already helping you months ago," Harry said.

"Do you already know what you'll be doing?"

"Just that we'll be hunting the Horcruxes." Harry shrugged. "Nothing more than that, yet."

"I'll have a word with Dumbledore about that," Sirius said. Before Harry could protest, he continued. "Not to make him change his mind. But I want to be informed, and I want to help." Sighing, he added: "It's not as if I expect you to sit this war out. James and I were the same. Well, almost the same. James was chasing desperately after Lily in our sixth year and I was playing the field, so to speak." Harry's godfather chuckled.

The discussion was moving into areas Harry would rather not talk about. At least not right now. He glanced to his side. Hermione was pursing her lips.

Sirius must have noticed as well. "What's wrong, Hermione? Boyfriend trouble?" he added with a grin.

"No," the witch said, maybe a shade too quickly. "I just had to turn a boy down recently, and imagined how awkward that would have been if he hadn't accepted that I was not interested."

"Who was it?" Ron blurted out what Harry was wondering. "I mean… you don't have to tell us, of course."

It had to be one of the muggleborns, Harry was certain. Justin, or that Allan, maybe. Or Seamus or Dean.

"That's right. I don't ask you about which girls you turned down, do I?" Hermione said.

"Lavender." Ron said, then winced. "Err..."

"You…" Hermione started, then shut up.

This time she was blushing, and Harry felt another bout of jealousy. Was she blushing because of Ron? He wasn't certain what he should say.

Fortunately, Sirius came to his rescue. "Well, in my time, we didn't talk about who we had turned down, but who we had kissed, you know!" The older wizard shook his head. "Kids these days."

That broke the awkward mood.

*****​

Hogwarts, October 8th, 1996

Ron Weasley knew something was up with his best friend before the two apparated back to Hogwarts, or rather, to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Harry had been acting a bit odd during the evening, moody despite visiting his godfather and Hermione. But the forest, even if you were not that far in, was no place for a discussion. So he waited until they were back in their dorm and sitting on Harry's bed, protected by a privacy spell in case Neville wasn't asleep yet, before he asked.

"Mate, what's eating you?"

"I'm fine."

Ron had expected that answer. Harry said that every time he was asked how he was doing, no matter if he was actually fine, or lying in the infirmary. "And I'm Malfoy."

That made Harry chuckle. Once.

"Seriously, mate. What are you brooding about?" Ron had an inkling, and a feeling he wasn't going to like it, but he was certain that letting such stuff fester was the worst thing he could do. He had learned that himself, in fourth year.

"Do you really want to know?" Harry asked.

He didn't. "Yes."

"Hermione." Harry stared at him with that expression that dared Ron to make an issue about of it.

Ron winced. Just as he had suspected. Known. Sighing, he let himself fall back on the bed and stared at the canopy over them. "You fancy her."

"Like you."

"She'd tell us that the middle of a war was no place for fancying anyone." Ron thought so at least. Though she had been… not flirting, he couldn't call it that. But a bit more open, maybe. Or he was just seeing things he wanted to see.

"She doesn't exactly know much about that, though." Harry snorted. "I'm certain there are books about it, but…"

"Yes." Ron snorted. Books didn't help much with feelings, in his experience. Although he wasn't Hermione. Maybe they'd work for her. He doubted that though.

"Someone already asked her to become his girlfriend," Harry said. "Probably that Allan."

"He looked rather annoyed at us, when we met him," Ron agreed. "Though I think Dean or Seamus could have asked her out as well." Those two had bragged about girls for years. Mostly, but not entirely, hot air.

"She knows what they are like, and would have told us with a grin," Harry said. "Probably said something about how they are getting desperate."

Ron closed his eyes. That would have been like her. He could see her joke about it, but he knew she was rather insecure about her looks. Fourth year had taught him that. "So… Allan or Justin." Justin was rich, for muggles, and Allan was a Ravenclaw and older. Like Krum.

"She turned whoever it was down." Harry didn't sound that reassured.

"He had the guts to ask though." Which meant they might well ask again. Wear her down. That was, according to Sirius, how Harry's father had won his mother over. Ron winced. He shouldn't think about such things as winning. Hermione had commented about that once.

"He isn't her best friend," Harry said. Less to lose, in other words.

"Things were awkward today, for a while," Ron said. He didn't want to imagine every meeting feeling like that.

"Yes." Harry agreed, or so Ron thought.

They stayed silent for a while.

"Let's focus on beating Voldemort and his scum," Ron said.

"Alright, let's."

Ron wasn't expecting that to work for long. But it might be long enough.

*****​

Hogsmeade, October 11th, 1996

Albus Dumbledore didn't like visiting his brother's inn. Or his brother. Too much bad blood. Too many bad memories of past rows. Angry words. Painful wounds. He had resigned himself long ago to the fact that they would never reconcile. But needs must - there were more important things than pride, and past pain. Or not so past pain, he amended mentally, remembering his meeting with Aberforth a day ago. Or rather, the fight. Not an actual duel, of course - neither of them, not even at their worst, would use curses on each other. Not after Ariana had died to one. But it had been a spectacular blow-up, until his brother had seen reason, in private. For all the pain it had caused, it was also a good cover. No one would expect the headmaster to calmly sit in the inn but a day later, disguised with Polyjuice.

No one would expect the Muggleborn Resistance to be present, disguised by muggle means either. At least Albus was reasonably certain of that. He was here in case he turned out to have been wrong - with him involved, a fight between Aurors and the Resistance would be quickly over, and hopefully without loss of life. It was the least he could do for the young muggleborns, even if it would not absolve him of his guilt for failing to save Mister Coke.

He glanced at the witch at the bar. Tania Dennel. Gryffindor. She would have had her N.E.W.T.s now, if not for the MInistry's folly, and would probably be working in Diagon Alley, or at the Ministry - she was skilled in Charms, and in Defense. And the Hit-Wizards, as well as, if slightly less so, the Aurors, had been good places for muggleborns to start working. Or so he had thought. He might have been wrong about that, in hindsight.

Now she was wearing a rather risqué robe, a very blonde wig, and a face that looked too old for her while talking to Cory Briston, a half-blood employee of the Wizarding Wireless Network who was a regular of Aberforth's pub. Talking and touching, or letting herself be touched.

Albus didn't like seeing that, but it wasn't his plan. The Resistance had devised this. A 'honey trap', Miss Granger had called it. At least it was an actual trap. Miss Granger and Mister Emmet were waiting in one of the rooms upstairs. Mister Briston wouldn't be enjoying the night he obviously hoped for. Even though he'd have the memories.

Miss Dennel's hand had been on the wizard's arm for minutes now. And his on her thigh. Aberforth grumbled something, and the two jerked, Briston was even blushing. Then the witch took hold of his arm again, dropped a few coins on the bartop, and guided her mark upstairs. To her waiting friends.

Quite fortuitous timing, Albus thought, since a few minutes later two Aurors entered the pub. Or maybe the witch had received a notice from her friends keeping watch on the streets outside. The Aurors didn't seem to have noticed that they had passed under the wands of the very muggleborns they were hunting outside. The Headmaster wondered what they would do if they actually found a wanted muggleborn inside the inn. Aberforth and most of his regulars had despised the Ministry long before the recent events, and while his brother was not quite as talented as Albus himself, he was head and shoulders above the Ministry's finest. Although that was not well-known outside Albus's own constantly shrinking generation.

The two Aurors didn't look too closely at the guests though, and ignored the hostile stares they received before they left. He relaxed a bit. Now all he had to do was wait until Miss Granger and her friends were done and gone, and he could return to Hogwarts.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, October 12th, 1996

Hardy's Hardy Hats was a traditional business in Diagon Alley. Hyacinth Hardy was the fourth Hardy to run the shop and craft hats with various enchantments. The first half-blood too, though that hadn't seem to matter when she had taken over the shop a decade ago from her pureblood father. These days, it mattered very much. Her shop was located in the midst of pureblood businesses, and there had been a few comments by passers-by that she hadn't liked at all.

But her neighbours knew her. Most of them had known her since she had been a little girl, sitting on her father's knee and trying to mold a hat by herself. Some of her childish attempts her parents still brought out for family gatherings. And one hung directly over her bed, in the flat above her shop. The first hat she had created that she had been able to wear.

And the first thing she grabbed when she was woken up by the alert from her wards that someone was trying to tear them down - after she had frozen for a moment, filled with fear. She was no Gryffindor. She was a hatter! She wasn't about to confront whoever was breaking into her shop.

A few shaky wand movements had her clothes and other belongings stuffed in her old school trunk, expanded since her Hogwarts days, and after two tries - the wards were falling - she managed to shrink it down as well. Then she ran down the stairs. Her fireplace was on the ground floor, and she didn't trust herself to apparate right now.

She was grabbing a handful of floo powder when the wards fell, and shrieked when the door was blown open and a dark figure appeared in the entrance. A robed figure with a white mask! She almost missed the fire when she threw the powder, she was shaking so much.

"H-Hardy's Home!" she yelled, stepping inside. The wards on her parents' home would keep the Death Eaters from pursuing her.

Behind her, her shop went up in flames.

*****​

Outside Buxton, Derbyshire, United Kingdom, October 12th, 1996

Daphne Greengrass didn't like muggles. They dressed either like scarecrows, or indecently. None of them wore proper robes. And they walked or rode everywhere, instead of apparating or taking the Floo. And they were everywhere. Even out here, far from the next muggle town, two women were running in far too tight clothes on the street.

"Have you seen them? Silly muggles," Tracey said next to her. Both were disillusioned, sitting near a thick, old tree, studying the house of Nigel Nye, a blood traitor member of the Wizengamot, across the street. The man had proposed a motion to pardon mudblood criminals, 'to focus on the real enemy of Britain'. He had limited his proposal to those mudbloods who had run from the Aurors, but Daphne knew that was just the beginning. They always started small, and then built up.

He would be stopped though. As soon as they found a way to get past his wards. Which was the reason the two witches were out here, observing the blood traitor's house. Studying the wards. Looking for a weakness.

"Look, Daphne!"

Tracey tugged on her arm. Daphne turned her head, and saw a muggle vehicle approach the house.

"He has no Anti-Muggle Wards?" Daphne couldn't believe it. To go that far…

They saw the muggle get out of the vehicle, put down a basket on the doorstep, pick another basket up and leave. A minute later, the door opened, and Nye grabbed the basket.

"A delivery. By a muggle."

They had found the house's weakness.

******​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 11: Spies

'Historians still debate if and which of the atrocities committed by the Dark Lord's forces were actually so-called 'false-flag' operations by the Muggleborn Resistance or the Order of the Phoenix. The attacks that did not kill their targets are a particular point of contention. Those who suspect such subterfuge point to the fact that the attacks ultimately hindered the Dark Lord's cause more than they helped it, serving to galvanise some of the flagging opposition to the Death Eaters into supporting Dumbledore out of fear for their own lives. Others are of the opinion that the Dark Lord had shown such short-sightedness before, which had arguably cost him the peaceful takeover of Wizarding Britain before the Second Blood War started.
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn

*****​

London, East End, October 13th, 1996

Hermione Granger frowned when she saw the headline of the latest Daily Prophet. 'Death Eaters attack shop in Diagon Alley'. She quickly read the article below it. Death Eaters attacking a half-blood owned shop in Wizarding Britain's shopping mile. That sounded very… convenient. Too convenient.

She glanced at Allan, who was reading over Seamus's shoulder. The Ravenclaw was smiling, though that could just be his reaction to the news - Seamus was grinning wildly as well.

"That was a rather sloppy Death Eater attack," Dean said. "The shop owner escaped with her life. The Dark Lord must be furious."

"If it was a Death Eater attack," Hermione said. "There wasn't a Dark Mark floating in the sky."

"Who else would be attacking half-blood shops?" Dean shrugged.

Hermione had a pretty good idea who would do such a thing. Someone who had proposed exactly that less than a week ago, for example. She stared at Allan. "There might be people who think that such attacks would drive the half-bloods into fighting Voldemort."

Allan met her eyes. "My proposal was not accepted. Even though the results speak for themselves." He pointed at the newspaper. "Besides, we were interrogating the Wireless maintenance wizard that night."

"We finished and returned to London before this attack," Hermione pointed out. "Someone could have snuck out to do this." She saw Seamus frown at that.

Allan shook his head. "I didn't do this."

Hermione nodded. He sounded honest. And she shouldn't suspect him. And yet… she couldn't shake her suspicion. Not completely. "In any case, this attack makes it harder for us to kidnap an Auror patrol without being noticed. They'll be more alert."

That had Allan scowl in response. It might just be anger at a complication, or at a mistake of his. Hermione still couldn't tell. She continued: "We might have to look for other targets who expose themselves. Or wait until things have calmed down. Though that would mean we'd have to depend on the Dark Lord stopping those attacks."

"We could sabotage a Floo connection in a shop or flat, then nab the maintenance wizard who arrives," Justin proposed.

"We'd be vulnerable, waiting for quite a long time in a shop or flat," Hermione replied. "The chance that others came by would be too great."

"We should be able to easily overpower a patrol," Allan said. "Especially if they are inexperienced Aurors."

"But without anyone noticing? They'll be on the lookout for that. Especially with other Aurors having gone missing." Hermione shook her head. "We can do it, but we'll have to be very cautious."

Louise nodded. "They will be waiting for any sign of an attack, with a ready element and reserves. Even with all of us there, we could have trouble escaping."

"You could ask your friends for the addresses of some likely targets," Seamus said. His tone clearly indicated who he meant.

Hermione pursed her lips. "They're not exactly on speaking terms with the kind of purebloods we want." Which Seamus should have known. Sirius could give her some addresses, but that would run the risk of exposing him. She sighed. "I have a plan to get us the locations of some homes, but I need to ensure it can be done."

And she might pick up something that would help her find out the truth about this attack on the hatter at the same time.

*****​

Dorset, Britain, October 13th, 1996

Draco was very happy about the information they had brought back, Daphne Greengrass found out. "That's exactly what we needed! That traitor will soon pay for his deeds!" The wizard was grinning widely.

"So, how do we do this?" Tracey asked. "Use Polyjuice and change into the muggle to get through the wards?"

Draco shook his head, shuddering. "There's no need for such a disgusting tactic. I've just the thing to put into that basket."

"Poison?" Daphne was curious. Draco was good with potions, even discounting the fact that Snape had been favouring him, but poison seemed to be a rather obvious attack.

The wizard shook his head. "No. I've acquired an object that will curse anyone who touches it. Nye will not suspect that." He grinned. "His death will be slow and painful, as he deserves to die."

Daphne felt a shudder run down her spine at the sight of the glee Draco showed at this prospect. Then she remembered her parents' corpses, shriveled, burned, looking anything but human, and nodded. Anyone who made common cause with the monsters responsible for that atrocity deserved the worst. "Good."

Tracey nodded as well. "We can place it in the basket tomorrow."

It would be easy to slip it in; a brief Confundus Charm would deal with the muggle, if that was even needed. A Compulsion Charm should be enough to make him stop the vehicle.

"No." Draco's refusal interrupted Daphne's planning. "I'll do it. I know how to handle the object. I would never forgive myself if you came to harm," he added with a smile.

Daphne suspected Draco simply wanted to do it himself, but she agreed. Handling dark objects was dangerous, after all. There would be other occasions to take a more personal hand in avenging her parents.

*****​

Hogwarts, October 14th, 1996

"Please have a seat, Severus."

Albus Dumbledore had expected the visit from the Head of House Slytherin ever since he had heard from Nigel.

The Potions master nodded curtly, and sat down. He didn't look comfortable, but then, Severus never did. "There are rumours going around that the Dark Lord struck at Nigel Nye."

Albus nodded. Once again, the speed with which news spread, even to Hogwarts, without using official channels, was surprising. And worrying, should he ever have the need to keep something a secret. "He was attacked with a dark curse this morning."

The younger wizard sneered. "And how did the fool fare?"

Albus knew what he was asking. "Your counter-curse worked as expected." He sighed. "Nigel was hurt, yes, but he'll make a full recovery." It would take him a long time, of course. Longer than needed, actually, and spent at his home. "The Dark Lord should be pleased - a blood traitor was removed from the Wizengamot, even though he survived the attack."

Severus scoffed. "Unless the counter-curse was applied too late, and he will end up suffering from long-term effects."

"He knew the risk, and volunteered." Albus inclined his head slightly.

"After you asked him to. I doubt he came to you and offered to serve as a target in your scheme." The man narrowed his eyes.

Albus didn't deny that. "Your position at the Dark Lord's side will be strengthened by this, and your influence on Mister Malfoy will grow as well."

"And how many more of your old friends will you risk for those goals?" Severus snarled. "Draco's not a misguided young wizard. I have taught him for five years. The death of his parents has only served to radicalise him further. Mark my words: He will murder people."

Albus nodded. The young Mister Malfoy was no James Potter, who had changed for the better after his parents' death. "He will try. But your influence will make it more likely that he will fail. And, should the need for action arise, make it easier to deal with him."

"That is a surprising answer from someone who went to great lengths to protect another student. A student who just failed to become a murderer, though not for any lack of effort on their part." The accusation was clear in his voice.

Albus smiled gently. "If I thought that Mister Malfoy was merely acting out of fear for himself and others, I would not contemplate this course of action. But he is not, is he?"

The younger wizard sighed. "No, he isn't." And his Occlumency was not quite as strong as the child believed.

The Headmaster nodded. "Which is the difference between him and others in a similar position."

"That and the fact that he's a supporter of the Dark Lord and believes in pureblood superiority."

Albus nodded once more, conceding the point. "It is easier to forgive people who are trying to do the right thing, and possibly going overboard, than to forgive those who support evil."

"You were not that ruthless in the last war," the Potions master said, shaking his head.

Albus chuckled, without humour. "I was more ruthless than you knew, but, in hindsight, not ruthless enough."

Severus stiffened, then nodded and stood up. "I will keep you informed of any developments."

"Of course," Albus said. The man had more time now, as well, with over half his students gone from Hogwarts.

He sighed once the door had closed behind the younger wizard. This time, his plan had worked. But as this war had taught him so thoroughly, his plans wouldn't work all the time. He was juggling too many balls, one might say. Unless the Ministry drastically changed soon, he would be faced with the choice of either having to abandon Hogwarts, leaving his students without his protection, or turning the school into a fortress for the Order, inviting attacks by the Ministry or the Dark Lord. Neither option would be beneficial for the children under his care.

And yet he couldn't shake the thought that he should have made this choice long ago. But back then, he had still hoped to turn the Ministry around.

*****​

Dorset, Britain, October 14th, 1996

"Welcome to my humble abode."

To Daphne Greengrass's surprise, Draco was in a good mood when she arrived at his home. He greeted her and Tracey with a smile, acting the perfect pureblood host.

Tracey apparently couldn't help herself, and looked around. "Be it ever so humble," the witch said, looking pointedly at the furniture of the room they had followed Draco to.

The chairs and couch looked decent, but Daphne could spot some imperfections that told her they were transfigured. She glared at her snarky friend, and saw that Draco frowned briefly.

The boy quickly smiled again though. "The necessities of war demand much of us. I would prefer to live in lodgings more appropriate for my standing, but that would needlessly endanger my remaining family."

The blunt reminder of what had happened to their parents shut Tracey up. Daphne tried not to let the pain she felt at remembering her own loss show.

"I'm sorry," Draco said. "I did not wish to bring up such painful memories."

He sounded sincere, and he had lost his own parents, so Daphne nodded at him, believing and accepting his apology. "It's why we are here," she answered. "To prevent others from suffering the same fate."

"Exactly!" Draco smiled again. "And we dealt the blood traitors a heavy blow!"

"The Daily Prophet claims that he survived," Tracey said.

"He is alive… so far. He will succumb to the curse over the next few months, lingering in pain as his body slowly rots. The attempts to help him will only prolong his suffering." Draco grinned widely. "A fitting fate."

Daphne shuddered at the thought, then remembered her dead family. And what would happen to her little sister if the mudbloods had their way. They and their traitorous helpers needed to be taught a lesson they'd never forget. "Good."

"Did you see the curse strike him?" Tracey asked.

"No. The traitor took the basket inside. But we have friends at St Mungo's." Draco shook his head.

Daphne couldn't tell if her friend was relieved or disappointed that Draco's description of the curse's effect was not from first-hand experience. "What do we do now? You mentioned a list of blood traitors."

"I did. But our … ally… has yet to provide me with another cursed object. So, we will have to pick a target we can strike at more easily." Draco smiled. "We can scout out the blood traitors, and prepare in the meantime." He snarled. "There are a few blood traitors I want to personally deal with."

"Potter?" Tracey asked. Everyone knew that Draco considered the Boy-Who-Lived his nemesis. Even if, as a half-blood, he was technically not a blood traitor.

"No." Draco shook his head. "I've been told that to strike at Potter would anger the Dark Lord." His expression clearly showed that he was unhappy about that. "And apparently, someone close to him wants to deal with my former aunt's family herself. But the Weasley family has been a particular thorn in my family's side for years. It is time they pay for that."

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, October 14th, 1996

Harry Potter managed to avoid falling flat on his face when exiting the Floo connection in his godfather's home - in his home, he corrected himself. He still wasn't entirely used to having a home. He landed on his knees, mostly. Progress!

"Harry!" Sirius's beamed at him, using his wand to clean the dust and soot off.

Harry stood up and hugged his godfather. "Hello Sirius."

"Sneaking out of Hogwarts just to visit me? I'm flattered!" Sirius said, laughing, though he didn't sound as if he was entirely joking.

"I didn't exactly sneak out. Dumbledore knows I'm gone for the evening," Harry said. "He's been quite accommodating since Ron and I joined the Order of the Phoenix." Though to be honest, Dumbledore had covered up worse than sneaking out of school in the past.

Sirius wrapped an arm around his shoulder and led him to the living room. "And I'm still not too happy about that. It's too dangerous!"

Harry glared at him. "More dangerous than being Voldemort's prophesied nemesis?" Sirius hadn't opposed Harry being recruited when he had been told.

His godfather nodded sagely. "Hiding that her child joined from Molly… that's more dangerous. Far more dangerous."

Sirius was grinning, but once again, Harry had the impression he was a bit serious as well. And he should stop trying to make those awful puns in his head. "You already know we'll blame Dumbledore," he said.

"And rightly so!" Sirius chuckled.

Once sitting in the living room - which could really do with a telly, Harry thought, no matter what the original purpose of that room - and Kreacher having served them some beer, real beer, not butterbeer, Sirius leaned forward. "So… what made you seek out your old godfather?" At Harry's look, he added: "If I wait until you get around to mentioning it, we'll not have enough time to talk about it."

Harry sighed. But he was a Gryffindor. And he needed advice. And while Sirius wasn't exactly the best source of this kind of advice, he was the only one Harry could trust with this. For a certain definition of trust. Remus was too… well, the man had too many issues with this kind of problem himself, and if he couldn't solve his own problems, how could he help Harry?

Sirius was looking at him, faintly smiling. Patiently waiting, but for that hint of eagerness and concern.

Harry sighed again. "I may have feelings for Hermione."

"Yes." Sirius said, taking a sip from his beer.

"What?"

"Yes, you have. Feelings for her." Sirius grinned. "It was rather obvious last week."

Harry groaned. "Can you be… " he trailed off. He wouldn't give his godfather that kind of opening.

Sirius chuckled. He had spotted Harry's near-lapse. "Of course you have feelings for her. She's a pretty witch and you're a boy. I know how James and I were at your age."

Harry glared at him. "It's not like that!"

Sirius snorted. "I know," he said, then went on with less levity. "She's also your best friend, and you've gone through far more together and far worse than any children should have. Of course such feelings will develop under those circumstances." His eyes seemed to lose their focus. "It happened to Order members too, of course, but we were older."

Harry resisted the urge to ask who Sirius had developed such feelings for. And he decided not to mention his first crushes. On Cho, for example. Or Fleur. He was past wanting a girl just for her looks.

"So, it's perfectly normal to feel that way about her." Sirius grinned. "Now, are you planning to ask her out?"

"Not exactly." Harry drank from his own beer. "There's some… complications." He cleared his throat and took another sip. "I don't know how she feels about me. If she doesn't like me that way… I don't want things to become awkward between us. Especially not now." Not in the middle of a war, not when Hermione was hunted by the Ministry and the Death Eaters, and they could only meet in secret and talk through a mirror. "And," he added, "Ron fancies her."

"Oh." Sirius blinked. "I should have seen that."

Harry waited, pushing his bottle around on the low table.

"Well… there was a girl James and I both had the hots for," Sirius began.

"Mum?"

"Lily?" Sirius shook his head. "No, that was before James fell in love with her. We were crushing hard on Emily Frickerton. Prettiest witch in Hogwarts."

Harry thought his mother had been the prettiest witch at Hogwarts, but didn't comment on that. "What did you do?"

"We settled it like Gryffindors, of course!"

"What did you do?"

"We agreed to both ask her out, and let her choose," Sirius said. "And we did!"

That sounded… well, Harry wasn't certain how Hermione would react, but the open, honest approach should appeal to her. And it would avoid, well, some hard feelings. "How did that end?"

"She laughed at us both and told us she already had a boyfriend, and even if she hadn't, she would be looking for a man, not a boy." Sirius snorted, but he was smiling.

Harry gasped. "She sounds like…"

His godfather shrugged, grinning. "We were second years, and she was in sixth. In hindsight, it was a funny moment."

Harry closed his eyes. Maybe that wasn't such a good plan.

"Well, Hermione doesn't have a boyfriend, unless she acquired one since last week. So, there's that."

Harry grumbled. "Unless Justin or that arrogant berk Allan ask her out again."

"You know them?" Sirius asked.

Harry nodded. "Justin's a Hufflepuff in our year."

"No competition then," Sirius said at once.

"He's rich," Harry said, rolling his eyes. Cedric had been a Hufflepuff as well, and he certainly had been 'competition'.

"Hermione doesn't strike me as the type of witch to look for gold. And as my godson, you're richer anyway. I think." Sirius frowned. "I don't know much about muggle wealth."

"No, you don't," Harry said, earning a pout from his godfather.

"And you don't have a high opinion of Allan, I take it."

"He didn't impress me or Ron when we met him." Harry frowned, remembering that day. "Looked jealous even then."

"That's a good sign," Sirius said. "But your real competition is Ron, isn't he?"

Harry sighed and nodded. "He's my best friend. My other best friend. Best mate. I don't want to hurt him, or Hermione."

"I'd say you should settle things with him first. But if you do, Hermione might feel as if you're trying to decide for her." Sirius emptied his beer. "She's the type to get prickly about that, no matter how groundless it would be."

Harry didn't want to, but he had to agree there. And he wondered just how well his godfather knew Hermione. "So… cursed if I do, cursed if I don't?"

"Yes. Welcome to relationships, Harry!"

*****​

London, East End, October 15th, 1996

Hermione Granger looked at the Wireless Ears she had acquired from the twins through Sirius. They were bigger than the muggle surveillance devices she knew about. But they would work even inside warded areas. Like their safehouse.

She didn't have to do this. Sirius would be placing more ears in various shops frequented by the kind of purebloods they knew to be supporters of Voldemort. Thanks to them, they would find out about planned appointments. Hear the addresses of those who travelled through the Floo Network. Know about special orders that could be tampered with. The Resistance would soon be able to strike at their real enemies, instead of at the Ministry and traitors among the muggleborns.

She didn't have to use the ears herself. Against her comrades. Her friends. And yet she had to. This attack on a half-blood shop in Diagon Alley was just too convenient. Too close, no, identical to what Allan had proposed. She had to know if Allan was behind it. And if he was planning more such attacks without the approval and knowledge of the Resistance.

She picked up one of the ears, studying the design. It would change colour to match wherever it was placed, which would make it very hard to spot. Or so Sirius had told her. She thought a disillusionment effect might be more effective. Maybe a Shrinking Charm, to reduce its size. Unless that was already implemented. Though she doubted that. It was more likely that the twins hadn't thought of that. They were very creative, and good with charms and potions, but they were not that skilled at optimising their designs. They were artists more than craftsmen. She had enough to take one apart and study it, hadn't she?

She forced herself to drop the ear on the table. She hadn't the time to indulge her curiosity. Hermione had to decide if she was going to spy on Allan. Violate the trust between two members of the Resistance. It was a step she didn't want to take. But if she didn't… she knew the doubts would only grow. She'd become more and more suspicious. She had to know. Even if she already felt guilty for planning this.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was just another example of something she didn't like to do, but which was needed. And, if she did it correctly, no one would know, or be hurt.

Other than her conscience.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, October 15th, 1996

Inside the dinky thrift store half-way down the shady alley, Brenda Brocktuckle leaned on the wall, twirling her wand while her rookie partner spoke to the witch behind the counter. Neither of them was wearing their official red robes, of course. They weren't officially here. Even if they hadn't made a secret of their occupation as soon as they had entered the shop.

"Do you have all the permits you need to sell this kind of merchandise?" Martin Runcorn asked, holding up a slightly-dented broom. "It looks quite unsafe."

"B-but… it's a used broom. I've been selling used things for years," the witch, Jane Mills, a half-blood, stammered.

"You've been flaunting the law for years then," Martin said, scoffing. "Endangering the public. Probably selling stolen goods as well."

"No! I only sell honestly obtained goods!" The witch shook her head, her dirty-blonde hair flying wildly, obscuring her face for a second.

Brenda snorted. In this part of the alley, half the merchandise, or more, was shady at best. The witch glanced at her, and the Auror grinned, showing her teeth.

"I think your shop should be shut down until you comply with the regulations," Martin said.

Mills gasped. Then she closed her eyes, and seemed to gather herself. "Alright… how much do you want to let this slide?" she asked in a resigned voice.

Martin snarled. "Are you trying to bribe us? That's a serious crime!"

The witch flinched. "No… I mean…"

"Don't bloody lie to us!" Brenda's partner yelled. "You just offered a bribe! Probably with stolen gold! That's Azkaban for you!"

Mills paled. Martin was getting good at this, Brenda thought as she pushed off the wall and stepped up to the counter. "Well, we should arrest you. Open and shut case. But…"

"But?" The other witch asked, trembling. She had good reasons to be afraid, Brenda knew. Everyone had heard about the attack on Azkaban. Those prisoners not freed had been kissed when the Dementors ran rampant.

"We might let this slide, if you help us out."

Mills shook her head. "Snitches die in the alley. Slowly. Might as well send me to Azkaban."

She was crying now. Brenda almost felt pity for her. Then she reminded herself where they were. The middle of Knockturn Alley. No decent people would be living here, or doing business here. Mills was scum. But the weak kind of scum. The kind Brenda needed.

"We're not interested in the regular kind of scum here. We want the mudbloods."

Mills stared at her with wide eyes. "They'll kill me! They'll wreck the entire alley!"

"Only if they find out what you did. We won't arrest anyone near you." They wouldn't make that mistake again. "No one will know."

"Of course, if you don't want to help us, we won't help you." Martin added. "And it looks like you want to protect mudbloods..."

"Helping mudblood murderers… that's a capital crime," Brenda whispered. "But helping to catch them… there's a reward for that."

"I don't know any Resistance members! No one in the alley knows them!"

"But you know other mudbloods. Older ones. Those married to half-bloods." Brenda smiled.

"They haven't done anything! They are just hiding!" Mills was still crying. Pathetic.

"Then they shouldn't have anything to fear, right? Like your father." Brenda twirled her wand as if she was a cocky rookie again.

The witch froze, and glanced at the floor for a second. The Auror smiled.

"We don't really care about every mudblood, you understand?"

Mills nodded, shoulders hunched.

"Good. If you see any other mudbloods, I want you to give us the memory. You don't have to do anything else. Just conceal it as a potion."

The broken witch nodded again.

"We'll be in touch."

The two Aurors threw up the hoods of their dark cloaks and left the shop. A few steps into a side alley, they apparated back to the Ministry.

Once in their office, Martin sat down, sighing.

Brenda looked at him. "You did good today. Played it perfectly." Picture-perfect performance as a young, eager and by the book rookie.

"I know, but…" He made a vague gesture with his hand.

"Taking pity on Knockturn Alley scum?" Brenda sat down on her desk and summoned a cup of tea.

"No. But I still think we'd have done better by posing as sympathetic half-blood Aurors warning them of sweeps for mudbloods." Martin frowned.

"That wouldn't have worked. We don't have the authority to do such sweeps. And if we did, some half-blood probably would have leaked it as well. Or even a pureblood." Brenda scoffed. "The Department is riddled with traitors."

"I know. But scaring the scum only works if they are more afraid of us than of the others."

"That's why we add some carrot to the stick. If she can protect her father and get a reward, she's more likely to stick with us." Brenda leaned forward. "And of course, once she delivers the first memory to us, she's ours for good - we can let her name slip anytime we choose, and she'll know that."

"Ah!" Martin grinned.

Brenda smiled. Her partner was getting better, but he still had some things to learn.

*****​

London, East End, October 16th, 1996

Hermione read the transcript of the Wireless Ears she had placed near Allan's room.

'Off to see your sweetheart again?'

'Yes. Can't go for too long without, you know.'

'Of course I know. I should get a muggle girlfriend as well. Mary's being difficult and Sally's with Justin.'

'Nothing's stopping you.'

'You're right. You'll have to cover for me on the next supply run then.'

'If you think you can find a bird who wants you in a few hours….'

'Hey!'

'Dean, we're off!'

The witch bit her lower lip. That had to be Allan and Seamus. Both were off to buy muggle goods that evening. And spend some time in London to relax. So, Allan had a girlfriend. A muggle girlfriend. He had moved fast then, after she had turned him down two weeks ago. Unless… no. She shook her head. She wouldn't assume that he had been looking to two-time his muggle girlfriend with her. But to meet a muggle girl, and start a relationship, with everything else they had been doing… Allan had been lucky then. And she had been wrong to suspect him of … burning down shops or vanishing Aurors.

She sighed. It was a bit of a blow to her pride, how fast she had been replaced, but they were fighting a war. She couldn't begrudge Allan that kind of happiness. Even if she might be a bit jealous. Not of Allan's girlfriend. But of him having a relationship.

Not that she had the time to commit to a relationship. Or was the kind of girl to casually sleep with someone. Though sometimes… She shook her head again. She had more parchment to sift through for information about Auror movements, and pureblood intel. This war wouldn't be won if she slacked off.

*****​

Hogsmeade, October 16th, 1996

Hogsmeade hadn't seen much trouble so far, Axton Runcorn knew. Close to Hogwarts, with the Headmaster - Dumbledore, he reminded himself, he was no student anymore - so close, you'd have to be a very ballsy wizard to try anything in it. But that didn't mean that the town was safe, of course. Patrols like the one he and his partner were on were still needed.

But it was safer than Diagon Alley or - he shuddered at the thought - Knockturn Alley. The houses were not quite as closely built together, the streets not as narrow and dark. And the residents were honest people, not scum. With the possible exception of those who frequented the Hog's Head Inn. Shady people, straight out of the lessons from Auror training. No patrol he knew spent long in there. Just long enough to let them know the Aurors were keeping an eye on them.

"Nelly?" he asked when he passed Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, closed at this time of the evening, and noticed his partner wasn't following him anymore.

The witch scowled. "My name's Nellwyn, not Nelly."

He snorted. "Nellwyn Selwyn? That sounds far worse than 'Nelly'." Her parents had to be on some potion when they had named her, he thought. "Anyway, what's the hold up?"

"I thought I heard something." She hadn't moved from the mouth of the side alley she was staring into yet.

"Of course you've heard something. Probably a rat." Unlike muggle restaurants, there was no edible rubbish attracting the rodents, and wards keeping them out, but the rats would still smell the baked goods inside.

"Didn't sound like a rat," Nelly said. "Lumos!"

The tip of her wand lit up, and Axton cursed and closed his eyes. There went his night vision! Hadn't Nelly learned that lesson in training?

He blinked when he opened his eyes again. "Nelly, damn it…"

She was on the ground, stunned or…

A red flash hit him before he could react.

*****​

Hogwarts, October 17th, 1996

Ron Weasley dropped to the ground when Harry cast, and the Stunning Spell passed over his head with a foot to spare. He rolled to the side, sending a pair of Slug-vomiting Charms at Harry, then followed it up with a Stunning Spell of his own. It splashed harmlessly against Harry's Shield Charm, and Ron had to roll to the side once more, to escape his best mate's retaliation. A Jelly-Legs Curse hit him, but he didn't need his legs to cast. His Bludgeoning Curse dealt with Harry's shield, and his next Stunning Spell would… be dodged by Harry at the last second. Ron dispelled the jinx on his legs, but Harry used the opportunity to hit him with a Disarming Charm.

"Good match," Harry said, handing him his wand back.

"Yeah," Ron said, standing up and dusting himself off.

"Why didn't you cast a Shield Charm?" Neville asked, from where he was nursing a hand that had been stung a bit too often by Lavender in their bout.

"I wanted to practice dodging. A Shield Charm won't do a thing against an Unforgivable." Ron met the other boy's eyes until Neville looked away.

Ron walked over to the basket with the refreshments the house-elves had prepared for the Gryffindor self-defence lesson and grabbed a butterbeer for himself. He took a sip while Harry was showing Ginny how to improve her Disarming Charm.

"Neville's still not coming round, is he?"

Ron glanced to his side. Lavender was filling a cup with tea. He shook his head. "No, he isn't."

"He's been asking his gran, you know," Lavender said in a low voice.

"Oh?" Ron remembered that comment from Harry.

"And his gran apparently told him that his parents would still be fine if they hadn't joined Dumbledore." The witch sighed. "I heard it from Fay."

"Great," Ron spat. "And she still thinks the Ministry's going to beat Voldemort?"

Lavender shrugged. "I didn't talk to him."

Ron scoffed. "Well, I'm not going to talk to him either. I've better things to do."

Lavender nodded. "Like training?"

"Yes."

"All work and no play…" Lavender grinned, then patted his hand. "It doesn't suit you, you know."

"I wish I didn't have to," Ron answered. "But things being as they are, we better be ready. For anything."

Lavender frowned, then sighed. "I guess so."

Ron nodded at her, then rejoined Harry for another match.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, October 17th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle knew something was wrong when she saw Martin's face upon entering their office. So she swallowed her cheerful greeting, put down the box of cauldron cakes she had bought on the way in Diagon Alley, and sat down behind her desk. "Are you having second thoughts about the half-blood?" If he was, she might need to teach him the ropes for a bit longer than expected. There were things Aurors had to do to do their duty that were not mentioned in training manuals, but were understood in the corps.

Martin looked surprised, then shook his head. "No, no." He took a deep breath. "My cousin, Axton, and his partner didn't return from a patrol in Hogsmeade last night."

Brenda hissed. "He wasn't the kind to desert, was he?"

"Of course not. Eager to serve, even - though he was glad to get the Hogsmeade shift, instead of Knockturn Alley." Martin sighed.

The Auror pursed her lips. That didn't sound good. "Who's on the case?" So far it had been treated as an internal affair, but now that would have to change.

"Parkinson." Martin all but spat the name out.

Brenda closed her eyes. "He's a good Auror."

"But he's a git too," Martin said. "He'll expect me to owe him one for sharing news."

Brenda nodded. Parkinson was a mover and shaker. "We could try to get the case. If this was the work of the mudbloods."

"Well, it could be," Martin ventured. "Even mudbloods would be familiar with it from the Hogsmeade weekends at Hogwarts." Unlike other wizard settlements, he meant.

"Parkinson will claim otherwise though. He likes having a case like that." Brenda stood up and paced. "And Dawlish won't want more work added to his case." That Auror hadn't made any progress as far as she knew. Or maybe he hadn't wanted to make any progress in hunting down the escaped Death Eaters.

"It wasn't Death Eaters," Martin said. "Axton and his partner were the right sort."

"Ah." Brenda nodded. Purebloods who, if not supported, then at least didn't mind the blood purists. They were rather common, with the way the wind was blowing from the Wizengamot. "We still can say we have some inkling of a connection with our case. Just so we can look at the files and evidence." Martin perked up, but she continued. "It'll mean he'll have access to our files though."

Which meant they'd have to either sort through their files to remove the more delicate parts, or the intel would be spreading, and someone might leak it to the mudbloods.

Martin knew that as well, and cursed under his breath. "Is there nothing we can do?"

Brenda grinned. "Well… I think we have to look into the possible infiltration of Hogsmeade by the mudbloods. And we'll have to ask a lot of questions."

"They'll buy that?"

Brenda shrugged, leaning against her desk. "Parkinson might grumble, but what can he do? We investigate our own leads, like he's doing." And it would annoy the git. A fine revenge for his comments after the 'Beckett blunder', as he had called it.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, October 17th, 1996

Daphne Greengrass hated Polyjuice. She had taken almost an hour just to learn how to walk without stumbling in her new body, to the amusement of her traitorous friend Tracey, who had managed the same feat in a few minutes. Daphne blamed the samples Draco had provided - hers was from a rather 'top-heavy' young woman, quite different from her own body. She was rather lithe, if she did say so herself. Tracey's new body was closer to her real one, if also curvier.

But now, with another dose in their bellies, both girls were walking through Diagon Alley. They saw their destination from far away - the garish, ugly giant floating 'WWW' sign couldn't be missed.

"Smile, dear," Tracey said in a low voice. "We're two witches out shopping. You're not here to burn holes into people with your glare."

Daphne scoffed, but put a fake smile on her face. "I wish I could do that. It would make things easier."

The shop's entrance was surrounded by lights flashing in different colours. "Where did they get the gold for the shop anyway?" Tracey asked in a whisper as they approached. "Everyone knows the Weasleys are dirt poor."

"According to my uncle," Daphne said, "Sirius Black is a silent partner in the business. Threw his weight around to smooth their applications for permits as well."

"Blood-traitor," Tracey hissed. "He didn't even show up to his cousin's funeral."

Daphne felt the wards when she passed through the entrance. Starting trouble would be a very bad idea. Those wards had to have cost a small fortune, if they were that strong. How much gold had Black spent on these two?

"Watch out!"

Tracey's warning came too late. Daphne was hit in the face by something soft, and shrieked.

"Sorry!" came the shout from one of the Weasley twins. "That was a Pouncing Poultry." He summoned a rubber chicken that was struggled in the grasp of the spell. "Very popular item if you have an annoying little sibling. Release it in their bedroom, and watch the mayhem. The deluxe version comes with a camera built in, cushioned against impact of course!"

Tracey giggled, and Daphne glared, then forced herself to smile. At least her new cleavage easily distracted the blood-traitor, and her scowl could be blamed by her face having been hit.

"I've a very annoying neighbour, very nosy, and I want to teach her a lesson about minding her own business. What products would you recommend?" Tracey asked, leaning forward in that familiar way that had the Slytherin wizards at Hogwarts adjusting their robes in short order. Daphne didn't want to, but followed her friend's example, putting her hand on the wizard's arm, and letting him get a good look down the front of her robes when she stepped closer.

Dazzled, the stupid twin was easily taken advantage of, showing them around the whole shop while distracted by their borrowed bodies. Daphne even caught a few glimpses of the workshop in the back when the other twin came out to see who his brother was flirting with.

The two girls left the shop with a bag full of joke items, paid for with Draco's gold, and detailed knowledge about the shop's layout and defenses - which, sadly, were very strong.

*****​

Dorset, Britain, October 17th, 1996

"... and the wards of the shop are very strong. Strongest I've seen, outside those on old manors," Daphne said. She wasn't a Warder, or a Curse-Breaker, but she was familiar with the wards on her home. She didn't mention that the wards were stronger than the ones of Draco's new home, to which she and Tracey had travelled to report. That would have been gauche - their friend already knew that.

"Sirius Black must have paid a small fortune to protect his investment," Tracey added.

Draco frowned. "Wasting my gold on blood traitors!"

"At least it's a sound investment," Tracey pointed out. "Business must be good judging by what we saw during our visit."

Daphne scoffed. "Joke items for a joke family." She had disposed of the items on the way back. To think that she had supported those blood-traitors with gold, even for spying on them… It made her sick, knowing that this sham of a family prospered while so many proper families had been decimated.

That made Draco chuckle. Not for long though. "So, you'd say an attack would be unlikely to succeed."

"Yes." Daphne nodded. "The Aurors would be upon us before we took down the wards, and even torching the shops next to it would probably not be enough to affect them."

Draco mumbled something about Aurors that Daphne didn't catch, then leaned back in his seat. He folded his hands over his stomach, as if he was calm, but she saw his foot twitch.

"On the other hand, the two Weasleys were quite easily fooled by our disguises," Tracey said. "That might be their weakness." She grinned. "Typical young wizards."

"Who exactly were we impersonating, Draco?" Daphne asked. "We might have to reuse those disguises, should we want to exploit this, and it'd not do if someone who knows them saw us." Draco had assured them that was impossible, but you never knew.

"The hairs were taken from two French witches," Draco said.

"French witches?" Daphne wondered for a moment if Draco had contacts at Beauxbatons.

"French Courtesans, more likely," Tracey said, giggling. She stopped giggling though when Draco cleared his throat. "Seriously? We've been impersonating…" She shook her head.

"Whores," Daphne said, glaring at Draco. "You made us look like whores!" How dare he do that to them!

Draco flinched. "It was the easiest and safest way to acquire hairs for disguises."

"I bet you found it funny too!" Tracey spat.

The wizard shook his head. "I assure you, I chose them for ease of availability and security, nothing more. The chance of a Weasley being able to afford a French Courtesan is nil, after all." He winced when Daphne glared at him, and added: "And even if someone recognised you, he'd not be too surprised if those kinds of witches acted as if they didn't know him, or used fake names in Britain."

"You seem to know a lot about whores," Daphne said.

"I bet you collected the hairs yourself!" Tracey exclaimed.

Draco blushed slightly, which was answer enough.

"So, you turned us into witches you had sex with!" Daphne's friend shook her head. "That is… perverted!"

"It wasn't like that!" Draco protested. "It was the safest option! I'm very sorry for not informing you, but let's focus on the blood-traitors. There are far more important things to worry about than this… misunderstanding."

Daphne scowled. If Draco thought he would ever get anywhere with her, he was sorely mistaken. But she listened while he started to plan the next step of their operation.

*****​

Hogsmeade, October 18th, 1996

The Hog's Head Inn hadn't changed since Brenda Brocktuckle had visited it last. It was still a filthy dive catering to scum, run by the black sheep - or should that be 'black goat'? - of the Dumbledore family. The Auror had hated to visit it back when she had been patrolling the village as a fresh Auror, and she wasn't keen on repeating the experience. But the two missing Aurors had last been seen inside that pub.

Conversation inside the pub stopped as soon as Brenda and Martin entered. Everyone seemed to glare at them, some with such hatred that the Auror had to fight the urge to cast a Shield Charm. Scum indeed, kept at bay by their fear of the retribution the DMLE would visit upon them, should they attack Aurors.

Of course when she met their eyes, the scum looked away. Martin was already halfway to the bar though. Obviously, this was too personal for him to keep a cool head. She followed him as fast as she could without looking like she had to hurry.

"Good evening, Aurors," Dumbledore's brother said, in a tone that made it clear that he didn't mean it at all.

Martin nodded at him, then glanced at her. It seemed her partner was not so worked up that he wanted to take the lead here.

That was fine by her. "Good evening, Mister Dumbledore." She leaned against the bar, but tried to keep an eye on the rest of the room. Martin might not be as observant as he usually was. "Last night, two Aurors came by."

"As every night," Dumbledore said. The old wizard was even polishing glasses with his wand while talking to her, as if he was a character in a cliched novel.

"They disappeared shortly after leaving here," Brenda said. "You're the last ones to have seen them."

"Really? They disappeared?" The owner of the pub shook his head. "I didn't notice anything suspicious when they left here."

She hadn't even asked him a question yet, and he was already stalling her. "Did any of your guests pay special attention to them?"

The old man shrugged. "I'd not know. I respect the privacy of my guests. They come here to enjoy a pint or two in peace, not to be spied on."

"And they certainly don't have anything to hide," Brenda said in the most sarcastic tone she could manage.

"Exactly." The man's smile was just this side of patronising.

Brenda controlled herself though. "We suspect that muggleborns are behind this disappearance. Did you see any around?"

"How would I be able to tell a muggleborn from a pureblood? It's not as if there's a difference." The old wizard shrugged. Before she could say anything, he went on, with an insolent grin: "Nor do I care about people's parents. I'm breeding goats, not purebloods, you know."

Martin hissed next to her, but her partner managed to control himself. Brenda let the implied insult wash over her. She stared at the man. "How many guests do you think will keep visiting if we start to pay close attention to them?"

To her annoyance, he snorted. "See, that's the kind of threat and petty bullying that makes Aurors so popular among the people." Dumbledore's brother shook his head. "Maybe if you acted less like thugs, and more like Aurors should act, people would see and remember more when you ask for help."

Brenda hissed through clenched teeth: "If you're protecting the muggleborns doing this, then that will end badly for you. Very badly."

"Is this another threat? Are trying to tell me that you'll try to frame me for a crime if I don't act as your snitch?" The old wizard stopped smiling, and Brenda found herself fighting the urge to take a step back when he glared at her.

"Do you think your brother will protect you?" She knew the two Dumbledore brothers were not on speaking terms.

He scoffed. "Do you think I need his protection? Girl, I may not be my brother, but I fought Grindelwald, and lived." He glared at her, and Brenda shuddered, taking a step back from the sheer amount of hatred he displayed. "And I'm rather sick of this blood purity hogwash. Now get out of here! This inn is no place for Death Eaters, whether they wear black or red robes!"

That insult made Brenda angry enough to stand up to the old wizard. "Are you calling me a Death Eater?"

"That's the wrong question, girl. The question you should ask is: What difference is there between an Auror and a Death Eater for a muggleborn?" The old wizard had stopped polishing glasses with his wand, but hadn't put it away. A fact of which Brenda was very aware. And she noticed that the room had fallen silent once again. She didn't need to glance around to know that there were more wands ready.

Lifting her chin, she turned around and headed to the door. This visit hadn't gone as she had hoped.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, October 18th, 1996

"Welcome to my humble abode. How's my favourite muggleborn mistress doing?"

Hermione Granger rolled her eyes at Sirius's greeting. She was once more wearing a wig and a robe as a disguise, in case he had surprise visitors. A robe that might be a bit too revealing for her taste. No wonder, since Sirius had bought it. "I'm doing fine."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "You sound like Harry. So, what problem ails you?"

"That I'm one of the Ministry's and Voldemort's most wanted?"

The wizard waved that away with a snort. "That's been the case for months now."

"It's personal." Hermione said, pursing her lips.

"Oh." Sirius managed to insinuate all sorts of lurid and lewd meanings with his tone. And her glare didn't impress him at all. "I've prepared the first transcripts from the ears I placed," he went on, grinning. In a small box - expanded on the inside - a few dozen scrolls waited for her.

"Did you read them?"

The wizard nodded. "I did. A few Floo addresses - though they will likely be blocked for visitors - and some gossip by Aurors. Looks like another patrol went missing."

"Another patrol? When was that?" Hermione had a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Let me get the scroll…" Sirius rummaged inside the box, then pulled out a few scrolls and sifted through them.

Hermione made a mental note to catalogue the scrolls better. And to consider who she trusted enough to screen the transcripts - she couldn't spend too much time reading them all, but if they missed some crucial piece of information in the glut of transcripts that could be a catastrophe.

"Here!" Sirius handed her a scroll.

It was a transcript of two Aurors chatting about a patrol which had gone missing in Hogsmeade. During the time Allan had been visiting his girlfriend.

She must have not schooled her features enough, since Sirius asked: "I take it you consider this a bad thing."

She nodded. There was no point in lying about that. Not to him. "I suspect that one of the Resistance members is waging his own war, in secret. Or maybe more than one member."

"And that is a bad thing?" Harry's godfather sounded honestly puzzled.

"It is, when things happen that we decided shouldn't be done because the possible consequences are too dangerous." Hermione put the scroll down. "Like torching half-bloods' shops and framing the Death Eaters."

Sirius nodded. "I see."

"And if he's vanishing Aurors, then that means the Ministry thugs will be more careful, which makes our plan to interrogate a few of them without anyone knowing much harder, if not impossible." Hermione scowled. "Short-sighted foolishness like that can cost us a lot."

"Maybe they are interrogating them in secret?" Sirius offered.

"That's even worse. How can we trust them if they do not share such information? That's no way to wage war." Hermione sat down, sighing.

"Well, they might want to keep it secret for security reasons."

Hermione scoffed. "We're one cell. We're not big enough to split up." She shook her head. "No. This is something else. Something more."

"Are you certain this is not you taking offence at someone not following your lead?" Sirius asked in a rather careful tone, as far as Hermione could tell.

She narrowed her eyes. Was she like that? Offended that others were not following her plans? Disobeying her? Maybe a little. But she knew she was right about the risks. And the majority of the group had agreed with her. "You can't fight a war without coordination. And you can't trust your friends if they keep such secrets from you."

Sirius winced, and Hermione wondered for a moment what he was thinking, before realising that he had to remember distrusting Remus Lupin, and hiding that they had switched the secret keeper from the werewolf. She didn't say anything about it though, and busied herself with the next scroll.

"So… " Sirius trailed off.

"I have to find out if and why such things are being hidden from me and the others." Hermione also wanted to know, but dreaded to find out, how many knew about this. The possibility of having been used, fooled, by the Resistance…

The wizard nodded. "More ears?"

She nodded. "More ears." She hated it, but she had to know. She couldn't fight a war without trust - theirs and hers. Sighing, she added: "I don't know why they'd hide one of them having a girlfriend from me. Unless they think I'd act jealous even after turning Allan down." And Allan couldn't be that stupid, could he? Seamus… well, he and Dean had some rather peculiar notions about witches.

"The first thing that comes to mind is that they think you'll not approve of the girl."

She shook her head. "Why wouldn't I? It's not as if a pureblood would be able to find a muggle girl and then through her, Allan. Unless… it's not a muggle girl." But would they expect her to want to meet the girl? Certainly, they couldn't think she would want to control their love lives… not all of them. She wasn't that bad, was she?

Sirius frowned. "If he is in a relationship with a witch, then that's a risk."

"I need a way to track him." She couldn't really interrogate Allan with Veritaserum. That would be… it would be worse than spying on him. Even if not that much worse. "That'll be difficult. Especially since we're planning to track the purebloods through the shops."

"If he's as arrogant as I've heard, then he might not suspect that anyone would track him, least of all you," Sirius said.

She wrinkled her forehead. "You've heard he is arrogant?" She hadn't talked about Allan to Sirius, not describing him like that, and who else… She groaned. "Harry?"

Sirius winced.

"What did I miss?" Were even her best friends keeping things from her? Sirius's reaction let her fear the worst. But… Harry and Ron were different. They'd not hurt her. Not intentionally, at least.

"I can't tell you that. You'll have to ask Harry." Sirius grimaced.

She huffed. "Oh, believe me, I will!"

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 12: Love Trouble

'Many think of bombs and battles when they hear of the Second Blood War. The destruction of Malfoy Manor, or the riots in Diagon Alley certainly left a lasting impression, and were followed by similar events throughout the war. Even some historians tend to focus on those incidents. All of them fail to see that the war was not decided by bombs or battles, but by intelligence and logistics. That you cannot attack an enemy you cannot find is something so basic, everyone should know it, yet many overlook how it applied to this war. The Muggleborn Resistance went underground at the start, hiding in muggle Britain. The Death Eaters had their safehouses, some dating back to the First Blood War. And the Old Families started to hide after Malfoy Manor, quite a few abandoning their ancestral homes for secret lodgings. In order to fight their enemies, everyone but those warring against the Ministry therefore had to find them first. And that meant spying, scouting, and subterfuge. Something at which the muggleborns, to the surprise of many Slytherins, excelled.'
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

Hogwarts, October 19th, 1996

Ron Weasley recast the privacy spell surrounding Harry's bed in their dorm. It was almost time for the scheduled call from Hermione. It wasn't exactly scheduled, officially, but their friend almost always used the communication mirror at this time of the evening.

"You know… we still gather on your bed for a secret meeting, like in first year," he commented.

"Without Hermione though," Harry said, nodding.

"Well, she wouldn't really fit. We've grown since." Ron gestured at the bed, which had seemed very large, especially for him, when he had seen it for the first time, but now looked rather normal. The two boys took up most of the space it offered.

"Yes," Harry said. He didn't make a comment about how Hermione had grown in the right places, which is what Ron's brothers would have done. Well, not Percy.

Ron was about to say something else to pass the time when the mirror vibrated. Harry whispered the activation word, and Hermione's face appeared. Ron slid up a bit, next to Harry, so both could watch the mirror, and be seen by their friend.

"Hermione!" the two chorused.

"Harry! Ron!" Hermione smiled at them. "How are you doing? And don't say 'fine'," she added with a mild glare.

Ron saw Harry close his mouth, and chuckled. "We're doing well. Mostly training."

The girl nodded. Her new haircut suited her, even though Ron was missing the wild mane she had sported for years. "We're training as well."

"We've heard rumours about Aurors going missing," Harry said.

Hermione frowned. "That's not the Resistance's work. We've other plans."

"So, someone else's fighting the Ministry?" Ron asked.

"Probably. Might be someone acting on his own." Hermione sounded not quite as happy as Ron would have expected about others taking the initiative.

"Do you think it's the Death Eaters?" Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. "There's no Dark Mark, and no mutilated corpses. That's atypical for Death Eaters."

"True. Did you get the transcripts from Sirius?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I did." The witch nodded. "There are some promising leads, but we'll need to be careful in going after them."

Harry hesitated, then asked. "How dangerous is that?"

Hermione bit her lower lip. "We're playing it as safe as we can."

That didn't sound very safe to Ron. He glanced at Harry, trying to be subtle, but he wasn't subtle enough, as a familiar exasperated sigh from the mirror told him. "Honestly, we're not taking unnecessary risks! You should be more concerned about Sirius."

"What did he do?" Harry asked quickly.

"He's been the one touring the shops and placing the ears."

"Well, that's done with now, right?" Harry asked.

"He might want to help us with the next step too," Hermione said. "And we can use his help."

"Padfoot's?" Ron asked. The animagus form of Harry's godfather was quite useful in many possible missions.

"Not just Padfoot." Hermione took a bite from what looked like a muggle Mars bar. "He can visit places we cannot. Though his political views are well-known, so some might suspect him, even without any proof." Ron heard Harry hiss under his breath. Hermione didn't seem to have noticed though. "We'll do our best to avoid that, of course."

"Thanks," Harry said.

"We can help as well," Ron cut in. "I'm a pureblood, and he's Harry."

"You're the poster boys for Dumbledore's Junior Order," Hermione said in a flat voice.

"There is no such thing," Ron said. They were full Order members, even if they kept that secret.

"You know what I mean," Hermione sniffed.

Harry grumbled something about fame that would have earned Ron a Cleaning Charm to the mouth had he said it in the Burrow.

"Anyway, we're still preparing. Training. Like you."

Ron nodded. Safe then.

"Though…" Hermione frowned suddenly. "What exactly did you tell Sirius about Allan?"

"What?" Harry sounded as surprised as Ron felt.

"Sirius told me that he heard that Allan was arrogant," Hermione looked from Harry to Ron. "And he didn't want to tell me anything else. Just said I had to ask you, Harry."

"Oh." Harry was not quite as eloquent as he should have been, Ron thought.

"'Oh'? What do you mean?" Their friend was not letting this go. "Did something happen between you and Allan?"

"Why do you think that?" Ron asked.

Before she could answer, Harry said: "He was the one who asked you out, right?"

Hermione blinked, opened her mouth, then took a deep breath with closed eyes. "For your information, technically he didn't ask me to be his girlfriend. He asked if I was in a relationship, and when I told him I had no time for a relationship, he accepted that."

That wasn't what Ron had wanted to hear. Not at all. Not only hadn't she, technically, turned the guy down, but she also didn't have time to be in a relationship? He hoped his face didn't show his reaction.

"You're working too hard!" Harry blurted out.

"Because I don't have time for a relationship?" Hermione sounded incredulous.

Harry nodded. "If you're working yourself too hard… you remember third year?"

Ron winced then. Reminding Hermione of that particular period wasn't a good idea.

Hermione glared at them. "Now, did you talk to Allan or what?"

"No! Why would we want to talk to that git?" Ron said before Harry could make their friend even angrier.

"If you haven't talked to him, and have met him but the one time…" Hermione blinked. "What's going on?"

"He didn't leave a good impression when we met," Harry said.

Ron saw that their friend was close to blowing up. He cast in the dark. "Look… he seemed jealous. A bit possessive too." He smiled at her.

Harry nodded. "He didn't like us at all."

Hermione sighed. "He probably was jealous of my friendship with you."

Ron kept smiling with an effort. That didn't sound like the kind of friendship he or Harry wanted. "That doesn't sound good." She narrowed her eyes at him, and he winced. "I'm just saying what I heard from Charlie. If a girl, or in this case, a bloke, wants you to stop hanging out with your friends, that's a bad sign."

To his surprise, Hermione didn't contradict him. "Yes, I understand that." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just a bit stressed."

Ron exchanged a glance with Harry. "We should meet and hang out again then. Relax."

Harry nodded. "We can sneak out of Hogwarts easily now, with Dumbledore covering for us."

The girl was biting her lower lip again. Ron pushed on. "You know, no one can go on without relaxing."

"I guess. Even professional soldiers need rest and recreation," Hermione said.

"Great! So… when do you have time?"

"Well… tomorrow is Sunday…" Hermione turned away from the mirror and started to flip through her notes.

"Sunday afternoon? We don't have to skip classes then. But we're fine with that too!" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione turned back. "Honestly, Ron! You…" She broke off when she saw him grinning.

"Tomorrow then?" Harry asked.

"Alright, alright," Hermione said, pursing her lips. "Tomorrow then," she added with a smile.

Deciding where to meet took a few minutes. Ron didn't really care, and neither did Harry from what he could tell, but Hermione didn't seem to accept that without asking both of them several times for their preferences.

That was typical for their friend, of course. If she thought they had to do something, even if if it was just voicing their opinion, she'd nag them incessantly. And he wouldn't want her to act any other way.

*****​

After Hermione had switched the mirror off, Ron turned to Harry. "You talked to Sirius about her?" Harry's godfather was… Hermione would call him 'opinionated' when it came to witches. Or sexist.

His friend nodded. "Who else could I talk to?"

Ron had to agree with Harry. There were not many he could talk to about this, not with Hermione being a wanted witch. Usually he'd expect Harry to talk to him, but with both of them interested in the same witch… He nodded. "Right. So, what did he say?"

Harry hesitated, and for a moment, Ron wondered if Sirius had told him a secret way to charm witches. Then he told himself that Hermione was not likely to fall for that. His friend cleared his throat. "Well… he said that if we settled things between us, she might think we're trying to decide for her."

Ron nodded. That seemed to fit Hermione. She was very prickly when it came to anyone making decisions for her. When Harry didn't go on, he asked: "And?"

His friend shrugged. "He didn't have any really useful advice. He just said that she'd not be the type to go for a rich wizard."

Ron was torn between being happy about that statement, and wondering if that was a slight against him. "So, Justin's not in the running."

Harry shook his head. "He's a Hufflepuff."

Ron thought Hermione was likely to take offense at stereotyping, as she called it, but he didn't think Justin was her type of wizard either. Too used to following instead of leading. Although he might have changed in the Resistance. War changed people, Ron knew that. "And Baker's a Ravenclaw. And asked her out." And he was older than her. Like Krum.

"And he's jealous of us." Harry grinned. "Hermione wouldn't stomach anyone trying to tell her who she should be friends with."

Ron nodded. "That still leaves us with the question of how to handle this." The longer they waited, the bigger the chance that someone else, someone close to Hermione, would make a move. Maybe even someone who didn't push all the wrong buttons of their friend. A braver Hufflepuff, maybe. Hermione liked it when they worked hard. And Hufflepuffs were all about working hard. Curse it! Justin was competition!

"I don't think she'd like it if we simply told her we fancy her, and want her to choose." Harry said.

Ron snorted. "No, that would not be a good idea." he frowned. "On the other hand, asking her to a private talk is kind of…" 'Unfair' came to mind. At least for the one who didn't get to go first. And if they did it right after each other, it wouldn't be that much different from telling her together. He sighed. He really wished he could talk to someone, ask for advice, but… Sirius was Harry's godfather, and the only ones who knew about them meeting Hermione were the twins, and Ron had learned long ago not to ask them for advice, much less follow it. Ginny knew as well, he was certain of that, but she hadn't been told, and to ask his little sister for advice… he winced.

"What are you thinking of?" Harry asked.

Ron looked at him. "Just thinking about how it's funny that Sirius is the best choice for advice."

"He has been spending almost more time with Hermione than we have lately," Harry said.

"And if that's not wrong, then I don't know what is," Ron muttered.

"At least he's not her type," Harry said. "I've heard rumours that Tonks fancies Remus."

Ron would have made a comment about Sirius not being mature enough for Hermione, but held his tongue. "She does?" That was news to him.

"Sirius told me." Harry nodded.

"Remus is a lucky wizard."

"He doesn't fancy her. Or so he says, Sirius says. Claims he would be too old. Sirius disagrees, but hasn't yet decided if Tonks is good enough for Remus. So he hasn't said anything." Harry shook his head.

"At least someone else has love trouble too," Ron said.

Harry glared him for a moment, then reluctantly nodded.

*****​

Dorset, Britain, October 19th, 1996

"You want us to seduce the Weasleys?"

Daphne Greengrass crossed her arms and stared at Draco. Mainly so she'd not hex him.

Draco coughed. "Not seduce. Just lure them out of their shop, into a trap."

Tracey had her wand out and scoffed. "They're not that stupid. How often did they get caught when they did something at Hogwarts? If we had to gain their trust, we'd have to do more than just flirt."

"Well, they're purebloods," Draco said.

"Do you think that makes seducing them acceptable?" Daphne asked through clenched teeth.

"No, of course not." Draco smiled, though it looked more than a bit forced to Daphne. Had he really expected them to spread their legs for the Weasley twins? Did he think Polyjuice would mean it didn't count? Tracey didn't look like she believed him either. "They're Gryffindors." Draco held a hand up. "I know they are cunning - for Gryffindors." He sneered. "They are tending to a shop. Making joke items." He shook his head with obvious disdain.

"They were involved in the riot," Tracey added. "Stood their ground."

"Yes. Typical for Gryffindors." Draco's smile grew. "So, if they think you're friendly, if they like you, then they'd certainly rush out to help you, if you appeared to be in danger."

Daphne hated to admit it, but Draco was on to something there. "That could work."

Tracey nodded as well.

"But," Draco said, "preparing an ambush in the middle of the day is dangerous. Too many witnesses, and Aurors might react quickly."

Daphne nodded. "Or others might intervene." Unlikely, but not impossible.

"Exactly." Draco smiled. "It would be better if this happened in the evening."

Daphne again had the urge to hex him.

*****​

London, East End, October 20th, 1996

Hermione Granger checked her appearance in the mirror. Her short hair was hidden beneath a blonde wig, her wand was in a holster on her forearm, covered by her sweater, her mobile phone was clipped to the belt of her jeans. She looked just like any other muggle girl out to meet some friends. Or, she thought with a giggle, a girl out to meet her boyfriend. No one should suspect anything.

She left her room and walked down the stairs, passing the living room and the kitchen. "I'm off for a few hours, to Greenwich Park!" She would have preferred to leave without drawing attention, but no one left without informing the others where they were going, just in case. But if she had timed it right, then Allan, Dean and Seamus would still be in their rooms, sleeping in - Hermione's proposal to train and exercise every morning had been shot down, and Sunday was now "R&R" day. She had exercised some anyway. But not that much either - the time could be used to study too.

"Hermione! Are you going on a date?"

Hermione turned around and saw Sally-Anne peeking out of the kitchen. The girl stepped out with a grin. "If you are you should wear tighter jeans and a sweater one size smaller. Or two."

Hermione smiled. "I'm not going on a date. I'm meeting friends."

"Oh!" Sally-Anne's smile grew. "Harry and Ron?"

Hermione nodded, instead of asking the girl who else she could be talking about - it wasn't as if she had a plethora of friends. And even if she had close muggle friends left, she couldn't meet them for security reasons.

"Have fun!" Sally-Anne's grin seemed to indicate something rather more lurid.

Hermione knew Sally-Anne was still walking on clouds in her relationship with Justin, and the girl saw romance everywhere. Though implying - however faintly - that Hermione had a romantic relationship with both Harry and Ron went a bit far. It would make for a funny anecdote to tell them, though. So she just shook her head, smiling wryly, and waved as she left the safe house.

Once more she pondered warding some spots with anti-muggle wards in convenient locations, so they could apparate in London without risking upsetting muggle witnesses, but decided against it. If a wizard stumbled over them, they would make prime ambush sites. Or traps.

Though the added security meant she had to travel for some time on the bus and tube to reach her goal. Maybe she should look into getting a provisional driving license - she was 17 now. Although that would leave tracks in the system, and given London's traffic, she might not be that much faster. And in a pinch, she couldn't take a car with her by portkey or apparition. A motorcycle on the other hand…

She sat down at the bus station and pulled out a book to read while waiting.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, October 20th, 1996

"Oh, Harry Potter graces us with his presence! And there's Ron as well."

"Oi, cut it out, you lot." Ron Weasley rolled his eyes at the greeting by Fred or George while Harry smiled. Then he frowned. "Did you try out a new product on yourself?" His brother's hair looked different.

His brother nodded. "Heavenly Hairstyles, for those among us who don't know how to use styling charms. As our brother, and a person in dire need of it, you'll get a rebate!"

"You'll need to work on the name," Ron said.

"And on the charms… unless that's the prank product version," Harry added, "and you have charmed it so the user doesn't notice how ugly it looks."

"Hey!" the twin exclaimed, in an indignant tone. "That's… actually, that's a great idea! Prank style products! We'll call it 'Harry Hair'!" He laughed while Harry gasped.

"Don't give them ideas!" Ron said, shaking his head.

"But… what brings you to us, on a Sunday? Skipping out of Hogwarts too?"

Ron shrugged. He didn't want to say that he missed his family, especially with the Death Eaters out there. "We left a bit too early, and decided to visit you."

"Oh… too early for what? A secret mission? A date with a hot witch?"

Ron sighed. "We're meeting Hermione."

"Hm. Does that count as a date with a hot witch? Or would that be hit-witch?" His brother cocked his head to the side, tapping his lips with one finger.

"It's not a date," Harry said.

"Alright." Ron's brother nodded. "So… apart from giving us new ideas, what news do you have from Hogwarts?"

Ron was a tad suspicious at the sudden change of topic - usually, his brothers milked any joke or teasing opportunity far past the point it was funny - but obliged him. "Not much has changed. We're focusing on training, and enjoying a safe school without the Slytherins."

"Some Slytherins are left," Harry added, "but they are the younger ones, and don't dare to start trouble now. Not even with Snape looking over their shoulders."

"Must gall the git something fierce. He's been taking points left and right," Ron said. "But who cares? Points are meaningless in a war."

His brother gasped and pressed a hand on his chest, as if he had just been hexed. "Blasphemy! You don't know how much pride we took in all the deductions we earned!"

"Yeah, right." Ron sniffed. "Are you wearing perfume?"

"Eau de Cologne, you barbarian!"

"What?"

"That's like perfume, but for men," Harry said.

"I know that," Ron said. He had looked into such things, recently. Just in case. "I'm wondering though why my brother would be wearing it. Unless… is there something you don't want mum to know? Or someone?"

"Ah… I've met a lovely girl. A pair of girls, actually. Visions of beauty and grace."

"Actually," Ron's other brother cut in, standing at the door, wearing the same haircut, "Two lovely witches endured his brutish attempts to charm them three days ago without fleeing in terror, and he's been hoping for their return ever since."

"You're just jealous!"

The two twins glared at each other. Ron exchanged a glance with Harry. At least they were not the only ones with such troubles.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, October 20th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle frowned when she saw a mudblood propaganda leaflet stuck to the wall near a side alley. It was bad enough when the things littered the street, but now those were displayed on the walls? She vanished it with a flick of her wand.

"They are getting bolder," Martin remarked, "if they are spending the time to put them up. A night patrol might catch them."

"Or they might walk into a trap," Brenda said.

Martin hissed. "You mean…?"

She shook her head. "I don't think they'd do this to ambush us. But night patrols are already very dangerous." Doubly so since the youngest, most inexperienced Aurors were doing those.

They passed a defaced Ministry poster. Where the original text called on people to stay calm and cooperate with the Ministry, this one called on people to 'rise up and overthrow the fascist government'.

"What does fascist mean?" Martin asked.

Brenda shrugged. "I've no idea. Some muggle insult, probably." She didn't care either. She aimed her wand at it and cast another Vanishing Spell.

They were close to Knockturn Alley now. Brenda noticed people moving out of her way, avoiding eye contact. And others glaring at her. "I don't like this," she muttered. "The attitude is getting worse."

Martin nodded. "Sometimes I feel as if I'm walking down an alley populated by mudbloods."

Brenda scoffed. "The sick thing is that we're risking our lives for them. We're all that stands between them and another massacre. And yet they hate us for that."

Her partner agreed while he glared at a shady old wizard. "Remember Aberforth Dumbledore? Bloody prick."

Brenda snorted. "Damned fool. Protecting murderous scum."

"He probably knows who murdered my cousin," Martin muttered.

"He knows, or he strongly suspects. And yet he won't tell us anything." Brenda ground her teeth. She'd love to take that arrogant scumbag down. But without proof they couldn't do anything. And, Brenda suspected, even with proof they would not be allowed to make a move. Lately, the Ministry had been stepping very lightly around Dumbledore.

"What's that?" Martin said, interrupting her frustrated thoughts.

Brenda blinked. "Mud." The street in front of them had been turned into mud.

Martin pointed his wand at it, but Brenda stopped him before he could cast. "Don't!"

He looked at her. "What?"

"It could be a trap. Shield and Bubble-Head Charm, and then let's get to a safe distance," Brenda ordered.

Martin's eyes widened, and he nodded. "Sorry… I wasn't thinking."

She waved it away. He was still young, and frustrated. The two Aurors retreated ten yards and cast the charms. "Everyone, get away from this patch of mud!" Brenda ordered the audience.

Then Martin aimed his wand again. "Finite Incantatem!"

The mud turned back into cobblestones. Brenda cast another charm to check. "It looks safe."

"Oh… our brave Aurors are afraid of a bit of mud!"

That had come from behind them. Brenda turned around, but couldn't spot who had said that. A number of people seemed to find this very funny though.

"They're afraid of getting dirty!" Another voice called out. More laughter followed.

"You'd not be laughing if this had blown up!" Martin exclaimed.

Scoffing sneers answered him.

"We should make them cancel those spells!" Martin said under his breath.

Brenda nodded, despite knowing that would never happen. "Let's go on. We're on the clock," she said.

They encountered more mud on the way - a transfigured cart, and another part of the street. Someone was having fun, it seemed. Or someone was trying to make them complacent, so they'd slip up. Brenda shook her head. Patrols had just become even more dangerous and frustrating. Sooner or later, one of the rookies would not check carefully, and end up hurt, or worse.

*****​

London, Greenwich, October 20th, 1996

Hermione was looking nice, Harry Potter thought when he saw his best friend - his best female friend - sitting in the café she had picked. The blonde, straight hair didn't fit her, though. In his opinion at least.

"Blimey," Ron muttered next to him. "I'm still not used to her hair." Apparently, his best mate had similar thoughts.

"Harry! Ron!" Hermione had stood up when she saw them enter the café, and went on to hug both with a beaming smile. Up close she looked happy, but tired. She didn't feel too thin though, not like in third year.

"New hairstyle again?" Ron asked.

"Disguise," the witch answered, sitting down. "I doubt any pureblood would be looking for a blonde."

"I doubt any pureblood would be looking here," Harry said. "Though we might have to disguise ourselves a bit more too."

"Probably. I can get you wigs," Hermione grinned. "You'd look good as a blond."

"We could use Colour Charms," Ron said. "And Hairstyling Charms."

"You learned those?" Hermione blinked.

"Well… we could learn them," Ron said.

"Not from Lavender though," Harry said. Ron glared at him and he quickly added: "She'd not be able to keep it quiet."

"She would," Ron said. "But only if we told her it was an important secret. And then that would mean she'd know we'd plan to use them for disguises."

Hermione snorted, but didn't comment. Harry knew she was not that fond of Lavender. Or rather, she didn't think much of the girl's abilities.

Further discussion was interrupted by the arrival of the waitress, who took their orders. Once she had left their table again, Ron spoke up. "She's training as well. Most of the house is training. Not daily though."

Hermione sighed. "Well, not even the Resistance is training daily."

"Really?" Harry was surprised.

"They voted to take Sunday off." Hermione sounded rather vexed.

"And do you train anyway?" Harry narrowed his eyes. He knew her, after all.

She smiled. "Just a bit of exercising, to keep in shape. I use the time to study."

"And you look in great shape," Ron said, flashing a smile at her. "Could be playing Quidditch now."

Harry couldn't tell if Hermione had been about to blush, since she sniffed at Ron's joke. "I prefer to stay on the ground, thank you very much, unless it's really necessary."

"It'd be good training though, for when it's needed. Dodging bludgers helps with learning how to dodge spells. Teaches you situational awareness too," Ron explained.

"Someone's been studying," Hermione teased, though Harry thought she sounded pleased.

He quickly cut in. "We've been doing our best. Our focus is on Occlumency though - we need to master it, Dumbledore said."

"And learning that is a pain," Ron added. "You've mastered it?"

Hermione nodded. "I think so. I can't really test it, though."

"Dumbledore will want to test you, I reckon," Harry said. "He knows we tell you everything."

Their friend nodded.

"Dad said the Ministry's been rather cautious lately. Dumbledore has them spooked. I'm not certain if that's a good thing though." Ron shrugged.

"Scared people tend to act rashly." Hermione sighed. "Is Hogwarts still divided?"

Harry nodded. "The worst of the Slytherins are gone, but there are a number of bigots left in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. They keep their heads down though, at least outside their dorms. Like the gits in our house." McLaggen, for one.

"Typical for the Slytherins - they save themselves and leave the rest to rot." Ron scoffed, and grabbed a biscuit from the small basket on the table.

"So, it's back to normal then. Like Wizarding Britain as a whole, it looks fine from the outside, but still rotten on the inside." Hermione shook her head.

The mood started to get gloomy. "Let's talk about something else," Harry said.

"Yes. Apparently, Fred's fallen in love with one or two girls that visited his shop a few days ago. He keeps hoping they'll return." Ron snickered. "He's been changing his hairstyle and even wears perfume. And George has to match him, of course, even if he doesn't want to. They've been arguing about it a lot."

The witch shook her head. "Boys…"

Harry shrugged. "He's in love, what do you expect?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Love renders people foolish, it seems." That wasn't exactly what Harry wanted to hear. Nor Ron, he supposed. They exchanged a glance while Hermione continued. "Justin and Sally-Anne are acting like lovebirds. Drives Dean and Seamus wild, the two are jealous, but try to hide it."

"Are they in love with Sally-Anne as well?" Ron asked.

Hermione snorted. "She's a pretty girl. I don't think you can call their feelings 'love'."

"Ah." Ron nodded. "Did they ask you out too?"

Hermione grinned. "They know I'm not a foolish girl falling for their lines. But Sally-Anne is trying to play matchmaker." The witch shook her head. "She sees couples everywhere. My parents told me that their friends acted the same when they were freshly in love. The friends. My parents were more sensible when they tied the knot." She laughed. "Sally-Anne even implied I was dating you two."

Harry forced himself to laugh at that, as did Ron, but he could tell by the way Hermione's grin faded, replaced by a puzzled reaction, that they hadn't fooled her.

"You don't think that's funny, do you?" their best friend asked after a brief pause.

Harry was shaking his head before he realised what he was doing. He glanced at Ron, who was wincing. The mood was suddenly very awkward.

*****​

Hermione Granger stared at her two best friends. They didn't think Sally-Anne's teasing was funny… she blinked. Did they have love trouble? Both of them? She bit her lower lip, not certain what to say. She reached up to twist her hair, then remembered she was wearing a wig. The silence was becoming uncomfortable. None of them was saying anything. She could see Harry and Ron glance at each other. What was going on?

When their eyes flicked back to her, she realised she had said that out loud.

"Err…" Harry winced.

She knew that expression. They were keeping something from her. Something they thought might upset her. She glared at him, then at Ron. "What is going on?" she said, carefully pronouncing each syllable.

Ron sighed. "Blimey…" he said, with another glance to Harry. He returned his attention to her though, before she lost her temper. "It's like this…" he trailed off, swallowing. Hermione almost snarled at him. What was he waiting for? Why couldn't he just tell her? What were they hiding from her?

Ron cringed - her feelings on the matter must have been quite clearly visible on her face - and took a deep breath. "We, well, we both fancy you."

What? Hermione blinked.

Harry nodded. "Yes."

"You… both?" She didn't know what to think, much less what to say.

"We didn't want to tell you like this, but…" Ron shrugged.

"You're just too perceptive." Harry smiled weakly.

"But… I mean… both?" They couldn't mean… she tugged on a strand of hair, almost pulling her wig askance. Hadn't she told them she had no time for a relationship? Was this why they had asked her to meet them?

Ron actually blushed. "Not like that!"

Harry nodded.

The relief that brought was short-lived. Her two best friends, wanting her… as a girlfriend. That was… there would be trouble. She knew it. Their friendship might not weather this. Love made people act like fools, and jealousy was worse. Hermione took a deep breath. She had come to meet her friends to relax, not to… get stressed. She had to be calm.

Ron muttered a curse. Even though she didn't admonish him, he apologised. "Sorry." He grinned, but it looked fake to her.

"What did you have planned then?" she asked, as much to gain time to think as out of a desire to know.

"We don't know, actually," Harry said. "Telling you privately… well, it would have been unfair, or worked out the same." He shrugged. "Damned if you do, damned if you don't, you know."

"How long?" she asked. They stared at her. "How long have you… thought about this?"

"Two weeks? Three?" Ron looked at Harry, who nodded.

"After you turned Lavender down."

"I turned her down, because well, she wasn't you." Ron sighed.

"But why now?" Why did they tell her now?

"We don't know." Harry shrugged. "We didn't plan this."

"It just happened?" It figured. All her plans lately seemed to suffer from coincidences and such. She came to relax with her friends, and found herself confronted with potential boyfriends. A love triangle, with her in the middle? Ridiculous!

"Love usually just happens," Ron said.

She almost snapped that this wasn't love, just teenage hormones. But she didn't. There were prettier witches at Hogwarts. Like Lavender. If it was just hormones, Ron would be dating her. She suppressed the small voice in her mind that whispered that Ron might date the witch anyway. He'd not do that to her. And Harry wouldn't let him do it either. She looked from one of them to the other and back. "What do you expect me to say?"

"I don't know." Harry winced. "We didn't plan this."

"Do you expect me to choose?"

"Well..." Harry trailed off.

"We wanted to avoid exactly this situation," Ron said. "We didn't want to pressure you. We hoped, well, I hoped, that… things would work themselves out. Somehow."

Hermione chuckled, though she felt like crying. The expressions of her friends showed that they noticed. "What a bloody mess!" she muttered. She closed her eyes. She didn't rub them. She wasn't crying. A few deep breaths later she opened them again. Harry and Ron were looking at her. "Let's deal with this like adults. You fancy me. You told me. You talked about this with each other before. I therefore assume you don't want to see our friendship ruined."

Both boys nodded.

"Good. Now this comes as a surprise to me." Which should have been obvious to them, by her reaction. "I don't know how to react." She needed more time to consider this. Think this through. And their expressions, half-hopeful, half-dreading, didn't help. "Let's just talk about something else, and… just enjoy the day? Relax? Order some more tea?" She hated how uncertain she sounded.

And yet Harry and Ron nodded in response to her asinine proposals. She clenched her teeth. They needed to talk about something, anything. Anything but love. And the war. "What are you currently doing in Transfiguration?"

"We're working towards Human Transfiguration. We're still learning the basics though," Harry said.

"No ferrets yet," Ron added, with a slight grin.

"You're using 'A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration', right?" Hermione knew they did; she had read the book list, after all, to get copies herself. And they knew she knew. This wasn't working. She shook her head and stood up. "Sorry. I can't… I think I better go home. This is too much right now." She forced herself to smile. "I'm sorry."

"It's our fault. Sorry." Ron's smile didn't reach his eyes. Harry didn't even try, he simply nodded.

Hermione pulled out her purse, but Harry held his hand up. "We'll cover it." For once, she didn't argue, just nodded at them and left.

She managed to walk normally until she could duck into a side alley. Then she leaned against the wall, and sighed. She didn't want to return to the safe house yet. Not so soon. Sally-Anne would know at once that something had happened. Hermione didn't want to deal with questions, or worse, help. She kicked the wall with her left heel. She had been looking forward to an afternoon with her friends, not this!

How could she deal with this? Pick one, pick none? She wanted to keep her friends. Both of them. And if she picked one, the other would be hurt. And jealous. Not that she even wanted to pick one. Not like this, at least. Love should happen naturally, she thought. Not mess up all her plans, and deny her even her most cherished friendships. The whole affair had messed her up, she couldn't even think of things to talk about with them!

This time she did wipe her eyes.

*****​

London, No. 12, Grimmauld Place, October 20th, 1996

"She didn't take that well," Ron Weasley said as soon as he and Harry had reached Sirius's home.

"No she didn't." Harry looked at him. "We scared her away!"

Ron sighed. "We expected that." Or feared that. "She didn't reject us, at least." Either of them.

"Because she was too shocked. She's probably writing a letter now." Harry sounded morose, leaving no doubt as to what he expected to read in that letter.

Ron shook his head. "I doubt that." Hermione wouldn't do that. "She just needs time to figure things out."

"Figure things out?" Harry scoffed. "If she fancied either of us, she'd have said so, wouldn't she?"

"If she fancied neither of us, she'd have said so," Ron countered. "It would have been the easiest answer. She would have said she has no time for a relationship." It would have kept both Harry and him from being jealous.

"Do you think so?"

"Yes." He hoped so, at least.

"She doesn't really go for the easy answers." Harry sighed.

"Who? Hermione?" Sirius asked. Harry's godfather had arrived in the entrance hall. "I didn't expect you."

"We kind of told Hermione that we like her as more than just friends," Harry said. "She pretty much fled."

Sirius winced. "That's a bit harsh."

"She was surprised," Ron came to to the defence of their friend.

"And she's under a lot of pressure, with the war," Harry said.

"That'd be a reason to have sex. It's a very good way to relax." Sirius nodded. "Trust me, I know!"

"She's not like that!" Harry said.

Sirius shrugged. "You never know. I personally hoped she'd want a ménage à trois."

"A what?" Ron didn't speak French.

"You know, an arrangement between all three of you," Sirius explained.

"Are you … do you really think that?" Harry had to be as surprised or shocked as Ron felt; he usually didn't come that close to giving his godfather an opening for that awful pun.

"Always!" The wizard grinned. "More seriously though, the Quaffle is in her hands now. Let's hope she doesn't drop it."

"She hates Quidditch," Harry mumbled.

"We should get back to Hogwarts," Ron said. They could train, or fly, or something. Anything to take their minds off this debacle.

Harry looked at Sirius, clearly torn for a moment, then nodded. "Yes."

Sirius looked hurt for an instant, then smiled. "Don't forget to tell me what Hermione decides! And consider the ménage à trois!"

Ron was still rolling his eyes when they apparated back to the Forbidden Forest.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, October 21th, 1996

Daphne Greengrass frowned when she saw yet another mudhole in the street. Couldn't the shop owners deal with those puerile annoyances? She drew her wand and aimed it at the patch of mud. A simple Finite should be enough to...

"Stop!"

She jerked and whirled around, wand aimed at the shouter. Next to her, Tracey, once again wearing a French courtesan's form, like herself, had done the same.

A middle-aged witch standing in front of a shop held up her hands. "Don't curse me!" When neither of the two girls cast at her, she relaxed some. "You're new here I take it?"

"We haven't been here for a few days," Daphne said in a cautious tone.

"The Aurors said not to touch the mud. It could be trapped," the witch, probably the shop owner, explained.

"Trapped?" Tracey gaped at the mud. "Why hasn't that been announced in the Prophet then?"

The older witch shrugged. "It started yesterday. It should be announced tomorrow, I reckon."

That sounded quite fast for the Ministry, Daphne thought. She eyed the mudhole with some anxiety. "So… the mud will just be left?"

"No. The Aurors deal with it, but… they deal with the bigger mudholes first. Those that block traffic." The witch shrugged. "The smaller patches…"

"How many of these mudholes are there?" Daphne asked.

"A few dozen last I heard. It's hard to tell."

"Bloody mudbloods making fun of us!" Daphne muttered. The other witch frowned for a second, then nodded, and stepped back into the shop.

"Do you think that's the work of the mudbloods?" Tracey asked as they continued towards the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"Who else? Purebloods and half-bloods certainly wouldn't do this to Diagon Alley, they'd harm their own businesses and make shopping a chore!" It had to be mudbloods. Which meant…

"So, at least some of them will be trapped." Tracey said what Daphne had just thought.

"Yes."

The two carefully kept their distance from every mudhole they saw from then on.

*****​

This time, Daphne ducked when she entered the joke shop, and the ugly rubber thing missed her. She was tempted to blow it up with a Reductor Curse, but that would not have fit her role.

"Mary! That was a good reaction! And hello Cassandra!""

Daphne forced herself to smile when she saw one of the twins - with a hideous haircut that made Potter's hairstyle look great - bear down on her and Tracey. "Hello… George?"

"It's Fred!" the twin smiled. "I'm the handsome twin."

"Ah!" Tracey twittered.

"Says he." The other twin, by exclusion, George, cut in, shaking his head at them from a few yards away. He had the same haircut.

"He's just jealous," Fred said, smiling brightly at the two witches. "So, how did your families like our products?"

Jealous? That could be exploited, Daphne thought. She flashed a smile of her own. "They didn't quite appreciate them as much as we did. It was very entertaining."

"Yes. We'd like to buy a few other products," Tracey said, sounding eager.

"We have a shop full to choose from. Now… how did the Galloping Glasses work out? How long did they chase them? Did the anti-tampering enchantments hold up?" Fred rapid-fired questions at them while guiding them through the shop.

They might have to use some of the products they bought today, Daphne thought while making up answers. Just to keep their cover, of course. Draco would certainly volunteer for the cause.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, October 22nd, 1996

"The plan worked then," Hermione Granger said, looking at the map Sirius had just handed her.

"It did." Sirius grinned. "I sneaked the tracker into Petra Rowle's order, and the family's own owl came to fetch it. I could follow it easily - I wouldn't even have had to use the tracker."

"Will anyone be able to connect you to this?" Sirius sounded confident, but the wizard was sometimes more than a bit overconfident.

He shook his head. "I borrowed Harry's cloak. No one saw me, inside the shop or outside."

"Good." Hermione smiled, remembering the things she and her friends had been up to with that cloak. Harry and Ron… she frowned, and suppressed the memories. She had no time for a relationship.

"Love trouble?"

She glared at the older wizard. "They told you."

"Of course. I'm Harry's godfather. Who else could he ask for advice?" Sirius shrugged in an almost French way. "All of you are being silly about this, by the way."

"What?" She wasn't silly. She was responsible. She was leading a resistance group in a civil war against a genocidal group of terrorists and their ignorant but willing helpers in the Ministry. "I have no time for a relationship."

"Which is what you told them."

Technically, she had told them so. Just in another talk, a few weeks ago, and relating to another wizard. She looked away and clenched her teeth.

Sirius's chuckle just oozed with amusement. "I knew it."

"And pray, how exactly am I being silly?" She glared at him again, hands on her hips.

"Not just you, all three of you." Sirius conjured an armchair and sat down. If he hadn't been a pureblood, Hermione would have thought the similarity of the chair to ones many psychiatrists were depicted on was no coincidence. "All that drama, all that angst, over such a small matter!"

"Small matter?" Hermione scoffed. "This threatens our entire friendship!"

"Only if you mishandle it. Besides, it's not the romance that you have issues with, but the choosing, right?"

"What?" What was he hinting at?

"If only Ron or Harry would have asked you out, with the support of the other, would you have reacted like this?" Sirius rubbed his chin as he looked at her. "If one hadn't shown any romantic interest in you?"

She blinked. That would have been different, probably. "It still would change our friendship. Teenage relationships rarely last long, and if we break up, things could be difficult." Like after a divorce.

"You're afraid of the relationship - whatever relationship you choose - ending," Sirius said in a softer tone. She didn't detect any trace of amusement in his tone. "Being afraid of failure is not a good way to start anything, much less a relationship."

"Being prepared for the consequences of failure is just being smart," Hermione snapped. "I'd rather have friends than a boyfriend." It wasn't as if she had too many friends.

Sirius shrugged. "Then you just have to tell them that you don't love them like that."

"Yes." She'd do it.

"And things will stay the same. Until they pick other witches as girlfriends. And spend time with them. And not with you. Witches are often rather jealous of female friends of their boyfriends."

Hermione pressed her lips together. She wasn't jealous of whatever witch picked Harry or Ron. Unless it was Lavender. Or that slut Romilda. Or the Patil twins - they had had their chance at the Yule Ball, and dumped her friends.

Dear Lord, she was jealous!

"Anyway," Sirius continued. "Think it through. And look up ménage à trois!"

She knew what a ménage à trois was! And it was something best left for the kind of romance novels she didn't read! She changed the topic. "We'll need to take down their wards without killing everyone."

"You think they'll know more Death Eaters?" Sirius asked.

"Possibly. You said that Rowle has been proposing to shift Aurors from hunting escaped Death Eaters to hunting muggleborns multiple times."

"She did, as proxy for Parkinson. That doesn't mean she's in contact with the Dark Lord."

Hermione knew that. She shrugged. "It's a possible lead. That witch wants muggleborns hunted down like animals, and more freedom for the Death Eaters. That makes her a valid target in my opinion."

"No argument here. Her brother was a Death Eater in the last war. He was killed attacking Molly's brother." Sirius frowned.

Hermione nodded. Focusing on the war was easier than trying to deal with her friends' romantic interest. "We'll deal with her." She just had to calculate the blast well enough to leave part of the house standing, but wreck the wards.

*****​

London, East End, October 22nd, 1996

"... and that's the location of Petra Rowle's home. We'll have to recon the area, find good positions to observe the house and study the wards, so I can calculate the exact bomb load to wreck the house without killing everyone inside." Hermione looked at the other Resistance members assembled around the table.

"No big loss if we use too much," Seamus said.

"We need information about Death Eaters. Given her family's past and her political leanings, she's likely to know more of them." Hermione saw Louise and Jeremy nod at her words. Justin too.

"We can now use our camouflage training!" Sally-Anne said, grinning. "Those hours spent covered with mud will not have been wasted!"

"Speaking of mud…" John raised the latest issue of the Daily Prophet. "What's up with those mudholes in Diagon Alley?"

"Someone's making a statement," Hermione said. "Non-violently too. It's a good way to annoy the Ministry, and tie up their Aurors as well."

"Indeed. But we should trap some of those patches with curses, or they might grow complacent, and stop treating them with all that caution," Allan said.

He was correct there, Hermione knew, and yet… "It also means that whoever is doing those transfigurations will be blamed for it. That could be fatal if they're caught." Especially if it was a kid.

Allan shrugged. "The Ministry will execute them anyway if they catch them. Just like they executed Martin."

He was, unfortunately, likely correct there as well, Hermione knew. Many among the Resistance, especially Seamus and Dean, nodded and their expressions told her that they considered Martin's death still not avenged. And yet… "Let's wait a bit. We can trap a patch of mud, or curse a mudhole, when the Aurors start ignoring them. Until then it's a waste of time. Time better spent on preparing our attack on Rowle."

That proposal received general approval at the table, as she had known it would. The Major had been right - idle soldiers were trouble makers, it was always best to keep them busy.

And if she was busy, she had an excuse not to deal with the trouble in her private life. As much as she still had a private life.

*****​

Hogwarts, October 23rd, 1996

While the rest of the Gryffindors who had been training Defence with them filed out of the room, headed back to the dorm, Ron Weasley stayed back. So did Harry. Ginny glanced at both of them, but followed the others out when Ron started casting cleaning and repair charms on the floor.

Harry joined him, restoring the room to how it had been before the training session. "We should train a bit harder."

"Not everyone will be able to keep up," Ron answered, fixing a small crater in the floor.

"So we just take the ones who can."

Ron nodded. "Recruiting?" He erased a butterbeer stain on the wall.

"More like creating reserves," Harry explained.

"Ah." Both knew that without mastering Occlumency, none of their housemates would be able to help with their missions.

"She still hasn't talked about us," Harry said after a pause.

He didn't have to say who he was talking about. Ron nodded. Since Sunday, Hermione had avoided talking about relationships, though she was still calling them each day.

"Do you still think that's a good sign?" Ron's friend asked.

"It's not a bad sign." Ron thought so. Had to. "If she didn't feel anything more than friendship, she'd have said so."

They fixed the rest of the room in silence. Before they left for the dorm though, Harry spoke up again: "Did you ever think about this 'ménage à trois' thing?"

"You've been talking to Sirius," Ron said.

His mate nodded.

Ron sighed and leaned against the wall. "I don't really think such a thing could work. Hermione would probably make a schedule to split the time spent with each of us." His elder brothers had been quite clear - well, Charlie and Bill - that spontaneity was needed in a relationship. Though neither had yet dated a girl like Hermione.

Harry chuckled, though it sounded a bit hollow. "Oh, yes."

Ron didn't say why he didn't think it'd work. At least not for him. He didn't want pity, he wanted to be loved for his own sake. And next to Harry, what could he offer? To think Hermione would, out of her own sense of fairness, force herself to spend time with him, instead of Harry… "No," he muttered.

"What?" Harry looked at him.

"Nothing, mate. Just remembered some homework."

Harry nodded. His mate had to know he was lying, but didn't pry.

Ron knew things would be easier if he gave up and dated Lavender, who wanted him. But he didn't want to lose Hermione either.

*****​

Hogsmeade, October 25th, 1996

Hermione Granger stopped feeling guilty for spying on Allan when the spell tracking the coin she had slipped into his pocket showed that he had apparated north from London. A few apparitions and spells later, she knew he was in Hogsmeade, or nearby.

He could be visiting a wizard girlfriend, of course. But Hogsmeade was patrolled by Aurors, and they had become quite vigilant since the disappearance of two of them. Meeting anyone there was a risk the Resistance should have been informed of.

Of course, she shouldn't be heading into the village herself, if she was following her own advice. On the other hand, she was wearing the single best invisibility cloak she had ever heard of. The usual spells wouldn't reveal her presence.

And she really needed to know, to see with her own eyes, what Allan was doing.

Silently recasting her tracking spell several times, she soon found the wizard, hiding in a side alley between two shops. The former Ravenclaw was not using magical means to hide - which would have been worthless in the face of the standard precautions the Aurors were likely to take these days - but had colour-charmed his clothes to fade in the shadows.

He hadn't noticed her - her stealth training had taught her well - and was obviously waiting for something. Probably the night patrol to pass. She shook her head under the cloak. If they were diligent and checked the side alley properly, they would spot him. On the other hand, their patrol would take them hours. And as the Sergeant had told them, the later at night, the less careful were the soldiers.

True to her prediction, the four Aurors passed the side alley with the barest glance. No wonder they hadn't caught any Death Eaters!

Allan remained still for another ten minutes, before carefully moving to the front of the alley. And now she realised he hadn't charmed his clothes - he was wearing black robes. And putting on a white mask.

She controlled herself, didn't cry out, didn't hex him. But she wanted to. The damn fool was doing what she had feared and forbidden - framing the Death Eaters for atrocities. And if he was as careful doing that as he was in obeying orders, the Aurors would be back soon, in force. And Apparition would be blocked.

She had to head back to the safe house, right away. And consider how to deal with Allan.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 13: Offensive Action

'Despite a few claims to the contrary, the so-called 'Mud Attack' was, at the start, a non-violent way of protesting the Ministry's policies. That mud was used may not have been intended simply as irony, but might also have been an attempt to turn an insult - 'mudblood' - into a term used by the minority in question for themselves, though we lack the sources to prove or disprove this hypothesis. Its effects, though, were clear: With a simple spell, daily life in Diagon Alley was greatly hindered, and the Ministry was forced to delegate many Aurors to deal with what was, at this point, a nuisance on the level of a childish prank. Although, owing to the pressure put on the DMLE by the Wizengamot to deliver results, it was also clear from the start that no matter how non-violent the 'attack' was, the Aurors would deal with it using harsh measures.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn

*****​

London, East End, October 25th, 1996

Hermione Granger apparated back to her room in the safehouse and quickly checked the telltales she had left at the door and on her desk. Neither seemed disturbed. It looked like her own excursion had not been detected as yet. She pulled off the cloak and sat down on her bed.

She was in a quandary. A quandary of her own making, at least in part. She now knew that Allan was acting not only against orders - the decision of the group - but also against the people the Resistance had been formed to protect. At least indirectly, though she couldn't be certain now that Allan wouldn't attack muggleborns either, should he think that would result in increased support and recruitment; he certainly knew as well as she did that atrocities by the government generally strengthened resistance movements.

She froze for a moment, wondering if he had arranged Martin's capture, then shook her head at herself. Allan wouldn't go that far. Or he wouldn't have gone that far, back then. But now?

She pressed her lips together. She could understand - if not excuse - his attacks on shops in the guise of a Death Eater, but if he was also attacking Aurors, and she thought he was, then what was his plan? His actions were hindering, harming the Resistance's efforts. With the Aurors using four-wizard patrols, there would be no practical opportunities to kidnap and interrogate one of them in secret. Which had been the core objective of their strategy.

Allan had to be stopped before he ruined even more of Hermione's plans. But how? If she confronted him in public, she'd have to reveal that she had spied on him. Planted a tracker on him. Even if he didn't exploit that - and he would - many members would wonder if she was spying on them as well. At best, those who supported Allan's plans would split off with him, at worst, Hermione would lose her leadership of the Resistance. Reduced to a supporter and researcher, so they'd not lose her contacts to Sirius and Hogwarts. Unless they lost all reason, and went even further than that.

She bit her lower lip, hard. She couldn't let Allan keep doing this. But she couldn't confront him either. Even in private, he could use her own actions - no matter how necessary they had been to find out the truth about him - against her. And even if she managed to turn the group against Allan, neutralise his support - Seamus and Dean, mostly, but he had known Louise and Jeremy, at least enough to contact them - what then? Punish him? How? Confinement to quarters? She snorted. The Major had told her some stories about the need for discipline, and they had made sense. In theory. But now, confronted with an actual problem, she found that the solutions presented were far harder to choose. Execution was not an option.

Could she cut him loose? He wouldn't stop, she was certain of that. And he'd do even more damage to the Resistance's plans. At least he couldn't betray them, not without losing his memory. That was an option, she supposed. Remove his memory. But he'd know it had been done to him, and she doubted he'd forgive, much less forget that. And he'd be smart enough to figure out who had done it. She, and the Resistance, would have made an enemy. An enemy who could live and fight in the muggle world, who knew them, knew how they fought, where they trained, where they lived, and was more than willing to kill innocents. In theory, her contract would prevent betrayal, but if it wasn't a betrayal if she dealt with Allan, then Allan might not be affected if he went against her, or others, as long as he thought it was for the best of the group.

She sighed, and let herself fall back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. What could she do? How could she solve this? No matter what she did, she'd compromise her morals, and probably hurt the Resistance. But to leave things as they were would be worse. Would be the worst decision she could make.

Allan dying in combat would be the perfect solution. The major had mentioned that as well. But to arrange that… it would be the worst betrayal of trust. And even if it remained a secret, it would likely damage the trust of the group in her decisions, if they led to his death.

She closed her eyes. There was an alternative, of course. Without those 'drawbacks'. Not one she liked to contemplate. But there was more to consider than her own morals.

*****​

Hogwarts, October 25th, 1996

"Ah, Severus. Thank you for coming." Albus Dumbledore smiled. "Please have a seat."

The Potions master sat down.

"Did you find out anything more about the Dark Lord's plans?"

The younger wizard stiffened at the small reminder that Albus was aware of his excursion last night. "He is still undecided whether or not he should bind his supporters closer to him. He seems flattered that there are some who will do his work unbidden, but he also seems annoyed at their lack of obedience."

"Tom was always focused on control." The robes and masks he had chosen for his followers made that clear - he did not tolerate any rivals near him; everyone had to be a faceless minion at his side. The only exception was Bellatrix Lestrange, but the dark witch was a special case - her loyalty was unquestionable. She might even be his mistress as well.

"He's also concerned that some of those supporters might be traitors."

Albus nodded. Tom, being willing to betray anyone at any time it served him, obviously expected the same of everyone else. "Any concrete plans?"

"The Death Eaters he broke out from Azkaban have received new wands. They have also mostly recovered from their time spent there," Severus said.

"Which means they will be available, and eager, for attacks." Albus leaned back. And the obvious targets, with the muggleborns in hiding, were half-bloods and 'blood traitors'.

Severus shrugged. His feigned indifference was betrayed by the tension in his body though.

"And what of Mister Malfoy? What are he and his cohorts up to?" Albus studied Severus's reaction while he picked up a lemon drop.

"He hasn't asked me for any support or information so far. I assume he's keeping his 'followers' busy with meaningless tasks." The younger wizard sneered.

"What does the Dark Lord think of their efforts?"

"He is pleased, but does not consider them worthy of important missions, yet. Their monetary and political support, however, is most welcome," the Potions master said.

"And most bothersome for us." Albus frowned. Cornelius being the Minister had one advantage: The man was obsessed with remaining Minister, and could be counted on to oppose the Dark Lord, as long as he remained convinced that his office was in jeopardy.

"Maybe the muggleborns will blow up a few more mansions, send the rest fleeing from Britain."

Albus raised an eyebrow at the other wizard. That was a very unlikely outcome, given the pride and power of the Old Families. "Did the Dark Lord mention his intentions towards the muggleborns?"

"Apart from decrying their cowardice, no."

Albus chuckled. "I assume he considers his own hiding as a cunning move worthy of House Slytherin, and not as cowardice." He didn't miss the faint stiffening of his Potions master posture at the dig against his own house's hypocrisy. Severus was a Master Occlumens, but there were still telltales. Hopefully, the Dark Lord was not familiar with them. Of course, the Death Eaters' own masks helped with concealing their feelings.

"He isn't in the habit of questioning his own actions," Severus said.

"A habit he hopefully will keep." The Headmaster smiled. "Is there anything else?"

The wizard shook his head. "Nothing of consequence."

Albus nodded. "Good evening then."

"Good evening, Headmaster."

Once his spy had left the Headmaster's office, Albus rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had hoped for more time to prepare for this. The Order of the Phoenix was divided into several cells, to protect them against treachery. But that meant they couldn't be gathered together to counter a major attack by the Death Eaters without losing that security. For a moment, he considered having them wear masks of their own, then chuckled at the thought. That would bring problems of its own.

But it meant that either he had to take a more active role in the field - which would mean that the Dark Lord could lure him away more easily, to strike when he was engaged - or hope that the Ministry's Aurors and Hit-Wizards could serve to counter the Death Eaters. Which was a very faint hope, given the political leanings of so many of them. And with the Ministry still hunting her, Miss Granger's Muggleborn Resistance was not an option either.

That left the most difficult option of them all. At least for Albus.

His brother.

*****​

London, East End, October 26th, 1996

'Family dies in Death Eater attack in Hogsmeade!'

When Hermione Granger read the headline of the Daily Prophet, she felt as if someone had hit her in the guts with a Bludgeoning Curse. A quick skimming of the article confirmed what she already knew - a half-blood owned shop had been burned down in the village. The Dark Mark had floated above the scene of the crime. Allan had killed three people, including a child one year from Hogwarts. And it was her fault - she could have stopped him, that night. Should have stopped him. She ground her teeth in anger and guilt.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned her head. Sally-Anne. The other girl looked angry as well. "We'll avenge them, Hermione! Those damn Death Eaters will pay!"

The muggleborn witch nodded, aware that her reaction had been obvious to others, but fortunately they didn't know the real reason. "We will."

"Burned alive… we'll make those bastards pay!" Seamus muttered, bent over the issue.

Hermione risked a glance at Allan. The former Ravenclaw - the murderer - nodded.

"We will avenge those poor people."

He was a very good actor, she realised. Anyone, even those who knew him - or thought they knew him - would think he was barely controlling his anger. And this threw yet more doubts onto all his actions.

She looked around. Everyone, even Louise and Jeremy, were angry, and determined to avenge the dead family. Some, especially Seamus, were too angry to think rationally. She spoke up before Allan could exploit this. "That's one more reason to proceed with our plans. We need to find those murderers so we can end them. And the key to that is information from pureblood supporters of the Dark Lord. We can't waste our time and efforts striking at random targets." She looked at Seamus. "The scum who did this want us to be angry, enraged, so we make a mistake. They want us to strike at some random pureblood family, so they can get more support. But we'll not make that mistake. We'll hit them where it hurts them!"

She brushed some hair away from her face, and used the gesture to sneak another glance at Allan. He nodded, together with the rest of the group, but she thought the anger he showed was aimed at her words.

*****​

East Suffolk, Britain, October 26th, 1996

The home of Petra Rowle was smaller than Hermione Granger had expected. Of course, it probably used Extension Charms, and the fenced-in area around it was large, but still - the proxy of Pansy Parkinson, living in such a modest house?

She lowered the binoculars and turned to Justin, who was lying next to her under the bush they had chosen. "What do you make of this?"

The muggleborn wizard hadn't lowered his own binoculars. "Small house. Probably four rooms in total on two floors. Two entrances. Small windows, curtains prevent looking inside. Well-tended garden, fence is no real obstacle." He looked at her. "Do you think it's just a decoy? A place the witch passes through when traveling to her real home?"

Hermione bit her lower lip. "It's possible, but it would require her to set up a private Floo connection." Arthur Weasley had done that for Harry, once. "Those are some strong wards though," Hermione said. "Very strong, in fact."

"If it's a choke point, then we'll have to reconsider our plans."

Hermione agreed. If it was a choke point, then they would have to take down the wards and lay an ambush. But if it wasn't, such an attempt would alert the inhabitants. Which wasn't exactly a bad thing. She smiled. "I think I have the solution. We'll need to dig though."

"The Sergeant said that a shovel saved more soldiers' lives than any rifle," Justin said.

"Wands make better digging tools," Hermione pointed out. "But the saying makes sense." She studied the house again. "It'll be a bit dangerous though. It'd be better if we had a Curse-Breaker."

"Fat chance of that." Justin snorted. Muggleborn Curse-Breakers were snatched up by Gringotts, even before the Ministry had started to persecute all muggleborns.

"We'll have to make do with what we know. Louise and Jeremy have had some basic training."

"And you've studied the matter," the wizard said.

"A bit," she admitted.

"Which means you know more about this than anyone else in the Resistance." Justin grinned.

"Which, unfortunately, doesn't mean that much." Hermione sighed. "It would be so much easier and safer if the Aurors hadn't switched to four-man patrols." She shook her head. "Whoever has been attacking them really wrecked our plans."

"Well, it's not us, and the Death Eaters would leave a calling card, so it's probably some other muggleborn taking revenge. Or another group." Justin shrugged. "There's not much we can do about it. We need to stop the Death Eaters."

Hermione was certain she could do something about it, but nodded. "At least the Death Eaters are behaving foolishly. Murdering half-blood families will make more people hate them."

"And fear them," Justin said. "But I know."

"At least with them acting like this, Allan's no longer pushing for us to attack half-bloods to frame the Death Eaters," Hermione said, maybe a bit too casually, while looking through her binoculars again.

"What are you implying?" Justin asked after a moment.

"It's rather convenient, isn't it? The Dark Lord doing what will help us." Hermione looked at him.

Justin met her eyes and frowned.

"The dates of the attacks match with Allan's absences." Hermione nodded slowly.

"He was with Seamus." Justin sounded unsure though. Unwilling to believe this of their comrades.

"So Seamus says." Hermione snorted. "He'd say a lot for a mate who wants to 'score with a bird'," she added, imitating the Irish muggleborn's wording.

"If you're right then… what can we do? This could tear us apart. There are a number who agree with his plans, even if they were outvoted. I don't think they'll agree with killing our own."

"I know. We'll have to proceed very carefully." She stared at him. "But we can't let him murder more innocents." Or wreck their plans further.

Justin muttered a curse under his breath. "Just when we can finally go on the offensive, we have to deal with this."

Hermione nodded. "Hopefully, he'll be too busy with this mission to murder anyone else." And as he had proven to be able to break the wards of those shops, he'd be the best choice to attack the wards of this house.

"It's still mere suspicion though."

"Yes. But we'll find out the truth."

*****​

Hogwarts, October 26th, 1996

Ron Weasley rubbed his temples. It didn't help with his headache. The Headmaster's mental probe had been rather painful.

"I did tell you that it would be very painful." Dumbledore sounded regretful.

"It's alright," Ron pressed out through clenched teeth. "I can take it." Harry had suffered for weeks through such, and with Snape, to boot.

"You did make significant progress," the Headmaster added. Then he turned to Ron's best friend. "Harry?"

The young wizard grimaced, but nodded. "I'm ready."

Dumbledore pointed his wand at him. "Legilimens."

Harry hissed in pain, but didn't even try to look away. Ron winced in sympathy - he knew how that felt. His own headache was slowly fading. He longed for a potion to deal with it, but that would defeat part of the training - pain was helping them to master it, or so Dumbledore had said. No wonder he had picked Snape as a teacher for Harry!

After a few minutes, Harry was making a strangled noise, and Ron's headache had lessened to the point of being an annoyance. Dumbledore lowered his wand.

"Very good. You're close to mastering Occlumency. I did have far more trouble probing your mind than last time. Did you train?"

Harry groaned. Ron glanced at him, then answered: "Not exactly. But with how things are going, we are very motivated."

"Ah." Dumbledore smiled faintly, and Ron wondered if he had seen what the two boys were trying to hide. Or Ron, in any case.

The Headmaster leaned back, and offered them lemon drops. Ron took one. He wasn't that fond of them, but sweets were sweets. Even if these were sour.

"Is there anything we can do while we master Occlumency?" Harry asked.

"Apart from the training you already do, I do not think so." Dumbledore sighed. "The Order is not yet that pressed for wands. The calm before the storm, you might say."

Ron knew what the Headmaster wasn't saying - that once the war heated up, and the Order clashed with the Death Eaters, the Order would be taking losses. He fervently hoped none of his family would be among them. He had lost two uncles already.

"I just feel so useless!" Harry spat out. "Hermione is fighting, Sirius is fighting, and I'm not doing anything."

"That is not true," Dumbledore corrected him. "You two have done a lot already. And once you have mastered Occlumency, you will be hunting Horcruxes, a very dangerous task."

"How will we be doing this?" Harry asked, rubbing his forehead - though not his scar, Ron noticed.

"Horcruxes, like almost all enchanted items, tend to lose their power over time. That is the reason Magical Egypt is not still ruled by immortal priest-kings, by the way - their soul anchors' magic faded in the millennia since the old dynasties." The Headmaster ran a hand over his beard. "Few wizards chose this route anyway, knowing that for a few hundred years more, they would give up an eternity in the afterlife. Though not so few tried to find ways to solve this fatal flaw. They found a way, or so they thought. If a Horcrux was enchanted so that it would anchor itself to other enchantments in its vicinity, leeching off their magic to renew its own, it would not degrade."

"And yet it must have been flawed, or they'd still be around," Harry said.

"Exactly. Their method had two weaknesses. First, no enchantment is everlasting. Even the strongest wards have to be renewed and maintained."

"Couldn't they just recast those themselves?" Ron asked.

"They could. They did. But the second weakness was the inherent effect of a Horcrux on its environment. Those foul items twist and corrupt everything they touch. Items, plants, animals, people. Even the very magic they rely upon. Coupled with the need to recast enchantments or wards, and the often visible effect, many dark wizards found that their soul anchors were not easy to hide from their enemies."

"If we're looking for corrupt people, I think we should start in the Wizengamot," Harry said, snorting.

Dumbledore chuckled. "An apt observation." He sighed. "Alas, Voldemort made a breakthrough there - he managed to create Horcruxes with a diminished effect on the environment. And, even worse, he apparently decided to solve the problem of degrading soul anchors by creating multiple Horcruxes over the years. No one has dared to split their soul several times before him."

"How do we find them then?" Ron asked. "There has to be a way."

"His soul anchors need to be hidden in areas saturated with magic. Strong wards, lots of spells being cast regularly, lots of enchantments," Dumbledore explained. "There are not that many areas that fulfill those criteria."

"Hogwarts." Harry said.

"That is one of the locations I think he'd have chosen, although my own presence might have dissuaded him from choosing this area." Dumbledore sighed. "But Diagon Alley, and even the Ministry or Gringotts are very probable locations for his Horcruxes. In Britain. There are similar areas outside our country."

"Blimey!" Ron exclaimed. "How do we search them all?"

"With great diligence, Mister Weasley," Dumbledore said. "And with some magic."

*****​

Ron saw Harry sigh and rub his forehead once they had left the Headmaster's office.

"Does your head still hurt?" he asked his friend. "Or is it…?" He cast a privacy spell, then tapped his forehead.

"It's not the scar," Harry said. "I'm just tired. And tired of not doing much of anything."

Ron frowned. "What's eating you?" Dumbledore had told them a lot about their mission, and they were making progress. It didn't make that much sense for Harry to be that down. "Is it about Hermione still not telling us what she feels about us?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "What's the problem?"

He saw Harry clench his teeth, and for a moment, wondered if his best mate was getting angry. Then the other wizard deflated, and sighed. "I've been thinking."

Ron nodded.

"About this whole thing." Harry tapped his scar. "This, and the prophecy. And the rest."

"Mh." Ron wondered what Harry was going to say.

"I just… can I really have a relationship, with all that hanging over me?" Harry snorted. "You know what Dumbledore said about me and Tom." The Gryffindor looked at Ron with a pained smile.

For a short but terrible moment, Ron was tempted to agree with his friend. Tell him he couldn't risk dragging Hermione down with him. Then Ron wouldn't have any competition for her feelings.

The moment passed. "Mate!" He grabbed Harry's shoulders. "Do you honestly think Hermione will care? Do you think she'll accept it if you suddenly tell her you can't have a relationship with her?" Ron scoffed. "She'll know something is wrong, and she'll hound you until you admit it. And then she'll be angry at you, probably hex you some, and then she'll tell you not to act stupid." He shook his head. "You don't really think we'll abandon you? Hell, she's Britain's most wanted witch, and did that make us back off?"

Harry stared at him, then slowly shook his head. "No. I guess not."

"Besides, she hates it if people try to decide for her. Whatever it is." Ron sighed.

"Unless of course she wants us to decide something," Harry grumbled. But he wasn't looking that down anymore.

Ron slapped his friend's shoulder. "There you go! Now let's head back, and get some sleep. I've got the early shift for map watch."

"Sirius said he and Remus are almost done with the new map."

Ron snorted. "He said that last week already. I'll believe it when the new map's here and we can sleep in again."

"As if. There's still training." Harry grinned. "Though first thing you need to learn would be to get up without anyone helping you."

Ron rolled his eyes at him. "Hermione said she was told that a veteran soldier can sleep anywhere, anytime. I'm obviously ahead of you."

"When it comes to doing nothing, yes."

The two bantered on their way back to the dorm. Ron almost didn't feel guilty about his moment of weakness anymore.

*****​

Hogwarts, October 27th, 1996

"You wanted to talk to me."

No greeting, no small talk. Just some gruff words and a grim expression. His brother hadn't changed, Albus Dumbledore thought. And yet he had - a few years earlier, Aberforth wouldn't have come to Hogwarts. He wouldn't even have accepted the message Albus had sent by owl. "Please have a seat," the Headmaster said. "Thank you for coming."

Aberforth sat down and stared at him. Waiting.

"The Dark Lord has finished rebuilding his forces. The Death Eaters he has broken out of Azkaban have recovered from their ordeal," Albus said.

"He's been attacking half-bloods already. I guess with the muggleborns all hiding from the Ministry, those were next on his list." His brother scoffed.

"I fear you are correct." Albus nodded.

"And you think as a half-blood myself, I'll be in danger." Aberforth stared at him.

Albus suppressed the annoyance his brother's antics caused him. Aberforth was deliberately goading him. "As my brother, you are a target. But I trust your wards, and your other defenses." And their estrangement was quite well known in Tom's circles.

Aberforth snorted. And waited.

Albus kept smiling. "I will not mince words."

"That'd be a first!" his brother interrupted him.

The Headmaster ignored the comment. "With the Ministry riddled with spies and traitors, and more focused on hunting muggleborns than Death Eaters, it falls upon others to face the Dark Lord's followers."

"Your 'friends', you mean."

"My friends," Albus said. "Though there's a problem."

"What problem? Did you make friends with another Dark Lord?"

Albus couldn't help but glaring at his brother for that remark. Aberforth sneered at him, not backing down. The Headmaster kept his temper in check. "After the problems with spies in the last war, I've compartmentalised the Order."

"Finally." Aberforth had been in the Order, back then. And had been a vocal critic of some of Albus's decisions.

"While that minimises the risk of one traitor exposing all members, it also makes massing forces to meet Death Eater attacks more difficult," Albus explained.

"And you want me and my friends to help you out. Risking our lives while your Order plays it safe." Aberforth glared at him.

"I just want you." Albus said. If Aberforth brought friends with him, so much the better, even if they had questionable morals. Or even because of that - Mundungus certainly was not a law-abiding upstanding wizard, but he was quite useful to the Order.

"I see." Aberforth's glare didn't weaken.

Albus waited, smiling politely. There was no need to argue much - his brother, for all his disdain towards Albus, wasn't the kind of wizard to let innocents die when he could help it.

"You're a bastard!" Aberforth spat out.

Albus inclined his head.

"I'll not be sparing the Ministry's thugs if they interfere." His brother frowned.

"I do not expect you to. While I still hope the Ministry will come to their senses, there is a non-negligible chance that they will take offense at civilians protecting themselves and others against Tom's forces. Amelia, sadly, is quite fanatical about the letter of the law, and often ignores both its spirit and common sense."

"She'd have arrested her own brother, had she known about his actions before he was killed." Aberforth shrugged. "So, you've finally decided not to play the good little teacher anymore?"

"I have decided to do what is right, even if that puts me against the Ministry."

"Well, it looks like you are able to learn from your mistakes. Too bad it took you so long. Again." Aberforth stood up. "You know how to reach me."

His brother disappeared through the Floo connection without a further word. Albus closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. That hadn't been pleasant, but in this case, the result was all that counted. Aberforth would be fighting in this war.

*****​

London, East End, October 27th, 1996

Hermione Granger looked up when she heard the knock on her door. She hoped it wasn't Allan. Just thinking how he had sat on her bed some evenings, how they had talked almost intimately, made her skin crawl. She didn't think she'd be able to hide her thoughts from Allan in a similar situation, and she didn't want him to suspect she knew about his actions.

"Hermione?"

That was Justin's voice. She relaxed. "Come in."

The former Hufflepuff entered, carefully closing the door behind him. He looked at it, then at her.

"I've improved the privacy spells in my room," she told him. "If anyone asks it's because I don't want to hear what you and Sally-Anne get up to," she added with a grin.

Justin actually blushed. "You heard us?"

She shook her head. "No, I didn't."

She sighed with obvious relief, before growing serious again. "Allan's out again. Seamus said they'd go to the pub for a few beers."

Hermione closed her eyes and cursed silently. "What about Dean?"

"He's preparing the next leaflet." Justin sat down on her bed.

For a moment, Hermione contemplated conjuring a seat for him, that would have been rude. He didn't know about Allan's visit, anyway.

"Do you think there'll be another attack tonight?" Justin asked.

She bit her lower lips. "If he's smart, he'll not do an attack everytime he goes out." She hoped he'd be that smart. To think he might kill another family…

"You sound convinced that he's doing this." Justin stared at her.

"It fits him." Hermione met his eyes. "He's been charming and friendly, but he always pushes for attacks on Aurors. And he had the plan to attack half-bloods and frame the Death Eaters."

Justin nodded slowly. "He's been talking to Louise and Jeremy as well. And to Mary and Tania. I don't know what he's been saying, or how they reacted."

Hermione rubbed her temples. "I had hoped our resistance movement wouldn't have to deal with internal plotting like this." She didn't want to end up like Michael Collins. Or Trotsky.

"If he's doing this, then we can't let him go on. You know what the Major taught us - if the soldiers start to go native, they'll soon lose all control." Justin pressed his lips together. He had to remember what else the Major told them.

"We can't make an example out of him without knowing where the others stand," Hermione pointed out. "Even using Veritaserum is risky."

He understood what she was alluding to. "We can't kill him just because we suspect he might be murdering people."

Hermione knew he was killing people. "If we catch him doing this..."

"That's dangerous. We all learned how to spot trails, and detect disillusioned people." Justin grinned. "You're not bad, but you're not good enough to follow him undetected."

Hermione couldn't tell him about Harry's special cloak. "That's true. But there are people who can help with that." It was misleading, but if he thought she was hinting at the Headmaster getting involved… The Resistance knew she was in contact with Dumbledore, though not how exactly. Nor did they know what she was doing with Sirius and Harry and Ron.

"Ah." Justin nodded. "But… is it wise to involve him in this? He's an outsider."

She hadn't exactly planned to involve Dumbledore, but now that she was thinking about it… "If Allan is murdering people he could simply disappear. That way, we'd avoid a lot of the potential trouble he could cause."

Justin was surprised. She could tell how his mouth opened, then closed again without a word. "I see. That seems… "

"I don't want some bloodthirsty murderer on the loose, nor do I want his punishment to cause problems for us in the middle of a war." She leaned forward on her chair. "If he killed that family, just to frame the Dark Lord, what else will he do? How far will he go? And would we be any better than him if we let him continue? And what else could we do to stop him? Without endangering the Resistance?"

"I want to know he's guilty before..." Justin clenched his teeth together.

Hermione nodded. "You will." She didn't know how exactly to achieve that, but she would do it. Allan would pay for his crimes. Without wrecking the Resistance she had worked so hard to organise.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, October 28th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle angrily vanished another one of leaflets while she was walking through Diagon Alley. The nerve of those mudbloods! They dared to warn the Aurors not to support or protect the Wizengamot members responsible for 'the criminal persecution of innocents' and the 'blatant support of Death Eaters', and threatened to kill them! At least they didn't use weird muggle words like 'fascist' in that one.

Martin glanced at her, but didn't say anything. Her partner vanished another one, not that it would do any good - there were hundreds of them covering the street, almost covering up the patches of mud still defacing the Diagon Alley. When she caught the mudbloods doing this…

The two reached the burned out ruins of a second-hand shop. The area was crawling with Aurors from Dawlish's task force. Dawlish himself was standing a bit away, staring at the ashes and rubble.

"Morning John," Brenda greeted him. "Another Death Eater attack?" She had heard rumours, but no details in the office.

"Morning Brenda, Runcorn." Dawlish nodded at them. "Yes. Dark Mark floating above it, wards taken down, Floo and Apparition blocked, building set on fire… text-book Death Eater tactics."

They must have already taken down the Dark Mark then. "No Fiendfyre?" Martin asked.

Dawlish shook his head. "I think they didn't want to endanger the neighbouring shops."

Which were owned by purebloods, Brenda knew. "How considerate of him," she said, snorting.

"Not so considerate for the Wilkinsons." Dawlish nodded towards the ruins. "Both died in the flames."

"They weren't able to cast Flame-Freezing and Bubble-Head Charms?" Martin sounded incredulous.

Dawlish shrugged and glanced at Brenda. Both knew how quickly people forgot what they had practised for their exams.

Martin noticed, and added: "I'd have expected any half-blood family to practise, after the first two attacks."

"Maybe the fire was enchanted or something, or cursed," Brenda speculated.

"We'll look into it," Dawlish said.

Brenda wondered if the Auror hadn't considered that possibility. But there were more pressing questions. "Why didn't our patrols notice this?" Breaking wards and throwing up jinxes had to take some time, and fire didn't cause instant destruction either.

"With the four-wands minimum size for patrols, they cut the frequency of patrols in half to compensate," Dawlish explained.

"That's…" Brenda shook her head. "What idiot decided that? And why didn't Bones step in?"

Dawlish shrugged. "Selwyn ordered it, or so I heard. And he has the backing of his uncle in the Wizengamot."

The Head of the Patrol force… of course. "Let's hope this disaster will give Bones the clout to set things right. We might as well stop all patrols if we're cutting corners like this." Brenda scoffed.

"We might lose recruits if they have so many night shifts," Martin added.

"We were losing Aurors on patrols before this," Brenda countered.

Dawlish snorted. "Rookies get the night shifts. It's been like that forever. If they get those shifts a bit longer, who cares? We're at war. Speaking of the war…" Brenda frowned when the other Auror held up a familiar leaflet. "What's up with this? Just some posturing, or do we need to worry?"

Brenda hated to admit her ignorance, but there was no way around it. She wouldn't lie to a fellow Auror. Not about this, at least. "Anyone can create such filth. If that's from the mudbloods who wrecked Malfoy Manor and blew up Knockturn Alley, then yes, we should worry. As far as we can tell, they need time to prepare their attacks, but that's just speculation." Before Dawlish could make a comment about her lack of success, she nodded at the ruins. "Any plans to guard the half-blood shops?"

"Too many of them around for that." Dawlish sighed. "Well, time to continue my work."

"Good luck," Brenda said. "We're off to investigate our own case."

*****​

"And here's your Pepper-Up Special," Jane Mills said, handing an opaque vial over to Brenda, who was once again using Polyjuice to disguise herself.

"Thank you," the Auror said. Mills looked a bit nervous, but not overly so. And as a half-blood shop owner, she had reasons to be nervous, so it wouldn't look suspicious anyway. Brenda pocketed the vial and paid the witch - her reward for the memory she had handed over. For all her original reluctance, the witch had come around rather quickly. The gold she received for the memories helped, of course. As did the knowledge that she was committed now - if the Aurors let slip what she was doing, the Mudblood Resistance would kill the witch.

Brenda walked slowly through Knockturn Alley. There was no mud here, as far as she could tell. Maybe the ones behind the mud transfigurations were living in this alley? It would fit them, in her opinion.

She ducked into a side-alley, and apparated to the safe house - or safe room, rather - Martin and she were using. She would have to wait out the Polyjuice, of course, before she could return to the Ministry. Too many spies there to risk detection. But she'd have the face of another mudblood to look for in Knockturn Alley. Sooner or later, they'd find someone with the right contacts.

*****​

London, East End, October 29th, 1996

Two more people dead in a fire. Hermione Granger put down the Daily Prophet. She should have done something about Allan before this. Clenching her teeth, she looked at Justin. He frowned as well. Was he angry with himself, for not believing her? Or with her, for not doing anything? If he knew that she had tracked Allan, the latter would be the case, or so she thought. She certainly was guilty enough to deserve it.

The others at the table were muttering about Death Eaters. They were angry. Some were furious. And they wanted to lash out. If Hermione tried to delay things further, she'd lose them. As much as she hated it, she had no choice but to go ahead. Ride the tiger.

"Alright!" she spoke up. The Resistance members turned towards her. "We've scouted out the location for Rowle. We've mapped their wardline, and we located good positions for the ambush or attack. We'll have to compromise so we can both attack or ambush relief forces, but it's not too bad - we need to surround the area anyway to prevent her from fleeing, if she is around." If Rowle wasn't there, and no Death Eaters or Aurors arrived once the wards were under attack, then they could break in and lay traps at least.

"But we don't have a Curse-Breaker. So we'll need the next best thing." She smiled at Allan. "I know I'm asking a lot of you - it's very dangerous - but you're the best at taking down wards."

Allan nodded. She couldn't tell what he really thought about serving as bait, or if he suspected anything. He looked like the rest - dedicated and brave. "I can do it. Provided the bunker is strong enough."

"It'll be," Hermione assured him. It had to be - as much as Allan dying in the upcoming mission would suit her, it couldn't be her fault, or the group would lose trust in her leadership.

"Good." He smiled at her. "We should have started to attack them long ago."

"That would have been difficult, without knowing where they live." Hermione didn't roll her eyes, but she couldn't mask her annoyance fully. And judging by Allan's slow nod and faintly smirking expression, he noticed.

"Remember Seamus: You need to check the bomb carefully. We can't use too much explosive, or we'll blow up our target." Seamus's grin showed he didn't really care about that. It vanished though when she continued: "Or Allan."

"Louise, Jeremy - you'll be on Anti-Apparition, Portkey and Floo duty." The two former Hit-Wizards weren't as trained with rifles and other weapons as the rest of them, but had more experience and training with magical combat so they were natural choices for that task. "You'll not be alone of course." Just at the start.

"When do we strike?" Dean sounded as if he wanted to go out right now.

"Friday the first," Hermione answered firmly. "There's a Wizengamot session, so odds are she'll be home afterwards." And Tonks wouldn't be on duty. Hermione wasn't quite certain just how dependable the metamorphmagus was, but she was giving her the benefit of the doubt. So far.

"Now," she addressed the whole group again, "we need to train for this operation. Some of us have been slacking a bit." She glared at them. She'd not let them get killed for lack of preparations.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, October 30th, 1996

"There was an interesting article in The Quibbler, Miss Granger," Albus Dumbledore said, sitting in Sirius's living room.

The young witch met his eyes. "Are you referring to the article covering our leaflets?"

"Indeed I am." He summoned the magazine in question. "One might wonder if the Resistance is redirecting their efforts towards the Ministry." An understandable reaction, in his opinion, yet a clear mistake.

Judging by the way the witch winced, she knew that. "We're planning a strike at one of Voldemort's suspected supporters. But we might face an Auror response. We wanted to warn them that if they helped Death Eaters and their supporters, they'd be treated as Death Eaters and their supporters."

"If you cannot avoid such a response, is the attack worth the effect it might have on the Ministry? Dead Aurors will drive more to demand revenge and propose harsher measures against muggleborns."

Miss Granger scoffed. "It's not as if the Wizengamot can do much worse, not without showing their true colours." She sighed. "Waiting any longer will cause even greater trouble. My group is becoming restless, and the constant attacks on half-bloods might drive them to do something rash."

"Ah, I see." He did. While he disapproved of this kind of reasoning, he knew that sometimes, the lesser evil had to be chosen. And young people, training for a war, were bound to act in a rash manner if left too long to their own devices.

"Incidentally, you might check with some of your sources Friday night." The girl pressed her lips together.

He nodded slowly. The attack would happen this Friday then, and he would have to ensure his spies were not at risk. "Thank you. I think I shall."

The witch bit her lower lip, apparently debating something with herself. But, as expected of a Gryffindor, she soon raised her chin. "There's another thing. I suspect - or rather, I am almost certain after some observations - that one of my allies has started to commit rather questionable acts in an attempt to frame the Dark Lord. I might need some assistance in dealing discreetly with him."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh?" Did she mean that some of the latest attacks by Death Eaters had been false flag operations? Severus had mentioned some followers of Tom showing initiative. Maybe he was mistaken?

Miss Granger nodded. "He's been absent during a number of attacks attributed to the Dark Lord. And I've observed him wearing the robe and mask of a Death Eater."

He took a deep breath. "Do you think he might have joined the Dark Lord?" Wearing the Death Eater garb was quite damning either way. And the measures Miss Granger had taken to ensure the security of her group might not stand up to the knowledge of the Dark Arts Tom had accumulated.

She shook her head. "We've taken precautions against such betrayals. And he has been arguing for the actions he is now - probably - taking."

Albus nodded. "And you have decided not to call him out and voice your suspicion?"

"The risk of fragmenting the Resistance is too great, even if I can prove his actions." The young witch frowned. "Him disappearing seems to be the best solution - provided he turns out to be guilty. An extensive interrogation will be needed for that."

He almost smiled. Of course Miss Granger would both want to be certain of the young man's guilt, as well as find out what exactly he had done. "I will of course provide any assistance needed."

"Thank you, sir."

Though, maybe, not by himself.

*****​

East Suffolk, Britain, November 1st, 1996

Hermione Granger watched the small house through her binoculars. The moon had risen two hours ago, but it was not a full moon, and the clouds reduced visibility further. That would help the Resistance, since they were using enchanted goggles to see in the dark, and not every Auror or Death Eater might be equally prepared, judging by what Sirius had told her. At the very least, the muggleborns wouldn't be at a disadvantage.

"Do you think the Aurors or Death Eaters will spot Allan?" Justin, lying prone next to her, asked in a whisper.

She studied the area where she knew Allan was, underground, in the transfigured tunnel. Even having helped creating it - and hadn't those hours spent spelling a tunnel from the forest's edge to the wardline been a pain - she couldn't spot the periscope-styled slits through which Allan would be able to see and attack the wards. Good enough, in her opinion. "I doubt it."

Justin didn't say anything, and she didn't glance at him to gauge his reaction - they hadn't spoken about Allan since that night.

She checked the spot Louise and Jeremy were hiding in. They were in a similar tunnel, if not as long, or close to the house. They too had to be close enough to cast and prevent their target from escaping. She couldn't spot them either.

She switched the headset radio she was wearing to speak. "Leader to groups. Ready check."

"Curse-Breaker ready." Allan's voice had a hint of sarcasm. Or she might be imagining it. He had mentioned a few times that he wasn't a real Curse-Breaker.

"Jinxes ready." Louise sounded calm and collected.

"Bomber ready." Seamus sounded excited. Originally, Hermione had planned to put the bomb in place before starting the attack, so it would simply have to be detonated, but even disillusioned, it could have been detected, and the reinforcements might avoid or destroy it. So Seamus was carrying it, far up in the air, ready to drop it.

"Fire Team ready." Dean sounded eager as well. He and the rest of the group were near Hermione, in concealed firing pits - foxholes, the Sergeant had called them. Just like herself and Justin. She would have liked to spread them out further, fully encircle the house, but since they didn't know where reinforcements would be arriving, scattering the group would have been a bad idea.

She checked her watch. Almost midnight. There was no need to delay any further.

"Jinxes, go!"

Fifteen seconds laters, she heard Louise on the radio. "House covered, spreading out." The two former Hit-Wizards had learned the jinxes needed to disrupt the Floo Network from Hermione, who had learned them from Sirius. In their former line of work, that task had been done by the Floo Network Authority, and not that well.

Hermione nodded, even though no one but Justin could see her. "Curse-Breaker, go!"

She couldn't see Allan casting, but with the help of a spell she could see the wards, and they showed the signs of Allan's work, their strength slowly degrading.

Her rifle was still at her side. She didn't plan to use it, unless things went drastically wrong. She was the commander of the group, and she had to focus on leading, not fighting. Unless circumstances dictated otherwise, of course - sometimes, officers had to lead by example. Or so she had been taught.

Minutes passed. She heard a few comments over the radio, and had to remind the group not to distract the Curse-Breaker. And to remain vigilant, not talkative. If Rowle had noticed the attack on her wards - and if she was present, she would have - then she'd have called for help.

If she could call for help. If she relied on the Floo Network, or owls, then the Resistance would be capturing the witch before any help could arrive. Provided she was present in the house. But how probable was it that a Wizengamot member would lack a way to call for help in an emergency? Everyone knew how raids went.

"Movement up north!" Seamus announced through the radio.

That was almost opposite their own position. Hermione focused on the forest's edge … there! "Three, no four humans, moving through the forest. About 20 yards east of the tall oak."

"Got them." Justin said.

"Two on brooms, but far below me," Seamus alerted them.

Hermione saw four more people emerge from the woods. And she could see the first four more clearly. Dark robes and white masks. "Death Eaters," she said, and felt a shiver run down her spine. Finally, they'd face those murderous beasts in open combat. Or as open as was needed.

Four of the Death Eaters moved forward, towards the house. The rest hung back. Smart of them. Hermione hesitated a moment. Should she wait with the bomb, in the hope the rest of the Death Eaters would close as well? No. The risk of them detecting Louise and Jeremy, and Allan as well, was too great. "Fire Team, once the bomb goes off, suppress the Death Eaters at the back and take out those in the air. Jinxes, if the wards go down, secure an entry into the house."

She took a deep breath. "Bomber, go."

"Yeah!" Seamus's answer was far from professional, but Hermione didn't call him out on it. She stared at the Death Eaters, obviously searching for the Curse-Breaker attacking the wards, for a few more seconds, then scrambled back into her hole.

"I was about to drag you…" Justin's words were cut off by the explosion of the bomb Hermione and Seamus had prepared. She scrambled up again, binoculars ready. The sight that greeted her made her hiss.

The splinter mantle she and Seamus had created had worked as planned. The four Death Eaters who had been at the house, searching for Allan, had been ripped to shreds. The house had lost part of its front, and the rest was peppered with holes. Screams caught her attention, and she saw one of the Death Eaters on brooms crash.

Then the Resistance opened up with the assault rifles and light machine guns. Tracers followed the second broom rider. He didn't try to evade, probably still shocked by the blast, and was hit several times, slumping over and then falling off his broom… no, he was stuck to his broom, now hanging upside down, and twitching from more bullets hitting him.

"Switch fire from broom to forest!" Hermione ordered.

"They're fleeing!" Dean shouted into the radio.

"I can cut them off!" Seamus announced.

"Don't fly too close, harass them from above!" Hermione ordered. "Fire Team - suppress the Death Eaters and move half to the house. Jinx, secure the entry. Curse-Breaker, support if able."
Allan didn't answer. For a moment, Hermione was tempted to ignore him. If he had been hurt, or killed by the backlash from the wards collapsing… She shook her head. "Curse-Breaker, status?"

Still no answer. Louise and Jeremy were at the wrecked door to the house now, flinging spells inside. Dean and John were rushing towards them. The rest were firing. Hermione cursed. "Dennis, Colin - check on Allan."

She saw more spells flashing inside the house.

"We need help here if we want to capture them alive!"

That was Louise. Hermione didn't hesitate. "Mary, Tania - move to the house." That left Sally-Anne, Justin and herself at their original position. Not much of a reserve, if anything went wrong now.

"Justin, keep an eye on the sky. Sally-Anne, watch the northern forest. Seamus?"

"I got one of them, but the rest escaped as soon as they left the area we had jinxed." Seamus's voice was tinged with annoyance and frustration. "Check if that one's alive." Any Death Eater prisoner would be a good source of information.

*****​

East Suffolk, Britain, November 1st, 1996

Petra Rowle née Parkinson was reeling - someone was attacking her home. No, mudbloods were attacking! The giant blast that had caved in the front of her house proved it. While she blasted her way through the hallway filled with the contents of two expanded rooms which had collapsed, she thanked all the gods that the mudbloods hadn't managed to level the entire home, as they had done to Malfoy Manor. But why had they waited with the blast? She gasped, and froze for a moment, her wand aimed at a broken cabinet blocking her way. They had waited for her fellow Death Eaters! They had known she had called for help! This was a trap! And she had to escape! But not without her husband!

When she finally managed to clear the way to the entrance hall - or what was left of it - she found Alvin crouched behind a toppled pillar - marble, imported from Italy - firing curses at the remains of the door.

"We need to escape!" she yelled, taking cover at his side.

"They're waiting for us!" he responded. "They want us to try to flee so they can ambush us!"

"We can't stay!" Petra said, sending a Reductor Curse at the wall next to the door. The explosion should make the mudbloods shy away. "They'll kill us if we wait!"

"They want us alive!" her husband answered. "They tried stunners first!"

Petra felt the blood freeze in her veins. To be captured by those animals! Inconceivable! They had to escape such a fate. One way or another.

Alvin sent a volley of curses down at the mudbloods. Plaster fell from the walls next to the door as the door's frame was utterly obliterated, but there weren't any screams or other signs that the mudbloods had been hurt.

She followed her husband's spells with a Blasting Curse aimed right outside. Earth and stone were thrown up, but the mudbloods responded with curses of their own. If those were mudbloods - they were too competent for the cowardly rabble making up the Resistance according to the DMLE. "We need to get out!" she yelled once more.

Then the wall at her back blew up, and fragments showered her and Alvin, battering their Shield Charms. She whirled around, raising her wand, when two figures appeared in the dustcloud. Before she could curse them, her shield shattered and she found herself on the floor. Then she felt the pain from her wrecked legs, realised she was lying in a pool of blood. She had lost her wand. While she grasped around for it, Alvin fell next to her, his legs bleeding from multiple wounds. Then a red flash blinded her and everything went dark.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 14: Disillusionment

'At the time the Second Blood War had started, much of the focus of both the Ministry and the public was on the devastating effect of muggle explosives. Even now, some authors tend to focus on the bombs. When rumours spread of nuclear weapons, a fortunately short-lived panic spread through parts of Wizarding Britain - the culmination of the bomb scare that had sent so many pureblood families fleeing their manors. It is not surprising that, given those circumstances, the Ministry put a lot of effort into finding ways to counter bombs by any means possible. For many, bombs seemed to be the greatest threat to Wizarding Britain.
And yet they were wrong. For muggle explosives were just a result of the real threat to Wizarding Britain, which was muggle tactics and strategy. While the Muggleborn Resistance was founded by students who started the war as a group of teenagers, they were trained by experienced muggles - veterans of several wars and revolutions. Further, they had access to all the works muggles had written about insurrections and asymmetrical wars. As events proved, this was what ultimately turned a group of teenagers who had not even graduated from Hogwarts into a credible threat to both the Ministry and the Death Eaters.'
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

East Suffolk, Britain, November 1st, 1996

"We've got Rowle and her husband!"

Hermione Granger smiled grimly. They had the objective, but they still needed to get away. "Jinxes, move back to our position! Colin, Dennis, get Allan back as well! Fill up the tunnel too as you leave. Seamus, fly up and keep an eye out for new arrivals! Justin, move south in case the Death Eaters try to get behind us."

She kept an eye on their flanks while Louise and Jeremy levitated the Rowles and started to sprint back towards her own position. Mary and Tania covered them. Colin was doing the same for Dennis with Allan. As soon as they had reached the line of foxholes, they took over covering the area while the other three moved back. Classic leapfrogging tactics.

"Jinxes, search the targets for portkeys and other surprises!"

They had to leave the area as fast as they could. The Death Eaters would be back. Hermione just hoped they'd take a few minutes longer to assemble a larger force, and to decide on where they'd go. Long enough for the Resistance to get away. Otherwise they'd have to hide in the foxholes, have Seamus drop the second bomb, and hope for the best.

"South is clear," Justin reported.

"Airspace's clear too," Seamus announced. But Hermione knew that the Anti-Disillusionment Jinxes didn't reach that high.

"The targets have been searched."

"Cancel the Anti-Apparition Jinxes! Everyone else - wipe out the foxholes!" They wouldn't leave those for the purebloods to find out about. She should research a spell to create and fill foxholes instantly. If only she had the time.

"Done!"

"Everyone, apparate!"

Hermione experienced the typical squeezed through a straw feeling, then she landed in the safe house they had prepared for the interrogation. The witch quickly took a headcount, and, once satisfied everyone had made it out, she issued more commands.

"Mary, Tania - guard the house entrances! Colin, Dennis - lookout on top! Louise…" She briefly paused. They had stripped the Rowles naked. Probably vanished their clothes. Well, it worked as a way to search them for portkeys. And it had exposed the witch's Dark Mark. "Secure them in the cells after Sally-Anne has treated their wounds so they don't die." That they wouldn't let a Death Eater live long went without saying. She turned to the only casualty of the Resistance. "How's Allan doing?"

If John, who was looking the other Ravenclaw over, noticed that she hadn't cared about Allan until everything else had been organised, then he didn't comment. "He's unconscious. Probably some backlash when the wards were destroyed by the bomb."

That wasn't exactly news, but Hermione nodded. "No internal bleeding?"

"None that I could detect."

"Alright. Put him up in a spare room, and keep watch on him. Seamus, Dean - get some rest. And Seamus, I'll need the second bomb back."

The Irish wizard handed the shrunken bomb over with a pout that Hermione suspected wasn't quite as fake as he made it appear, then left with his friend.

That left her and Justin. She conjured a seat and sank down into it.

"That went well," Justin said.

"We were lucky the Death Eaters didn't return before we left," Hermione retorted. "Bombing our own position isn't something I'd like to have to order."

"They were surprised, and couldn't have known how many of us there were." Justin conjured a seat for himself.

"Can't count on the enemy making mistakes," Hermione quoted the Major. "We also suffered one casualty."

"He'll wake up, right as rain."

"Yes." Unfortunately.

"You kept a cool head in the battle," Justin said.

"I tried my best." She already was making a mental list of what mistakes she had made, and where she and the rest of the Resistance needed to improve.

But she'd have to interrogate their prisoners first, as soon as they were ready. Keeping a marked Death Eater prisoner for long didn't strike her as a good idea, not as long as they didn't know what the mark allowed Voldemort to do.

Which was why this house had two escape tunnels ready in the cellar.

"But you're right - this went well."

And yet despite her earlier rejection of this thought, she still wasn't certain if it wouldn't have gone even better if Allan had died.

*****​

East Suffolk, Britain, November 2nd, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle stared at the ruins of the Rowles' home. Temporary home, to be exact - they had a bigger villa, abandoned after the attack on Malfoy Manor. It hadn't saved them from the mudbloods, or so it appeared - the entire front of the house had caved in.

Parkinson was present, of course - it had been him who had called it in. She walked over to the other Auror. "Morning."

"Morning," Parkinson squeezed out. He looked angrier than she had ever seen him. Understandable, given that his aunt and her husband - who had raised him after the death of his parents in the last war - had disappeared, and likely been murdered. "What do you make of this?" He gestured at the conjured sheets covering the gory remains of four wizards.

"Death Eaters." Easy to determine, their garb was very distinctive, even after getting ripped to shreds.

Parkinson glared at her. "Yes, they were Death Eaters. What were they doing here? And who did this?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "The destruction of the house looks like the work of mudbloods," she went on before he could get angrier. "But the damage done is both less than what happened at Malfoy Manor, and different. It looks like a lot of Piercing Curses hit everything around here. Including the Death Eaters."

"So, who took my family?"

"Mudbloods. The Death Eaters would have taken their dead with them." That had happened in the last war too. The Dark Lord didn't want others to know that his followers had been killed. Though even so, why hadn't they recovered the corpses anyway? They would have had ample time to remove the dead before Parkinson's night shift had ended.

The Auror nodded. "Curse that filth!"

"We'll get them," Brenda said, and regretted it at once.

Parkinson bared his teeth. "We haven't caught any of them in months! You haven't caught anyone! They kill our families with impunity, and it looks like not even the Death Eaters can stop them! What are you going to do, comb through Knockturn Alley again?"

Brenda felt her own temper rise in response to this, but controlled herself. Parkinson had just lost his parents in all but blood, who were probably being tortured to death right this moment. She'd react the same, she told herself. "I will not spill details about my case in public. Suffice to say, we're making progress. But the kind of murderers who can do this are not easy to track."

Parkinson glared at her, but before he could say anything else, Martin approached them. "I found these!" He held up several brass cylinders.

Parkinson glanced at them. "What're those?"

"Muggle cartridges," Martin answered. When Brenda stared at him, he added: "They are needed for guns."

Ah. She knew the kid had read up on muggle weapons recently. "So, another sign that this was done by mudbloods."

"Yes."

Which meant this mess was her case. Unless the boss fired her for failing to catch the most dangerous murderers Britain had ever seen. Merlin's balls, even the Dark Lord hadn't killed as many at the same time as the mudbloods did at Malfoy Manor!

"I want in."

Brenda turned her attention back to Parkinson. "What?"

"I said I want in. They took my family. I'm hunting them down. If you don't let me, I'll get you fired and take over."

Brenda stared at the Auror. She heard Martin take a deep breath, and held up her hand to stop her partner. "Alright." It was against regulations, but Brenda knew no one would care about regulations. Not with another member of the Wizengamot and her husband murdered by mudbloods in her own home. "Now let's see what else we'll find here."

*****​

London, East End, November 2nd, 1996

Hermione Granger pressed her lips together, watching while the bound witch drooled on herself, still under the effect of Veritaserum. The things this woman had done…

"I don't know if her actions in the last war, or her actions this year are worse," Justin said with a grim expression. Sally-Anne, standing next to him, nodded. She looked queasy, though she had held up well during the interrogation.

Hermione glanced at the transcripts. "It's not a competition." Privately, she thought the woman's efforts in the Wizengamot were worse. Rowle had personally tortured half a dozen muggleborns and blood traitors to death, but the bills she had proposed would have doomed far, far more. "In any case, we now have more names of Death Eaters and their supporters." Granted, most of them were already suspects, but confirmation was always good. And they knew of a few who had not shown their allegiance to the Dark Lord so far. Unfortunately, Rowle didn't know anything about the current plans of the Dark Lord - apparently, Voldemort was practicing operational security.

"We also have more addresses," Sally-Anne said.

"They'll be deserted as soon as the Death Eaters hear about her having been kidnapped." That was why Hermione had wanted to kidnap and interrogate people without anyone noticing. A plan Allan had pretty much sabotaged, if her suspicion was correct.

"We'll achieve that sooner or later." Justin smiled. "Though we have to decide what we should do with the witch and her husband."

"We still have to interrogate the husband." Hermione glanced at Justin. "We already know about some of his actions from Rowle, but she might not know everything." The witch certainly hadn't trusted her husband with everything she did and knew.

"That's true, but we already know that both are Death Eaters and murderers." Justin met her eyes. "What do we do with them?"

"We can't let them go!" Sally-Anne spoke up.

"Of course not." Hermione did her best not to sound condescending. "But we can make them disappear, or use them for propaganda." They'd be dead either way though.

"Drop them off with their Dark Marks exposed, in Diagon Alley?" Justin asked. "Might cause some trouble for the Ministry's bigots."

Hermione nodded. "That's a good idea. Though we have to pick the location and the time carefully, so the Death Eaters or the Ministry can't cover this up." Which meant taking some risks to drop them off.

"We could transfigure them to mud and drop them in the middle of the street." Justin grinned.

"That would frame whoever does those mud holes. I'd rather not do that." Hermione wouldn't want to have that on her conscience should the Aurors catch those people.

"The Ministry will execute them anyway!" Sally-Anne said, sounding surprisingly fierce. "Just like they murdered Martin!"

Hermione nodded. "I think so as well, but still… there are other options. We'll have to resort to simply dropping them off in the early morning, together with leaflets I think." If portkeys would work in Diagon Alley it would be easy, but the Ministry wasn't so inept as to risk a bomb getting portkeyed in.

"Seamus can do it. He loves to drop bombs," Justin joked.

Hermione made a mental note to make more people train with brooms, just in case they lost their best flyer. Best was relative, of course - Seamus couldn't hold a candle to Ron. Or any other Weasley, probably - there was something to learning how to fly as a child, instead of getting a few lessons in school. Apart from Harry, who was an exception - unless having a toy broom as a toddler counted.

"Alright. You two, secure her again, then interrogate the husband. I'll talk to Dean and Seamus about the drop-off and the leaflets. And I'll check up on Allan." Hermione nodded at the two.

"How do you want to… deal with them?" Justin asked, gesturing towards Rowle.

"You mean, how will we kill them?" Hermione wasn't in the mood for euphemisms.

"Yes."

"Bullet to the head." Hermione had thought about this. Torture was out - the Resistance was better than that. The Killing Curse was not an option either; the Ministry propaganda would have a field day. A bullet was quick, and very muggle. It was a statement in itself.

Justin narrowed his eyes. "Some might not like it. Too easy for them."

Sally-Anne nodded, though reluctantly.

"Too bad for them. We're not Death Eaters. We're not going to stoop to their level." Hermione stated. That was a line she'd not let anyone cross. The Major had been quite clear about that as well.

If one day anyone absolutely had to do that, it would be her. No one else.

*****​

Dorset, Britain, November 2nd, 1996

Pansy Parkinson was in tears. The girl was sobbing in Draco's arms, hours after she had heard of her aunt's disappearance. Not disappearance, death, Daphne Greengrass reminded herself. The mudbloods wouldn't let a pureblood prisoner live. They had proven that more than once. Filthy murderous animals.

She hadn't really liked Parkinson, but the girl had lost her parents, and now her aunt and uncle. Daphne went over and patted the witch's back. Tracey followed her example, if a bit more reluctantly.

The girl didn't react, but Draco smiled at them, before addressing Parkinson again. "You need to rest, Pansy," he whispered.

Daphne glanced at Tracey, and nodded. "We'll be in the living room," she said in a low voice, before leaving with her friend.

Outside the room, she leaned against the wall. "That could have been my uncle…" she muttered.

"That could have been us," Tracey said.

Daphne looked at her.

"They found four Death Eaters there, shredded," her friend explained.

"What?"

Tracey nodded. "My cousin in the Aurors told me. They don't know yet what they were doing there. Officially, that is."

"They went there to help the Rowles." Daphne knew Parkinson's aunt was - had been - a marked Death Eater. And the Dark Lord protected his own. He had broken them out of prison, too.

"Yes. And if Parkinson had been there, she might have called us, and we'd have died." Tracey grimaced.

Daphne swallowed dryly. That was not a far-fetched scenario. That was all too likely. "Merlin's balls," she muttered.

"We knew we were in danger," Tracey said. "But…"

"... joining was supposed to make us safer," Daphne completed the thought. Leaving… they couldn't leave. She shook her head. "I doubt anyone is safe from the mudbloods. The Rowles were in hiding, but they found them."

"But how?" Tracey asked.

"Someone must have betrayed them." That was the most likely explanation. Daphne didn't think the Rowles had made a fatal mistake. "Someone at the Ministry."

"A blood traitor," Tracey said.

Daphne nodded. No mudbloods were left at the Ministry. Half-bloods were a possibility as well. "Like the Weasleys."

Tracey gasped. "Arthur Weasley?"

Daphne nodded. "He's an expert in muggle items and an avowed blood traitor."

"He's not in the Floo Network Authority though," Tracey said. "The Ministry has him sidelined."

"He's the father of the twins." Daphne scoffed. And those two had been a terror at Hogwarts.

"We need to abandon the Floo network," Tracey said.

"Yes. It's too dangerous." They would have to apparate everywhere. Daphne frowned. She didn't like Apparition.

"And we're trying to gain the twins' trust…" Tracey winced.

Daphne nodded. "We'll have to talk to Draco."

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, November 2nd, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle sighed, staring at her report. She had written a scroll of parchment, added all the information they knew about the attack, and yet despite all the details about muggle weapons and the bomb, the important questions hadn't been answered yet.

"How did the mudbloods find the Rowles's home? And what was the role of the Death Eaters?"

"What?" Martin's question made her realise she had spoken out loud.

"I'm wondering how they managed to find the Rowles," she explained. "They should have been in hiding, safe Floo connection, wards - we know those stalled the mudbloods for some time - and I doubt they invited anyone but those they trusted with their lives."

"Traitor in the Floo Network Authority?" Martin speculated.

Brenda shook her head. "Everyone with access to the records gets screened heavily. And Bones had everyone in the department dosed with Veritaserum today."

"How did she manage that?" Martin sounded shocked,

"The Wizengamot granted her special authorisation." Brenda smiled thinly. "They were all afraid that their hideouts might have been betrayed as well."

"Does that mean we'll be able to go after suspected traitors as well?" Martin smiled widely.

Brenda scowled. "No. This was explicitly limited to the Floo Network Authority."

"Why not?" Martin stood up. "Why the hell did they do that?"

"Think it through, kid." Brenda stared at him. "You know Bones. What would she do?"

Martin blinked, then sat down. "She'd purge the Ministry of spies and corrupt employees."

Brenda nodded. "Yes. And that's something neither Dumbledore's supporters nor the rest of the Wizengamot want."

"Fudge could fire Bones. Replace her with someone who is less rigid."

Brenda glared at him. "He'd have replaced her long ago, if he had been able to." Either she had enough dirt on the Minister to blackmail him, or Dumbledore was supporting her, in order to avoid a worse successor.

"We're back to blindly grasping in the shadows then." Martin sighed.

"Exactly," Brenda said, her voice full of faked cheerfulness. "Welcome to the Auror corps." She paused. "Although… things might be changing. The Death Eaters left those dead for a reason. Something's up."

Martin nodded. The kid was still too inexperienced to last without her help, but he was getting better. Soon he'd be holding his own even in the dirtier parts of their job.

And, speaking of dirty... Brenda had an idea of how to get the drop on those mudbloods. She just needed to convince Bones.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, November 2nd, 1996

Albus Dumbledore carefully avoided smiling, despite the urge to do so when he saw how frightened some of the Wizengamot members were. A number of them would be having second thoughts about their stance towards muggleborns, he was certain. And yet, a bigger number would be looking to the Dark Lord for protection.

Even now, Augustus was touching on that subject, if quite subtly: "And what about those four wizards found dead - brutally killed - wearing the robes of the followers of the Dark Lord?" The wizard ignored the 'call them Death Eaters!' and 'good riddance!' comments from some of the more vocal of Albus's allies, and continued. "Why were they there? Contrary to the ugly rumours spread by some, they wouldn't have have attacked the Rowles."

"Because they were Death Eaters!" Arlene Abbott shouted. Albus thought the witch should have been in Gryffindor, not Hufflepuff.

Augusts once again ignored the witch. "Madam Bones, can you answer this?"

Amelia stood up, not bothering to hide her disdain for Augustus. "We're still in the first stage of the investigation. At this point, any comment about the motives of the Death Eaters found there would be pure speculation."

Augustus frowned, but nodded. "Despite Madam Bones's reluctant admission of the lack of progress in her investigation, every one of us knows that the followers of the Dark Lord are no friends of those muggleborn criminals trying to murder us. They have been warning us about the dangers those people present to our society for a long time, and now seem poised to take action to protect others." He looked at Amelia again. "And I have to ask you a question again: Why weren't Aurors present there, fighting those animals attacking an esteemed member of this body? Why does it look as if it fell to others to defend Mrs Rowle, instead of the Ministry's finest?"

Amelia sneered. "I would say because Mrs Rowle called them, and not us, for help. Unless you want to assume that the Death Eaters knew about the attack on her, and didn't warn her so she'd serve as bait." That caused quite a few murmured comments. Amelia scoffed while she continued. "Not that their presence did anything for Mrs Rowle. They were all killed instantaneously."

Albus once again didn't smile when he saw how this caused quite a few whispered conversations, and some openly concerned expressions. Hopefully, this would make more Wizengamot members doubt Tom's ability to protect them. Albus needed all the help he could get to keep the Ministry from adopting a neutral stance towards Death Eaters as a result of this attack. Even though he feared it would be just a temporary success - the Wizengamot's policy towards the muggleborns showed far too many similarities to Tom's ideology.

Albus knew that was why the dead Death Eaters had not been recovered before the Aurors had arrived. Tom wanted the Wizengamot to see his followers as allies against the muggleborns, not ruthless murderers trying to take over Britain. Unfortunately, there were already a great many members of the Wizengamot who would welcome such a takeover. Enough of them were just driven by their fear of the muggleborns, though, that any doubt in the Death Eater's ability to protect them might tip the balance in favour of Albus's faction.

He'd have to talk to Severus, and find out if there was a weakness of Tom's forces he could exploit. Or have exploited - Albus was quite certain Miss Granger would jump at the chance to attack Death Eaters.

But he'd have to ensure that this would not threaten Severus's cover.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, November 2nd, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle's day wasn't going well. Not only was she doing overtime on a Saturday, but she had a meeting with the Head Auror. And Scrimgeour wasn't in a good mood.

"I've just been questioned by Bones about the progress in our hunt for the Muggleborn Resistance. Or rather, the lack of progress," the wizard said, scowling. "Apparently, several members of the Wizengamot are very concerned about the lack of arrests, after the Rowle incident."

Brenda was quite certain that Scrimgeour had not as much been questioned as reamed out. And that he was now passing it on to her and her partner. She snorted. "They're afraid they'll be next."

"Of course they are! And they have plenty of reasons to be scared." Scrimgeour stood up from his desk and started pacing. "And they demand results. If we can't deliver them, they'll look for someone to blame."

"Like us." Brenda stared at him. If she was getting demoted, or fired because of this… first she loses her partner, now her career, maybe her job? All due to that mudblood Granger?

"Like you. So, what results can you deliver?"

Brenda clenched her teeth. She hadn't much. "They're hiding in the muggle world." They had eliminated Knockturn Alley as a hideout early on. There were muggleborns there, but those were the older ones. Not the Resistance. "We can't find them there. Which means our best chance is to catch them when they venture into Wizarding Britain. We know they are active - they are plastering their leaflets over Diagon Alley, they transfigure the alleys to mud, and they have to be scouting out their targets."

"Are you saying our patrols are inept, since they haven't seen them?" Scrimgeour asked, with a glint in his eyes.

Brenda knew better than to answer that directly - she would find herself posted on patrol duty in a heartbeat. "I think they know our schedules. It doesn't help that we cut the numbers of night patrols in half, of course." She shrugged. "But the main problem is that by the time we arrive where they have struck, they have left already."

"The Death Eaters arrived more quickly than that."

"They were quick enough to get killed," Brenda retorted. "And they were probably called by Rowle, or were already present."

"Are you insinuating that the honoured member of the Wizenagmot, Petra Rowle, has ties to the Dark Lord?" the Head Auror asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Of course not. Idle speculation." Brenda snorted. "But it shows that even if we arrived in time, we'd run the risk of getting ambushed and killed - with one of their damned bombs." And she had no intention of becoming another casualty in this ugly war.

"We could prepare for that though," Martin cut in. "Turn the ambush against them. If we're right on top of them, they can't use a bomb without killing themselves. And we could prepare secure positions."

Brenda exchanged a brief glance with Scrimgeour. Martin was still not that experienced.

The Head Auror shook his head slightly. "That's a lot of preparation you'd need."

"It's possible," Martin insisted.

"That it is. But we'd need to know in advance where the mudbloods will strike," Brenda said.

"We can lay a trap for them. Evacuate the home of a Wizengamot member as bait." Martin wasn't giving up on his idea easily.

"Yes, we could," Scrimgeour admitted. "But how would we make them attack that location without making it obvious that it was a trap? The muggleborns aren't as stupid as some purebloods claim." He shook his head. "We don't know how they found Rowle's home. So, we can't feed them the information to lure them into a trap."

"If it's not one of the Floo Network Authority workers, then it's probably a traitor in the Wizengamot," Brenda said.

"Lots of them there," Scrimgeour said, snorting. "Finding the ones working for the muggleborns might be difficult - those working for the Dark Lord certainly wouldn't tell any of Dumbledore's open supporters where they live."

"They might have stumbled upon the home by chance. Caught the Rowles in Diagon Alley, and tracked them," Martin said. "Somehow."

"That's not a practicable way to feed them the information then," Brenda said. "We need more spies." They needed spies, period - at best, they had informants among the questionable part of the population.

"Those mudbloods we can reach don't know about the Resistance," Martin said. "We've been looking into the ones hiding in Knockturn Alley without success so far."

"I have an idea, but it will take more time," Brenda said.

"So far, we've lost a lot of time without success, and it doesn't look like we have many other viable solutions yet." Scrimgeour looked at her. "What do you have in mind?"

"The dangerous mudbloods are hiding, from us and from the other mudbloods. They have no reason to trust the ones who are not fighting. But what if there was another mudblood resistance group?"

"There probably is," Martin said. "There have been a number of incidents the Resistance hasn't taken credit for."

"Yes. But what if there was another group who carried out some well-known attacks? The mudbloods might at least contact them. After a while," Brenda added.

"Are you suggesting that we fake a muggleborn group? Launch attacks on purebloods?" Scrimgeour sounded shocked.

"Not the kind of attacks the mudbloods are doing. But if we stage some flashy actions, that might catch their interest." And if that wasn't enough, then Brenda had an idea about further actions. "But we'd have to use trusted half-bloods, or capture a few muggleborns and use Polyjuice."

"That's a very dangerous plan," Scrimgeour said. "And it might not work at all." He sighed. "But I don't see anything with more promise. I'll talk to Bones about it."

Brenda nodded. She didn't smile until they had left the Head Auror's office.

*****​

London, East End, November 2nd, 1996

Hermione Granger managed not to frown when Sally-Anne informed her that Allan had woken up. She didn't want to, but she had to go and visit the wizard, of course - it wouldn't do to show her true feelings for the murderer.

Allan was already sitting in his bed when she entered his room where Seamus and Dean were telling him about the fight he had missed.

"Hello Allan." Hermione managed to smile at him.

Allan returned the smile, though it lacked his usual charm. "Hello. I hear we caught the two purebloods, but half the Death Eaters escaped."

"We completed our objective without permanently losing anyone," she corrected him. "The Death Eaters were driven off before they could interfere or rescue the Rowles." She wouldn't let him cast doubts on the success of the attack.

"I would think me getting knocked unconscious for two days was a loss."

It had been a gain, in her opinion. "We expected that, as you know." That was stretching the truth a bit. Hermione had expected a backlash, not the exact consequences though.

"That was a fault of the plan," Allan said. He didn't have to say 'your plan' - everyone knew it had been hers.

"No plan's perfect." Hermione didn't quite shrug, but her shoulders twitched. "In any case, you agreed to the plan, and you're our best Curse-Breaker." He should be, given how he had broken the wards on half-blood shops. "But I can reassure you: we'll not be using that plan again." The Death Eaters would be expecting it, anyway.

"We have to keep attacking the purebloods!" Allan spat out. Seamus and Dean nodded vigorously in agreement.

She noticed that he wasn't at his best; he hadn't recovered that much yet and was making more mistakes than usual. "Of course. But we'll use other means to deal with the wards next time." She smiled at him.

"What other means? Did you have an alternative and not tell me?"

"I hoped you'd be able to weather the backlash. As I recall, you said so yourself. But it's obvious you cannot." She sighed. "Which means I'll have to get some outside help."

"What kind of help?" Allan leaned forward.

She shook her head. "I'd rather not say at this point. There are a few options I want to explore first. Security is a concern."

"They aren't muggleborns," Seamus said. "Are you picking them over us?"

"Don't you trust us?" Allan stared at her. He must have been affected more than she suspected, to drop his facade that much.

"I'd be violating their trust if I informed others without their permission. You'd be rather angry too, should I share information about you, wouldn't you?" Hermione met his eyes. "Trust goes both ways, and we need these people's help."

Allan scowled, but looked away first, then closed his eyes and sank back onto the bed. Rather theatrically, Hermione thought. Out loud she said: "I'll leave you to get some needed rest, Allan. It's good to have you back with us."

The lie made her want to bite her tongue, but she kept her expression friendly until she had left the room.

*****​

Justin was waiting for her near her room. He didn't say anything, just winced when he saw her. Hermione nodded at him. "Have you prepared the drop-off?"

"Yes. I can show you the schematics."

"Come in," she said. It was a shame that they were acting like this in their safe house, covering up their meetings, hiding what they were doing from the other members. They shouldn't have to do this, she thought. It wasn't a good way to run a resistance movement. Quite the contrary. It made her feel ashamed and guilty.

But it was necessary.

"Allan's back to normal, or almost. He's already complaining that we 'let half the Death Eaters escape'." Hermione shook her head. "And Dean and Seamus seem to believe him. I doubt rational arguments will be heard by them anymore."

The wizard nodded. "So…"

"I'll track him when he goes out again." She had a feeling that Allan would want to continue his private campaign. "I'll be meeting with one of my contacts at the same time." So he'd have no cause to suspect she'd be tracking him.

"You're not doing this alone." Justin looked at her,

"I'm not. I'll have help."

"Alright. But I want to be there when you interrogate him." Justin seemed to accept her word, without asking for more information. She didn't know if that was a good or bad sign, all things considered.

"You will. We won't have too much time though, so you'll have to be able to come quickly." And he'd need to have an excuse himself.

"I'll claim I'm checking out a possible safe house."

"At night?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.

He sighed. "This would be easier if I could bring Sally-Anne with me."

Hermione shook her head. Sally-Anne was a nice witch, but she couldn't keep a secret. Justin knew that.

"We could claim we're meeting muggle sources."

For a moment, Hermione was tempted to agree. It was a good cover, and fit with what they had done before. But she didn't want Justin to meet Dumbledore. It was part petty, and part caution. "You could claim you're meeting with a friend of your father, to find a safe house."

Justin seemed to mull this over. "That'll only work because none of the others has an idea about how my family handles things."

"Not even Sally-Anne?" She was surprised.

Justin winced. "We don't really talk about our families."

"That's…" she trailed off. Sally-Anne was from middle class stock, as Hermione's mother would say. But lower middle class. Justin's parents might not look favourably on such a relationship.

"Yeah. I figure we might die any day, and if we survive this war, then we can deal with it."

Hermione nodded. Enjoy life as much as you could when fighting in a war - it was a sound philosophy. But she prefered to look ahead. Plan ahead. Consider the future.

She wasn't Justin though. But sometimes, she wished she was.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, November 3rd, 1996

"Merlin's rotting corpse!" Brenda Brocktuckle shook her head, staring at the two bodies.

"Those animals!" Martin muttered next to her.

"Auntie… uncle..." Parkinson, standing a bit to the side, was shaking. Whether with rage or grief, or both, she couldn't tell. She tried to ignore him - seeing a veteran Auror like that was embarrassing at best, and dangerous at worst. Instead she focused on her work.

The corpses of Petra Rowle and her husband had been dropped in Diagon Alley, in the middle of the day. The gruesome sight had drawn a crowd at once, before the Aurors had been called, and all around Brenda, wizards and witches were muttering. 'Death Eater' and 'Dark Mark' were the most common words she heard. No wonder - both dead had been stripped down to their underwear, and the Dark mark on Rowle's left arm was easily spotted. Which was what the mudbloods had intended, Brenda knew.

"That'll cause some trouble," she commented, more to herself than to anyone else. Out loud, she asked: "Did anyone see how the corpses arrived here?" It couldn't have been a portkey, not with the Jinxes over the entire Alley.

"They were dropped from the sky!"

"Yes, they floated down."

Brenda looked up before she could help it. Of course the sky was empty but for clouds - and those were too high for a broom. If the mudbloods were now flying during the day, the Ministry would need patrols up there. Or they might drop bombs next.

"Why are you looking up now? They're long gone!"

"Aurors! Always late!"

Martin hissed, but Brenda ignored the comments. She crouched down next to the corpses. They had been killed by Piercing Curses to the face. Probably. It might have been a dagger too, or a gun - mudbloods liked muggle weapons. A clean death, or so it seemed. But the legs of the bodies… she shook her head. Animals.

"Shut your traps! That's my family!" Parkinson yelled suddenly. Brenda looked up and saw he had drawn his wand and was aiming at a passerby, who was backing away and paling.

"Parkinson!" she yelled. "We need you to take the bodies back!"

That shook the Auror out of whatever violent mood he was in, and he turned back towards Martin and Brenda. "Yes… of course." He wiped his eyes with his free hand.

"I'm sorry," she said, in a low voice, when he was closer.

"Thanks," he pressed out, his eyes once again on his dead aunt.

"We'll get the mudbloods," Martin said.

"And they'll get the kiss," Parkinson agreed.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, November 3rd, 1996

"I've heard about the Rowle attack," Sirius said. "Good work."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you." They were in his study, or what he called a room decorated with Quidditch and pinup posters he claimed were motorcycle ads.

"Did you get the information you wanted?"

"We have confirmed names of Death Eaters and their supporters, as well as a few addresses. Those will be vacated now though." Hermione frowned. She had hoped for more.

"Don't underestimate the arrogance and stupidity of purebloods!" Sirius grinned. "Some might very well not think you'd attack them."

"And some might try to use this to ambush us." She shook her head. "I'd rather not risk that." Some in the Resistance would, of course. But she couldn't let them get killed like that. If it was just Allan…

"I'd say who dares, wins, but you're winning so far." Sirius leaned back in his seat and summoned some drinks for the two of them.

"We've just started." Hermione grabbed a butterbeer. "And Rowle didn't know anything about Voldemort's plans."

"Plenty of Death Eaters around to go after." Sirius shrugged. "And each one you kill weakens the Dark Lord."

Hermione had her doubts, but nodded. She handed the list with the names over. "Any addresses for them would be helpful. But even better would be ways to kidnap one of them without anyone noticing his absence. Or a way to hack into the Floo Network."

"Hack?" The older wizard looked confused.

"Sorry. It means penetrating and taking over the network so we can track who uses it, maybe divert them," Hermione explained.

"Oh!" Harry's godfather rubbed his chin. "That's not something I thought of. I doubt anyone has so far. Although if you altered an Anti-Apparition Jinx, maybe…"

She snorted. "Spellcrafting? That would take a long time. Time I don't have right now."

Sirius nodded. "So you said to Harry and Ron."

Hermione stiffened and narrowed her eyes. "Yes. And it's true."

He cocked his head sideways. "Really?"

"Yes, really," she pressed out.

"It's not just an excuse so you don't have to decide if you like them as more than friends?" He was smiling faintly, but his eyes sought hers. He wasn't really teasing her, she realised.

She ground her teeth. "Did they ask you to prod me?"

He chuckled. "Of course not! Harry has asked me for some advice, but you know him - he'd not want me to get involved."

Hermione knew that Ron at least hadn't minded Harry lining up his date for the Yule Ball, but she had to agree with Sirius. "And yet you're doing this."

"Of course. He's my godson, and terribly inexperienced with witches, while I have a lot of experience." He grinned, then grew more serious. "And I've some experience with teenagers in times of war struggling with love trouble."

She stared at him. "It's none of your business." She wanted to hex him, but that would be immature. And she wasn't immature.

"It's Harry's business, and he's my business. So to speak."

"I'm telling him."

"If you do that you'll have to talk about the topic. Which you've avoided for quite some time. Procrastination isn't exactly typical for you, is it?"

"I don't have time for a relationship." She was repeating herself. Maybe he'd get the message.

"That's what you think. But you can't really ignore this." Sirius leaned forward, the last remains of his smile fading. "And you owe it to the boys to be honest with them."

"Honest? I'm not lying to them!" She wasn't.

"Then why not tell them how you feel about them? Are you afraid they'll stop being your friends if you don't want to be their girlfriend?"

Yes. She didn't say that, of course. "I don't want to hurt either of them." If she picked one, the other would be hurt. But even if that wasn't the case, things would change. They'd not be three friends anymore, but a couple and their friend.

"Do you love one of them?"

"I love both, but not that way!" She bared her teeth at him. Maybe that would impress his dog-side.

It didn't. "Well, if you did love both that way, it would simplify things greatly. A ménage à trois would solve your problems."

She gaped at him. "What?"

"A ménage à trois is when…"

She cut him off. "I know what it is!"

"Ah, good." He smiled. "I thought you knew French."

"How can you come up with anything like that?"

"Through logic and reason, of course."

"Logic?" She raised her voice, a bit.

He nodded. "It's the easiest solution to avoid breaking up your trio. And - but don't tell anyone I said this - it's also the most efficient. Wizards usually don't last as long as witches, and two wizards and one witch works better than two witches and one wizard. Unless of course the witches like each other as well."

Hermione blinked. He couldn't be serious. They hadn't even had one real relationship between the three of them, and he was proposing a ménage à trois? She opened her mouth twice, but couldn't think of anything to say. Finally, she managed. "Love, emotions, they don't work like that."

Sirius shrugged. "You never know what works and what doesn't unless you try it."

Of course he would say that. She ground her teeth again.

"Just think about it!" He smiled at her. "Another drink?"

She was both relieved that they were changing the topic, and annoyed at what he had said. "What drinks do you have?"

She needed something stronger than a butterbeer right now.

*****​

Hogwarts, November 3rd, 1996

"You know, I haven't been down there ever since… that day," Harry Potter said, entering the defunct bathroom. He hadn't even thought about it in years. Outside nightmares.

Ron shrugged. "Well, we both almost died there, multiple times. Ginny almost died there. And the ceiling almost caved in."

"Didn't keep us out of the Forbidden Forest," Harry answered. Though if he was honest, he had to admit that they only ventured there if they had to. Moaning Myrtle didn't seem to be around, which was a blessing.

"I am glad you showed some restraint," Dumbledore said. "Although I also took some precautions to prevent accidents." The Headmaster waved his wand, and Harry caught the glimpse of a spell hitting the room.

He didn't know what had been cast. It didn't matter though. He bent over the faucet he still remembered clearly, and whispered "Open!" in Parseltongue.

"No one has cleaned up here," Ron commented, glancing down the dirty ramp. "Is basilisk poo poisonousl, by the way?" He grinned.

Harry chuckled. "We slid down the ramp just fine last time. We did send Lockhart down first though."

"A hopefully amusing experience," the Headmaster said, chuckling.

Harry didn't ask if he meant the sliding, or throwing Lockhart down the chute. He nodded, and jumped in. A short but wild ride later, he slid over the equally uncleaned floor. It wasn't that different from his usual way of traveling through the Floo Network, and he was on his feet before Ron and Dumbledore had arrived.

"Blimey…" His friend shuddered. "That brings back memories."

Harry nodded. "So… welcome to the Chamber of Secrets, sir."

Dumbledore looked around with open curiosity. "Marvelous. Even though I wish we were here for a less serious reason."

Harry agreed with that. "So… I just walk around, and hope my scar starts hurting?"

"With the help of a modified Supersensory Charm, yes. You didn't feel any pain when you were near Tom's diary, so this is unfortunately needed." Dumbledore smiled apologetically and cast the mentioned spell.

"Let's just hope Tom didn't decide to visit his old secret cave tonight, or I'll probably die from pain before he even notices me," Harry muttered, rubbing his scar.

Ron chuckled at that, but it felt forced.

"I can assure you that Tom would not be able to approach Hogwarts without the wards detecting him, and informing me - at the least. Ample time to cancel the spell." The Headmaster spoke with quiet assurance, or so Harry felt. "Which is why I am certain he has not placed one of his items in Hogwarts proper - the wards would inform me if that was the case. But they do not cover this area."

He nodded, and started walking around in the antechamber while Dumbledore fixed the cave-in. After a few minutes he started a running commentary: "Nothing… nothing… still no pain… nothing here either… dust and what looks like dead rats, but no twinge."

"I think I found remains of my old wand." Ron held up some splinters.

Harry bit back a barbed comment. He was playing mine detector, and Ron was hunting souvenirs?

"The way to the main chamber is clear now. And safe - it was quite unstable. Even if we do not find what we are looking for - and I do not think we will - this has made this excursion worthwhile, I think." Dumbledore was smiling.

"Well, it certainly will be the safest such search," Ron said.

Harry walked past them, through the newly created tunnel. "Still nothing." The stench of decay his his nose, and he quickly cast a Bubble-Head Charm. He shivered when he reached the place he had fought the basilisk in… and the remains of the basilisk. There was not much left but decayed skin, rotten flesh and bones.

"Blimey! That was… I bet it could have swallowed a troll whole!" Ron exclaimed.

"Be careful not to touch it," Dumbledore said. "Even the remains are still poisonous, as countless rats have found out over time." He pointed at the skeletal remains of rats.

"I thought rats were smart enough to never eat from the same thing until they know it's safe," Ron remarked. Harry looked at him. "What? I had a rat as a pet. Percy told me all he knew about rats when he gave me Scabbers."

"Ah."

"We can ask Hagrid about this… once I have dealt with the most dangerous parts," the Headmaster said, waving his wand at the head of the corpse.

Harry didn't want to see what the old wizard was doing to the thing, and walked away, covering the rest of the room. Without success. Not even the secret chamber in the Chamber of Secrets yielded anything but shed skin and what looked like snake poop, as Ron called it.

"I must confess," Dumbledore said, after about two hours of fruitless searching, "I did hope to find something. If only to be certain our method works." He sighed. "Nevertheless, war is seldom glamorous, and often tiresome, if not boring."

"Boring's good," Ron said. "It means we're not fighting for our lives."

"Ah, Mister Weasley, I fear you are mistaken. While the urgency might not be readily apparent, we certainly are in a life or death struggle with the Dark Lord," Dumbledore said, "something your friend is quite aware of."

"Well, she gets to capture and blow up Death Eaters," Ron said. "We wade through dirt and dust and snake remains, and hope Harry gets a headache."

Harry nodded.

"Are you so eager to kill?" Dumbledore asked. He didn't sound that disapproving. More … concerned maybe.

Harry frowned. "I don't exactly want to kill. But I don't want the Death Eaters free to kill others. And I want to do something useful." Though, if he was honest with himself, there were a few people he would like to kill. Pettigrew, most of all.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "I know that this is important. That we're working on destroying the Dark Lord. But it doesn't feel as real as ensuring that there are a few less Death Eaters around doing his bidding. And as we have seen, imprisoning them doesn't work."

"And, aren't we doing all we can to kill Tom?" Harry shrugged. "If we're willing to do that, why wouldn't we want to kill his followers?"

"I see." Dumbledore looked weary, and more than a bit sad. "Let us return to Hogwarts proper. I dare say we all have earned some rest."

Harry exchanged a glance with Ron. His friend didn't seem to have any idea what the Headmaster was thinking either.

"Though speaking of that… I have asked an old friend to help train you. While Sirius and Remus are quite skilled, he has far more experience, even if he does tend to overdo it a bit." Dumbledore smiled at them.

Harry blinked. Who could… "Moody?"

"Indeed." The Headmaster nodded.

"Blimey. We'll need all the rest we can get," Ron muttered.

Harry could not help but agree with the sentiment.

*****​

Hogsmeade, November 5th, 1996

Allan had picked Hogsmeade again. Not surprisingly, Hermione Granger thought - he wouldn't want to develop a pattern. Although, given that the Resistance had just dumped the Rowles' remains in Diagon Alley, others might consider this a pattern. But she knew from Sirius that patrols had been increased in Diagon Alley, which meant they had likely decreased in Hogsmeade.

Once again hidden thanks to Harry's cloak, she didn't think she'd have trouble surprising Allan. But as the Major had taught her: There was no overkill if your life was on the line and you could spare the money. Which was why she wasn't alone, but with Aberforth Dumbledore.

That the Headmaster had a brother hadn't been a surprise - Hermione had found that out in her first year, when she had been researching Flamel. That Dumbledore trusted his brother, and called him one of the most dangerous duellists in Britain on the other hand… all Hermione had known was that the two had had a falling-out, and that Aberforth Dumbledore was a wastrel, the black sheep of the family. Both of which had been proved wrong.

"Found him yet?" The whisper from her enchanted earring interrupted her thoughts.

"Not yet. He's in the eastern part," she answered.

"There's a half-blood-owned shop there, Michael's Magic Plants and Seeds."

"That's a likely target." Hermione started walking - carefully - towards that shop. If she wanted to attack their wards… "He should be in the side alley, the eastern one."

She sped up. She wouldn't let another family be killed by Allan. She reached the mouth of the side alley. It looked empty, but… there, movement! She spotted a wand, and almost took cover, before reminding herself she was hidden from view. Instead, she sneaked closer. Black robe, white mask. A Death Eater. Or a Death Eater disguise. She had her wand out, but couldn't aim well under the cloak. It wouldn't matter though, once he started attacking the wards.

Suddenly, she heard a noise from the back of the alley. Allan whirled around, leading with his wand. As they had trained. Hermione slid her own wand out from her cloak. If Allan was spooked… she couldn't let the wizard escape.

Her whispered stunner hit him right in the back of his head, and he dropped down. That left whoever or whatever had made that noise.

"Good work, lass."

She knew that voice. From the end of the alley, Aberforth Dumbledore emerged. "A bit of a distraction. I thought you'd like to hex your own dog, so to speak."

Hermione shivered a bit, when the tension started to lessen, and nodded. She appreciated the gesture, but the plan had called for him to attack. She wouldn't bring that up though. Not now, at least. "Let's get him and leave."

*****​

London, November 5th, 1996

When he woke up, bound to a chair, he knew he was already dead. He had been caught in a Death Eater robe, trying to attack a half-blood shop. No matter who had caught him, he'd be killed. And yet when he saw his captor, he was surprised. It wasn't the Ministry, or the Death Eaters. It was Hermione, staring at him. And next to her stood Justin. Of course! He knew that those two were much closer than they claimed. The witch was probably sleeping with the Hufflepuff. Just as she was sleeping with Potter and Weasley. And she had refused him? Bitch.

"Hello Allan."

He looked around instead of addressing her. He didn't recognise his surroundings, but they looked muggle. A safe house then. "I've underestimated you. I didn't think you'd be that ruthless."

"Ruthless?" She cocked her head sideways, acting as if she was confused.

"Ambushing me. Capturing me. No one but you two knows you did this, right?"

She nodded.

"Was all that drivel about not striking at purebloods and half-bloods an act?" If he had known she was like that, he might have taken her into his confidence. "Did you oppose that simply because it was my idea?" She wouldn't have wanted him to impress more of the group.

The witch scowled. "That's how you think, right?" She shook her head. "You think you're ruthless, making the hard decisions, doing the dirty work needed to win the war."

"Of course! Someone has to! You can't win the war acting as if this was a cricket game!" You had to kill people to win a war. Kill as many of the enemy as possible. And some of your allies too, sometimes.

She snorted. She snorted at him. "It's not about you being ruthless, it's about you being an idiot. A stupid fool who is endangering us all. You've wrecked our plans and strategy, just so you could kill a few Aurors and two innocent families."

"In a war you have to kill the enemy!" he spat.

"So, half-blood shopkeepers and their children are now our enemies?" She glared at him.

He scoffed. "Necessary sacrifices. Their deaths will drive more half-bloods into fighting purebloods."

"Until someone catches you, and then they'll come after us." She shook her head. "Stupid and short-sighted. And arrogant. It fits."

"What?" The witch dared to call him arrogant? She was acting as if she knew best, forcing the entire group to follow her plans just because she had the contacts and the gold!

"Just something I read." She sighed. "We have wasted enough time." She pulled out a familiar looking vial from her pocket. Veritaserum.

"You know the group will follow me. I'm doing something against our enemies, instead of holding us back. They'll kick you out." Or worse, he mentally added while the bitch and her lackey stepped closer.

"You really think you'll leave this room alive?" She opened the vial.

He suddenly understood just how ruthless she was. He wanted to curse her, but Justin, the traitor, was forcing his mouth open with a ring gag, fixing his tongue in place, and so Allan could only make incoherent noises until the potion took effect.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 15: Changing Plans

'Many forces in the Second Blood War suffered from internal troubles. The Dark Lord mainly had to deal with overeager followers acting of their own volition, and subordinates plotting against each other. He dealt with those problems in his typical way - through swift and lethal punishment, although opinions on how fairly and accurately said punishment was applied differ. The Ministry of Magic, on the other hand, suffered mostly from traitors and spies. The Head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones, could never be certain of any employee's loyalty, even among the Aurors and Hit-Wizards, which unsurprisingly made dealing with the problem that much harder. Due to the direct intervention of the Wizengamot, the easiest means to find traitors - regular interrogations with Veritaserum - was limited to those cases where there was a prior suspicion, which pretty much doomed her efforts. Consequently, the Ministry was never as effective in the war as it could have been, and many operations suffered due to the lack of trusted personnel. Meanwhile, the Muggleborn Resistance was, at the start, just one among several groups opposing the Death Eaters and the Ministry, and a small one at that, which meant most internal troubles were personal issues rather than anything more serious. Due to the lack of coordination though, the Resistance's plans occasionally suffered when they clashed with operations of other muggleborn groups.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn

*****​

London, November 5th, 1996

Hermione Granger stared at Allan, whose eyes showed the vacant stare of the drugged. "Did anyone but you know about the murders you committed?" she asked.

"No one. No one ever suspected." Allan droned, without the smug sense of satisfaction she knew he'd show normally.

"Who did you kill first?" Hermione knew about the first time Aurors went missing, but those could have been the victims of someone else.

"Umbridge."

Or Allan could have killed long before that. She ground her teeth while Justin gasped. The Ravenclaw had been responsible for wrecking her carefully-planned schedule. He had caused the Aurors to come after her. She cursed under her breath. She should have expected this. It fit Allan, fit him so well.

"Why did you kill her?"

"She deserved to die. She tortured muggleborns for so long, unpunished… no one else was doing anything. And I had the perfect plan."

"How did you kill her?"

"I sneaked into her office, ambushed her while disillusioned. I used a Full Body-Bind Curse on her, then beat her to death with her own blood quill, transfigured into a golf club. Before the death blow, I obliviated her, so even if she became a ghost she'd not be able to reveal me. Then I vanished the body."

Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine. Extended answers under Veritaserum were very uncommon, as far as she knew. Allan must have wanted to tell this story. But he spoke of a 'death blow', as if… "How often did you hit her before you killed her?"

"I don't remember."

She winced. "What did you do to her before the death blow?"

"I smashed her limbs, broke every bone in them, crippled her. Then I broke her hips and ribs, crushed her shoulders. I spared her spine, so she would live longer."

"Bloody hell!" Justin spat next to her.

Hermione briefly closed her eyes. She had a terrible suspicion. "Did you enjoy killing her?"

"Yes."

"Do you enjoy killing?"

"Yes."

Hermione hissed. Justin had gone rigid. It was as she had suspected. And feared. "Did you kill Auror patrols as well?"

"Yes."

"How many?"

"Two. Four Aurors."

"Did you kill them like you killed Umbridge?"

"Only half of them."

Hermione bit her lower lip. "Did you beat the female Aurors to death?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"It felt better."

"Bloody monster!" She could hear Justin take a few deep breaths after that outburst.

"Did you want to kill me as well?" She had to ask. Had to know if those talks, those moments, meant anything. Or had been part of a murder plot.

"No."

She was surprised, but not yet relieved. "Why not?"

"You are too useful. Too many contacts and resources."

Of course. She swallowed. "Would you have killed me if you had had those contacts?"

"Yes."

Hermione closed her eyes for a second. "Why?"

"I thought you were too soft, too weak to fight this war."

She felt Justin's hand on her arm, heard him hiss "Stop!", but she asked anyway: "Would you have liked killing me?"

"Yes."

She turned away, towards Justin, and nodded to the door behind them. He followed her.

Outside, she leaned against the wall, shivering. "He's a monster. A smart, cunning monster, but a monster nevertheless." She bit her lip again. On one hand, this made what she knew she had to do easier. Justified. On the other hand… if she hadn't been able to see what Allan was, how would she be able to see if anyone else was going down the same path?

Like her?

"Do you want me to deal with him?" Aberforth Dumbledore's question made Justin jump - he must have missed his presence. Sloppy, Hermione thought, even though the old wizard had almost disappeared into the soft armchair he had conjured. He didn't ask what they had heard, she noticed.

She shook her head. "No. We'll do it." He was a Resistance member, and dealing with him was their obligation.

Aberforth nodded, and she thought there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "Good."

"You don't want to know what he did?" Justin asked.

The old wizard shrugged. "He's a muggleborn wearing Death Eater garb, caught trying to burn down a shop. That's enough for me."

Justin apparently felt the need to justify their decision some more. "He likes killing. If he can find any justification, he'll kill. He's a monster."

Dumbledore's brother nodded, but didn't comment.

Hermione put her hand on Justin's shoulder. "I'll continue the interrogation. We'll need to know what else he has done behind our backs."

Justin shook his head, refusing her implied offer. "Yes, we do. Let's get this over with."

*****​

"Stupefy! Obliviate!"

Hermione felt bad for using Allan's own idea, even though it was somewhat poetic justice. But it was a smart idea, and she couldn't take the risk of him remaining as a ghost, and turning on them. She doubted that the enchanted contract she had created to protect the Resistance would have any effect on a ghost, and even if Allan was bound to the place of his death, if the Resistance needed this safe house…

And, she told herself, she hadn't erased all his memories. In case whatever afterlife there was didn't restore memories.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself. She had killed before, and had helped kill so many more, but this was the first time she would be killing a helpless, defenceless … no, Allan was no victim! He was a monster. Like the Death Eaters they had captured. He had even been glad about Martin's death, since that had made the Resistance members more bloodthirsty. She pointed her wand at his neck.

"Diffindo!"

She didn't look away while his head dropped into his lap, then fell down on the floor and blood splattered on the ground.

"Evanesco. Evanesco. Evanesco. Scourgify."

She left the room as empty as she felt, but far less stained.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, November 6th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle was a veteran Auror. So she wasn't surprised about the Ministry's reaction to the revelation of Rowle's Dark Mark. Her partner on the other hand…

Martin scowled. "Does anyone actually believe that the Dark Mark was put on her by mudbloods to frame her?"

Brenda shrugged. "It's a convenient excuse. Like the 'Imperius defence' fifteen years ago." She leaned back in her chair, letting her gaze wander over the scarce decorations on her desk. One picture of her and her parents after her graduation from Hogwarts - Dragon Pox had killed them before Brenda graduated as an Auror. A stone splinter a suspect had banished into her chest once, now serving as a paperweight. She had killed the man despite the wound. Nothing else.

Martin huffed. "I can't believe Bones is going along with this!"

She shrugged once more. "Who says she is? Dawlish might be investigating the affair more discreetly than he usually acts." Martin snorted, and she grinned. "Alright… maybe Bones is working with Dumbledore. He certainly has no love for the Death Eaters." And he had a number of 'concerned friends', as was shown during that incident in the Department of Mysteries. Discreet friends, who had left before the Aurors had shown up. But according to rumour, Dumbledore hadn't visited Bones or the Minister since he had chased them out of Hogwarts. Of course, that could just be a ploy to make people think they were not working together…

Martin looked doubtful. "I can't see Bones using such underhanded means."

She nodded. "I don't really believe it myself. But Bones is not the kind of witch to let anything slide."

The door to their office was opened, and Parkinson walked in. "Morning," the Auror grunted more than said, conjured a chair for himself and sat down.

"Morning." Brenda nodded at him.

"Good morning," Martin said, his tone carefully neutral.

Parkinson looked from Brenda to Martin and back, then snorted. "Yes, my aunt was a Death Eater. That doesn't make me one." He pulled his left sleeve back, to show his bare arm.

"We never said you were." Brenda looked straight at him. He didn't have to be marked to work for the Dark Lord. Not that she really believed that the mark couldn't be hidden.

Parkinson shrugged. "You were thinking it." His tone was rather casual, but then, the majority of the Wizengamot didn't seem to frown on Death Eaters that much.

"We're hunting mudbloods, not Death Eaters," Brenda said. "Dawlish is the one who hunts the Dark Lord's followers." And she didn't envy him that assignment. Not at all.

"Well, he doesn't want to hunt them anymore. Rumour is, he's trying to take over this case." Parkinson scoffed. "He doesn't want to oppose the Dark Lord anymore, or so it seems."

Martin frowned. "Is he afraid of them, or of the Wizengamot?"

"Cursed if I know, kid," Parkinson said. "But he has to convince both Scrimgeour and Bones, and Bones at least won't look kindly on such a move." He looked at Brenda. "Unless you screw up."

He didn't say 'again', but Brenda was certain he was thinking it. And he was correct - she knew that her next setback would be her last as a leader of anything in the department. "Thanks for telling me."

"Your plan better work."

"It'll give us a way to infiltrate the mudbloods." And the mudbloods in hiding had to have some contact with the Resistance. You couldn't operate like the mudblood scum did without support from others.

"You need to produce results soon though. The Wizengamot is getting impatient."

Brenda nodded, then blinked. "Well… maybe Dawlish should take over the task force, as long as we get to run our operation."

Parkinson's eyes widened. "You want him to shoulder the blame for the things your fake mudblood group will do to gain the mudbloods' trust!"

Brenda grinned. "Sacrifices have to be made." It would certainly help if she was seen to be demoted to some meaningless case while she was actually running the undercover mission.

The other veteran Auror chuckled. "You have to get this past Bones, but if it works… Dawlish will be setting himself up for failure."

"But if he takes over the hunt for the mudbloods, who's taking over the hunt for the Death Eaters?" Martin asked.

Parkinson snorted. "Someone stupid, I bet. They'd be outing themselves as a blood traitor."

Or someone working for the Dark Lord, planning to sabotage the efforts, Brenda mentally added. She stood up.

"I'll have to talk to Bones."

*****​

Hogwarts, November 6th, 1996

Albus Dumbledore noticed that his brother was in a bad mood right away - Aberforth's scowl was even more pronounced than usual when he entered the Headmaster's office.

"Did something go wrong last night?" he asked. He was fairly certain he would have been informed at once, but sometimes Aberforth could be very unreasonable…

"No. Everything went according to plan," his brother said. "But I found out a few things that don't sit well with me."

Albus raised his eyebrows. "Please elaborate."

"Those are kids you're using, Albus. Kids who are turning into killers, and worse," his brother spat.

"They founded the Resistance without any help from me," he defended himself. "They do not answer to me either."

"Are you claiming you didn't know about them?"

Arguing about what he had known, and what he had suspected, would be pointless. Too much bad blood persisted between him and Aberforth. He took a deep breath. "They would fight no matter what. Would you rather I ignore them, instead of helping them?"

"Helping and guiding them?" Aberforth scoffed. "Turning them into your personal tool against the Dark Lord?"

"Miss Granger knows as well as I do who the true enemy is." And she also knew that fighting an enemy who'd surrender as soon as the Dark Lord was dead was a waste of time and often lives. "And she knows that coordinating with your allies is needed in a war."

Aberforth seemed to concede that point. At least he changed the topic. "We caught a muggleborn in Death Eater garb trying to burn down a half-blood shop."

Albus nodded. He had expected that.

His brother glared at him. "That fool can't have been the only one thinking that this was a clever way to discredit the enemy."

"It is quite a risky, and distasteful, ploy." Miss Granger had had good reasons to dismiss such plans.

"Right up your alley then?"

Albus glared at him. Even counting his past failures, this was a low blow. "I'm not having innocents killed." Not if he could help it.

"What about those who are not innocent anymore? Those who have fought, and killed?"

Any commander knew that sometimes, soldiers had to be sacrificed to achieve a victory. Albus knew that as well. "Not like this."

Aberforth stared at him and for a few moments, neither of the brothers spoke a word. Then the old wizard nodded at Albus. "If I ever discover anything like this…"

"You won't," the Headmaster said with as much conviction he could muster.

Aberforth nodded. His brother knew that Albus hadn't promised he wouldn't do such a thing. Just that Aberforth wouldn't know.

After a glance at Fawkes, his brother said: "Your little witch didn't go overboard. No torture, no revenge. Clean interrogation, clean kill."

Albus didn't let his relief show. He had not thought that Miss Granger would cross certain lines, but he hadn't been absolutely sure.

"She didn't want me to kill him for her either. She took the responsibility." Aberforth's expression implied that he thought that Albus didn't, and hadn't.

The Headmaster ignored the barb. "That sounds like Miss Granger," he commented mildly.

His brother huffed. "She didn't need my help to capture him either. And you knew that. You wanted me there to get to know them, and to make them trust me."

"Not entirely. If there had been complications, your presence would have saved the day. Although yes, this will make future co-operation easier."

"If you say so. Is there anything else?"

"Not for the moment. But I expect the Dark Lord to strike at our friends soon."

"I hope this bunch of your friends is not as unprepared as the last one were." Aberforth snorted and stood up. "I heard your pet Auror finally got over what Crouch Junior did to him. Keep him away from me or I'll make that look like a tickling hex from a first year."

Albus nodded. Compared to the bad blood between Alastor and Aberforth, the relationship between the last two Dumbledores was positively cordial. He sincerely hoped the two would never have to fight side by side.

He leaned back in his seat, petting Fawkes until long after his brother had left. Unfortunately, with the way the Ministry was turning to Voldemort, he feared that hope would be dashed.

*****​

London, East End, November 6th, 1996

Hermione Granger sat on her bed, staring at the wall. She had returned to the Resistance's safe house, with no one the wiser. Late enough so her curt manner would have been attributed to being tired. Hopefully, at least. Justin had returned separately sometime before. As Mary had told her with a grin, he was with Sally-Anne right now.

And Hermione was alone. She sighed. Allan hadn't cared for her, or liked her. He had just wanted to manipulate her. Use her for his own, sick plans. She should have known that. Viktor hadn't liked her either. At least not the way she had wanted. He hadn't known her either. He liked that she didn't care for Quidditch. That wasn't exactly something to base a relationship on.

Harry and Ron though, they knew her. They had seen her at her best and at her worst. Or had known her - she wondered what they'd think of her now, after she had killed Allan. They hadn't liked him, but they wouldn't have suspected what he had been doing. A sudden thought made her freeze for a moment. Would Allan have gone after them, if she had been in a relationship? He had asked, hadn't he? And he had been going on about how purebloods and half-bloods couldn't be trusted...

She bared her teeth. Another reason why killing him had been the right thing to do. She'd not let anyone threaten her friends.

Her friends. Who wanted more than friendship. She didn't have time for a relationship. It was the simple truth. She was leading the Muggleborn Resistance in a war against the Dark Lord and the Ministry. She was already not getting enough sleep, and she would have to deal with the results of Allan's sudden absence as well as keeping the offensive going.

But, damn it, she wanted to feel loved and desired! Not just liked and appreciated. She took a deep breath. She was a smart girl, and she'd handle this rationally. Think the matter through carefully and thoroughly. Weigh the pros and cons of a … relationship. With either Ron or Harry. That was the plan, she told herself, pulling out a notepad and pen.

Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. Orphan. Not the best childhood. Brave. Almost stupidly so. Always willing to help anyone who needed it. Not always willing to let others help him, though she had cured him of that, or so she thought. Wore his heart on his sleeve, sometimes acted without thinking, and had a temper. And a tendency to brood as well. Utterly loyal, though loathe to take sides when friends had a row. More fragile than he appeared, and naive when it came to relationships - she remembered his crush on Cho. Very charming. Striking eyes. Quidditch mad.

Ron Weasley. Sixth son of seven children. Brave. Stupidly so - she remembered his sacrifice in first year. Sometimes didn't think things through before speaking. Or acting. Had a temper as well. And felt inadequate compared to his older brothers, and probably Harry. Jealous, though that had lessened a lot after fourth year. Not very experienced with girls - she remembered his attempt to ask Fleur for a date. Developing a very nice body, and cute freckles. Quidditch mad.

Listing those points hadn't helped. Her two best friends had more in common that she had thought, and it didn't seem that she'd be able to make a rational decision about whether or not to enter a relationship, and with whom. Drat.

It was just hormones, she told herself. Hers, and Ron's and Harry's. Perfectly natural, and it would pass as they all grew up and became adults. On the other hand, if it was just hormones, why hadn't they gone for prettier girls? She wasn't exactly stringing them along, was she?

Damn, she probably was. Odds were, the boys felt obligated to wait for her decision. Even if they might be interested in other girls now. Girls they could see each day, and meet in cupboards.

She frowned at that thought. She was jealous as well, she realised. Though she didn't know of whom. She could imagine herself with either of the two boys. Had done so, actually, in some lurid dreams at least.

Unbidden and unwanted she thought of Sirius's proposal again. A ménage à trois. It would avoid a number of problems. No favouring one boy over the other. No splitting up their group. Not seeing her best friends get heartbroken by some stupid witch who didn't appreciate them… she frowned again and shook her head. It wouldn't really work though. All of them were too young, too inexperienced. Too insecure. Too needy. Jealousy would crop up no matter what they did.

Hermione ground her teeth. She was a Gryffindor, she was supposed to be brave! And she was supposed to be smart. There was but one way to solve this mess. She'd have to go on a date with each of her friends, and see how that went!

Then she hunched her shoulders and rubbed her forehead. She was being silly. Emotions didn't work like that. But it was the best solution she could think of that wasn't running away from facing her feelings, and her friends.

It would have to be good enough.

*****​

Hogwarts, November 7th, 1996

"Ron? Do you have a minute?"

Ron Weasley stopped writing his Potions essay and looked at his sister, who was standing next to his table in the Gryffindor common room. "Of course. What's up?"

"It's private," the witch said, in a lower voice.

Ron frowned, wondering what this was about, and drew his wand. She shook her head. "Let's talk somewhere else."

"Alright."

They moved to an empty classroom, and he cast several privacy spells while Ginny summoned two chairs and a desk.

"Thank you." His little sister sat down. She didn't speak up right away though. Another reason for concern. Had someone hurt her? He knew she could take care of herself - she had been training with the rest of them, after all - but what if some boy had broken her heart? Hadn't Zabini complimented her last week? If that slimeball...

"Ron?"

His thoughts of brutal revenge interrupted, he smiled apologetically at his sister. "Sorry. Go on."

Ginny huffed, but didn't comment on his absent-mindedness. "What's going on between you and Hermione?"

"What?"

Ginny glared at him. "Don't play dumb. I know you're meeting her regularly. You and Harry have been sneaking out of Hogwarts several times."

How did she… the map! Ron sighed. "That doesn't mean we're meeting with her."

His sister rolled her eyes. "Please! If you weren't meeting her, you'd be much more vocal about missing her." She made a dismissive gesture with her left hand. "I know you and Harry very well."

"Did you learn Occlumency?" Ron shot back.

"What? No. Why?" Ginny frowned when she understood what he meant and mumbled a few words mum would scourgify her mouth for under her breath.

"Language, Ginny," Ron said. He wasn't trying that hard to imitate Hermione, but judging by her glare, he managed well enough. He held up his hand in a placatory gesture. "Look… why are you interested in this hypothetical question anyway?" Did she want to help them? She was too young for that sort of thing!

"I've heard you turned Lavender down when she asked you out."

"Yes, I did." That had taken longer to spread than he had expected. Apparently, Lavender and Parvati were not quite as quick to spread gossip when it concerned them.

"And I haven't heard about you going out with any other witches." Ginny stared at him.

"So?" Ron asked, feeling slightly irked. She was his sister, not his mum.

"So, why would you turn Lavender down, unless you were already in a relationship? With a witch who's not at Hogwarts." She rolled her eyes before he could answer. "Yes, no Occlumency."

"There are a number of reasons. I might not like her." He ignored her snort and mumbled comment about Lavender's looks. "I might not have the time for a relationship." And that hit a bit too close to home.

"Or you might be pining for a witch who turned you down."

He ground his teeth. "What do you really want to know?"

For a moment, Ginny had that mulish expression he knew so well, then she sighed. "I want to know if Harry's with a witch who's not at Hogwarts."

That sounded like a nickname Hermione would hate even more than Harry hated the 'Boy-Who-Lived'-name, Ron thought. Then he focused on the question, and what it meant. "I thought you were over your crush."

"I am." Ginny raised her chin at his dubious expression. "That doesn't mean I'm not interested in him. He's a great guy. Much better than anyone else at Hogwarts."

Ron had to wince at hearing that.

Unfortunately, Ginny didn't miss his slip. She gasped. "You're… he's with her!"

"He's with no one," Ron said, before he could stop himself.

His sister looked confused. "What? Is she… are you both pining for a witch who's taken?"

"She's not taken." Ron closed his eyes, angry at his lapse. "The hypothetical witch, I mean."

"Merlin's balls!" Ginny shook her head. "So, what's going on between you three?"

"Nothing." Ron stared at her.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing." He almost spat that.

"So… Harry's single?"

"Was that what you wanted to ask me? Whether or not Harry was with… someone?" Why couldn't she simply have asked that? Or asked Harry?

"Not entirely. I also wanted to know if you were involved with 'someone'."

"Because if I am, he's not."

Ginny nodded. "So… do you think this is a good moment to ask him out? I don't want to, you know, catch him at a bad time."

"It's not a good time," Ron said. "We're kind of… waiting."

"Waiting? For what?"

"An answer."

"Oh." Ginny's mouth remained open for a moment. Then she blinked, and huffed. "Well, I hope she picks you."

"Even though Harry's much better than anyone else at Hogwarts?" Ron tried not to sound too sarcastic.

Ginny smiled a bit sheepishly. "You're my brother, I don't count you."

Ron snorted. He knew where he ranked. But he still hoped. He might be stupid, but he wouldn't give up. It was Hermione's decision, after all.

"Let's go back to the dorm," Ginny said. "Please tell me when, you know?"

"OK."

*****​

London, East End, November 7th, 1996

Dinner at the Resistance's safe house was about to start when Seamus all but yelled: "Allan still hasn't returned!" He continued a bit more calmly. "I can't reach his phone either. Something must have happened to him!"

Hermione frowned. "Where did he go? And when?"

Seamus grimaced. "He went to see his girlfriend. Yesterday evening."

"You haven't seen him since then?" She didn't have to fake her anger. Not much at least. Seamus should have mentioned that earlier.

The Irish muggleborn had the grace to look ashamed. "I thought he had overslept, you know. With his bird."

"Let's call her then."

Seamus winced again. "Err…"

"You don't have her number?"

He shook his head.

"Her name?" She sighed at his expression. "He shacked up with a girl and didn't tell her name to anyone?"

Everyone denied it.

"Great." She took a deep breath. "Seamus, call his parents from somewhere other than London. If he's had a traffic accident, the police might have informed them. If he was carrying any form of ID."

Judging by the expressions on the other Resistance members' faces, the thought that Allan could have been in an accident hadn't occurred to them. Hermione hoped that this didn't mean they were careless on the street.

"What if he has been captured?" Dean asked.

"We'll move to a second safe house, at least temporarily. I trust our curse to protect us, but better safe than sorry." Almost too late she added. "If he's been arrested, we'll know. And we'll get him out."

"How?" John asked. "We didn't save Martin."

"We weren't ready back then. Things have changed. We have a good chance of springing someone from the Ministry," Hermione said.

"You mean, your friends have." Dean stared at her.

"Yes." She didn't deny it. As Allan had proved, it was better if the Resistance knew how much they needed her.

"What if Death Eaters got him?"

"There's not much we can do about that, other than avenge him. And hope they didn't take him alive," Hermione said, in the most serious tone she could manage.

"If that slut was a trap…" Seamus mumbled.

"Was that the first time he went to visit her?" Justin asked.

"No… he has been visiting her for some time, when we were out…" the other wizard cringed slightly.

Hermione would have muttered something nasty about not sticking with each other, but since she was often out by herself, she would have felt like a hypocrite. "It's unlikely that the girl was a trap then. Neither Death Eaters nor muggle criminals would have let him visit her several times before attacking him."

"They might have waited until he was letting down his guard," Dean cut in.

Hermione raised her eyebrow. "Do you think he was keeping his wand in hand and an eye on the door while he was shagging her?"

"He could have cast spells to protect himself," Dean stubbornly defended his idea.

"And suddenly stop casting them?" Hermione shook her head. "Doesn't sound like him."

"Love can make a bloke do stupid things," Seamus added.

Not just a bloke, Hermione thought, but she nodded. "Maybe. But still unlikely. Now let's eat quickly and prepare to move. Seamus, you're on lookout duty now."

The Irish muggleborn didn't argue - he must still be feeling guilty about covering for Allan, she thought, since he went up at once.

As she wolfed down her dinner, she felt quite annoyed that even after his death, Allan was still causing trouble for her.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, November 8th, 1996

Daphne Greengrass felt like she was walking into a cursed tomb as she made her way to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes past several mudholes. Tracey, walking at her side, wasn't looking that happy or confident either. Taking revenge for their murdered parents had seemed like a fine idea back then, but now…

"I don't like this," she whispered.

Tracey glanced at her. "We just have to act scared and let the twins console us. Make them think we need protection, and feel threatened."

"I don't have to act as if I'm scared," Daphne said. "I am scared." The mudholes were the best proof that the mudbloods could roam Diagon Alley as they wanted. Who knew when they'd hide a bomb, rather than create mudholes?

"All the better for our mission then," Tracey said. She ignored Daphne's glare.

They arrived at the shop. Daphne wasn't certain, but she thought the tingling sensation she felt when entering was stronger than last time. She ducked out of habit, but no item or spell tried to hit her.

"Mary! Cassandra!" One of the twins - Fred, since he was smiling widely - greeted them.

George, the other twin, nodded at them from the counter. He wasn't crafting items in the back room then.

"Have you seen our latest invention? Weirding Water!" Fred squeezed what looked like a globe in his hand, and a jet of water shot at Daphne, drenching her. Before she could do anything more than splutter in growing outrage, she was dry again.

"Instant dryness. Perfect to tease people," he added with a grin, handing her another globe. "It comes in a multitude of colours!"

Daphne smiled, took the globe, and used it on Fred. "I see," she said, with a smirk.

That even made George the Grump laugh. Or George the Gay, as Tracey liked to call him when they talked about the twins - she was certain he simply wasn't interested in witches to remain so … guarded ... towards them.

Another new product. Daphne wondered, not for the first time, how the twins found the time to create all those products. Maybe they were not involved in the war? Even so, they were blood traitors.

Which reminded her of her mission. Fred must have noticed her sudden mood change, since he asked: "What's wrong? Are there side effects? We did test them thoroughly, but…"

She shook her head. "No, no. I'm just… all this news about war and bombs scares me." That, and the knowledge of what the Dark Lord did to those who failed him. Even if technically, they had never joined him, but Draco instead.

"Oh!" Fred smiled. "You're safe here. Best wards you can buy. Or bother your brother into doing for you."

"Why would you be scared? Would anyone want to attack you?" George had stepped closer, and seemed a bit tense.

"We're half-bloods," Daphne said. "Raised completely in Wizarding Britain, but…" she sighed. "... that doesn't mean much these days."

Tracey nodded. "Yes."

"Oh." George nodded.

Fred slipped his arms around their shoulders. "The Death Eaters will get theirs, don't worry."

Daphne had to force herself to smile at that. Hopefully, he'd think she was so tense because she was afraid of the Death Eaters. And not of blood traitors.

*****​

Hogwarts, November 8th, 1996

Harry Potter was sitting on his bed, looking at the communication mirror propped up by his pillow. Hermione would call soon. Ron, sitting next to him, snorted. "People will start talking if we're sharing a bed so often."

Harry raised his eyebrows at him. "They haven't so far."

"Well… still feels a bit weird. We're not twelve anymore." Ron shrugged.

"Nostalgia is a thing," Harry said.

"Pining for when you were a first year?" His friend shook his head.

"Life was simpler back then," Harry said, as seriously as he could, before chuckling.

Ron was about to retort when the mirror vibrated. Harry touched it, and Hermione's face appeared. "Harry, Ron."

"Hermione," the two chorused.

"How are you doing?" Hermione asked a bit too casually, Harry thought. She was twisting a lock of her hair, though as short as it was now, she lost her grip on it.

"We're training hard," Ron said. "And we've helped the Headmaster."

Their friend narrowed her eyes. "Oh?"

"We haven't left Hogwarts," Harry said quickly. "We searched the Chamber of Secrets." He didn't have to say what they had been searching.

"No need to ask what you've been doing," Ron said. "The Prophet was full of it."

Hermione nodded. She seemed a bit off, so Harry asked: "Did some of your friends get hurt?"

"One was knocked unconscious. He recovered though." She bit her lip. "I'll tell you more when we meet in person."

That sounded important to Harry. "When will that be?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Well… you know…"

Harry exchanged a glance with Ron. When their best friend was stalling, then something was wrong. And Harry feared he knew what this was about.

"... I've been thinking about what you two said." She looked to the side, then stared at them. "And… " she sighed. "Alright. I want to go on a date with you. With each of you."

Harry blinked, surprised. He hadn't expected that.

"Blimey. Did you talk with Sirius?" Ron asked.

"What?" Hermione frowned. "Not like that! I mean… honestly, I thought about this, and I think the best way to find out if there is a potential for a relationship between us - between me and you, or me and you - is to go on a date. A romantic date. See how we do."

Harry exchanged a glance with Ron again. He wouldn't have expected that. And they had been talking about this situation, hadn't they?

Apparently, Hermione thought they were waiting for her to elaborate. "It's not as if the potential isn't there - I can imagine both of you, you know…" she trailed off, biting her lower lip again, "so, I do find you attractive, it's just… it would be unfair to pick one of you without at least having gone on a date with both of you."

"Alright," Harry said. "So… when would you like to go on those dates?"

"Next Friday and Saturday."

Of course she would have a schedule already. Harry smiled. "So, what have you planned for the dates?"

"Ah… nothing, actually. You can decide what we do."

Harry managed to not wince. That sounded like a test. A rather difficult test. He hadn't been on a real date so far, not a successful at least. "Great," he pressed out.

"Yes," Ron chimed in. "Great." He sounded, in Harry's opinion, about as sincere as Harry himself.

Hermione, though, looked relieved. "Good. So… tell me who goes Friday and who goes Saturday, and what I'll have to wear by Wednesday, alright?"

"Of course."

"Sure."

The witch smiled, and bid them good night. Once her image had vanished from the mirror, Harry turned to Ron. "You don't have any idea what you'll do either, do you?"

Ron shook his head.

"Great."

"Yes."

*****​

Hogwarts, November 9th, 1996

"That was pathetic! I thought Black and Lupin trained you, did they teach you how to be a stationary target, or did you forget everything since then?"

Trying to train with a paranoid veteran Auror while worrying about a date a week from now wasn't a good idea. Ron Weasley was discovering that in a rather painful way as he slowly stood up after having been thrown a few yards into a wall by Moody's latest spell.

"I can dodge better than that, and without my peg leg, boy!"

Ron bent over, holding his stomach, and glanced at Harry, who was sitting next to the back wall, still recovering from his own 'training'. His friend hadn't fared any better.

"Preparing to double-team me? Nice thought, boy, but you'd need to be more subtle! I do have an eye covering my back!" Moody cackled, flicked his wrist, and a red spell shot at Ron.

He almost dodged it, and almost managed to cast a Shield Charm in time. The Stinging Hex hurt more than it should, Ron was certain. He didn't cry out though, but finished his Shield Charm.

It didn't help him that much, as it turned out, since he caught one of two Bludgeoning Curses next, which shattered his shield and pushed him back, stumbling. When a few more colorful hexes flew at him, Ron simply stopped trying to keep his balance and dropped, avoiding the volley.

That's when he discovered that someone had coated the stone below him with glue. Or transfigured it into glue. He was trying to get his wand arm free so he could finite it when the next Stinging Hex hit his forehead.

"And dead!" Moody shook his head. "Potter, you're up! Try to last long enough so your friend has enough time to free himself! And try to keep me busy enough that I can't hex him!" That was followed by another Stinging Hex.

Harry did his best, from what Ron could tell, but he still caught a few more hexes while he ripped his robe open and dispelled the glue. Which left him covered with dust. He was about to scourgify himself when Harry was hit by a series of spells and ended up upside and trussed up in conjured ropes.

This time, Ron was quick enough to dodge two spells, but got hit with a Full Body-Bind Curse when he tried to get Harry free.

"I should leave you two like this until you figure out how to dispel that without moving your wand, but Albus wouldn't like that." Moody shook his head. "I see that we've got a long way to go." He grinned, which was a rather frightful sight with his mutilated nose and spinning eye, in Ron's opinion. "But don't worry, I'll be behind you, hexing you all the way to motivate you."

Ron groaned while Harry muttered a few curses, and the old Auror cackled again, before freeing them. "At least you're trying to work together," Moody added almost as an afterthought. "That's a good thing - too many Hit-Wizards, and even Aurors, try to duel enemies as if this was a match." He left the room Dumbledore had provided for them.

Ron rolled on his back, and turned his head towards Harry. "We'll have to get him next time."

Harry, still on his stomach, nodded. "I'll ask Sirius for help."

That reminded Ron that he needed to write to Bill. A wizard who had a Veela girlfriend would know how to treat a witch on a date, wouldn't he?

*****​

Hogwarts, November 10th, 1996

Albus Dumbledore frowned as he read the latest report from Severus. He had to replenish quite a few ingredients - all of them needed for quite a specific potion. All of them listed prominently together. Delivered with a remark that 'even out of school, some students continue to cause trouble' for the Potions master.

He shook his head. Severus could have simply told him directly that Mister Malfoy was demanding, and therefore using, Polyjuice extensively. It wasn't exactly subtle either, and he would only be able deny such a report in the most basic Veritaserum interrogation. Which told Albus that Severus had other reasons for being so oblique. Reasons to be found in his character.

His spy was a very complex man. Ridden with guilt, filled with hatred, his cruelty barely held in check by his cunning and pride, he was brave - or suicidal - enough to serve as a spy against Voldemort, knowing that one misstep would doom him. All because he hated Tom more than anyone else in the world.

Albus had no illusions - Severus wouldn't really mind if most of the Order died, as long as Voldemort and his followers shared their fate. But he was smart enough, even without being aware of how the rest of the Order was doing, to know that at this point, Albus couldn't afford to lose any allies. Which meant Mister Malfoy was either acting directly on Tom's orders, or the young Death Eater had a dangerous plan.

The Headmaster sighed. He had hoped he wouldn't have to do this. Wouldn't have to risk the goblins' ire at such a critical moment. No matter how misplaced their ire would be - Nicolas and Albus had been trying to reverse-engineer the Thief's Downfall, back in the day, but they had never managed to completely duplicate it. Hadn't really tried that much either - working with dragon blood had proven to be more interesting, offering new discoveries instead of copying the work of others.

What they had come up with was able to strip people of disillusionment spells and other magical disguises. Useful, but given alternatives at least to counter disillusioned enemies, not worth risking more trouble with the goblins.

Now though, circumstances had changed. Both regarding the need to use this discovery, as well as the opportunity to disguise its origin, should it become public.

Messrs Weasley had developed quite the reputation as very creative potioneers, after all. It would not be that unusual if one of their products might briefly affect a target with some harmless effect, and accidentally counter the effect of Polyjuice…

Albus summoned one of his old notebooks, copied a few pages, and then went to his fireplace to arrange a meeting.

*****​

London, East End, November 10th, 1996

"I've done it!" John announced, standing in the door to Hermione Granger's room in the Resistance's temporary headquarters. His smile was unusual - after Allan's disappearance, and continuing absence, the mood had been more than a bit sombre. Seamus and Dean had been particularly different. Hermione Granger had even started to miss their - often loud - talks and boasts.

She shifted in her seat and turned to the former Ravenclaw. There was one major thing he had been working on, for a month now. "Did you manage to duplicate the charms used to broadcast on the Wizarding Wireless?"

John nodded. "I did! We can broadcast now!"

"How portable is the setup?" Hermione had been looking into pirate radios for a bit. The Resistance couldn't set up permanently on abandoned platforms in the North Sea or the Channel, but they could use other tactics.

John shrugged. "The broadcasting crystal and the other parts are not that big. Takes a bit to set up properly, but it all can be shrunk."

"Can it be tracked when broadcasting?" When they had interrogated him, Cory Briston hadn't known if that was possible - apparently, it hadn't been tried or needed so far. But they couldn't afford to ignore that possibility.

"I have a few ideas that could work, but I haven't focused on tracking the signal," John said.

She nodded. "We'll have to assume the Ministry will track us then. Maybe turn the broadcasting crystal into a trap. Or use expendable ones." She saw him wince. "Too expensive?"

"Enchanting the crystal is hard and takes a long time."

Hermione nodded. "Well, I think we should install it in a van then."

John blinked. "That will make tracking it harder, but who among us can drive? And if we're found, getting away will be hard while limited to the streets."

Hermione grinned. "It'll be a flying invisible van." She knew two people who managed that feat. One of them even made an invisible flying car.

"Oh!" John smiled widely. "Cool!"

"We'll have to prepare our first broadcast. Advertise it too. Leaflets. Maybe the Prophet will pick it up."

"Or The Quibbler," John added.

"The Quibbler?" Hermione dimly recalled having heard of a magazine with that name, at the Weasleys. Mrs Weasley had not been fond of it.

"It's a magazine dealing with, well, mythical animals. Undiscovered magical animals. Made up for the biggest part." John shrugged. "And stories about how Fudge turns goblins into meat pies. The daughter of the editor is in Ravenclaw. Luna Lovegood, a strange girl. But I've heard that a number of people like the magazine because it's funny."

"Ah." Hermione Granger wasn't quite ready to dismiss any mythical animal as pure myth - until she had turned 11, she had 'known' unicorns and dragons didn't exist, after all - but the story about Fudge eating goblins sounded like something out of a satire magazine. Her eyes widened. If that was satire, then that would be a good way to distribute propaganda disguised as satire! "Thank you. I'll look into it." She stood up. "Let's get busy with the broadcast."

It would also be a good way to occupy the Resistance until they had another target.

*****​

Devon, Ottery St. Catchpole, November 10th, 1996

Albus Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace in the Burrow with a smile on his face. He was very fond of the Weasleys. They were a big family, not rich, but always generous, and all of them very brave. Ideal Gryffindors, in short, if Albus permitted himself to think so fondly of his own house.

"Albus! You're early! Have you eaten yet? We're just about to start!" Molly exclaimed.

The witch was already waving him to join her and Arthur in the kitchen before the Headmaster could answer. He hadn't exactly been early, but Molly didn't think anyone but her cooked proper meals, and this gave her an excuse to feed him. Not that he minded - he didn't know many cooks that measured up to her, and none of them were found in Wizarding Britain.

Arthur as well as young William and Charlie rose to greet him warmly. "Fred and George claim they are too busy at work," Molly explained, with a frown and a glance at Albus.

He nodded slightly. They were busy because of him, after all. Molly sighed - she understood the need for secrecy, but didn't like it. Understandable, given her past.

The meal was delicious, and Albus enjoyed the small-talk, mostly centered on William's relationship with Miss Delacour, and the young man's refusal to 'set a date', even though it also made him sad - his own family had, for all intents and purposes, been gone for decades. But to show that would have been both impolite and thoughtless. In these trying times, everyone needed to enjoy what happiness they could find, and not have it ruined by an old man's regrets.

After dessert though, Albus addressed the reason he had visited. He didn't like it, but he had to do it. He cleared his throat, and the others at the table fell silent. Molly even flinched.

"I've some unfortunate news," he began. "The Dark Lord is finishing his preparations, and going on the offensive. I expect that he will be targeting those who oppose him in the Wizengamot and the Ministry first, since he has trouble finding the muggleborns."

Arthur nodded. He would know what was coming - the man had fought in the last war, after all. And had repaired the Burrow afterwards. William and Charlie looked serious, but confused since Molly was already sniffling.

"I fear that staying in your home will be too dangerous, given your prominent position on certain policies of the Ministry, and your past history with the late Mister Malfoy."

As expected, the two young men wanted to fight, unwilling to abandon their home. William made a passionate plea to trust his wards. Charlie supported him. But Molly wouldn't let them risk their lives. Not for a house that could be rebuilt.

While she dealt with her children's opposition, Albus exchanged a look with Arthur, and excused himself. He had other Order members to visit still.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, November 11th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle, standing with her arms crossed, studied the two Aurors that had entered Amelia Bones's office, Daniel Rickett and Doris Purvis. Both Hufflepuffs, both half-bloods. Both rather young. Both fit what she was looking for. Brenda hadn't found any sign that they were disloyal to the Ministry, but she hadn't been able to use Veritaserum.

"Please have a seat, Aurors." Bones pointed at two chairs in front of her desk.

Rickett and Purvis sat down, the witch glancing at Brenda, Martin and Parkinson, who were standing to the side.

"You've been called to my office because there's an important undercover mission that you qualify for. If you accept the mission, you will be discharged from the Auror Corps for harbouring sympathies for muggleborns. Death Eaters will consider you blood traitors, and may come after you. Your friends, your families will believe you are traitors. They cannot be told the truth, or all of you would be at risk. Your goal will be to gain the trust of the Muggleborn Resistance, and in order to achieve that, you will support muggleborn criminals, going as far as saving them from Ministry. You will even have to fight Aurors and Hit-Wizards, but you will not kill them." Bones stared at the two. "You've been chosen for this mission because you are familiar with muggleborns, and therefore not unlikely to be sympathetic, even if you're not too familiar with the muggle world."

Brenda knew that the not-killing part was a risk, but even mudbloods should understand that the two would not want to kill former colleagues, so it was just a slight one.

Rickett glanced at Purvis, then spoke up: "Can we think about this?"

Bones shook her head. "Once you leave this office, you will either be on the mission, or you'll have been obliviated."

The two Aurors glanced around, and Brenda grinned and lifted her left arm, showing that her wand was already drawn. She had obliviated two groups thus far, after all.

Purvis leaned over to Rickett and whispered in his ear. He nodded, and then whispered back.

Brenda tensed. If they tried something...

The two younger Aurors kept whispering for a few minutes. Martin was fidgeting, and Parkinson was scowling. Only Bones seemed unaffected, studying some reports on her desk. Brenda studied the expressions of the two Aurors. They seemed to be arguing with each other, with Purvis winning.

Finally, the couple stopped whispering, and Rickett addressed the Head of the DMLE: "Ma'am, we're volunteering." His partner nodded.

Bones smiled. "I'm glad to see that Hufflepuffs do not shirk away from dangerous work." Then she fixed them with a glare and pulled out a vial. "I don't like to do this, but we have to be certain of your loyalty."

Neither Purvis nor Rickett glanced back at the wands that were now aimed at them. Brenda hoped that meant they were aware of that, and had enough self-control not to check. If they were oblivious then this would not end well.

But, she told herself, they knew the risks.

*****​

Kent, Sevenoaks, November 11th, 1996

Albus Dumbledore spotted Kingsley as soon as the man entered the small pub. He even saw the Auror's eyes widen when he noticed Albus. His friend grabbed a pint at the bar, and then made his way past the evening crowd to the table.

"I don't think I have ever seen you in a muggle suit," Kingsley said, once inside the area of Albus's privacy spells.

The Headmaster smiled. "While I like colorful robes, I do know how to dress to fit into the muggle world."

"Barely. That kind of style went out of fashion in the 40s."

Albus made a mental note that he had to update his muggle clothes - again. If only it was still the 70s… "Thank you for coming, Kingsley."

"If you want to meet me in such a place, it must be important."

"It is." Albus took a sip from his own ale. "You're aware of how the Ministry and especially the Wizengamot is shifting towards the Dark Lord."

"Even on my posting, I'm not entirely out of the loop," the Auror confirmed. "No matter what the muggle press may write about No. 10 Downing Street."

Albus chuckled, but quickly lost his mirth again. "Things are bad. If they continue unchecked, I expect the Ministry to be under the Dark Lord's control in a month or two."

Kingsley stared at him. "I didn't think it was that grave."

"It is." Albus took another sip from his pint.

"You need me in the Ministry then," the Auror stated.

"Yes. Though it'll be very dangerous."

Kingsley simply nodded.

Albus hadn't expected another reaction. "I need you to lead the task force hunting the Death Eaters. John Dawlish took over the hunt for the Muggleborn Resistance, leaving his former group leaderless. His second in command is not exactly suited to lead it." And was afraid of the Death Eaters.

The other wizard snorted. Dawlish was quite well-known in the Corps. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

"I need you to antagonise the Death Eaters. I need them to lash out at the Ministry, and show their true colours before more of our esteemed members of the Wizengamot fall for the Dark Lord's lies." Albus put his glass down.

"They would focus on my team first and foremost. And we'll have to expect sabotage from within the Ministry as well."

The Headmaster nodded. "It is a very dangerous task I am asking you to undertake."

"Who will be my replacement?" Kingsley emptied his glass and put it down a touch too hard.

"Percival Weasley."

Again the man's eyes widened. "I would have thought he'd be more useful in the Ministry."

"We need a trusted liaison to the Prime Minister. Mister Weasley has done what he could to build his reputation as a man who has broken with his family for his career, but many of the more conservative Ministry employees still see him as his father's son." And Molly had asked Albus quite forcefully to keep her wayward son safe.

"You've been playing a long game then." Kingsley sounded impressed.

Albus nodded. There was no need to tell his friend exactly when Percival had joined the Order. "So, will you do it?"

His friend nodded. "Better me than someone else. I'll need some support in getting competent people. And some expendable curse fodder, maybe."

"I'll do what I can, though my influence on Amelia has waned lately."

Kingsley snorted. "I wonder why."

Albus ordered two more pints. "She has not changed since the last war."

The Auror shook his head. "I'd almost admire her for her principles. If they were not about to lose us the war."

"If she had a bit more of Cornelius's character, and Cornelius a bit more of hers…" Albus trailed off as the waitress approached with their order.

"Imagine if they had kids together," Kingsley said, grinning.

Albus chuckled, but as he raised his glass to his friend, he hoped that he had not just sent the Auror to his death.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 16: First Forays

'Even in hindsight, it is easy to assume that the kidnapping and killing of Petra Rowle and her husband on November 1st, 1996 was the event that caused the, up to then, most violent Death Eater attacks in the Second Blood War. I do not share this assumption. Careful analysis of the conflict shows that it wasn't the death of Rowle, who was revealed as a marked Death Eater at the same time, but the actions of the Ministry following that event that caused the Dark Lord to launch his attacks.
At that point he had already completed the build-up of his forces and could take the offensive. Some historians even maintain that he was forced to send his followers out, because he was running the danger of them acting of their own volition. I once more disagree. The Dark Lord was known to maintain iron discipline among his followers; the notion that he would be in danger of losing control of his forces is not very plausible.'
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

Hogwarts, November 12th, 1996

"Sir?" Harry Potter asked, standing at the door to Dumbledore's office. The gargoyle had let him pass, but it was just polite to ask in person before actually entering the office of the Headmaster.

"Come in, Harry." The old wizard waved at him. "I've informed Minerva that you're receiving another special lesson."

"Thank you, sir." Harry did feel a bit guilty about skipping lessons. Not even telling himself that he would make it up later helped much. The Headmaster was covering for his absences so he could help Hermione and prepare for the search for Voldemort's Horcruxes. Harry just wasn't certain his current trip would be covered by either reason. Even though technically, it was to help Hermione.

"Please send Sirius my regards. And enjoy your visit. Family is important."

Harry nodded and headed to the Floo connection. Judging by the smile on the Headmaster's face, Dumbledore had seen through Harry's excuse, but condoned his trip anyway. Even though Harry didn't know exactly why.

A minute later he set foot into No. 12 Grimmauld Place. So to speak - both of his feet touched the floor. Sadly, so did his buttocks. And Sirius was chuckling while that nasty little creature in the corner was mumbling something about clumsy half-bloods. One of these days he had to get Hermione to tell him how she had managed to make Kreacher behave; neither his friend nor his godfather had told him.

"And hello to you, Sirius," he mumbled, getting up and dusting himself off.

"Hello, Harry. Once we have the time, we'll need to teach you how to use the Floo without falling down." Sirius chuckled, then rubbed his chin. "On the other hand, you'll have a better chance at avoiding an ambush that way." His grin showed clearly that he wasn't talking seriously.

"Says the wizard who could probably travel through the Floo network before he could walk."

"Technically, you travelled through the Floo network before you could walk as well," Sirius said. And winced right afterwards.

Harry nodded. Talking about his parents and early childhood was a touchy subject. Neither Sirius nor he knew what would set the other off.

"So… come, sit down. You said you needed my help, and Dumbledore let you skip classes, so it must be something serious." His godfather opened the door to the living room and gestured at the couch. "Kreacher! Get us some tea!"

Harry sat down, again feeling guilty. His godfather probably had more important things to do, things to support the Order, than listen to him.

"So, Harry… spill!" Sirius sat down on the seat opposite Harry and leaned forward. "How can I help you?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I need some advice."

"Oh? About girls, I hope?" Sirius grinned widely.

"I've got a date this weekend." Harry noticed Sirius looked briefly surprised, before his grin widened further. "And I've no idea how to…"

"... show a girl a good time?" Sirius cut in. "You've come to the right person! I will gladly share my vast experience with you!"

"It's Hermione. She's dating me on Friday, then Ron on Saturday. And she expects us to plan the dates." Harry quickly said.

"Hm." Sirius rubbed his chin again. "I have underestimated the girl. It seems she has taken my advice to heart, if in an unexpected way."

"What?" Hermione had asked Sirius for advice?

"Ah… I told her to consider a ménage-à-trois. It seems she has decided to give it a try." Sirius beamed. "A girl after my own heart."

Harry blinked. "Ron and I think this is a test for us so she can pick the better, more compatible man."

"Oh." Sirius frowned. "I guess that could be possible as well. Seems rather cold though."

Harry had second thoughts about asking Sirius for advice, but he couldn't back out right then. "So… I need to plan a date. For Hermione."

"Well, you can't go wrong with the classics. Dinner, a movie, some dancing, and then you take her home for a shag." Sirius blinked before Harry could yell at him. "Wait. It's Hermione. Scratch the movie, she'd prefer a play I think. Brainy birds usually do."

"I think it's the 'shagging' I should scratch," Harry said through clenched teeth. He was no expert - far from it - but he was very, very certain that Hermione wasn't the kind of girl to have sex on a first date. And he was also certain that his own lack of experience wouldn't help even if she was that kind of girl.

"No shagging? What happened to 'make love, not war'?" Sirius asked.

"The 80s." Harry was so not asking why Sirius thought the Hippie movement was still in fashion.

"Oh." His godfather didn't seem to be impressed by his mistake. "Anyway, since she's Wizarding Britain's most wanted witch, you'll have to stay in muggle Britain for the date. Though since she's a muggleborn girl, that won't be a drawback for you. You have to look your best. Dress smartly. Pick an expensive restaurant for dinner. Not one of those muggle things were you fetch your own food. Hire one of those long black cars to drive you around. Pick the most famous club in London. Bribe the club bouncer so he'll let you cut the line. Be generous, show you've got the gold. Birds like a wealthy man."

"Hermione isn't like that!" Harry glared at his godfather. "She doesn't care about gold!" Or she'd have picked him right away - he certainly had more money than Ron.

"She's a practical girl, thinking ahead. Having money makes for a better life than lacking money." Sirius nodded at his own words.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment. "She already knows that I have money. I don't need to show her that."

"But you need to show her that you think she is worth it. That you'll make an effort to impress her," Sirius said. "All girls like to feel wanted, desired, and hate to be taken for granted. Save that for after the marriage."

Harry dug his fingers into his thighs. "She wouldn't be impressed by me flashing gold around. She would be impressed if I show that I understand her. Know what she likes, and…" he blinked. "I need The Times."

Sirius pulled out his watch.

"No, the muggle newspaper," Harry corrected him. "I need to find out if there's a good play in a theatre in London!"

*****​

Hogsmeade, November 12th, 1996

Ron Weasley was certain his brothers, especially the twins, would be proud of him. Here he was, cutting classes and sneaking out of school, for a witch. Well, to prepare for a date with a witch. Which, he was rather certain, added up to the same. There was not much of a chance of meeting another student, and he doubted the teachers visited this part of Hogsmeade, but he was still carefully looking around while he made his way through the outskirts of the village. He wished he had asked Harry for the invisibility cloak, but it would have been a tad… well, asking Harry to help so Ron could impress Hermione on his date felt wrong. Both of them should probably learn the Disillusionment Charm soon though - they couldn't rely on that cloak forever. Hell, he had just sounded like Hermione in his head.

He was still grinning at that when he entered the Hog's Head Inn. He had been there before, on a Hogsmeade weekend, on a dare. The most ill-reputed inn in the village. Maybe Britain, outside Knockturn Alley. Just about every student from Gryffindor visited it once in their third year. It was, as Hermione had called it once, a rite of passage.

The owner was the brother of the Headmaster, and as gruff as they came. More importantly though, he didn't care who he served, as long as they didn't annoy the other guests. Which made it perfect for a meeting.

"Hey!"

He turned his head. There he was. Bill. Former headboy. Former Quidditch House Team player. Curse-Breaker. And fiancé to a French witch who also happened to be a Veela and a champion of the Triwizard Tournament. If anyone knew about girls and how to treat them well, it was Ron's oldest brother.

He walked to the table in the corner Bill was sitting at - in a very cool pose, one boot propped up on the bench - and sat down. "Hi, Bill."

"Hi, Ron." Bill pushed a butterbeer towards him.

"Thanks." Ron didn't know if that was Bill being nice, or a subtle way of showing him that real beer and stronger stuff was not going to happen on his watch. He didn't care either - he was here for help, not alcohol. And the butterbeer was probably the safest drink in the inn, seeing as it came in unopened bottles. He cast a privacy spell, ignoring the way Bill smirked at seeing it. Ron wasn't just concerned about being embarrassed.

"So… you asked to meet me so I could give you advice," Bill said. He sounded amused, but in that friendly way. Unlike Percy or the twins if they had been in his place.

Ron took a deep breath. "Yes. This Saturday, I have a date." He wished Bill wouldn't look quite that surprised.

Ron's expression must have betrayed his thoughts, since Bill held one hand up. "Sorry… I was expecting you to need advice in how to ask a witch out. But I see you're already past that." Ron's brother grinned. "Gryffindor courage, right?"

Ron pondered how much he could tell Bill. He couldn't tell him it was Hermione. She was still a wanted witch - the most wanted, apart from Bellatrix Lestrange. Or, judging by what dad had said, even counting Bellatrix. But Bill had to know a bit more to understand Ron's situation. He sighed. "She asked me on a date." Well, Hermione had told him she'd date him, but given the situation, and for Hermione, that was asking.

"Ah!" Bill grinned. "She must really like you then, for her to ask you out."

Ron coughed. "She wants to go on a date to see if she should go out with me, or this other bloke. We're both interested in her."

"Oh." Bill frowned. "That sounds… "

"Yes?"

"Don't take this wrong, Ron, but that doesn't sound like a nice witch." Bill shook his head.

"What?" Ron glared at him. "She's the nicest witch I know!"

"Calm down! I just meant…" Bill frowned. "Look, what would you do if Ginny wanted to date a wizard, and he said he'll date her and another witch, to find out who he likes more?"

"Ginny would hex him into a puddle!" Ron said at once. When he saw Bill nod, he groaned. "It's not like that. Look - we both asked her out. Sort of."

Bill blinked. "Who's we?"

Ron ground his teeth. Another lapse. In for a knut, in for a galleon - at least he could trust Bill. "Harry and I told her that we like her."

"Not together I hope!" Bill grinned, but he looked a bit incredulous.

Ron didn't say anything.

"Wow. Alright, that is original." Bill was still shaking his head.

"How those dates were arranged doesn't really matter. What matters is that I need to make the best impression I can." Ron grimaced. "You know Harry. He attracts witches without trying." He almost mentioned Ginny, but she would hex him into a puddle if he blabbed to Bill about her love life.

"Yes. That bloke has all the charm and luck," Bill said.

Ron didn't quite glare at him - he knew that as well, but there was no point in saying it that directly. "So, what can I do?"

Bill took a sip from his own beer - not a butterbeer, Ron noticed - before answering. "Well, you have to consider your own qualities. Don't try to copy Harry."

"I can't. We're not telling each other what we're planning," Ron cut in.

"I didn't mean it like that. I mean, don't try to act like Harry. Play to your strengths." Bill took another sip.

"Are you telling me to just be myself?" Ron asked, with narrowed eyes.

Bill grinned. "Basically, yes. I know you're feeling a bit overshadowed at times, but you're doing good. And the witches will be seeing that as well."

Ron thought of Lavender. He didn't want to mention her, but she had asked him out, hadn't she? Not Harry. "I guess so."

"Hey, witches don't all care about fame or money. The good ones don't. If you have confidence in yourself, then you'll be attractive to witches too."

Ron wasn't exactly feeling that confident right now, but he nodded. He could fake it.

"But don't try to play a role. That only works if you love them and leave them, before they realise you're not what you appeared to be. And even so, you'll have a reputation after a while. Not a good one."

So he couldn't fake it, Ron thought.

"Witches like if you care about them. If you make an effort. Find out what she likes, so you know what you can talk about. But try to find things you both like to talk about."

That would be a problem, Ron thought. He and Hermione didn't share that many interests.

"And, make sure you're having fun on the date. If it's not fun for you, it won't last. Did you think where you'll go? Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley?"

Ron shook his head. "Muggle London. Safer."

"Oh! Nice idea. You can impress her with your knowledge then. Maybe ask Dad for some advice about muggle dates."

Ron winced.

Bill frowned. "I know what people say about dad, but he deals with muggles a lot in his work. He does know his stuff."

"It's not that," Ron said. "I just don't think I know more about muggles than she does." Bill's eyes widened, and Ron knew he had made another mistake. "Don't tell anyone," he growled.

"I won't. Promise." Bill looked serious, to Ron's relief.

"But I can only tell you this then: Be yourself. Make an effort, but don't put on an act. She knows you, after all. And witches hate being lied to. Almost more than anything else."

Ron sighed, and leaned back. "I had hoped for something more concrete." Not quite 'Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches' - Hermione would kill him if he tried such a stunt - but… something.

"Well… she's been to France, hasn't she?"

Ron nodded. Hermione spoke French.

Bill grinned. "There's this restaurant Fleur swears has the best cook this side of the Channel. And there's this club with live bands."

Now this was why Ron had asked Bill for advice!

*****​

Knockturn Alley, November 14th, 1996

"Should we be here?"

Brenda Brocktuckle glanced at her partner. Martin had asked that question twice so far. "It's an important operation. I owe it to them to at least be ready to intervene if things go wrong." And it was her important operation. And woe betide them if Rickett and Purvis blew it.

"Dawlish couldn't mess this up if he tried. If there's one thing he's good at, it's failing," Parkinson said.

All three of them were standing in the upper part of Knockturn Alley, near the exit to Diagon Alley, polyjuiced. Brenda had handed over her case, including the leverage on Mills, and Bones had put the pressure on Dawlish to arrest suspects. A little hint about the muggleborns hiding in that alley being behind the mudholes, and Dawlish was off to arrest them. Or to try to arrest them and fail, if Rickett and Puvis did what they were supposed to do. Which they had better do, if they knew what was good for them.

Martin didn't look too convinced. "It's time," he said, checking his watch.

As expected, Dawlish did things by the book. A book written for places that weren't Knockturn Alley. Six Aurors entered the alley with Dawlish in the center of their formation. The regulars of the alley knew what that meant, and started to react at once. Those who had reasons to fear the law more than others disappeared - Brenda even heard the popping sounds of Apparition - while others moved out of the way. The three disguised Aurors did the same, moving to the entrance of a side alley. Brenda spotted a reporter for the Daily Prophet hiding in the alley opposite them, and grinned. Tipping the newspaper off had ensured that everyone would hear about this.

Brenda spotted something moving in the dark shadows behind them. "Watch our backs," she whispered to Martin while she watched the Aurors walk past. Those who had experience in the alley looked nervous or angry, but Dawlish was smiling. The fool hadn't done any patrols here in years, and had apparently forgotten what things were like here. All the better for her operation, Brenda thought with a smile.

She knew the names and addresses Dawlish was going after, and if he was doing it by the book, he'd go after the one closest to the entrance to the Alley first. Bertram Bennington. Mills had told her that the old muggleborn had no family left, and hadn't left Wizarding Britain for decades, which explained why he hadn't fled yet. The fool had needed to be persuaded to leave even when told that the Aurors were coming for him. Brenda shook her head at the stupidity of mudbloods who wanted to follow the law exactly when they shouldn't.

At least Dawlish was acting according to the plan, even if he didn't know about it. He sent two Aurors, Meryn and Fleawater, up the small stairway next to a second-hand clothing shop that led to Bennington's room. They pounded on the door. "DMLE! Open the door!"

Brenda winced. She knew what was coming, and didn't like it, even if it was needed. Everyone knew the mudbloods showed no mercy, and wouldn't trust someone who was too soft.

The door exploded outward, blowing the two Aurors off the stairs and into the wall opposite it. They hit it, and then fell down the three yards into the alley. Neither screamed, so hopefully they were unconscious already.

Dawlish froze for a moment, as did two of his remaining Aurors. The other two were already casting Shield Charms before aiming their wands up the stairs and moving to take cover.

Unfortunately, Rickett and Purvis knew how Aurors trained and worked. They were going out through the windows, disillusioned and on their brooms. Bludgeoning Curses hit Dawlish and one of the other Aurors, bowling them over before they managed to finish casting Shield Charms of their own. Dawlish struggled to get up, and was hit by a stunner while a Reductor Curse drove the three Aurors who were still standing into cover.

They would be casting Human-presence-revealing spells now, which they should have cast before entering the Alley even. But with Dawlish out, and three others of their number down, they'd be thinking about escaping, not retaliating. As planned.

A few more Reductor Curses hit the ground, blowing small craters into the pavement. Close enough to shower the Aurors with splinters, but not close enough to seriously threaten them behind their Shield Charms.

Suddenly, a loud voice rang out through the entire Alley: "The Ministry has betrayed the people for the last time! We, the Avengers, will not let you kidnap Bennington or anyone else! Muggleborns, half-bloods, purebloods! Unite and throw off the yoke of the Ministry! Flee and hide!"

Purvis was getting into this, Brenda noted. It sounded very convincing.

"We'll return when we are needed anew!" the undercover Auror shouted.

A few curses flew through the air, but hit no one - Rickett and Purvis would have flown away already. On the ground, Brenda saw flashes, and almost drew her wand - but it was just a man taking pictures of Dawlish, down and stunned.

That just made Brenda's smile grow wider. Everything was going according to plan.

*****​

Ministry of Magic, November 15th, 1996

Albus Dumbledore acted surprised when he left the chamber of the Wizengamot and saw Kingsley leading a squad of Aurors through the hallway outside, even though he had known about this in advance. The wizards and witches milling around outside the chamber parted to let the group pass, and more than a few looked more worried than puzzled. Albus took note of those.

"Terrance Avery!" Kingsley stated, pointing his wand at a younger wizard who was talking to the esteemed member of the Wizengamot Bilius Runcorn. "You're under arrest!"

The rest of Kingsley's squad had their wands out as well, probably not needed here, but better safe than sorry. Not that Albus would stay out of any fight, should one happen.

While Avery blinked, looking more surprised than shocked, Runcorn was already stepping in front of Kingsley. "What is this? What are you doing? This is the Wizengamot!"

KIngsley faced the old wizard while two of his Aurors - Nymphadora among them, Albus saw - moved to the side and covered Avery with their wands.

"We've found proof that Mister Avery has been working for the Dark Lord," Kingsley said in a calm tone.

"This is ridiculous!" Runcorn gasped. "I vouch for him!"

"Of course you will vouch for him, Mister Runcorn," the Auror responded, and his tone and expression left no doubt that he would have arrested the Wizengamot member as well, if he could. "But our duty is clear; the evidence incriminating Mister Avery is too convincing, as the Head of the DMLE has agreed."

He gestured with his free hand, and Nymphadora and the other Auror - Leslie Barnockle, Albus recognised him now - stepped forward to disarm and secure Avery. For a moment, the young wizard looked like he was about to resist, but then he scoffed. "I have done nothing wrong!"

"The Wizengamot will clear him!" Runcorn said, far louder than needed. "This is an outrage!" He turned to Avery. "Don't worry, Terrance. I'll talk with the Minister and have this sorted out in no time!"

Albus shook his head. How predictable. But then, that was why Kingsley was arresting Avery in such a public location, instead of more discreetly, like the others the information from Miss Granger had incriminated.

He turned to Cornelius, who had been staring at the scene. "Maybe this should be discussed in the privacy of your office, Cornelius? Instead of in the hallway?"

The Minister for Magic nodded. "Yes, of course," he said, almost automatically, before he glanced at Albus and narrowed his eyes.

"Since this seems to involve the Wizengamot, I think it would be best if I was present as well, to provide information about the rules and regulation governing our esteemed body." Albus smiled politely, but stared at Cornelius until the wizard nodded.

A few minutes later Cornelius, Runcorn, Amelia, Kingsley and Albus himself were in the Minister's office.

"This is an outrage! To arrest an upstanding young Ministry worker, on hearsay and slander!" Runcorn yelled and turned towards Kingsley. "How dare you!"

"The proof presented to me was more than sufficient for an arrest," Amelia said, in that clipped tone Albus knew meant she would have liked to hex the man.

"What proof? I demand to see it!" Runcorn wheeled around.

"It's part of a criminal investigation, and therefore not open to the public." Amelia said with more than a hint of contempt.

"I'm a member of the Wizengamot, not the public!" Runcorn snarled.

"The Wizengamot has no special rights with regards to such investigations," Albus remarked, doing his best to sound as if this was a purely academic question. "In fact, they cannot see such evidence, or they would prejudice themselves for a possible trial."

Runcorn gaped at him. Everyone present knew that this was a rule not too many Wizengamot members followed to the letter. Something Amelia hated, even though Albus knew a number of cases where only his own intervention had prevented a travesty of justice.

"Exactly," Cornelius said, smiling weakly. "We wouldn't want to break the law ourselves, would we?"

"Of course not," Albus said.

"This is not about the law! This is about politics!" Runcorn wasn't giving up. "This is a ploy to weaken those among us who stand for tradition and a proper society!"

"Are you accusing me of faking evidence for political reasons?" Amelia glared at the older wizard.

"What? No, no!" Runcorn shook his head. "This is his work!" He pointed at Albus. "He is in league with the mudbloods trying to topple our society!"

"Really, my dear Bilius," Albus said, "that is quite the accusation. How would I have managed to fool Amelia?"

"Yes. Please explain," Amelia said through clenched teeth.

"I cannot explain without seeing the evidence, of course," Runcorn said.

"So, you have no basis for your accusations, it is just wild speculation. Or, in other words, you are slandering Amelia and myself while you attempt to break the law yourself?" Albus shook his head as if scolding a student.

Runcorn reacted as he had hoped. The man snarled. "I see. Mark my words, once those who care about the country take over, there will be changes! Drastic changes!" He scoffed. "Your plot will be stopped in the Wizengamot! My colleagues will not be fooled with fake evidence!"

After Runcorn had stormed out, Albus sighed. "He was always a very passionate student. Although I do fear that the Wizengamot in its current state will not be too concerned about proof."

"We will do our duty," Amelia said, though her expression told Albus she was well aware of this. She wouldn't let that stop her though - which he was counting on. A glance to Cornelius also told him that the Minister had understood what Runcorn had threatened. Hopefully, he would realise soon that Voldemort wouldn't let him stay Minister, should the Dark Lord manage to take over the Ministry. Amelia would already be aware that she wouldn't be kept in office. Or alive.

If not, then Albus would have to engineer a few more incidents. Fortunately, the information from Miss Granger implicated more than just Avery, though procuring admissible evidence about the others that Amelia would act upon would take a bit more effort.

It would be worth it though, if it would keep the Ministry from falling to Voldemort.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, November 15th, 1996

Harry Potter checked his appearance in the mirror once again. The non-magical mirror in his room in Grimmauld Place - the magical mirror kept trying to convince him to put on a robe instead of the suit he was wearing. He muttered a curse while he adjusted his tie.

"You're looking fine, Harry. You don't want to look too perfect, or your roguish charm will suffer."

Harry turned and rolled his eyes at his godfather. "Hermione is a perfectionist and she doesn't like rogues."

"All girls have a weakness for the bad boys, Harry. Especially those who appear to loathe them. Trust me, I've dated my share of Ravenclaws in Hogwarts." Sirius grinned. "You'll be fine, trust me."

Harry sighed. He couldn't help feeling nervous. This was worse than the O.W.L.s, in a way. Which was a thought he wouldn't tell Hermione, of course. Among other topics that Harry and Sirius had deemed unsafe or unsuitable.

"Do you have the muggle money?" Sirius sneered, as he normally did when talking about 'paper money'.

"Yes." Harry patted his jacket. "I have also the emergency galleons, the emergency portkey, the communication mirror and the shrunken Firebolt."

"And you studied my notes!"

Harry blushed and rolled his eyes. "Your notes are in my pocket as well." And there they'd be staying, he knew. The kind of things Sirius had taken notes about weren't the kind of things he'd be doing with Hermione on this date.

"Perfect!" Sirius nodded. "By the way, she's waiting in the entrance hall."

"What?" Harry all but shrieked. "And you didn't tell me?" He quickly checked his appearance again. "You left her waiting?"

Sirius smirked. "She's early. You can blame me."

Harry glared at his godfather while he rushed out of his room, and down to the ground floor.

*****​

Hermione Granger didn't fidget while she waited for Sirius to fetch Harry. She was just stretching her legs a bit, walking around in the entrance hall. She was early anyway. She wondered what Harry had planned for their date - he had told her to pick a formal dress. Her black evening gown certainly qualified, even though it had taken her several tries to adjust the dress so it both looked good and quite a bit more expensive than the original cocktail dress she had transfigured.

"Hermione!"

She turned around and saw Harry descend the stairs, first taking two steps at a time, then slowing down. He was wearing a suit, she noted with relief - she wasn't overdressed.

"Good evening, Harry."

He stopped, and smiled at her. "You look great!"

"Thank you." Hermione thought the compliment had been honest - Harry hadn't sounded as if he had prepared it, or even thought about it. Certainly not as smooth as Sirius's comment when he had greeted her.

"Sirius didn't tell me right away that you had already arrived," he added, with a frown, "or I'd have come down at once."

She chuckled. That sounded like Harry's godfather. "I'm early. I didn't expect you to be ready."

"Well, I am now." Harry checked his watch - a new one, Hermione noticed - and added: "But the limousine will not be ready for another fifteen minutes."

"You've rented a limousine?" She raised her eyebrows.

For a moment, Harry looked insecure, then he nodded. "Yes. It's a date, after all."

"You haven't made reservations at the most expensive restaurant you managed to find, have you?" Hermione asked, smiling slightly.

"No," Harry shook his head, grinning. "That would have been tacky."

*****​

Half an hour later, they were getting seated in the restaurant, and Harry Potter had to assure Hermione again that this wasn't the most expensive restaurant he had been able to find. Just one of the most recommended. He kept smiling while he mentally cursed Sirius's advice - 'wants to see you make an effort', indeed! Neither the limousine nor the restaurant seemed to have met with her approval.

He was looking around while Hermione was studying the menu. He coughed. "Just pick what you like. And don't try to work out how much it'll cost." Which she had already, of course.

She looked at him. "Are you eating here often?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I didn't get to eat out much, with the Dursleys." He saw her wince, and hastily added: "But I've been to a few places with Sirius. He recommended this place."

She snorted. "Figures."

He wasn't certain if that was a good thing. Fortunately, the waiter came by and they ordered. Then the drinks were served, and that served as another distraction. Harry wasn't quite nervous, but usually, he felt much more at ease with Hermione. They had eaten together hundreds of times. Thousands even. He chuckled.

"Hm?" She looked at him, tugging on one of her still very short locks.

"Nothing. Just thinking that we've eaten together so often, and yet here we are, being awkward." He snorted.

"We haven't eaten in such an ambience," she pointed out.

"True." If she was blaming the restaurant, then he was fine with that. Better than blaming the occasion.

"Did you sneak out of Hogwarts?"

He shook his head. "Well… technically. But Dumbledore is aware of my absence. So, I have at least unofficial permission."

She pursed her lips. Probably annoyed at the rule-breaking, or the favouritism. Before she could say anything though, the first course was served. "Oh… that's good." She even closed her eyes for an instant. "I take back what I thought about the restaurant. If all the dishes are as good as this, then it's worth whatever money you are paying."

Harry smiled, enjoying his own meal. "I might try to find this recipe myself," he said. "I can cook, at least a bit."

"Really?"

"Yes. I'm also handy around the house, though there's spells for that." Harry laughed, and regaled her with a few stories about some of his culinary experiments that hadn't been unqualified successes.

When he ran out of those stories, the main course had been served, and he felt far more confident. She'd been laughing a lot, and they hadn't touched any awkward topics. That was how a good date should go, Sirius had said.

Hermione looked around, and grew serious again. He saw her slip her wand out and move it under the table, then heard her mumble before the slight noise of a privacy spell told him what she had done. She took a deep breath, then stared straight at him. "I have to tell you something."

He froze for a second. That wasn't sounding good. "Yes?"

"You remember Allan Baker?"

Of course he did! Arrogant Ravenclaw. Jealous too. He nodded, not liking where this was going.

"I found out that he's been… killing people on his own."

Harry's eyes widened. Was she saying…

"He's been going out, in Death Eater garb, and setting fire to half-blood shops and homes. Killed an entire family." She scoffed. "Just so people would think it was on the Dark Lord's orders."

He gasped. That was sick.

"He's also killed Umbridge. He really likes killing."

Harry shook his head. That had led to the Aurors attacking Hermione. "We have to do something about that!"

She snorted. "I've killed him. Captured him, interrogated him, then cut his head off." She was looking directly into his eyes.

He nodded, slowly. "Good."

"Good?" She narrowed her eyes a bit.

He wasn't certain what she wanted to hear, so he stuck to the truth. "It's not good what he did, but it's good that he isn't murdering people anymore."

"It had to be done." She nodded and took a sip from her glass.

They remained silent for a while, finishing the main course.

"I've been wondering…" Hermione spoke up again.

"Yes?"

"Why didn't you ask me to the Yule Ball, when Cho was going with Cedric?" She was staring at him again.

He took a deep breath. "It's embarrassing." It was. That hadn't been his finest hour. He hadn't been as bad as Ron though. 'Hermione, you're a girl!' indeed.

"Yes?"

"I hadn't really thought of you as a girl, back then." He took a sip from his own glass while she looked at him with an unreadable expression. "You've always been with me and Ron, almost always at least. I've always seen you as a friend, like Ron, not as a girl. Girls for me were Parvati and Lavender, chatting about clothes and makeup and hairstyles." She winced at that, a tiny bit. He went on. "Aunt Petunia had clear opinions of what girls and boys did."

She snorted. "And I didn't match her criteria."

Harry shook his head. "You even hit Draco right in the face. That's something boys do, not girls. At least I thought so. Unconsciously."

"So, you never saw me as a girl, until Ron noticed?"

"Well, to be honest… I knew you were a girl then, but didn't really realise just how much until the Yule Ball."

"How much?" She had her eyebrows raised again.

"How pretty. Beautiful." He smiled, a bit weakly. "I told you, it's embarrassing."

"Maybe I should have used makeup and hairstyling charms earlier then," she said.

"I'm not certain I'd have noticed." He forced a chuckle. "I didn't really pay that much attention to my friends' appearances. Still don't."

"That's not always a bad thing. People who focus on appearances are often rather shallow." Hermione sniffed.

Harry agreed eagerly.

*****​

"It was a wonderful date," Hermione Granger told Harry when the two of them were back in the entrance hall of Grimmauld Place. She wasn't lying - the meal had been to die for, and the play Harry had taken her to had been interesting and well deserving of the good reviews. Though she hadn't missed that Harry hadn't enjoyed it as much as she had. She also didn't miss how his face lit up at her words.

"So, you had fun." His tone turned it into half a question.

"Yes." She ran her tongue over her lips, and took a step closer to him. Close enough so if they wanted to dance, all he would have to do was to put his arms around her. He had grown a bit more, she noted - and he had been taller than her for a while.

He swallowed, looking more than a bit nervous. His shoulders twitched, for an instant, as if his arms had moved just a bit.

Smiling, she leaned forward, and kissed him. She was frowning when she pulled away. It hadn't exactly been a chaste kiss, but… She grabbed his head and pulled him down for another kiss. A French kiss. When she pulled back after that, both of them were breathing heavily, and her hair was mussed. That had been a real kiss!

Part of her wanted to go on. Go further even. Test just how 'compatible' they were. Find out if and how those dreams she had had stood up to reality. She wouldn't though. That wouldn't have been fair to Ron. Who had featured in her steamy dreams as well.

"Thank you for a wonderful date." She smiled at Harry.

"Thank you," he said. Then he looked around. "I expected Sirius to appear, and tell us to get a room."

She laughed. "He'd only do that if he didn't want us to get a room."

Harry blinked, before he laughed as well.

Five minutes later she was in a currently unused safe house of the Resistance, stripping off her dress. Another five minutes later, she was back in their headquarters.

Back in the war.

*****​

Dorset, Britain, November 16th, 1996

"Ah, there you are! Come, everyone else is waiting!"

Draco was excited, Daphne Greengrass noticed that at once when he welcomed her and Tracey into his home. She glanced at her friend, and the two witches followed their host to his living room. Which had been expanded a bit more, as far as she could tell, and there were now paintings on the walls. No portraits, but that didn't have to mean anything.

Pansy was there, Crabbe and Goyle, of course, as well as Nott, and Vaisey and Warrington, former Chasers of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Daphne and Tracey took up their usual spots, seated on a small couch in the corner with Pansy. The other witch in the room was looking better. Or at least, she was not crying anymore.

"Alright! Now that everyone is here, I can finally share the great news I received!" Draco stood in the centre of the room, smiling widely. "Tonight, many blood traitors and mudbloods will receive their just punishment! The Dark Lord himself has called upon us to fight for him!"

Daphne was about to whisper to Tracey that she had thought they were already doing that, when Draco summoned a large bag to his feet. He opened it and pulled out a white mask. A Death Eater mask, Daphne realised.

"He has granted us the honour of wearing his robes and masks!" Draco declared. "He is acknowledging us as his!"

Daphne exchanged a glance with Tracey. She wasn't quite certain what to think of this, and her friend didn't look like she knew how to react herself.

"If we perform well, we might even earn the honour of receiving his mark!" Draco continued. Crabbe and Goyle nodded eagerly. The others smiled. Even Pansy was smiling, so Daphne forced herself to join in. She was rubbing her left arm though - and asking herself if she truly wanted to be marked like that.

But, she thought as she took one of the robes and masks Draco was handing out to everyone, refusing such an 'honour' was not exactly a decision conducive to a long life. No one insulted the Dark Lord and managed to get away with it.

That Draco was unlikely to share the glory of whatever they were about to do today with anyone was but a small consolation. More than ever she felt trapped.

*****​

London, November 16th, 1996

At the bus stop closest to the restaurant he had made reservations at, Ron Weasley tugged on his new jacket. It wasn't a leather jacket. Despite Bill's advice, he had opted for a less… Bill-ish jacket. He wasn't his oldest brother. He had wanted to get a coat, a long coat. Something that would feel closer to a robe. But that wouldn't have been fashionable or appropriate for muggle London. Or so his father had told him. So, a jacket it was. Matching his trousers.

He checked his new watch - a cheap muggle one which wouldn't work at Hogwarts, or anywhere else with too much magic. He preferred his own watch, but this was supposed to be fashionable for muggles. Though why they called it 'Swatch' he couldn't fathom. Ten minutes left until Hermione would arrive. If she wasn't late or early.

He noticed that the girl next to him was looking at him. He smiled at her, politely. She was waiting for the bus - muggle buses didn't stop wherever you held out your wand.

She smiled back. "Big night out planned?"

He nodded. "First date."

"Oh." She looked him over. "Good luck then."

"Thank you." He paused for a moment. "You?"

"I'm going dancing," she said.

"Have fun."

"Thanks."

He was about to ask which club the girl was going to when he spotted Hermione walking towards the bus stop. The girl was saying something, but he didn't listen. His date was wearing a short black dress, just reaching her knees, and a black jacket over it. And matching ankle boots.

"Hi, Hermione!"

"Hi, Ron!"

He moved to hug her. She looked briefly surprised, but she returned the hug. "You look great!"

That made her smile. "You look good as well. I haven't seen you in those clothes since the Cup."

"Ah, yes. Fashion changed since then." And he had grown older. She giggled at that. He hoped that was a good sign. He offered her his arm. "Let's go. The restaurant is around the corner."

"Oh? I thought we'd be taking the bus." She sounded surprised.

"No, I just wanted it to be a surprise." He wasn't his father. He didn't jump at the chance to do something muggle-style.

"Ah. I should have thought of that."

"Did I really outsmart you?" He grinned at her, inclining his head.

She scoffed in response, but she was smiling. He had a feeling that the date was off to a good start.

*****​

Hermione Granger was surprised by the restaurant Ron had chosen. It was a small, cozy one. French cuisine, and apparently with French staff. A family business, as far as she could tell. Not the kind of restaurant you'd find by browsing the yellow pages. Or the guides.

"Have you been here before?" she asked.

Ron shook his head. "No, but Fleur said this is one of the best French restaurants in London."

"Ah!" That explained it. "Do you like French food?" She didn't remember eating any at the Weasleys.

"Well… it might sound a bit weird, but Mum's cooking is so good, not even Hogwarts' elves match her, and the few times Dad took us to a muggle restaurant, I was a bit disappointed. But she doesn't do French dishes." Ron smiled.

She nodded. Neither of her parents could cook that well - or rather, took the time to cook well - so she usually associated eating out, or Hogwarts, with better meals. She frowned a bit. If not for the damn Ministry and the Death Eaters, she would be enjoying Hogwarts' meals.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned the school," Ron said, after they had ordered.

"No, no. It's not your fault." She knew whose fault it was. And they'd pay. She changed the topic anyway. "How are Bill and Fleur doing?"

"Oh, they're doing well, though they are a tad stressed. Wedding preparations, and, you know…" he trailed off.

She nodded. Dumbledore's Order. She had no doubt that the whole Weasley family were members, with the possible exception of Ginny. "Will they marry in England or France?"

"France. Mum's not happy about it, but she knows it's safer. Still, I'm glad I'm not involved in all that." He shook his head. "Even Bill is more stressed about the wedding than his work."

And the war, of course.

He told a few more tales about Bill and Fleur, and their extended families, while they ate. Fleur had been right, she found out - the food tasted like it did in one of the small restaurants on the Côte d'Azur. One of the small, excellent restaurants. She wondered what had made the family - her guess had been confirmed by a quick question to the waiter - come to London. But she would pass the address on to her parents. After the war.

*****​

Ron Weasley was growing more and more confident as the meal continued. They were talking, they were laughing, they were having fun. It was just like a good date should be going. Of course, that was when Hermione changed the topic from light-hearted to what Bill would have called "curse-trapped."

Ron had just finished his main course - Bill hadn't steered him wrong with his advice there either - when Hermione took a deep breath and cast a privacy spell, before asking: "Do you remember Allan Baker?"

He nodded. Of course he did. Git. Probably had been jealous of their friendship with Hermione.

She bit her lower lip. Which meant she was worried. Or distressed. "I found out that he's been murdering people."

"What?"

"He's been disguising himself as a Death Eater and attacking half-blood shops. Killed an entire family to frame the Death Eaters."

"Merlin's balls!" Ron was shocked. That was… he would have expected that from Death Eaters! Killing your own people, innocents… he shook his head.

"He's also killed Umbridge and several Aurors."

Ron felt torn about that. Umbridge certainly had deserved to die, she had been a cruel monster. Aurors… well, they were hunting muggleborns. And Hermione. Some were also hunting Death Eaters though. "What did you do?" If Hermione had found out what he had been doing, she'd have done something about it.

She looked at him. "I've killed him. Captured him, interrogated him with Veritaserum, then cut his head off."

Ron nodded, slowly. That was what he had expected. "He won't be a threat to anyone else then."

"No, he won't."

"Good."

She looked a bit surprised. "That's all?"

He shrugged. "People who act like Death Eaters should get treated like Death Eaters." And killing them was the best option. Malfoy had shown what happened when you let them live - they tried again.

Hermione nodded, smiling slightly.

Dessert was served, and Ron enjoyed a truly divine cake. Sadly, the portions were not as generous as they would have been at Hogwarts. But he guessed that was a question of quality before quantity. Even though he was really tempted to cast a Doubling Charm on the cake.

Afterwards, Hermione broke the silence - if her appreciative noises during dessert didn't count: "Ron… when you asked me to go to Yule Ball with you..." She was staring at him.

He winced. That had been almost as bad as getting mad at Harry for being thrown into the Tournament. "Yes?"

"Did you really not think of me as a girl before that?"

He took a deep breath. "No, I didn't. I was an idiot back then." He shrugged. "I was focused on appearances. You know how I acted around Fleur. And I was too shy to ask any of the other pretty girls."

She had narrowed her eyes a bit. "And then you noticed that I could be a pretty girl as well, at the ball."

Ron nodded. He wasn't about to lie to her. "Yes. That was a shock."

"A shock?"

"Yes. I mean… I had known you for years. You and Harry were my two best friends. Both of you kept getting into trouble. Usually with me coming along. I didn't think of us as two boys and a girl, we were just three friends. Two of them with wild, untameable hair." He grinned, and she chuckled. "And then I realised you were a girl. A girl I knew. And was friends with. I was such an egotistical git, I didn't want to believe that anyone other than Harry or me would have even thought of inviting you to the ball. Because why would anyone else realise you were a girl when we didn't? You didn't exactly act like Lavender or Parvati."

Hermione had a rather wry expression now, he noticed. "Why, indeed? I was a bushy-haired nightmare."

"Hey, now!" he protested. "That was in our first year! You can't bring that up. I didn't remind you of your skewed priorities, did I? 'Killed, or worse, expelled'."

"True," she admitted, blushing slightly.

He quickly continued with his explanation. "So, at the ball I saw you were a pretty girl. Which was a shock."

"You mentioned that already."

"Yes, I did. Anyway, it took me some time, but I realised I like you." He smiled.

She didn't smile. "Because I could be pretty?"

"Because you are a great girl, friend, person." He would be lying if he denied that it hadn't hurt that she was pretty.

"That's why you turned Lavender down?"

"Yes. I've grown up. I want you."

That seemed to please her. He reached over the table and took her hand. She didn't pull away.

*****​

Devon, Ottery St. Catchpole, November 16th, 1996

The home of the Weasley blood traitors looked like it was but one failing spell away from collapsing. Daphne Greengrass, hidden behind a tree at the edge of the property, couldn't really believe that this was the home of the family of a Ministry employee - it was a disgrace! She had seen hovels which had looked more impressive. Hunting lodges even! She shook her head.

And yet, it was protected with strong wards. Not as strong as those of Greengrass Manor, of course, but nothing to take lightly. The oldest son of the Weasleys was a skilled Curse-Breaker, she remembered, and he had obviously given his parents' home the same attention he had given his brothers' shop. She wasn't looking forward to crossing wands with him, not even with a dozen Death Eaters on her group's side.

Daphne was almost glad for the mask she was wearing; it hid her expression. She shook her head. She shouldn't be nervous, much less afraid. Mudbloods had attacked far better protected homes. She wouldn't be outdone by those murderers! She turned to Tracey and whispered: "Now I know why every Weasley is a Gryffindor - if they were less brave, they'd not be able to sleep in such a building."

Tracey laughed under her breath, but it sounded a bit off to Daphne. Or that could be the mask's effect. She would have to be careful not to lose sight of her friend - with these masks, she wouldn't be able to easily find her again.

"Alright, everyone, remember: Our task is to keep the house of the blood traitors covered in Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey Jinxes and keep them from escaping by other means," Draco said. "The others will take care of the wards and attack."

Their leader must be nervous himself, Daphne thought - counting the briefing at the meeting, that was the third time Draco had repeated himself.

"I'm not exactly sorry we're not going in that house ourselves," Tracey whispered when Draco had gone over to where Theo was standing, "one missed curse could bring it down on your head."

"If they are smart they'll simply set it on fire from the outside," Daphne answered.

"Start casting!" Draco yelled suddenly.

Daphne stood up and cast an Anti-Apparition Jinx on the house while Tracey cast an Anti-Portkey Jinx. Both followed up with Human-presence-revealing Charms. And Muggle-repelling Charms. She waited for the blood traitors to dispel them, but they didn't. Even while the Death Eaters were attacking the wards, no one seemed to even try to escape. That didn't fit a family who was Gryffindor to the core. She ground her teeth. Something wasn't right.

Minutes passed, and she still saw no Weasleys appear to defend their house. Were they even home? But the lights had been on, and she had seen movement behind the curtains. "I don't like this," she whispered.

"What?" Tracey whispered back.

"This doesn't feel right. They should be doing something in that house. Why aren't they trying something while the wards still protect them?"

"Maybe they are waiting for help?" Tracey said.

"If they are, they'll be waiting until they are dead," Daphne said. Draco had told them that all over Wizarding Britain, blood traitors and other enemies would be attacked now, while even more false alerts would be called in to the Ministry. No help would be coming!

And yet, they didn't react. The Quidditch team on their brooms up in the air was ready, but no one tried to escape by broom. No one even tried to dispel their jinxes!

What were they waiting for?

"The wards are down!" One unfamiliar Death Eater suddenly shouted with glee. "Let's get them!"

Daphne saw four Death Eaters rush to the house. Evidently, they were not about to simply set fire to the house. The one in front cast a Blasting Curse at the door, blowing it and half the wall away. Before they reached the new opening though, all four suddenly started screaming and collapsed.

Daphne stared, shocked, as the four writhed on the grass. One of them ripped his mask off, and she almost screamed when she saw his face - his skin seemed to turn to leather while his eyes shrank in their sockets.

"Moisture-Draining Curse," Tracey whispered next to her while the screams died one by one and the Death Eaters stopped moving.

But who had cast it? Daphne hadn't seen anyone.

A few more Blasting Curses followed, blowing more holes in the walls. Someone set fire to the house. Or tried to - it didn't seem to take. But the wards were down, Daphne knew that. It didn't seem to matter though, since the house started to collapse.

And still no one tried to escape. Even as the walls came tumbling down. Then she caught a glimpse of a stone structure in the middle of the house, right before the roof started to hit the ground. The curse!

"It's a trap!" she yelled. "They've cursed the house!"

She was too late. A green light suddenly shone from within the ruins, covering the area. A second later, the remaining Death Eaters started to scream as they were sucked into the ground.

"Quicksand Curse," Tracey said next to her. "Another favourite of the Old Egyptians."

Screams from above them made Daphne look up. Vaisey and Warrington, the two former Chasers, were surrounded by what looked like small black clouds. They were flailing wildly, but the clouds seemed to cling to them. And that buzzing sound…

"Devouring Scarabaeus…" Tracey started to say.

Daphne grabbed her and dragged her away. They had to get out of the range of their own Jinxes, so they could apparate away.

*****​

London, Soho, November 16th, 1996

"I didn't expect you to take us dancing," Hermione Granger said, once they had made it past the bouncer at the door and found a table in a corner to sit down. She had expected a movie.

"Did you expect me to take you to a museum?"

Museums were not open that late, Hermione knew. "Not exactly."

"Well, you seemed to enjoy the dancing at the Yule Ball," Ron said. Thanks to another privacy spell, the didn't have to yell at each other. "And I haven't been to a muggle club yet."

Hermione hadn't been to a muggle club either, yet. Apart from her last vacation in France, after her fourth year, and that hadn't been a real night club. Certainly not a date. She nodded.

"If you don't like it we can take a stroll through the town, and catch a late night movie," Ron said.

"You seem to have planned ahead." If he had.

"A bit." He grinned. "I can apparate us to a cinema, at least. And I know when the last movie starts." He took her hand again. "But I'd really like to dance with you. It's not a ball, but…"

She smiled. "Let's dance then."

Hermione didn't take long to realise that she liked dancing. And liked dancing with Ron. He wasn't a particularly good dancer - it was obvious he hadn't done this before - but he enjoyed it. And his attention made her feel good. And desired. He had grown up, as he had said. He had turned down Lavender, after all. Something not many teenage boys would have done, Hermione knew. She was no fool - she knew that Lavender was more attractive than she was.

And, she added to herself, Ron had also simply grown. He was as tall as Percy now, but had broader shoulders and a better build. A much better build. She had caught a few other girls eyeing him. But for this evening, he was hers. And she didn't share, she thought with a smile.

She was just returning to their corner with two drinks when she felt her purse vibrate. The enchanted mirror. Ron must have noticed from her expression that something was wrong, since he was looking around, hand on where he kept his wand. She put the drinks down and pulled the mirror out.

Harry's face appeared. "I'm very sorry to disturb you, really sorry. But there's been attacks on the Burrow and other places. The teachers are calling the students whose families have been attacked, and I don't think Dumbledore can cover for you."

Ron muttered a curse. Hermione gasped. "Is everyone alright?" She knew the Burrow had been evacuated before, but if there were Death Eater attacks, then the Order would be responding.

"We don't know yet," Harry said, "sorry." He did look miserable before his image vanished.

"Alright," Ron said. He would be worrying for his family. Hermione felt rather selfish for being angry that her evening was cut short.

She sighed. "I better get back as well." The Resistance hadn't planned anything and was unlikely to get involved, but she should check with them.

He nodded. "Damn Death Eaters. Attacking people and ruining dates."

She chuckled at the black humour. Then she looked at him, and slid closer. A few minutes wouldn't make a difference. "It's not ruined. Just cut short."

He looked puzzled. Until she slid in his lap and kissed him. No chaste kiss to start, not now.

When they pulled apart, Ron had his eyes closed. "Damn, now I hate them all even more."

She nodded, slightly out of breath as she left his lap. That had been… passionate. Like in some of those books she didn't read. "We have to go now."

He nodded, and they stood up.

They held hands until they were out of the door, and around the corner. Until they had to apparate.

*****​

Kent, Britain, Longbottom Manor, November 16th, 1996

Augusta Longbottom was glad that her grandson was at Hogwarts, and not at home, when she noticed that the wards of her ancestral manor were under attack. They were strong, and would hold whoever was attacking at bay for quite some time, but they would not hold out forever. And her Floo connection was dead - there was no way to call for help. Apparition and portkeys were blocked as well.

She scowled. No one attacking her wards would fail to block magical travel. She could use a broom, but she was quite certain that the sky above her home was being watched as well. That would be, at best, a last resort.

She didn't let any of those dark thoughts show though when she addressed her house elf. "Pammy, gather the others and go hide in the cellar." The elves were useless in a fight, their magic just barely making them better servants than muggles, but if the worst happened and the wards were breached, then they would be safe down there. The Dark Lord's scum attacking her home wanted her. Hopefully.

She strode through the entrance hall of the manor, activating the enchanted statues in there, then stepped outside. More such defenses were hidden in the garden, and she turned them on as she strode towards the wall that marked both the edge of the Longbottom property as well as the wardline.

Were the Death Eaters as brazen as to attack the gates itself? Or were they showing their true mettle, and trying to break in through the back? To Augusta's surprise, she saw figures in dark robes moving behind the gate. Did they think she'd cower in her Manor while they tried to break in?

Filled with anger and contempt, she aimed her wand and conjured a few vipers outside the gate. Sudden yells told her that the enemies had lookouts at least. She scoffed and conjured stone stairs in front of her, high enough so she could cast over the wall and remain protected by her wards.

She saw half a dozen Death Eaters blasting the ground, killing her snakes. A yell from above her tried to warn them, but she was already casting, sending several Cutting and Piercing Curses at the two closest enemies. One of them went down, the other's Shield Charm managed to protect him long enough so he could dodge her volley. Her Blasting Curse got him though. The rest took cover behind trees and rocks. Those were not the ones attacking the wards though. They would be hidden, better protected. But where?

Suddenly, red spells flew at the hiding Death Eaters from behind. She saw one jump up and start to run, falling to two spells after a few steps. Another slumped over and slid around a tree. Then she saw red robes appear. Aurors. Four of them.

Two slapped small discs on the stunned Death Eaters, portkeying them away. The other two waved at her and walked to the gate. Augusta met them there. She recognised the leader. Kingsley Shacklebolt. One of Dumbledore's faction.

"Good evening, Mrs Longbottom. We were alerted that your Floo connection had been sabotaged, and were dispatched to check on you. Are you alright?"

She nodded. "The wards are still under attack, so there's bound to be a few more of them in hiding." It wasn't as if the scum could quickly withdraw; the backlash from the wards would kill them.

Shacklebolt nodded and turned to the other Auror. "Runcorn, take the others and make a sweep around the perimeter!" Turning back to Augusta, he asked. "Can I come inside and check the Floo connection? We think they may have found new ways of blocking it. And I think we need more Aurors here. Trusted ones," he added, his emphasis telling her that he knew as well as she did that there were traitors within the Aurors' ranks.

"Certainly." She moved her wand and cleared him to enter. She kept her wand in hand, of course - she had just been attacked.

"Thank you." He smiled at her. Then his eyes widened and his wand came up.

She turned around, wand out, but she saw no threat. She tried to turn back, but she was too slow. Too late.

"Stupefy!"

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 17: Plots and Propaganda

'Taking an unbiased view, one cannot help but conclude that the Dark Lord had shown considerable restraint for over a year since his return, until the so-called 'November Offensive' in 1996. While some of my colleagues claim that only the timely disappearance of the muggleborns had prevented terror attacks on them and their families, as had happened so often in the First Blood War, I disagree. Apart from the attack on Azkaban, which, given the inhuman conditions under which prisoners were kept there, should have been expected by the Ministry, the only attacks attributed to the Dark Lord's forces were in response to attacks on pureblood supporters of his - usually by muggleborns. Although the possibility that there were attacks and incidents executed and instigated by his followers without claiming responsibility cannot be excluded, especially in light of the cursing of Nigel Nye and the infamous riot in Diagon Alley.
Nevertheless, the theory that the Dark Lord's attacks on so-called 'blood traitors' was the direct result of the change in Ministry policy that resulted in the arrest of several of his supporters among the Ministry employees appears to be quite compelling. And it cannot be overlooked that even in those attacks, the Dark Lord showed some restraint - certainly more than the Muggleborn Resistance showed.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn

*****​

Outside Withernsea, Yorkshire, Britain, November 17th, 1996

"Rennervate!"

The Dark Lord Voldemort watched as his latest prisoner started to stir. He smiled faintly at how her eyes widened for a moment when she realised where she was: in the middle of his throne room, in front of him, surrounded by his most loyal followers.

"Good morning, Mrs Longbottom."

The old witch slowly stood up. She had to be hurting - she had been stunned for the entire night, and the Dark Lord knew what toll this took on an old body - but her face betrayed none of the pain she had to be suffering. And her voice didn't quiver when she answered him. "Voldemort, I presume."

Bellatrix snarled and raised her wand, eager to avenge the slight against his position, but he held her back with a gesture and inclined his head. "Indeed. Welcome to my home."

Her eyes briefly narrowed, but otherwise she did not react to his mocking of pureblood customs. The old witch raised her chin. "You are finally showing your true colours then. Striking against everyone who doesn't follow you."

He chuckled. "Attacking? I would say I have merely forcefully invited you to my home to discuss your current political views." He flicked his wand and a soft armchair appeared behind the witch.

She remained standing. Her composure and pride would have been admirable, if they did not extend to her politics. She sneered at him, and he had to hold Bellatrix back again. "Discuss? We have nothing to discuss. Your mad dogs took my son from me."

He leaned back in his seat. "Your son and your daughter-in-law fought in the last war. Everyone knows that people get hurt in war."

She scoffed. "They fought for Britain. And they were ambushed by cowards!" She glance at the Lestranges, sniffing.

They didn't dare to go against his will and attack the old witch, but they very much wanted to. Bellatrix even begged with her eyes. "And your son killed my followers. It was war, Madam. But that war ended. And now we're finding us in the middle of another war - against the mudblood menace your family naively and erroneously protected." He sighed. "I warned Britain, again and again, that tolerating mudbloods would be our doom. But did the Ministry listen? No! You can see the result of that mistake where Malfoy Manor once stood." He stared at her. "It is time for us to stop fighting so we can focus on the real enemy."

She sneered at him again. "Do you take me for a fool? All you want is power. And you will kill anyone and everyone to rule." She snorted. "But while you have me, my grandson is safe. No matter what you do to me, or threaten to do, Neville will never follow you! He is his father's son!"

He smiled, carefully not stretching his lips wider than a human would - his new body had wonderful secrets, but also a few peculiarities that alienated many. "Oh, you misunderstand me. I do not want you to follow me. No - all I want from those who are as misguided as you are is to stop opposing me. To simply do nothing." He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper that still filled the room. "And I think that while Neville would sacrifice you rather than join me, I doubt he would be as rash if all I ask from him is to do nothing. To continue his schooling, and advise the proxy who will replace you to simply abstain from any votes."

She drew a shuddering breath, and the hatred that appeared on her face told him that he was correct, and that she knew that her grandson wouldn't sacrifice her. Not if he could get her back by simply doing nothing - something, Severus had assured him, the boy was good at.

"Now, Bellatrix, please show our guest her room and make her comfortable."

The dark witch smiled gleefully, and pointed her wand at the old witch. "Imperio!"

While the prisoner was made to walk peacefully to her cell, Voldemort leaned back and dismissed his followers. Not all of his attacks had been as successful as the one on Longbottom Manor. The attack against the Weasleys' home had been a catastrophe. Maybe Malfoy's boasts about his plans to fool and ambush the Weasley twins had not been as self-aggrandising as he had thought. The family had certainly shown more cunning and brutal ruthlessness than the Dark Lord had expected, sacrificing their own home just to kill some of his Death Eaters. And the spells they had used…

He rubbed his chin. Yes, they would need to be dealt with. But with careful planning. He remembered Molly Weasley, and what she had done in the last war, after her brothers had died. If she had died in the Burrow this problem would have been solved, but now… He had to tell Malfoy that the Weasley twins had to be taken alive.

The Weasleys were too brave and foolish to betray their friends and allies, but if Voldemort simply asked for their neutrality? It was certainly worth a try. He would prefer it if the purebloods opposing him would learn to simply stand aside. It would make his future reign easier. And he could always kill his prisoners, should their relatives prove to be stubborn or difficult.

He stood up and walked over to the tapestry depicting the founding of Hogwarts. Running his hand over the fabric, he took a deep breath. He still wasn't certain that going on the offensive and attacking the blood traitors had been the right decision. He could have waited. Let his followers and their allies counter Dumbledore's latest move. Continue to let the mudbloods kill purebloods until the Wizengamot saw no other way to save themselves than turn to him.

His first attempt to take the power, thirty years ago, had been, in hindsight, too brutal, too crude, even. His most loyal followers had been young, inexperienced. Too rash for many of the conservative members of the Wizengamot.

Which was why, this time, he had bided his time and kept his followers from starting a war. Let them slowly and subtly take over the Wizengamot and the Ministry and oust Dumbledore. Then the mudbloods had started a war. As brutal as his last one, if not more so. And his people had been growing more restless with each success of those animals, with each defeat handed to the Ministry. They hated to be thought weak and cowards by their peers. He had kept them in check, used the purebloods' fear of the mudbloods for his own aims.

He ground his teeth. But the mudbloods taking Rowle had sown doubts about his power in the weak hearts of the British purebloods. They were asking themselves how the Dark Lord could protect them if he couldn't even protect his own. And Dumbledore's cronies were reinforcing those doubts. People were starting to fear the mudbloods more than him. Then the Aurors had begun to strike at his spies in the Ministry. Another move of Dumbledore's, aiming to make the public and the Wizengamot believe that he was weak, weaker than the Ministry, even!

His fingers dug into the rising walls of Hogwarts on the tapestry. The same Wizengamot members that had, even eagerly, turned to him as an alternative to Dumbledore's thinly-veiled reign over Britain had started to waver. No pureblood in power had liked Dumbledore's progressive policies, but after his victory over Grindelwald, the old wizard had been too powerful for the Old Families to oppose. So they had forced themselves to bear it. Until the Dark Lord had appeared, more terrifying, more powerful than Dumbledore. More attractive to many purebloods. But only as long as they believed he could defeat Dumbledore, and save them from the mudbloods. Only as long as they feared the Dark Lord more than anything, more than anyone else.

He took a step back, releasing the tapestry, and smoothed it out with a gesture of his hand. No, he could not have waited any longer. He had to act, before his reputation suffered another blow.

The curse was cast. Now all that mattered was to see it through.

*****​

Devon, Ottery St. Catchpole, November 17th, 1996

The Burrow was gone.

That was Ron Weasley's first thought when he appeared at the edge of his family's property. Debris covered the spot where the house had stood. Some was blackened, as if it had burned. Other parts were just broken, as if a giant had smashed them. And, for some weird reason, the uppermost part, the roof covering the upper attic, had settled down undamaged on the rest of the remains.

He shook his head. He had known that this could happen, that this probably would happen, when his parents had told him that they were evacuating their home, but to see the destruction… he ground his teeth to avoid cursing. The Death Eaters had destroyed his family's home. His home. He closed his eyes and drew a long, shuddering breath to calm down. Those who had attacked the Burrow had paid for it already. With their lives.

Whatever had done this hadn't even spared his father's shed. That had been burned down. He took a few steps closer, trying to see if his dad had taken his muggle item collection with him, but an Auror stopped him.

"We haven't checked the remains in there for curses and traps yet."

Ron opened his mouth to argue - muggle items were harmless, at least the ones his dad collected - then closed it when he saw another Auror conjure a blanket near the shed and realised that they were talking about human remains. He nodded, and turned away.

"Mate, I'm sorry. That's…" Harry was shaking his head.

Ron knew that Harry came closest to understanding what he was feeling. Harry had once told him that the Burrow had been the first home he had felt happy in. Ron nodded at his friend, and clapped him on the shoulder. "No one was hurt. No one from our family, at least." He frowned. "And it wasn't your fault!"

Harry looked like he wanted to disagree - Ron's friend had a complex about such things - but he caved under Ron's glare. "Alright. I'm still sorry for wrecking your date."

"Hm?" Ron looked away from the remains of gnomes that had been burned trying to escape their tunnels. "You didn't ruin it. It went fine."

"Oh?"

"Yes," Ron smiled. "We had fun. We danced for hours."

"Oh." Harry looked surprised.

"What did you do?" Ron asked.

"We watched a play," Harry said. "She liked it," he added.

"You didn't." Ron looked at him.

"It was… interesting." Harry looked to his side. "Oh, there's Bill. Bill!"

Ron's eldest brother walked over to them, a smile on his face. "Hi, Harry, Ron. I didn't know you were allowed to leave Hogwarts."

"We've got permission," Harry said quickly.

"Family emergency," Ron added.

"And why do I think that mum and dad don't know about this?" Bill shook his head.

Ron couldn't help but looking around for his parents. His brother chuckled. "They're not here." He grew serious. "Mum… she couldn't stand the sight. Cried a lot. Dad took her to… where they are staying."

That sounded like their mother. Ron nodded. "From what we can tell, your curses worked as planned."

Bill blinked. "How did you know?"

"Moody used the opportunity to teach us how to 'read a crime scene'," Harry said.

Ron added: "Well, he told us what he could spot, with the right spells. We didn't do anything here."

Bill relaxed a bit. "Good. I used the nastiest curses I knew. Not all of them are safe even now." He looked over the area. "They wrecked the house, but they paid for it. Eight Death Eaters down."

Ron wasn't entirely certain that even double that number was worth the destruction of his home, but didn't want to argue. He simply nodded. Hermione would have grilled Bill for more information.

His brother must have picked up on it anyway - he was the eldest, after all, and had been responsible for Ron often - since he asked: "How's Ginny doing? Didn't she want to come as well?"

Ron shook his head. "No. She's staying at Hogwarts where it's safe."

"She agreed to that?" Bill raised his eyebrows.

"She doesn't know we're here," Ron explained. At least he hoped Ginny didn't know.

Bill frowned. "I see."

"What?" Harry looked puzzled. Ron didn't know what Bill was talking about either.

His oldest brother shook his head. "Just wondering what you're training for with the Headmaster."

They couldn't tell him that, so all three looked at the destroyed house for a while without saying anything.

"We'll rebuild it," Bill suddenly said. "After the war, when it's safe."

Ron nodded. Whenever that would be. Weasleys were stubborn. Like himself.

*****​

Hogwarts, November 17th, 1996

"So, the wards of Longbottom Manor were untouched. Yet the Dark Mark was floating above it, and Augusta is missing," Albus Dumbledore summed up Kingsley's report.

His friend nodded. "There are no witnesses. The elves said the wards were attacked, but that's all they know. And the Floo connection was sabotaged."

Albus nodded. Tom's spies had been working hard last night. The Floo Network had been utterly disrupted. That hadn't affected the Order; Albus's friends had been prepared. But others who, like Augusta, opposed the Dark Lord politically, yet didn't share Albus's views of muggleborns… they had been isolated. Easy pickings. Half a dozen homes had been attacked. Although Augusta was the only Wizengamot member among those who had been kidnapped. The Dark Lord was after leverage, no doubt.

And Tom was still restraining his Death Eaters - there had been no massacres. So he still cared about the opinion of the purebloods. A pity. But Albus hadn't really expected the Dark Lord to make the same mistake he had made in the last war.

"Have you heard anything regarding those 'Avengers' who attacked the Aurors in Knockturn Alley?" Albus asked. He had expected other resistance groups to form, but this one had been surprisingly competent given the circumstances.

Kingsley shook his head. "That's Brenda Brocktuckle's case. She's not been too successful in the past."

The Headmaster nodded. His friend couldn't meddle with that investigation, not without making waves that would render him vulnerable to more subtle attacks than the ones Albus wanted to provoke. Still, those people bore watching. Loose cannons could cause a lot of harm to his plans.

"I've heard the attack on the Burrow was a massacre," Kingsley said.

Albus nodded. "Young William is an experienced Curse-Breaker. He used his knowledge quite efficiently."

The Auror frowned. "Auror Brown used other words. 'Brutal' and 'dark'."

Albus spread his hands. "The old Egyptians were quite ruthless when it came to protecting their tombs."

"Gringotts has been sending teams down there for decades. That's the first time I have heard of such curses being used to defend a home."

Albus smiled. "In order to create such strong and lethal defenses, the Egyptians needed to limit their curses with specific conditions. Conditions rarely met by British Manors."

"So, the Death Eaters won't be able to use those curses to protect them?"

The Headmaster shook his head. "Even if they knew those curses, their hideouts and bases would not qualify." There was no need to inform Kingsley that William had turned the Burrow into a tomb to be able to use the old curses. The sarcophagus had been removed, with Albus's help, before the Aurors had been called.

"Alright." Kingsley sighed and stood up. "Bones is spitting mad, and even Fudge seems to care about the kidnapping of Madam Longbottom. They've made it very clear that they expect results."

The old wizard smiled. "I think they are now realising that the Dark Lord does not limit his violence to muggleborns. His hunger for power is too great to tolerate rivals - even such as Cornelius."

Kingsley snorted. "Ruling Britain isn't much of an achievement. Even Fudge managed that."

Albus chuckled. "I am rather certain that the Dark Lord considers me the ruler of Britain, which is why he intends to take over." Less than two years ago, it had not been far from the truth. Alas, Albus had come to discover that the majority of the Wizengamot and the Ministry had not followed his suggestions because they believed in them, but because they had come from the most powerful wizard in Britain. With that title challenged by the Dark Lord, many purebloods had quickly shown their true colours.

Kingsley was aware of that fact, but didn't mention it. "I'll be using the Floo Network sabotage to make more arrests."

The Headmaster smiled. "Be careful though."

His friend nodded.

Albus knew other members of his Order would have shrugged the danger off. Sirius, for one. "I will inform you as soon as I receive more information about our foes. Please keep an eye on Nymphadora." The Tonkses hadn't been attacked, but that could have been because their address wasn't known to the Ministry. Albus had yet to hear from the metamorphmagus whether anyone had tried to enter the flat the Ministry thought she was living in.

"I will." Kingsley waved and left Albus's office. He wasn't taking the Floo. Not after last night.

Albus leaned back in his chair. Harry and Mister Weasley were still at the Burrow. He had pondered the decision to let them visit for a while. Alastor saw it as a training opportunity. And a way to show them the costs of the war, as well as the dangers. Albus agreed with his old friend that this was a valuable lesson to learn before the two boys started to hunt Horcruxes.

He wasn't quite as certain that this was the only lesson the boys would learn. They might decide to take revenge for the destruction of their home. Harry was quite attached to the Burrow himself, even though he was now living with Sirius. Albus would have to trust them that they would not go down that particular path. No further than most, at least.

He sighed. This offensive by the Dark Lord also complicated matters with regards to Miss Granger. With the Tonkses moving to the safety of Sirius's house, it would not be able to be used for private meetings anymore. Young Nymphadora still had not fully come to terms with the actions of the Muggleborn Resistance. She was coming around though.

He petted Fawkes and sighed. There was another task he was not looking forward to.

He had to inform Mister Longbottom of the kidnapping of his grandmother.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, November 17th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle wasn't quite certain if she should be glad or annoyed about the attacks by the Death Eaters. On one hand, the pressure on her had lightened somewhat, with part of the Wizengamot panicking about enemies other than mudbloods. On the other hand, Aurors were being shifted from hunting mudbloods to hunting Death Eaters.

She shook her head as she sat down at her desk. That clever bastard Shacklebolt had been lucky again - not only had he managed to actually arrest Death Eaters as soon as he had taken over from Dawlish, but his case was now even given priority! Some people had all the luck. And, she added, thinking of Dawlish, some had none.

She looked up as her office's door opened, expecting her partner, Martin. It was Parkinson instead. "Morning," she greeted him.

"It's a bit late for that," Parkinson answered.

She couldn't tell if he was commenting on the time, or the events of last night. She didn't care that much either, so she shrugged.

"Did you hear about the Weasley home?" Parkinson said, sitting down on the edge of her desk.

Brenda nodded. It was the talk of the Corps - not even the kidnapping of Longbottom had made such waves.

"Brown said he had never seen curses like the ones used there," Parkinson went on. "And yet, rumour is we're not investigating the family."

Brenda spread her hands. "Criminals attack an old pureblood family home, get killed in the process - you know how that goes." The Wizengamot certainly took defending your manor seriously.

Parkinson scoffed. "The Weasleys are not an Old Family. And they're only purebloods because the last two generations, they haven't found mudbloods or half-bloods to wed."

Brenda chuckled. "You mean, they're too poor to count as an Old Family." Gold mattered, after all. A lot.

The other Auror snorted, but conceded the point. "So, what's new about those 'Avengers'?" he asked with a grin.

Brenda sighed theatrically. "They're hiding, I guess. Preparing their next strike, no doubt. But with the Corps currently focused on the Death Eaters, they might have trouble finding a similarly spectacular opportunity." Dawlish certainly wouldn't offer one with half his Aurors 'temporarily dispatched' to other duties.

"Well, something better crop up soon," Parkinson grumbled.

As if such things could be rushed, Brenda thought. Fortunately, Martin finally arrived with some scones and distracted the older Auror.

*****​

Hogwarts, November 17th, 1996

Harry Potter entered the Gryffindor common room with Ron, and winced when he saw the students inside. Ginny had jumped up and now was glaring at him and Ron, hands on her hip. Neville, who was sitting near her, looked shaken, in need of a Calming Draught. The boy was staring at the carpet.

"Blimey! What happened to Neville?" Ron asked next to him. When Ginny made a beeline towards them, Harry's friend whispered: "Damn, she's furious."

"So… you're back from your 'family emergency'. An emergency I was not told about until you had left already!" Ginny spat. "Why did you get to go and visit the Burrow and our family, and I had to stay here?"

Harry took a small step to the side. That looked like a question best handled by Ginny's brother.

Ron cast a privacy spell before answering: "It was part of our training. The 'family emergency' was just a cover story."

"Your mysterious training. For the Order. Of which everyone of our family but me is a member." Ginny was still glaring at Ron.

"Aunt Muriel isn't a member either."

"Did you just compare me to that hag?" Ginny seemed to be fuming now. She had her wand in hand, even, Harry saw.

"Merlin's beard, Ginny!" Ron exclaimed. "It's not about you! You know we can't tell you what we're doing. We can't tell anyone!"

"I can help as well!"

"That's not up to us," Ron said. Harry refrained from nodding along. "It's up to Dumbledore to decide who he recruits."

Ginny frowned, but she didn't seem to be planning to rush off and accost the Headmaster.

"Besides," Harry added, "you're helping us here already, keeping an eye on the Slytherins."

Ginny smiled at him, then pouted. "The troublemakers all left. The rest rarely leave their dorms. Well, Zabini does, but… you know what he does." She blushed slightly.

Harry didn't really want to hear about the love life of a Slytherin when his own was… complicated. He simply nodded.

"Did he chat you up, Ginny?" Ron asked.

"No, he didn't. And if he did, it would be none of your business!"

Ron glanced at Harry. His friend didn't seem to share that view. Harry agreed with him. Zabini hadn't done anything suspicious, but that didn't mean you could trust him. He was a Slytherin, after all.

"So… what's up with Neville?" Ron asked after a brief moment of silence.

Ginny winced. "His grandmother was kidnapped last night. Death Eater attack on his home."

"Merlin's balls!" Ron muttered.

"Damn!" Harry hissed. He hadn't been fond of his fellow Gryffindor's stance towards the Muggleborn Resistance, but he couldn't help but feel sorry for Neville - the poor bloke had just lost his last family. Harry knew how it hurt, being alone. His own family… he shook his head.

Ginny sighed. "He wanted to go home, but McGonagall said it wasn't safe yet. They don't know what happened. The wards are still intact."

"Treason," Harry whispered. "Someone must have let the scum through." Just like Wormtail.

Ron nodded. "Someone Madam Longbottom trusted. A friend, or even a relative."

"She wasn't a member of the Order, was she?" Harry asked. He was quite certain that the old witch was dead. Or was wishing she was dead. He knew how callously the Dark Lord murdered people. And how he liked torturing his victims.

"I don't know," Ron said. "If she was I hope she wasn't in a cell with anyone we know."

Ginny looked puzzled for a moment. Harry explained: "The Order is made up of small groups. Apart from Dumbledore, you only know your group. Muggles call such a group a cell."

"You heard that from Hermione, hm?" Ron's sister cocked her head sideways.

Neither Ron nor Harry answered her. She sighed. "Sorry. I'll head back to Neville."

Once she had left, Ron recast the privacy spell. "That went well." He seemed relieved.

"That was 'well'?" Harry wondered.

Ron nodded. "Oh, yes. She's usually on her best behaviour around you. But she has a temper, and a loose wand. Or she had. Second year, well… she changed."

Harry felt a pang of guilt. If he had paid a bit more attention… but then, no one had. Not even Ginny's brothers. Or Hermione. He sighed.

Ron glanced at him. "It wasn't your fault. It was Malfoy's."

Harry snorted. His friend knew him too well. And he apparently had had a rather nice date with Hermione. Ron had taken her dancing. Harry hadn't thought of that. Hermione had brought up the Yule Ball during their date. Had that been a veiled clue that she would have liked to go dancing? More than she wanted to watch a play? She was Hermione, but… she had really enjoyed the ball, hadn't she? At least until he and Ron had ruined it. He sighed.

Ron slapped his back. "I told you, it wasn't your fault."

For a moment, Harry was tempted to simply nod. Let Ron think this was about second year. Then he sighed again. "I was just thinking about the Yule Ball."

"Ah."

Neither Harry nor Ron said anything for a while after that.

*****​

London, East End, November 17th, 1996

The Resistance had moved back to their regular headquarters, a fact for which Hermione Granger was glad. She had become used to her room. She knew it was a weakness - developing routines, becoming predictable was dangerous - but she liked having things set up just right. Though, she added, looking at the van standing in the middle of the large room on the ground floor, if she could have a mobile wireless studio, a mobile room, or even a mobile base, might be possible. Ron's dad had managed to expand the interior of his car a lot, after all, and wizard tents did the same. Though if those spells ever failed… she shuddered.

"Is something wrong with the set up?" John asked, sounding worried.

She shook her head. "No. I just had a thought about something else."

"Oh. The attacks by the Death Eaters? Or the 'Avengers'?" John grinned at that last part.

Hermione didn't quite roll her eyes. The Resistance had had lively discussions about this new group. Dennis and Colin had been quite impressed and wanted to track them down and recruit them. Surprisingly, Dean and Seamus hadn't been in favour of that - or not so surprisingly, given that no Auror had been killed in the attack.

Hermione herself had not been that impressed by the new group's name. Picking either a TV show or a British comic series… But as flashy as their attack had been, the name might fit. She still convinced the rest to adopt a wait and see policy, until the 'Avengers' proved themselves. Not that it would be easy to contact a group in hiding anyway.

"I just imagined Extension Charms failing with people inside a wizard tent," Hermione explained.

That made John shudder. "Are you planning to use this against the Death Eaters in hiding?"

Hermione chuckled. "I was more concerned with avoiding such a fate. But it would be a possible way to bring down a wizard house." They wouldn't be able to use bombs on every target, after all. Still, to cancel or even just disrupt such charms… It would probably be easier to simply blast the structure to which they were anchored to bits.

"Well… the 'studio' is now finished. All we need is to enchant the van." John patted the side of the vehicle.

She nodded. "I've looked into the charms needed, but I need to check with a source or two." Sirius had enchanted his flying bike, though it hadn't been invisible. Maybe she would have to ask Ron's dad - though that would be tricky. She also needed to gather more information about those attacks. She had spoken with Harry and Ron on the mirror, but they didn't know that much either.

"Who'll go on air, by the way?" John asked. "I'm not exactly a DJ."

"We'll have to discuss that." And probably ask for a volunteer. Hermione would have suggested Lee Jordan, the wizard had been an enthusiastic commentator of the Quidditch matches at Hogwarts, and knew how to rile up a crowd. That he was also horribly biased wouldn't be a problem for the Resistance's wireless. Or the Resistance Radio, as Sally-Anne called it. But Jordan wasn't a muggleborn, and even if the resistance would accept him, she doubted he'd want to join them - every member had a death sentence hanging over them, and while Jordan might not be scared off by that, the danger their families were in would be too much. Or so she thought. Seamus was another option, but he was a bit too excitable. And bloodthirsty. Dean was the same, and already involved with the flyers. Colin or Dennis… even more excitable, but not quite as brutal. Sally-Anne was too meek, and Justin had already begged off.

"We'll have to exploit this opportunity the Dark Lord has given us. We need to tell the public just how dangerous he is, and what his goals are." She pursed her lips. "That means we'll have to go over the script again."

"Was there any news about Allan?"

Hermione was glad that John was focused on gathering his tools. She hated lying to the group. "No. I doubt the Ministry has arrested him. They would have announced that at once. And the Death Eaters… if the contract had not worked, then they would have probably attacked us as well, last night. And if it worked…"

John sighed. "Then they'll likely have killed him out of frustration."

"Maybe. They could've tried to use him as bait anyway." It was what she would have done.

John chuckled. "No wonder you're our leader. You keep thinking like that."

Hermione wasn't quite as flattered as John probably thought she'd be.

*****​

London, Soho, November 17th, 1996

The nightclub was packed, the music too loud and the air so full of smoke, Hermione was tempted to cast a Bubble-Head Charm. She'd have to scourgify her clothes afterwards, or she'd carry the stench of stale cigarette smoke back to headquarters. In short, it was no wonder Sirius had picked this location to meet her, now that his home housed the Tonkses. Hermione was shaking her head as she made her way through the thong of people, looking for the wizard.

She spotted him at the bar. To her surprise, he wasn't dressed like a 70s reject - someone must have given him some fashion advice. And he was chatting up a girl young enough to be his daughter - if Hermione was inclined to believe his claims about his third year. She shook her head at the display and walked to the bar herself, ordering a soda. Once she was certain Sirius had seen her, she stepped outside the club to get some fresh air.

A few minutes later, the wizard joined her at the corner. "Mandy thinks I'm on the loo, so we don't have much time," he said, after casting a privacy spell. "Here are the copies of the notes you wanted."

"Thank you." She stashed the parchment.

"Planning to ride a bike yourself? You'd look fetching in leather." He grinned at her.

"You know, those girls on your calendar, what they're wearing isn't what real bikers are wearing." She snorted at his reaction. "But no, not planning to enchant a bike."

"A car then?"

"A bit bigger. I need to figure out a way to hide it too." Though that wasn't quite that urgent - they could fly around at night, and be pretty safe from being spotted with a Colour Change Charm.

He nodded. "There's been no news about the attacks, other than that the DMLE confirmed the kidnappings. Five houses were hit." He scoffed. "Augusta Longbottom is the most prominent victim, but all of the others are connected or related to a Wizengamot member." He stretched. "I reckon I'll be able to get you a few more names as a result - I think this will open the eyes of a number of people who have tried to keep their heads down so far."

"Like Tonks?"

Sirius winced. "She's slowly coming around. She hated the Death Eaters already. No surprise, since Bellatrix wants to kill her whole family. But the reaction of some esteemed purebloods to this might finally make her admit just how rotten the Ministry and Wizengamot are."

Hermione doubted that it would be that easy, but ultimately, it didn't matter. Tonks reported to Dumbledore, who could pass on any information she found to the Resistance. "Are you planning a counter-strike?"

Sirius took a deep breath. "Dumbledore says he is focusing on moving everyone to safe houses. But I'd be surprised if he hadn't already set some things in motion."

"Good. With this change of the Death Eaters modus operandi, we need to react quickly, before they cow the rest of the purebloods."

Sirius sneered. "They are already cowed. We just need to show that we're stronger than the Death Eaters."

Hermione nodded. "I'll need another address then."

"I'll get it to you."

"Thanks."

He smiled at her, and then turned to walk back to the club.

For a moment, Hermione was tempted to follow him. Enjoy the night a bit. Dance. Forget the war for an hour or two.

She shook her head. She had already spent two evenings on dates. She had more important things to do. People depended on her.

And she would not let them down.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, November 18th, 1996

"Please have a seat, Albus."

"Thank you." Albus Dumbledore smiled politely and conjured a chair for himself. Cornelius was flexible even for a politician - as soon as the Dark Lord had struck at purebloods, Albus had been invited back to the Minister's office with all the courtesy due, and then some.

Amelia was present as well, nodding at him. She didn't try to act as if they were best friends. He hadn't expected her to either.

"We're in a bit of a pickle, Albus," Cornelius started. "Those Death Eater attacks… terrible business." He shook his head.

"The Dark Lord has finally shown his true colours," the Headmaster agreed. "As I predicted."

Cornelius nodded, though Amelia looked a bit doubtful. "It's quite convenient timing," she said. "As soon as some of his followers are arrested, he attacks purebloods in their homes."

Albus shrugged. He hadn't specifically arranged these exact attacks, but he had hoped and counted on the Dark Lord lashing out like this. Although he had expected the attacks to be aimed at Kingsley and other Aurors working with him, first. People who knew the risks and were prepared. "The Dark Lord must have decided that he had come as far as he could using less violent means, and now has switched back to the brutal attacks that terrified Britain 20 years ago."

"One could say you provoked him," Amelia said.

"Any sort of resistance provokes him." Albus smiled. "He will never be satisfied, not even if he was the sole ruler of Britain."

Cornelius shook his head. "First the attack on the Rowles, now Augusta has been kidnapped… terrible times are upon us."

Albus could have pointed out that this could have been avoided if the Minister had listened to him earlier, but that would have been counter-productive. "The question is: What can we do now?" He leaned back. "There are still Death Eaters among the Wizengamot, and while this latest atrocities may have opened the eyes of many, others still follow the Dark Lord's orders. Some out of fear." He sighed. "And those attacks were only possible because of spies in the Ministry."

Amelia frowned. "Aurors are hunting down those saboteurs. As you know very well."

"They are doing their best," Albus said, "but it might not be enough. And his followers in the Wizengamot itself are untouchable." Legally, at least.

"The immunity of a member of the Wizengamot can be revoked," Amelia said.

"With a qualified majority," Cornelius cut in.

"Which we currently lack," Albus said. And even a simple majority was unlikely for many proposals from his allies - or from the Death Eaters. Sadly, the only thing a majority of the Wizengamot might still agree upon was fighting the Muggleborn Resistance.

"That's politics," Amelia said. "Dealing with Death Eaters and other criminals is a matter of law enforcement."

"Exactly!" Cornelius smiled. "And we need to coordinate our efforts for that."

Albus raised his eyebrows. "Oh? In what manner?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

Amelia scowled. "Don't play dumb. You're the only one who can stop the Dark Lord in the field. And you're the one who fed Shacklebolt the names he is arresting. You have spies in the Death Eaters' ranks, and you have some vigilantes who are fighting them."

Albus inclined his head. Amelia knew about her brother's deeds in the last war.

"More importantly, you're a symbol," the Minister added. "If the people know that you're with the Ministry, then that will raise morale, and sway many of those who are afraid of the Dark Lord."

So, they wanted information, cooperation, and a public alliance. Or the appearance of one. As expected. "In those trying times, we need to band together," Albus said. When Cornelius beamed at him, he added: "Against the real enemy of Wizarding Britain."

That made the minister's face fall and Amelia scowl. "Are you still protecting those mass-murderers?" she asked with a sneer, ignoring Cornelius's grimace.

"I do not protect murderers, but I will not support any attack on muggleborns who are just fighting the Dark Lord," Albus said. He wouldn't be able to push for more. Not yet.

"Splendid!" Cornelius was smiling widely again. If he understood that Albus considered the attack on Malfoy Manor a strike against the Dark Lord, then he didn't show it.

Amelia's sneer told Albus that she understood it. And that she knew he couldn't pressure her into stopping the persecution of the muggleborns. Not when he needed their support against Voldemort.

But things would change.

*****​

London, East End, November 18th, 1996

Hermione winced when she hit her upper arm on the side panel of the van, right where she had a bruise. After the morning spent training in the woods, she should have used a magical ointment. But she had wanted to tough it out, and serve as an example for preserving the magical supplies for more serious wounds.

She sighed. It was her own fault. If she was more focused, she'd not have such trouble with enchanting the van. At least as far as flying went. But she couldn't help thinking about the dates. With her two best friends. And her inability to make a decision.

She sighed again - she was doing this a lot lately - lowered her wand from where she had been tracing runes on the chassis of the van, and simply lay there, on her back. It was supposed to be a simple solution: Date both boys, pick one. And it had failed. Utterly.

After the date with Harry, she had been happy. He had showed he cared about her, her hobbies and interests. He had been honest about their past… She frowned. 'Troubles' was too strong a word. He had been honest about their past differences. And he hadn't been disgusted or taken aback by her confession about Allan. He cared about her, more than about himself. To quote her silly former roommates, Harry was prime boyfriend material.

Ron had taken a different approach, something she hadn't expected. Instead of catering to her known interests, he had offered her a new experience. The French restaurant had been a familiar and surprising choice, but the dancing… she sighed. She had discovered that she liked dancing, or clubbing. Which she wouldn't have expected. Nor had she expected that it would be Ron who would turn out to be the more adventurous one. Maybe she should have - the Weasleys weren't exactly known for being conservative among wizards.

Ron was interested in discovering new things they could enjoy together. Harry on the other hand seemed to care about her a bit too much - she was mostly certain that he hadn't really enjoyed the play. And yet - discovering what Harry liked would be an enjoyable experience as well, she suspected. Discovering what desires he had, under his urge to save and help others, would be interesting at the least. Then again, so would be trying out new things with Ron.

She sighed again. She was a selfish, silly girl who couldn't make a decision. Who took things far too seriously, even though teenage relationships seldom lasted that long. Doubly so during a war where the three of them could be killed any day. But emotions, relationships, friendship, love - those were serious matters. History was full of examples where love or passion had been a decisive factor in deciding the fate of many people.

Alright, she was growing far too dramatic again. She hissed through her teeth, and raised her wand again. She still had some time until she'd meet her friends again.

But why was she feeling so lonely, right now?

*****​

Hogwarts, November 20th, 1996

Neville was looking even worse than after the attacks, Harry Potter noticed when he stashed his fifth year Transfiguration notes in his trunk. The other Gryffindor was sitting on his bed, staring at the window. Harry took a deep breath. He still resented Neville for his attitude towards Hermione and the other muggleborns, but Neville had just lost his grandmother. And with his parents in St. Mungo's… Harry knew how Neville was feeling. Or at least he could understand the boy, better than anyone else.

He stood up. "Hey."

Neville didn't react. Harry frowned. The boy was either ignoring him, or so out of it that he didn't notice when someone was talking to him. Or, Harry added with more than a bit of guilt, he was expecting some more scorn heaped on him.

"Hey, Neville." Harry was about to sit down next to him, but reconsidered, and kept standing next to the bed.

"Come to gloat?" Neville whispered suddenly, without looking up.

"What?" Harry gasped. Did the other boy really expect him to gloat about losing family? "Of course not! How can you think that?" Harry hadn't been that bad, had he?

"You told me for months that the Death Eaters and their supporters were the enemy, and the muggleborns were just defending themselves. And now the Dark Lord has kidnapped my grandmother." Neville raised his head and Harry saw he had been crying. "You've been right, and Gran's been wrong. Just as you said. I've been wrong."

"Well…" Harry swallowed his first thought. "That doesn't matter. What matters is … what will you do now?" He should have thought about this a bit longer, he realised.

"I can't do anything! They'll kill Gran if I…" Neville pressed his teeth together.

"They've contacted you?" If Death Eaters could reach the students at Hogwarts…

Neville glared at him, then looked down. His shoulder twitched and he wiped his eyes. "I've received a letter."

"What do they want you to do?"

"Nothing." Neville stared at the floor. "Nothing! They simply want me to do nothing! Say nothing! Do nothing! Just stay 'neutral', keep my head down, and Gran will be released once the war is over."

Harry winced. He didn't believe Voldemort would keep his word. Not even if he won the war. The Dark Lord had tried to kill him in his crib, after all, due to a prophecy. He certainly wouldn't leave Augusta Longbottom alive and able to take revenge. Or… He closed his eyes. What if he let the Lestranges torture her into insanity as well? That would be just like Voldemort.

Neville was looking at him, Harry noticed. "Do you think he'll keep his word?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself.

Neville snorted. "His Death Eaters tortured my parents into insanity. How could I trust him? Or why would he think I'd not try to take revenge?" Harry saw tears in Neville's eyes again. "But if I defy him he'll torture Gran to death. And it'll be my fault!" Suddenly, the boy reached out and grabbed Harry's arms. "What can I do? What can I do?"

Harry had no answer. He didn't know what he'd do if Sirius was kidnapped. Or Ron or Hermione. His first urge was to try to rescue them, but what if that went wrong?

He winced as Neville released him and returned to staring out of the window. He had to inform Dumbledore. Even though he had a feeling the Headmaster might already know about it.

*****​

Hogwarts, November 22nd, 1996

Ron Weasley had seldom seen so many students gathered around one wireless receiver in the Great Hall. Not since the first broadcast of the latest song of the Weird Sisters. He had expected the first broadcast of 'Radio Resistance' to attract attention, but not so openly. But then, those waiting here weren't Slytherins, but mainly Gryffindors, with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs mixed in. He saw a number of the propaganda leaflets which had announced this broadcast floating around as well. The Resistance had dropped them on Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade and even Hogwarts.

"Ron!"

He turned around when he heard his name. "Luna?" Ginny's childhood friend was standing there.

The blonde Ravenclaw nodded and offered him a … pointed hat sporting all the colours of the rainbow. "Here! For your protection!" She was wearing the same hat, he noticed.

"Uh… protection?"

"Against the muggle mind-control techniques. Tinfoil hats protect against them. I'm not quite certain if it can affect us through the wards of Hogwarts, but better safe than sorry, right?"

Ron blinked. Belatedly, he took the hat, earning himself a beaming smile. "Muggle mind-control techniques?"

Luna nodded emphatically. "Yes. We're about to listen to muggleborn propaganda, which aims to influence our views on politics and the war. Which means it's an attempt to influence our minds, since our views are decided by our minds. So… we need to protect our minds. With tinfoil. All the muggle sources Daddy consulted agree that this is the best way to protect your mind."

While Ron stared at her, trying to make sense of her words, she pulled her own hat off and waved her wand over it. Suddenly, she was holding two hats. Luna had just cast a Doubling Charm. In her fifth year. Impressive.

Ron shook his head. "I don't think it works that way, Luna. They want to persuade us with arguments."

"That would be silly. Quarrelling has rarely if ever persuaded anyone of another point of view." Luna shook her head.

Ron forced himself to smile. "I meant, they'll try to reason with the audience."

"Are you certain?" Luna peered at him

"Yes, I'm certain. They are not trying to mind-control us," Ron said as convincing as he managed.

Luna wrinkled her nose. "Well, you'd know… on the other hand, you could be mind-controlled already." She looked at the hat Ron was still holding.

Ron sighed and put it on. "The Resistance are not trying to mind-control us," he repeated himself.

"Hm." Luna pouted. "You could have been mind-controlled for so long, it could have become ingrained in your mind."

"What?"

"This requires further study," the blonde said, and Ron had the impression she wasn't quite talking to him. She certainly wasn't listening to him. "I'll have to check daddy's notes about propaganda and counter-measures!"

The blonde witch skipped off, leaving Ron shaking his head at the absurdity of the entire scene.

"Ron!"

He turned around once more and found himself facing Ginny. "Yes?"

"Are you flirting with Luna now, or why are you wearing the ugliest hat I've ever seen since we visited Aunt Muriel?" Ginny asked, frowning at him.

Ron pulled off the hat. "I was talking with her. Or rather, she was talking to me. I'm not quite certain if she understood what I said. I certainly didn't understand her."

Ginny shook her head. "Well, don't start two-timing your girlfriend."

He gasped. "Ginny!" He didn't have a girlfriend. He quickly cast a privacy spell.

"What? You managed to impress her on your date. Wasn't the point of that to see who is more compatible with her?"

"How do you know that?" Ron stared at her.

Ginny grinned. "I guilt-tripped Bill for leaving me stuck at Hogwarts, worrying about our family."

Ron groaned. He should have known that Bill wouldn't be able to stand up to Ginny. "Well, don't spread it. There are enough rumours going around already."

"I know," she said. "So… how did Harry's date go?"

"It went well." He shrugged. "We haven't really compared notes."

"What did she say?"

"We haven't really talked about that, yet. What with the attacks, and all." And some things shouldn't be said through a mirror, but face to face. "And she's been really busy."

"Oh." Ginny pouted.

"Still rooting for me?" Ron asked, grinning slightly.

"Of course!" his sister said. "If you get her, I can get Harry."

Ron wasn't certain things would work like that, but didn't want to start an argument. And the wireless broadcast began - right on time. Not that he would have expected anything else from Hermione.

It started with music. Rock music. He even recognised the song - they had danced to that, last Saturday. Grinning, he started to whip his foot in step with the music, ignoring Ginny's puzzled glance.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the voice of the Muggleborn Resistance. My name is Tania, and I'll be your host today as we expose the lies of the Death Eaters and their accomplices. And listen to great music!"

That was Tania Dennel, Ron realised. Gryffindor, two years above him. He hadn't know she sounded that sexy on the wireless.

"You all have heard about the cowardly attacks by Death Eaters on several pureblood homes last Saturday. What you haven't heard is that they could do this because of traitors in the Ministry. Yes, folks, the same people who claim to be protecting you were giving out the addresses of the victims, and then sabotaged the Floo Network so they couldn't escape!

"Think about that for a moment.

"That Auror wanting to talk to you about a complaint? He might be a Death Eater spy, here to kill you. Or worse.

"Horrible, isn't it? That's how life has been for a muggleborn in Wizarding Britain for a long time! How many of those muggleborns who were killed 'resisting arrest' were actually resisting?

"Death Eaters are everywhere in the Ministry. Do you think you're safe because you're a pureblood? Think again! Remember the dozen guards of Azkaban, fed to Dementors? They were purebloods as well! Remember the kidnappings last week - purebloods again!

"It's time to fight - for your rights, for your family, for your life! And we'll tell you how!

"But first: More music!"

While another rock song started - Ron didn't recognise that one - the students were already discussing the broadcast. Hotly.

Ron smiled. He wasn't certain if many 'neutrals' would be swayed by this, but it certainly seemed to strike a chord with many of his friends.

*****​

Hogwarts, November 22nd, 1996

Albus Dumbledore switched the wireless off when the last notes of 'God save the Queen' had been played. Cornelius would be incensed, Amelia livid, and the Death Eaters and their allies enraged. And a number of pureblood parents would be very concerned about their children listening to the broadcast as well, unaware that the more they tried to suppress this, the more attractive listening to it would become. The Prophet would likely denounce the show as well.

Chuckling, Albus leaned back in his seat. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Fawkes trilled at him, and he banished a treat to the phoenix, before focusing on the list in front of him again.

Kingsley had managed to find a few more Death Eater spies thanks to interrogating the ones he had arrested, but Albus had already known all of them thanks to Miss Granger. At least now there was evidence available in court. Severus knew more names, but Albus was loath to risk his spy to simply strike at a few more minions of the Dark Lord.

His fireplace lit up, announcing a call. He frowned - was there another attack? But the Floo Network still couldn't be trusted. Probably not even after everyone working in the Floo Network Authority had been vetted with Veritaserum - there still remained the Imperius. He flicked his wand, and the fire turned green.

Aberforth's head appeared in the middle of the flames. "I've got something for you," his brother stated in a gruff voice.

Albus nodded. "I will be waiting."

Fifteen minutes later, Aberforth entered his office. Instead of a greeting, he tossed a scroll on Albus's desk.

Albus picked it up. There was an address on it. In Knockturn Alley.

"Death Eater recruiting spot," his brother explained. "Friend of mine noticed some unfamiliar faces, and tracked them down."

"How many wands are there?"

Aberforth shrugged. "About a dozen, maybe more. My friend didn't go inside to check. People who do tend to join or vanish."

"I see. Thank you."

Aberforth scoffed. "Are you going to do something about it?"

Albus rubbed his chin. "I think so." The Order's cells were not large enough to tackle such a location. He would have to call two or three together, which would defeat the purpose of keeping them ignorant of each other. They had been facing similar problems when they had lured Voldemort to the Department of Mysteries, but some deception and cunning had allowed them to split the Death Eaters up while he had faced the Dark Lord. He'd rather not take a similar risk again though.

"I'll tell my friends to stay away from the area then."

Albus nodded. There was but one group large and hopefully skilled enough to attack such a location. "Your presence would be helpful in that mission," he said.

"I'm not about to help your fine, upstanding Order," his brother spat.

Albus shook his head. "This is not a mission the Order is suited for."

"What?" Aberforth's eyes widened. "You're sending the children there?"

"They've struck in Knockturn Alley before."

"Not that far inside. And the underground is now warded and watched. They won't be able to duplicate that," Aberforth said, then glared at him. "And that's why you want me there, right?"

Albus nodded.

"Damn you, Albus. Damn you to hell!"

Albus didn't say anything. His brother was already coming around. He'd contact Miss Granger soon.

Once Aberforth had left, he looked through the list again. He doubted any one of them knew where Augusta was being held prisoner, but it wouldn't hurt to try to find out. And the Knockturn Alley attack might provide information as well - it depended on just how cautious Tom was. Though should Albus discover Augusta's location, then he'd have to decide if a rescue was possible - and worth the risk.

He wasn't looking forward to that decision.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, November 23rd, 1996

Daphne Greengrass glanced at every mudhole in the alley as she walked with Tracey towards Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Who knew what traps were hidden in them? What curses would be unleashed on unsuspecting victims? Anything could be hidden in those mudholes, behind those transfigurations! She gripped Tracey's arm while the two gave another mudhole a wide berth.

Daphne hated to feel like this. Nervous. Afraid. Terrified. But she couldn't help it. The things she had seen that Saturday, at the Weasleys' family home, still haunted her sleep. The deaths she had witnessed...

Who would have expected the Weasleys of all families to use such dark curses? They were supposed to be a bunch of fools! Blood traitors and muggle lovers! Not the kind of people who used magic that impressed even the Dark Lord!

At least that was what Draco claimed had happened when he had reported his failure. Since he was still alive, and not a nervous wreck, he hadn't earned the Dark Lord's ire either. He probably had blamed the dead for the failure - not entirely unjustly, in her opinion. Draco had told them that the Weasleys were tricky, or something like that.

She sighed, then yelped when Tracey gripped her arm a tad too strongly.

"Don't lose it now," her friend whispered. "You heard Draco: It is imperative that we capture the twins. Alive. And we're the only ones who can do it. Or fail."

Daphne nodded. She knew that any failure would be painful. "Aren't you nervous? You know what the Weasleys did to their home."

Tracey shook her head. "That was a trap. They can't do that to a shop."

Daphne hoped her friend was right. If she was wrong… Daphne didn't want to die. "At least I don't have to act as if I'm afraid anymore."

Tracey chuckled at that, but Daphne knew she was forcing herself to laugh. It wasn't funny. Not after the massacre they had seen. If Tracey's theory was correct and the eldest brother of the Weasleys was responsible for those curses, as well as for the wards… the twins' had some really strong wards as well.

They had arrived at the twins' shop. Daphne took a deep breath and entered, ducking beneath a rubber chicken that shot past.

"Well done!" That had to be… Fred, since he was cheerful. "You are the only ones to constantly dodge our welcome jokes!"

"We try," Tracey said. Daphne nodded.

"And you succeed!" Fred stepped closer, beaming at them. "I'm glad to see you safe and sound. With the attacks last week, I was worried."

Daphne nodded. "Those were scary."

Fred's eyes widened. "Did you see an attack?"

Tracey shook her head. "No. But just reading about them was bad enough. To think they managed to go through the Longbottom's wards…"

Fred nodded. "We've some theories how this could have happened." He pulled out a box from his robe's pockets. "And we've worked on something to help people." He grinned, and suddenly, two balloons appeared, flying straight at Daphne and Tracey, drenching both.

"Our famous Instant Dryness combined with…"

As Fred trailed off, Daphne realised to her horror that Tracey had retaken her true form. As had she herself.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 18: Strikes

'Some historians are of the opinion that the November Offensive by the Dark Lord showed a paradigm change. Instead of attacking muggleborns and blood traitors, he had his followers attack mainly pureblood families - and among them, only the Weasleys were considered blood traitors. A careful analysis shows that the Death Eater attacks followed the same distinct pattern in both Blood Wars: They went after the easiest available targets first. Their goal was, as far as it can be determined, to not only sow terror among the population and weaken the morale of the Dark Lord's enemies, but to also let the new recruits among his own forces grow accustomed to killing.
When the November Offensive was launched, the muggleborns had already been hiding from the Ministry for months, thus removing themselves from the list of available targets. In a similar way, Dumbledore had correctly anticipated such attacks, and had prepared his allies for it. That left either half-bloods or purebloods not allied with the Dark Lord or Dumbledore as the best targets. It's quite logical that he selected the purebloods with ties to the Wizengamot, since attacking the half-bloods had already caused negative reactions to his cause.'
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, November 23rd, 1996

She had to escape! She had seen what the Weasleys did to intruders! If she stayed she would die!

Daphne Greengrass screamed and threw herself to the side, straight into the stand with the 'Randy Rubber Duckies' while a red spell barely missed her. The stand toppled over and she drew her wand while she slid over the rubbery abominations. Another spell hit the stand, sending the things bouncing throughout the shop with a cacophony of moans and dirty jokes. She hastily cast a Shield Charm while scrambling behind the Fireworks display.

"George! Come at once! Emergency!" she heard Fred yell, somewhere behind the Slippery Scrolls stand.

She glanced at Tracey and discovered to her horror that her friend was lying on the ground, stunned or dead. The door was just a few yards behind her. She could flee. Get out and apparate away. But Tracey… her best friend.

She cursed her own stupidity.

"Incendio!"

She set fire to the display in front of her. The first fireworks started to go off a second later. Then she banished the display towards Fred. More and more fireworks were going off. Shooting Stars peppered the ceiling. Screaming Screwdrivers whirled around, setting fire to the Nagging Newspapers. Explosions toppled the basket of Wilting Wands, and smoke started to fill the room.

Perfect!

Daphne sprinted towards Tracey, stumbling when a Howling Howitzer struck her shield. She ignored the embers dotting the witch's robe - Tracey could heal from that, but not from the curses the Weasleys used - and aimed her wand at the door.

"Reducto!"

Her spell hit the door and exploded.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

She barely heard her own voice in the deafening noise. Just a few steps… the door was untouched!

"Reducto!" she yelled in desperation. How strong were the protections on the door?

"Alohomora!"

She threw herself at the door, to no avail. She was trapped in here. Trapped in this inferno. Trapped with the Weasleys. More rockets hit her Shield Charm. Another hit Tracey. Tracey!

Daphne used her wand to drag her friend behind her. She needed to shield her from the fireworks going off. She took a step forward, and almost fell when she slipped on a scroll. Half the shop's stock was now strewn or flying around. A dragon made of green fire blocked the way to the back room. Not that she would have any chance to get through both twins. She couldn't even get through a damn door! If only Tracey… Daphne blinked, and could have cursed herself for her own stupidity.

"Rennervate!"

Tracey began to stir, then yelled with pain.

"Open the damn door!" Daphne screamed at her, wildly casting spells towards the back of the shop. "Open it or we're dead!"

Her friend shrieked when a firework hit the window near her and bounced off, but finally recovered her wits and started to cast at the door. The smoke was clearing. The fireworks going off were diminishing. The dragon had disappeared already. A Spinning Wheel was fizzling out. Soon the twins would have clear lines of fire.

"Tracey! Hurry!"

The two would die in here. And it was all Daphne's fault for forgetting to wake up her friend! A single mistake!

Daphne blew up the stack of Galloping Glasses, sending shards and enchanted glasses flying when Tracey grabbed her arm. "Come!"

The two witches stumbled through the door, into Diagon Alley. Daphne's shield shattered, and she felt something strike her back. For a moment, she was certain she was cursed. Dead. But there was no pain. And then she realised that joke items were shooting out of the shop, together with one lone firework.

A second later, she apparated away.

*****​

Hogwarts, November 23rd, 1996

Albus Dumbledore had rarely seen the Weasley twins as angry as they appeared to be when they entered his office through the Floo connection. He had rarely seen them angry at all. Acting as if they were angry, outraged at whatever accusation a teacher leveled against them, yes. Truly enraged, no.

"Death Eaters just attacked our shop!" one of them, Fred, Albus thought, bellowed. "They used polyjuice to appear as harmless customers!"

"Oh?" Albus doubted they'd sit down, but he conjured seats for them anyway.

"Half of the shop is destroyed! They set fire to it." Fred shook his head. "If I hadn't removed their disguises…"

"By accident!" George cut in.

Fred glared at his brother. "It was no accident; I wanted to use our new formula."

"But you didn't expect them to be disguised. You just thought it would be a nice prank to impress two girls." George shook his head. "You were lucky."

Albus cleared his throat. "I assume then that you have finished the project I asked you to undertake?"

Both nodded. "Yes, sir," Fred said. "Instant Dryness mixed with a derived formula that will remove magical disguises."

"He means polyjuice. It will not affect animagi, metamorphmagi or disillusionment charms," George clarified.

Albus smiled. They had been quicker than he expected. "I'm impressed."

"Don't be," George said. "The two Death Eaters escaped, and now the enemy knows what we did." He gestured towards his brother. "The lovestruck fool here was unable to capture them."

"Lovestruck fool?" Fred scoffed. "You're just jealous."

Albus cleared his throat. As entertaining it was to see the twins argue with each other, instead of unite against a teacher, an attack by Death Eaters was serious. When both wizards looked at him with a rather sheepish expression, he nodded. "Please tell me what happened, from the beginning."

"Of course. It started a month ago, when those two girls, Mary and Cassandra, started to visit our shop," George said. Fred opened his mouth, but a glance from Albus silenced him, and the other twin continued. "They flirted for almost an hour with Fred, before buying our products. They returned a few days later, to flirt some more. Two weeks ago they were back, all afraid of Death Eaters, saying they were half-bloods. Fred did his best to console them." The twins exchanged glares. "And today, they were even more nervous."

"You weren't there when they entered. I was," Fred said. "They were even more nervous, yes. I demonstrated our formula, and Mary and Cassandra turned into Greengrass - the elder one - and Davis. I managed to stun Davis, but Greengrass set fire to the stalls at the entrance, woke up her friend, and they managed to flee from the shop. Despite the locked door." Fred grinned. "I hit Greengrass with a 'Traceless Tracker' though, so we know where they apparated to."

That was very good news, Albus thought. Provided the two witches were actually Death Eaters. "Did they attack you?"

"They were panicking," Fred said. "They were about to, but I was faster. Still… half the shop went up in flames. Mostly. That'll hurt our finances."

"Given your latest achievement, I'm certain Sirius will cover the damages," Albus said. The two boys perked up.

"We can strike at their hideout," George said. "Make them pay for this - figuratively."

"We don't know if they kidnapped Cassandra and Mary to impersonate them!" Fred said. "We can't just attack their house."

"Are you still stupid? Didn't she duck under our greeting joke?" George huffed. "That was a spy mission from the start, and you fell for it like a confunded Hufflepuff!"

"What?" Fred glared at his brother.

"Please," Albus said. "This is a serious incident. Though I have to agree that we cannot assume that the two witches were Death Eaters. Given your house, and family, and past, two young Slytherins could very well have chosen Polyjuice to visit your shop, to avoid trouble from their families and friends." Stranger things had happened, after all.

George scoffed. Fred glared at him. "I'm just saying we can't set Hermione on them. Not if there's a possibility that they have innocents imprisoned."

Albus didn't react to Miss Granger's name, though he agreed with that statement, if not for the same reasons. "Well, gentlemen, it appears that there is a need to gather more information before we act rashly. And with your shop in such a state, you will not be expected to be out and about for some time."

"You mean we should spy on them?" Fred asked.

"Yes. We need to know just what happened, before we can decide on the proper response." Albus smiled. "How likely is it that your 'Traceless Tracker' will be discovered?

"It's called 'traceless' because it vanishes when it's touched, or if the Disillusionment Charm on it is dispelled, or after a set amount of time," George explained.

"Six hours, in this case," Fred said. "There are a few ways to bypass that, but I doubt the Slytherins will know or think of them."

"They will not expect to be tracked then. Very good." The Headmaster rubbed his chin. "Where did they apparate to?"

"Dorset." Fred pulled out a map. "I've marked it here - it's not near any muggle houses."

*****​

Dorset, November 23rd, 1996

"... and that's when we managed to apparate away," Daphne Greengrass finished. Tracey was sitting next to her, on the couch of Draco's home. They were still shaking, hours after their close brush with death.

"They can counter Polyjuice?" Draco shook his head. "Have they made a deal with the goblins? Where did they get the gold to pay for that secret… Black! It has to be Black! That blood traitor! Wasting the gold of my family!" He sighed. "But you managed to escape them with your lives despite this surprise."

"They didn't expect us. Fred looked surprised when whatever he used worked. If they had been prepared we'd be dead," Tracey said.

"They still almost killed us." Daphne closed her eyes. If only she had thought to wake up Tracey right away.

"On the other hand, their shop was damaged," Draco pointed out. "That will cost them more gold that could have been spent on fighting us."

Daphne didn't think that was a big achievement, but held her tongue. Although, discovering that the blood traitors had found a way to deal with Polyjuice was important information for the Dark Lord.

Draco started to pace. "But it's obvious that we cannot depend on Polyjuice anymore. We'll have to find another way to strike at the blood traitors and mudbloods."

Tracey, never one to hold her tongue, snorted. "We didn't do well at the Burrow without Polyjuice."

Draco scoffed and made a dismissive gesture. "That was a trap. Other attacks succeeded, like the one against Longbottom. We just have to pick our target carefully."

"And find it," Tracey added. "Most are in hiding. As are we."

Draco glared at that reminder. "The blood traitors still visit Diagon Alley and the Ministry."

"Under the eyes of the Aurors," Daphne said.

"Some of them are quite sympathetic to our cause," Draco retorted.

"If we show our faces, we'll also draw attention. We might get attacked." Tracey frowned. "We might even be sought by the Aurors right now, if they claimed we tried to rob them."

"You two, robbing a joke shop? The Ministry knows better than that. And the Wizengamot is on our side." Draco smiled.

"It's not going to be on our side that much longer, if Dumbledore has his way," Daphne said. Her uncle had told her about the latest development in the Ministry.

Draco suddenly had a glint in his eyes. "We might have to do something about that. I will ask the Dark Lord for advice." He seemed to be already thinking about how to approach the Dark Lord, and probably how to claim the credit for discovering that the blood traitors could counter Polyjuice.

She didn't really mind. The less she was known to the Dark Lord, the easier it would be to avoid attention. She exchanged a glance with Tracey, who seemed to share her thoughts. "We'll go home then."

Astoria had been asking more frequently what Daphne was doing, and all but demanded to help her.

Daphne had no intention at all of letting her little sister get involved in this. Not after the Weasleys had shown their true colours in such drastic ways.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, November 23rd, 1996

Hermione Granger could think of worse missions than scouting out a Death Eater base in Knockturn Alley at night from the air, but not that many. She knew both Harry and Ron loved flying, but she hadn't ever been that comfortable in the air. At least not on a broom. She could fly, contrary to some tales that had gone around at school, but she'd never love it.

But she had other things to do than focus on the possibility of her broom failing and her falling down. She needed to find a way to break into this house. Preferably without alerting both the Ministry and the Dark Lord, but she'd settle for a quick way in and out, so the Resistance could be done and gone before any response would arrive.

The underground was out; after the bombing of the potion shop of the traitor, the Death Eaters would have reinforced their basements. And laid traps. And then there were the wards. Any conventional attack on the wards would allow the Death Eaters to call for help - and even if they didn't want to call upon their fellow murderers, they could inform the Ministry's Aurors. A bomb of sufficient power dropped from above would take down the wards. And destroy the houses nearby which were not quite as strongly warded. Evacuating them beforehand would certainly alert the Death Eaters. But killing so many civilians… Hermione shook her head.

A directed explosion would solve that problem. Maybe a shaped charge of sorts. Blow a hole into the wall, and take down the wards at the same time. She had thought about such a device, and made some calculations, but she lacked the skill to construct one. A penetrator dropped from high enough would go through the wards as well, but both reaching such a height and aiming it would be hard. As would avoiding muggle attention.

It looked like they would have to use a rather daring tactic to get inside the house. A plan Hermione would have preferred to save for another target, but as long as no witnesses were left alive, that wouldn't be a problem.

A lot would be riding on one person, though. She didn't like such plans. But she couldn't think of a better way to get inside the wards and capture the Death Eaters.

Not that it meant her current mission was done - the Resistance needed to know who was coming and going through the doors.

*****​

Hogwarts, November 24th, 1996

Harry Potter rolled over the stone floor, blindly casting with his wand until smoke filled the air around him. That should throw his opponent's aim off, and allow him to recast his Shield Charm!

Some liquid splashed over his face and chest before he finished the charm. He clenched his teeth, then yelled "I'm out!". He had learned his lesson - if Moody didn't hear him surrendering after getting hit, the spells would keep coming, and would become more painful.

And Moody's training was already painful enough. Even Snape's Occlumency training hadn't been that bad.

"Damn, Harry!" Ron yelled. "Now I'm… OW!"

"And that's another double-defeat, boys," Moody said.

Harry was certain the old Auror was shaking his head, though he couldn't see that through the smoke he had conjured.

"And what have we learned?" Moody asked, dispelling the smoke and chuckling at Harry's paint-covered face.

The boy sighed. "If your enemy is hiding inside smoke, use an area-effect spell."

"Not exactly." Moody frowned. "Weasley?"

"Uh… don't use, I mean, don't count on smoke as cover?" Ron said.

Moody sighed theatrically. "Boys… the lesson is: Transfigure the air around your enemy into smoke. He can't see you, and you can see what he's doing while you seek cover or hide. Other than that, you showed better teamwork. Still not cunning or sneaky enough to beat me, but I guess you'd have beaten a rookie Auror."

"We'd have beaten a rookie Auror even before we started training with you," Harry mumbled. When he saw the grizzled wizard stare at him, he narrowed his eyes and scowled. "They're rubbish."

Moody held his gaze for a moment, then started to chuckle. "Most of them are rubbish, aye. But not everyone. So, what does that make you?"

"Better than rubbish," Ron said, rubbing ointment on his forearm.

"You don't aim high, Weasley, do you?"

Ron scoffed. "Just high enough to win. Showing off is bad."

Harry nodded. Another lesson Moody had hexed into them. "You said yourself, we work well together. And you complained about Aurors not working together until they've been around for a few years."

"Caught that, did you?" Moody grinned. "Maybe I wanted you to think that, hm?"

"We have independent confirmation of that." Harry cleaned the paint off his face and robe with a Cleaning Charm.

"Oh, you have?" Moody looked at them. "Not from Tonks."

"Hermione took down two of them at once." Harry wasn't about to tell Moody about the Aurors Allan had murdered.

"Yes. And Hermione wasn't the best in Defense among us," Ron added.

"You've been talking to her, hm?" Moody's scarred face twitched, but Harry couldn't tell if he was angry or amused.

"None of your business," Ron spat.

"It was in the newspaper anyway," Harry said.

"Maybe you're making progress with getting a bit sneakier," Moody said. "You still need more training before we can go off hunting."

"Where are we going first, anyway?" Harry asked, brushing his trousers off. He glanced at Ron, who was slowly getting up and ambling over to the basket with the snacks. Behind Moody.

"Gringotts is closest. And safest, as long as you don't start a fight with the goblins. The buggers are spoiling for one, right now." Moody scratched his cheek and bared his teeth.

"What?" This was the first time Harry had heard about that.

Ron was rummaging in the basket, and glanced back over his shoulder. "Harry, do you want a cauldron cake?"

Harry nodded. "Yes." He turned to Moody. "The goblins want a fight?"

"Aye. The scum always try to attack if they think the wizards are weak." Moody coughed. "They almost started a rebellion during the last war. Albus stopped them, but he never told me what he did."

"Catch!" Ron said, throwing the cake towards Harry, and pointing his wand at Moody's back.

Harry was already moving, his own wand flashing forward.

"Stupefy!"

"Stupefy!"

The old Auror had dropped to the floor though, causing both spells to miss. Harry was already moving and casting, but he missed while Moody slid over the floor as if it was ice. Ron was hit with a Disarming Charm, strong enough to bowl him over. Harry's friend hit the floor, hard.

Harry sidestepped a Hex, and his foot simply kept going, finding no purchase. He ended up on the floor, and yelled in pain when he pulled a muscle. Then he yelled again when Moody's Stinging Hex hit his face.

"I'm out!" he said, but another Disarming Charm had already hit him, and he slid over the floor - which Moody had turned into ice, he realised.

"Better. You need to pay more attention to your surroundings, and remember that I have an eye in the back of my head. But that was your best try yet, with the cake thrown as a distraction. If that trick hadn't been old when I graduated, it might have even worked - if you'd had better aim."

Harry numbed his hurting thigh and slowly, carefully stood up. He needed more ointment.

"I think we'll work on aiming and dodging for the rest of today," Moody said, grinning widely. "If you do well enough, we'll talk about how to fight goblins next session. Just in case."

Harry nodded while checking up on his groaning friend. They were making progress, at least. But Moody was convinced that pain was the best teacher.

If Hermione could see them now… At least they now had another story to tell their friend. And plan the next ambush.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, November 25th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle had grown used to the glances and glares she received from some Aurors, even months after she had lost her partner. Some people never forgave or forgot. Being glared at in the Auror offices for doing her job though, that was a new experience. And not one she liked.

"Damn idiots!" she muttered, closing the door to her office behind her. "The fact that I'm hunting the mudbloods doesn't make me a Death Eater."

Martin, loyal partner and in the same boat, nodded. "People are going crazy ever since Shacklebolt started his purge."

Brenda shook her head. "Shack's doing his job, like we're doing ours. People don't like that he took the task force over from Dawlish and is having success."

"Rumour has it he's working for Dumbledore, hunting down Death Eaters - and people opposing Dumbledore's policies. Including us, for hunting mudbloods."

Brenda cocked her head to the side. Martin looked concerned. "Where did you hear that?"

Her partner shrugged. "I've heard it from a few people."

Before Brenda could ask who exactly was spreading this, Parkinson entered. "Damn blood traitors! Shacklebolt is just waiting to arrest me!" the man loudly complained, before conjuring a seat for himself.

Brenda glanced at Martin, who shrugged. "Really?" she asked.

"He's been asking me questions about my aunt. The kind of questions you ask a suspect." Parkinson scoffed. "How stupid does he think I am? He wants to arrest me because I'm no mudblood lover." He looked up. "And you're on his list as well. He probably suspects that you've something big going to get the mudbloods, and will try to stop you."

Brenda frowned. She knew Shack had ambitions, but she didn't think he'd go as far as framing people. "In the kind of investigation he's running, he has to suspect everyone."

"That's his excuse! He said so to my face!" Parkinson sneered. "But we all know that Shack's job is not going to help him with his career. Hunting down the relatives and friends of Wizengamot members? That's what leads to blacklisting. And Shack's smart. He knows that." He grinned. "So, why would he volunteer for this?"

"Maybe he lost someone dear to him to the Death Eaters," Brenda said. "Or he thinks that at the end of the war, things will have changed." Long odds for that, in her opinion.

"Oh, I bet he hopes things will have changed! That's why he's doing this for Dumbledore!" Parkinson ground his teeth. "The old man aims to take over Britain, and turn it into a mudblood country. Haven't you heard that he refused to support the Ministry against the Mudblood Resistance?"

"I hadn't heard that," Brenda admitted.

"I've heard it from Fudge's secretary herself. The Minister and Bones weren't that happy about it, apparently. Still think he's not a mudblood lover?" Parkinson sneered.

"Dumbledore likes mudbloods, everyone knows that," Martin cut in. "That doesn't mean Shack shares those views."

"Well, I certainly never saw him with the 'right kind of purebloods', if you get my drift."

Brenda nodded. If an Auror had ambitions, they needed friends in high places. If Shacklebolt wasn't with the Death Eaters, he'd be with Dumbledore. Maybe. "That still does not prove that he'll frame us."

"If he's working for Dumbledore, then he's working with the mudbloods." Parkinson sneered. "Why do you think that they keep escaping us?"

"Are you telling me he's a spy?"

Parkinson shrugged. "Spy, saboteur, mole…"

"He'll have enough on his plate hunting the actual Death Eaters," Brenda said. Which might include Parkinson.

"Oh, yes. He hasn't made any friends. If he ever needs support from the Hit-Wizards, or more Aurors, then that'll be interesting."

Brenda narrowed her eyes. If the spies of both sides in the Ministry started to attack or assassinate each other… They might believe she was a spy just because she wasn't with them. "Maybe we should have gone undercover. It seems safer than working in the office right now." She sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

"Bit late for that," Parkinson said. "But I'd maybe change my address."

Brenda knew the Floo Network had been sabotaged by Death Eaters during their wave of attacks. She looked at Martin, who had a grim expression on his face."Well," she sighed, "we're hunting the Resistance, and if they have a spy here…"

"We don't know that," Martin cut in.

"We can't really risk it either." Brenda had thought the mudbloods at least had no spies in the Ministry. But if they were working with Dumbledore… "We might as well pick a flat among muggles."

"What?" Parkinson stared at her.

"The mudbloods won't use bombs in the middle of Muggle London," Brenda explained. At least she hoped so.

The wizard looked surprised, then he grinned and rubbed his chin. "I see. That's a good idea. The mudbloods wouldn't want to kill muggles, right?"

Martin nodded. "We expect that they would lose too much support if they started killing muggles."

"I guess I'll have to find myself a muggle flat as well." Parkinson grinned. "Unless you want a third roommate?"

Brenda looked at Martin, who shrugged. She'd rather not share a flat with Parkinson, but that wasn't the kind of thing you refused a man who was supposed to have your back. They'd manage. That at least. "There's one problem though." She drew a hissing breath through her teeth.

"Yes?" Parkinson's expression made it clear that he was planning to remove that problem, no matter how.

"We need to learn how to fit in among muggles."

Judging by Martin's and Parkinson's expression, neither had thought of that.

*****​

London, Soho, November 26th

Hermione Granger had put her foot down when Sirius had asked to meet in a nightclub again. She had told him flat-out that it was not 'traditional', but impractical. They needed to talk to each other without being interrupted or distracted by the kind of girls who apparently found Sirius as charming as he claimed he was.

Which was why she found herself in a hotel room in London with a grinning Sirius. She frowned at him. "Next time we rent a room as a girl with her dog, not as a couple."

Sirius grinned at her. "Muggle hotels allow pets now? They didn't in the 70s. Lily told me so."

Hermione was quite certain she knew why Harry's mother had told Sirius that. "I think they don't allow Padfoots." Which was true.

Sirius snorted. "Anyway, it's just the two of us now. No one will disturb us here. And our spells ensure privacy. Just as you wanted."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Sirius. "Yes, Harry. Sirius took me to a hotel room, so we could have some privacy."

The wizard pouted at her. "When you say it like that it sounds bad."

"You just said the same thing." Hermione shook her head. "Let's get down to business." She ignored his chuckle at that. "We're preparing a strike against a Death Eater base in Knockturn Alley. We need some way to spy on them, so we know what we're facing. Do you have something that would help with that? Like the Wireless Ears?"

Sirius tapped his index finger to his lips. "Hm. To place those you need to get inside, which kind of defeats the purpose. But the twins are currently on a similar mission, so they would have something to get past wards."

"Oh? They're spying on the Slytherins who tried to sneak into their shop? Greengrass and Davis?" Hermione had heard the gist of that from her friends.

"Yes. The two witches didn't notice the tracker they were tagged with, and led the twins to their base." The wizard grinned. "Quite careless of them, but then, they were panicking, or so I heard."

"Where is their base?" If they were such amateurs, then the Resistance would not have any trouble wiping their cell out.

"Somewhere in Dorset. Though there's some doubt whether the girls are Death Eaters or not. Hence the spying." Sirius shook his head, clearly showing what he thought of that.

Hermione nodded. Greengrass's sister had tried to kill the Gryffindor third years, after all. "Well, if you'd get us some spy gear, we can use it."

Sirius nodded. "I'll ask them. Since I'm funding their research, I'm certain they'll share the results." With a sly grin, he added: "Ah… to think of the lengths we went to back at Hogwarts to spy on the girls' showers…"

Hermione glared at him, but didn't ask if that was true or not. She'd rather not know. "Good."

"I've heard your broadcasts. Quite interesting," Sirius said. "Did you manage to make the van invisible yet?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "No. As expected, it's quite difficult." Invisibility Cloaks didn't last long, after all, and were quite rare. Apart from Harry's. "We're working on simply adapting the Disillusionment Charm, and until then, we charm the colours to match the sky at night."

"Ah." Sirius grinned. "As long as it works it's good enough."

Hermione sighed. "It's more work though. But we'll manage. How is your family doing?" He'd know what she was asking.

"The Tonkses?" He sighed. "Andromeda and Ted have been through the last war; they know Bellatrix wants to kill them all and understand what we have to do to beat the Death Eaters. Nymphadora is still not certain if she's an Auror first, or an Order member." He shook his head. "Though the recent rift inside the Corps might finally make her see reason."

"Rift?" Hermione hadn't heard about that.

"Seems that the split between Death Eaters and 'blood traitors' is worsening. Nymphadora said there's talk of purges, and worse. And since she's considered a blood traitor simply for existing…" He grinned widely.

She nodded in agreement. "She needs to understand that this is a war. Police and their procedures have no place in it."

"Indeed." Sirius rummaged through the mini bar in the room. "Fancy a muggle whiskey?"

"No, thank you. Soda please." She certainly wouldn't drink alcohol on a mission.

"Suit yourself." He tossed her a soda, ensuring she'd have to wait until she could open it, and grabbed the whiskey for himself. After one sip he frowned. "Are they allowed to serve this to their guests?"

"You picked the hotel." Hermione grinned.

"I did." He huffed, but didn't put the bottle away. "So…" He leaned forward. "... tell me how the dates went, hm?"

She narrowed her eyes. "That's none of your business."

"But… I need to know. Harry's my responsibility. How can I teach him how to improve when I don't know what he did wrong?"

"What makes you think he did anything wrong?" Hermione huffed.

"Well, he's not asking me for advice on how to properly satisfy a witch."

Hermione rubbed her forehead. The worst thing was that she couldn't tell if Sirius was actually being serious or not.

*****​

Hogwarts, November 27th, 1996

"So… Albus will talk to the goblins, but even if they give us their permission to search Gringotts - which is by no means certain - that doesn't mean it'll safe to do so." Moody grinned. "If we fall victim to a trap they forgot to tell us about, or run into some of their 'disgruntled criminal elements', they'll claim it wasn't their fault if we get hurt."

Harry Potter was surprised how close Moody's teaching was to the impostor's lessons in 4th year. Not that he'd mention that, ever, to the old Auror.

"Goblins have criminals?" Ron asked.

"Goblins are criminals, lad," Moody said. "Assume they want to rob you, kill you, and eat you, and that just the threat of swift and brutal retribution keeps them in check."

Harry blinked. That was the first time he'd heard this. "What?"

"Why would we trust them with our gold if they were criminals?" Ron shook his head. "That doesn't make sense!"

The Auror grinned. "It makes sense if you consider the fact that we fought countless times against the goblins. They're a bunch of bloodthirsty monsters. The only thing they love more than blood is gold."

"So, we gave them our gold? We paid them off?" Ron shook his head. Harry had to agree - that sounded barmy.

"Well, after we beat them the last time, and apparently were considering ending their race, they finally seemed to wise up and accept that they couldn't raid Britain anymore. So they offered us a deal."

"That still doesn't explain why we gave them gold. Instead of taking it from them," Ron said.

"Gold was the key part of the deal. Galleons, Knuts and Sickles cannot be counterfeited or copied. The goblins use their own magic to mint them. Something that Wizarding Britain never managed. They've protected the secret with rituals and magic…" Moody shook his head. "A few rebellions broke out when they suspected that the wizards were trying to find out their secrets so they could mint coins as well."

Harry was confused. "Didn't that deal end the Goblin Rebellions?"

Moody laughed. "No, the deal ended the Goblin Wars. Since Gringotts was founded, there haven't been any wars, just rebellions. Usually by 'disgruntled elements'."

"I still think giving them our gold is barmy if they are that bad," Ron grumbled. "What keeps them from simply taking the gold from us, and then rebelling again?"

"There are safeguards in place, or so the Ministry claims. But the biggest reason they won't do that is that we'd wipe them out in response." Moody grinned. "The nasty little buggers know that. We've only gotten more dangerous since the Goblin Wars. They haven't been able to keep up."

Harry wasn't quite certain what he should be feeling about the fact that, apparently, only the threat of genocide kept the peace between goblins and humans.

"They could be trying to lull us into a false sense of security. Build up their forces, fool us with a few rebellions that are easily put down," Ron said.

"Ah, now you're thinking properly!" Moody grinned. "Of course they're trying to do that. But on the other hand, they haven't managed to do so in hundreds of years. And we're keeping an eye on them. They need human employees, after all, for all tasks that need wands."

"And yet they almost started a rebellion in the last war?"

"Of course. They're like animals - if they sense a weakness, they'll pounce. The trick is to not show any weakness. Or at least remind them regularly that no matter how weak the average wizard looks, Britain still has the wands to put the goblins down for good." Moody laughed. "Though that's a task for Albus. I'm here to teach you how to fight goblins."

He stood up. "Fortunately, their way of fighting doesn't use wands, so we can use conjuration to get us some training dummies."

Harry cursed and threw himself to the side, drawing his wand. As expected, there were already some crude goblin-like figures behind them. As he blasted the closest apart, noticing that Ron was doing the same, Moody laughed again. "You are learning, boys! Maybe this won't be as much of a babysitting job as I feared."

Harry would have liked to answer with some cutting remark about old people who should be in a home for the elderly, but he was too busy defending himself against an onslaught of goblin look-alikes.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, November 27th, 1996

Albus Dumbledore was smiling at the goblins standing guard at the entrance to Gringotts. They didn't react, of course. They never did. He knew it riled them up though - goblins had to be polite, lest they suffer the consequences. Albus could afford to be polite because he wanted to.

He had a quick chat with Eberhard Faulkner. Hufflepuff, half-blood, owner of 'Faulkner's Furs', and reassured the man that he was doing all he could to deal with the Death Eaters, then approached the closest free teller.

"Good morning, sir." He nodded slowly at the surly goblin. "I would like to talk to a manager, if one of them has time to meet me." Again, he knew that his polite request was anything but a request - Gringotts could not afford not to meet with the Chief Warlock. But Albus was polite and respectful, no matter if it was appreciated or not. It was a matter of principle.

A few minutes later, he was led to the office of Gutripper, a member of the management, as the leadership of the bank had been calling themselves since 1972. "Greetings, Gutripper. Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice."

"Of course, Chief Warlock. What can we do for you?"

"There are two matters I would like to discuss." Albus smiled, then looked at the mounted head of a Deep Crawler behind the goblin. "Is that a new trophy?"

"Yes. I acquired it a few months ago." Gutripper showed his teeth, briefly.

"Impressive." Albus had noticed that the goblin had not gone into detail just how he acquired that trophy, but didn't ask.

"But I would not want to waste the time of such an important wizard," the goblin said, the effort it took him to avoid sneering obvious to Albus, "so, what can we do for you?"

"I have heard some rumours about a dark artifact hidden in Gringotts," Albus said.

"We're not responsible for whatever items are stored in wizards' vaults," the goblin said quickly.

"Of course not. I would never blame you for what crimes wizards commit," Albus told the goblin. "But you are responsible for the discretion and safety guaranteed to the owner of a vault, are you not?"

"Yes. That's stipulated in our standard contract." The goblin was guarded now. He had to know what Albus wanted.

"Indeed. But that does not include hiding contraband and banned items, right?" It didn't, but everyone knew that for the right price, Gringotts would do almost anything.

"Of course not. Though some might suspect that a search for an illegal artifact was but a pretext to spy on vault owners."

"Well, they would be wrong." That was just a benefit. "I am concerned about a very dark - and dangerous - artifact. Dangerous to Gringotts as well."

"Really?" Gutripper's teeth were showing fully now. "And why wouldn't our employees have noticed this?"

"Because the magic that conceals it is beyond their power," Albus said with a smile. It was true too, no matter how much it galled the goblins.

"I see." Gutripper hissed more than he spoke. "And will you conduct this search in person?"

"I will be in the area, in case I am needed, but there are a few specialists who will be searching. I would appreciate it if you would provide them with all the help they request for this task. It is of the utmost importance." He met the goblin's eyes directly. "It goes without saying that I will personally hold the bank responsible for their safety."

"I see," Gutripper pressed out through his clenched jaws.

"Good. I was afraid there would be some misunderstandings." Albus smiled widely. "With tempers riled up in the current conflict, misunderstandings could have catastrophic consequences."

The goblin paled just a shade. "Of course. When will those people arrive?"

"On the 29th. Probably after business hours - I would not want to inconvenience you." He smiled again.

"Thank you for your consideration. You mentioned another matter you wished to discuss."

"Ah, yes. There were rumours, or rather, speculations about Gringotts' stance in the conflict with Voldemort."

"Gringotts does not meddle with internal matters of Wizarding Britain," Gutripper spat.

"Oh, that is not what I am concerned about." Albus leaned forward. "I overheard some of my students discussing their latest lesson in Magic History. They talked about how often goblin rebellions were started in times of turmoil. Like Wizarding Britain is currently experiencing."

"Mere speculation, I assure you." Gutripper smiled showing all his teeth,

"Oh, I am convinced you would never be as foolish as that. After all, this would be seen by the Ministry and other concerned parties as siding with Voldemort." Albus bared his teeth. "And I know you are very much aware of the kind of retribution that would follow. From the Ministry." He noticed that the goblin was slightly sneering. "And from the people who destroyed Malfoy Manor. And of course, from me."

The goblin wasn't sneering anymore. "The Muggleborn Resistance is fighting the Ministry. They might welcome allies."

Albus snorted. "They are well aware of what kind of allies you are, and what your goals are." And if not, they soon would be. Harry and Mister Weasley certainly would tell Miss Granger all about it. "But even if they did not - do you think they will let you go back to the old ways of raids and pillaging? Have you forgotten how muggles have changed? How they wage war these days? What weapons they wield?"

"Muggles cannot even find us, much less fight us."

"But muggleborns can. And they will destroy you, to protect the muggles. Or themselves." Albus leaned back in his chair. "The times you yearn for have passed. Both in Wizarding Britain and in muggle Britain. And be glad for that."

Gutripper slowly nodded, his voice a whisper. "I understand."

"Good." Albus stood up. "I am glad we had this talk. It is far better to avoid a misunderstanding than to deal with it after it has happened."

"Of course."

Albus nodded politely, and left the goblin to stew in his frustration and rage. He hoped that the rest of Gringotts' leadership would see reason as well.

Otherwise, they might discover just how much the times had changed - to their, likely fatal, detriment.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, November 28th, 1996

"That's some clever gadget you've got there."

Hermione Granger looked up from the scroll the enchanted quill was filling, and at the Headmaster's brother. "The Wireless Voles?" She didn't know if the old wizard was talking about the latest invention of the Weasley twins, or the enchanted goggles she was wearing.

"Yes. Ingenious… that they can pass through wards…" he shook his head.

"That's actually simple. The things are completely harmless, so they do not register as a danger. And they are not alive, so they do not register as animals. Despite looking like voles."

Hermione knew that should the secret of their existence get out, people would be able to use counter-measures. A simple privacy spell would fool them, unlike the Wireless Ears. But as the Death Eaters in the house across the street proved, not many would think of using such spells in the privacy of a warded house.

"I didn't invent them," she added. "Nor did I name them." She certainly wouldn't have chosen such a silly name!

While Aberforth chuckled, Hermione moved a bit closer to the window of the deserted flat they were hiding in. From the remains of the torn newspapers they had found - looters hadn't taken those - it had belonged to a muggleborn. The Death Eater hideout looked unchanged. Just another house in the alley. As long as the windows remained dark, no one would suspect their presence.

"Bit of a waste to spy on them like that, only to attack the place."

She wasn't certain if the man was serious, or simply testing her. He was a bit like his brother in that regard, Hermione thought - not that she'd mention that, again. "This is just a recruiting post. The scum who frequent it won't know anything valuable. Not enough to let them continue. We want to catch their liaison or leader. They know more important people and locations."

The wizard nodded. "You're set on this then."

"Yes." She glanced at the man. Did he think she'd shy away from attacking Death Eaters? Or killing them?

"Despite the risk."

She shrugged. "It's a solid plan. I trust you to protect the trunk until we're inside." And to set it up in a good spot as well. That went without saying.

"Albus put in a good word for me?" he asked, a bit too casually.

Hermione was well aware of his opinion of the Headmaster. "He picked you to help us." She had checked though, just to ensure the old wizard's reputation as a wastrel was wrong. The Headmaster had told a few tales…

"I see."

She wasn't certain what he meant, but nodded, and focused on observing the door. "There should be a man named Callum leaving soon. He just said he'd be back in two days."

Aberforth moved forward to stand next to her. "I know the man. Drunk and violent, but not useless with a wand. He'll do."

Hermione didn't offer to help subdue the man. If Dumbledore's brother couldn't handle one Death Eater, then she would have to reconsider her plan.

She didn't think that would be needed though.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, November 29th, 1996

"The bank looked much less foreboding before I knew so much about goblins," Harry heard Ron mutter next to him as they made their way to Gringotts. The sun had already set, and there weren't many people left in Diagon Alley. These days, no one wanted to be outside their wards at night. They were missing the next broadcast of the Resistance, but this was more important.

"Did you never wonder why Binns covers so many Goblin Rebellions?" Moody snorted behind them. "He knows exactly what cruel buggers they are, and does his best to remind everyone of that fact."

"Well, his best is not exactly much," Harry said. "He's boring. I doubt anyone pays attention to him."

"Hermione does. Did," Ron said.

"Not since first year. She was reading the book while he talked." Harry saw Ron glance at him. "She told me last week."

"Ah." Ron looked at the Goblin guards. "Are they expecting us?"

"Aye," Moody said. "Albus had a talk with them. They should be on their best behaviour. Which, mind you, isn't all that good."

"Great," Harry mumbled. Then he straightened up. This was an important mission. He and Ron could finally do something important in the war. Grumbling about it wouldn't do.

"Moody and company. We're expected by Gutripper," the old Auror told the guards at the door.

The two goblins didn't react at all, and for a moment, Harry thought there had been a mistake. But then the door opened, and another goblin stood in the entrance. "Come inside."

The three stepped inside, and the goblin seemed to hesitate.

Moody laughed. "Don't worry about Dumbledore. He's watching."

The goblin - Harry didn't know if he was Gutripper, or just a doorman, seemed to scowl at that, but then nodded, and closed the door.

"You know what we're here to do. Let's get on with it!" Moody said "We're wasting time standing around..."

"Follow me." The goblin turned around without checking if they were.

Harry sighed, and cast the modified Supersensory Charm. Now he just had to walk around and hope for a headache. Simple. As long as the goblins didn't betray and ambush them.

The goblin led the three wizards to the entrance to the vaults. "We're not taking the cart," Moody said as soon as they saw one of the contraptions. "Too easy to sabotage."

"If we wanted to kill you, you'd be dead," the goblin growled.

"Yes, and Albus would avenge us. But some of you might be dumb enough to think that if it looks like a 'tragic accident', he might not kill the lot of you." Moody grinned. "Best not to risk an accident, hm?"

Without a further word, the goblin led them to another door. And to stairs that seemed to descend forever.

"We could take out our brooms and fly down," Ron said, earning a glare from Moody. Apparently, they were supposed to keep those a secret, Harry thought. As if it made much of a difference.

After what felt like eternity, they reached the first vaults. And Harry discovered that the spell made any pain much worse. Including the slight ache in his leg. He groaned.

"Harry?" Ron looked around. "Do you…?"

He shook his head. "No. Just my legs."

"Oh. Oh!" Ron winced in sympathy. "That's going to be nasty."

It was. A few hours later, Harry's whole body ached terribly, but for his scar. And there was still a level of vaults left. At least the goblins had not broken their agreement.

The goblin was glaring at them. Harry hoped the bugger was feeling as tired and bad as he was. The creature had been a pain to follow, and about as helpful as a rock with an attitude. Ron, Harry and Moody had regularly cast detection spells of all kinds, but Harry was not quite certain that had fooled the goblin. He was past caring though. All he wanted was for this to end, and then head to Hogwarts, guzzle down two or three Pain Relief Potions, and sleep for a week.

Ron was looking haggard as well, and even Moody hadn't berated them for not being as vigilant as a paranoid cat in a room full of rocking chairs for an hour at least. One more level, and they'd be done.

Then Harry's scar started to hurt. So much, he winced and bent over, groaning.

"Harry?"

"Lad?"

"Yes…" Harry closed his eyes. "I'm fine." He cast another detection spell, which he didn't need, and started to act as if he was following his wand while he tried to sense where the pain was worst.

For the next minutes, he walked around, aimlessly and unable to find which vault the Horcrux was stored in. Only when he finally sat down to catch his breath though did the pain from his scar grow even worse.

"It's beneath us," he mumbled, then repeated it, loudly. "It's beneath us."

"There are no vaults there!" the goblin snarled.

"That's where the wards are anchored, right?" Moody said. "It's there then, hidden."

The goblin hissed. "No outsider is allowed down there!"

Moody scoffed. "Well, someone obviously didn't listen."

"Why would they hide a dark artifact there, and not in a vault? That makes no sense!" The goblin sneered. "This is a trick!"

"It's not a trick," Moody said. "It's down there. Probably linked to your wards even. And we're the only ones who can find it. So, you either let us down there, or we leave and ask Dumbledore to settle this."

"It's connected to the Dark Lord!" Harry saw the goblin was staring at him. "That's why the Boy-Who-Lived is here! What is it?"

"It's a soul anchor," Moody said.

The goblin gasped. "Connected to our wards? One of those leeches?"

"Aye." Moody grinned. "Aren't you glad we found it?"

Harry blinked. Weren't they supposed to keep the Horcruxes a secret? Or did Moody think that telling the goblin was the best way to remove it?

Apparently, it was. It took another hour - which Harry spent on the stairs, a level up, where his scar didn't hurt anymore - before the three of them could descend to the lowest level. With a dozen goblin guards. The little buggers were about as paranoid as Moody, in Harry's opinion.

The ward anchors were sealed behind the thickest, strongest vault doors Harry had seen so far. And that included the scene in Fort Knox in 'Goldfinger'. But when they were open, the pain was so bad, Harry had to drop the charm - and he could still feel the Horcrux.

He remembered to keep his wand out, and acted as if he was led by a spell, not pain, while he walked between polished stones covered with runes - and what looked like either paint or dried blood - until he finally found a small rock, oval and polished, hidden behind one of the more worn stones. "This is it," he said, pointing his wand at it.

Moody cast a few spells at it, then shook his head. "Can't remove it from that web."

"What? You said you could!" Gutripper snarled.

"I said we'd find it. And now we'll deal with it." The old Auror pulled out a small vial. "Stay back. Basilisk poison is quite deadly."

The half a dozen goblins who had swarmed the stone and had started to run their hands over it scattered at once.

Moody chuckled, and then tipped the vial, carefully. A hissing sound filled the room, followed by unnatural screeching. The pain in Harry's scar flared up and he felt liquid - blood - run down his face. He saw a green shape - a familiar view, after his first and second year - flicker, before it started to fade.

The pain went away with the shade, and Harry relaxed, relieved. He didn't even protest when Moody vanished the blood on his face.

"Well done, boy. Now let's leave this forsaken place so the goblins can repair the damage to their wards. I bet they wouldn't want an Auror to see what exactly they are doing here." The old wizard chuckled, but no goblin reacted to him.

This time they flew up the stairs - literally.

*****​

London, Knockturn Alley, November 30th, 1996

Hermione Granger was back in the deserted flat overlooking the Death Eater hideout. Calling it a base was not entirely accurate - it was more a hangout for riff-raff and other scum willing to kill for Voldemort. Most of the Resistance was there with her, all in fatigues turned black by the Colour Change Charm.

"I wish that damn Avery would arrive already!" Seamus muttered - not for the first time. Hermione hoped no one would take offense at his complaining - waiting for the mission to start was not easy on their tempers. Dean and Seamus were very eager. Hermione suspected they saw this as an opportunity to avenge Allan. She had never even thought of not taking them on this mission though. They needed this.

Justin was more sensible - or at least he acted like he was. Hermione's closest friend in the Resistance was standing near her, watching the scrolls the Wireless Voles were filling. Without muttering about the time they had already spent waiting. Which was a good thing - since he was the one in command of the reserves. He, the Creevey brothers, Sally-Anne and John would be waiting here, watching the house, in case some Death Eaters managed to flee - or reinforcements or Aurors arrived.

There! The quill had just written 'everyone up, the boss's arrived!' Hermione smiled. "Avery arrived. Let's go."

Aberforth Dumbledore slowly stood up from the chair he had conjured for himself - an obvious display of calm and patience, Hermione thought, both the chair, and his manner. He was already polyjuiced into Callum's form, so no one but Justin and her knew who he was, although that had led to some grumbling when she had told the group - they didn't like working with unknowns. She understood that, but had still persuaded them to trust him. With their lives. She wouldn't have managed that had Allan still been with them, she knew that. But if this went well, the group should trust her even more.

"Alright, everyone inside!" the wizard said in his unfamiliar voice, pointing to the trunk next to him. It was the same model that Moody had once been imprisoned in, so fitting seven people inside would be a tight fit, but possible - they had tested it. Air could be a problem though.

"Bubble-Head Charms up, everyone!" Hermione said. Then Mary and Tania went in first, followed by Hermione herself, then Louise and Jeremy, and - last in, first out - Dean and Seamus.

They were packed inside, and Hermione fought down the brief panic she felt at being inside such an enclosed space, unable to move much, and unable to watch or even listen as the Headmaster's brother carried them inside the Death Eater hideout.

What if it was a trap? What if the Death Eaters had found the Voles? Or if they expected this sort of attack? What if Callum had been bait? They had used Veritaserum on him, but if the Death Eaters had obliviated him...

Hermione closed her eyes and took deep breaths. She couldn't panic. She was the leader. And the die was cast. "Remember: We need prisoners."

"Are we there yet?" Seamus asked. "Mum? I have to pee!"

Hermione laughed together with everyone else, and the tension was broken.

Then the trunk was opened.

Dean and Seamus stormed out at once. The two former Hit-Wizards followed, and then Hermione. They were inside a rather shabby room, thin-looking walls, no furniture. Aberforth was at the door, Louise and Jeremy were running towards him, wands drawn, Dean and Seamus were already there, behind conjured cover.

Hermione took a step to the side to let Mary and Tania pass and pull their rifles out while she started casting Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey Jinxes, followed by a Human-presence-revealing Spell. As soon as she had finished, she said: "Go!"

Aberforth opened the door and flicked his wand. Dean and Seamus cast as well. Hermione heard a body hit the floor, followed by a scream, cut short by another spell. Then Dean vanished the stone cover, and Aberforth stepped inside. Dean and Seamus followed, going right, to secure the main entrance. The two former Hit-Wizards went left after the door, Shield Charms covering them as they went to block the back door.

Hermione entered the room after Tania and Mary - she didn't want to block their line of fire. The two witches were covering the stairs leading to the first floor, in conjured firing positions. A stone wall was blocking the entrance to the cellar. Aberforth stood in the middle, his wand aimed at a small room to the side. Hermione heard screams from there, and saw one wizard in black robes stumbling out of it, his hair on fire. Aberforth stunned him almost casually, then sealed the room up.

"The leader is inside the living room," Aberforth said, pointing at a door in the middle of the wall opposite them.

Hermione nodded and drew a 'flashbang' grenade, then moved to the side of the door. Dean and Seamus should be done any moment.

They weren't. She heard more screams from the main entrance. And explosions. Curses, not grenades. She looked at the old wizard, who nodded, grinning. A second later, the door was blasted to pieces, some of them hitting her shield. She threw the grenade inside the room without looking or exposing more than her hand - and almost lost that one to a brown spell.

The grenade went off, and she heard screams. Tania had left the stairs to Mary and stuck her rifle into the room, aiming low. She emptied one magazine, then pulled back. Hermione heard more screams. Then Aberforth conjured a slab of floating stone and banished it into the room, followed by another he used as a shield as he entered. Hermione took a deep breath and followed him.

Inside, a scene of carnage greeted her. She saw one man dead on the ground - hit in the chest and head by rifle rounds. Half his skull had been blown off. Another was pressing his hands on his bleeding legs. One witch was in the corner, stumbling around and rubbing her eyes. Hermione quickly stunned both of them, then dived forward in a roll, behind the remains of a couch which had started to catch fire. Dumbledore's brother was exchanging spells with a wizard. That had to be Avery - he was wearing Death Eater robes and a mask, unlike the rest of the people she had seen so far. And he was giving the old wizard some trouble, casting Killing Curses as quickly as Aberforth could conjure stone obstacles to absorb them. And Tania couldn't fire without endangering both of them. Taking Death Eaters alive was much harder than simply killing them.

Hermione saw no marker, so there was no disillusioned foe nearby. She crawled forward behind the smoldering couch, then popped up to cast. Her first Piercing Curse was stopped by the dark wizard's shield, but her second shattered it. He flinched and turned towards her, snarling, but before he could cast, a stone slab smashed into him and flung him into the wall. Two stunners, one from her and one from Aberforth, found him before he reached the ground.

"I think he should have survived that," Aberforth commented, "but you better check."

She nodded, cast an Amplifying Charm - she wished radio worked in Knockturn Alley - and yelled: "Main target down! Main target down!"

There was no need to take risks to capture more of the riff-raff.

She reached Avery and cast a quick diagnosis spell. He didn't seem to be in immediate danger, so she cut his robes off and collected his wand, then bound him. Then she cut off some of his hair. Turning to Tania, she pointed back. "Get him and the other living ones into the trunk."

When she left the room she saw a body on top of the stairs, blood running down the wooden steps.

"I've driven another one back," Mary informed her.

"I'll handle the ones above," Aberforth said.

Hermione nodded. "Tania, stay with the trunk once you are done! Mary, check with Louise and Jeremy!" she ordered while heading to the entrance hall.

She cursed under her breath at the sight that greeted her there. The door had been blown open, Seamus was on the ground, covered by a conjured wall, and Dean was trying to still the bleeding in his friend's leg. She saw three corpses near the door, and one right outside.

"What happened?" She asked, kneeling next to Seamus. A quick charm told her his leg bones had been shattered. She couldn't do anything about that, but she could stop the bleeding, and numb the pain.

"Half a dozen rushed the door. They were too many to stop. One of them got Seamus when he tried to block the door instead of covering himself," Dean said. "Justin's group got them though."

Hermione hadn't felt the mirror in her pocket vibrate, so Justin had not encountered further trouble. Or so she hoped. "We got our target. Get Seamus into the trunk, I'll cover you."

She quickly sealed the door with a conjured wall of stone, then pulled out the communication mirror. "Justin, we've got the target. Prepare to move to the rally point."

"Alright," Justin said. "We've killed two runners in the street."

When Hermione got back to the room they had started in, the rest of the group was filing in. Louise was fine, Jeremy slightly hurt. Nothing to worry about. Tania and Mary stayed right outside the door though, to cover the stairs again. "Where's our ally?"

"Still upstairs," Tania answered.

Hermione thought about heading up herself, but decided against it. She had to trust the man. "Justin, how's it looking outside?"

"The usual reaction to violence - people have disappeared from the street. No Aurors in sight yet."

"Alright." To the group, she said: "Shrink the trunk and move to the backyard. Secure the area and be ready to take down the Jinxes."

While the group moved out, Hermione opened a bottle filled with petrol, then cast a Doubling Charm on it. The bottle started to spill and multiply. She left the room and closed the door, repeating this with another bottle in the entrance hall.

"You're moving quickly," Aberforth said when he descended the stairs, still covered by Tania and Mary. A bound man floated behind him.

"Everyone taken care of above?" Hermione asked.

"Yes."

She nodded and handed him the hair. While he fed the prisoner Polyjuice with Avery's hair she pointed her wand at the remains of the living room. "Accio Death Eater robe and mask!"

Aberforth draped the remains on the polyjuiced man, then cast a Bludgeoning Curse and a Cutting Curse to match the damage to the garments. The Dark Lord might not be fooled by this, but it wouldn't hurt to make it appear as if Avery died in the building.

"Time to go." She took down her jinxes on the way to the backyard, then set fire to the spreading pool of petrol in the hallway. A second later, she apparated to the rally point.

Behind her, the house went up in flames.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 19: Revelations

'With regards to the effects of propaganda in the Second Blood War, opinions differ greatly. Once again, one has to carefully consider the sources we have. Those who think that the pen is mightier than the sword naturally propose that the various efforts of all sides to influence the hearts and minds of the population were decisive for the outcome of the war. With regards to those claims, one has to consider the differences between the First and Second Blood War. Without a doubt, propaganda was responsible for a lot of the Dark Lord's successes in the first war. Thanks to his skilled manipulation and public attacks, the Dark Lord's reputation increased well beyond what an unvarnished recounting of his actions would suggest. The population feared him to the point they refused to speak his name.
In the Second Blood War though, the same strategy was not quite as effective - despite many of those who had lived through the First Blood War still remembering their own horror and fear. Some of my colleagues think this happened because the 'Resistance Radio', the voice of the Muggleborn Resistance, countered the propaganda and fear spread by the Dark Lord's followers, and strengthened the morale of the muggleborns, the half-bloods and even the purebloods.
I disagree. A careful analysis shows that the Dark Lord's strategy at the start of the war hurt his own reputation. He tried to capitalise on the horror many purebloods felt when Malfoy Manor was bombed and portray himself as the country's salvation. And yet, the more the Muggleborn Resistance members were feared by the purebloods, the less they feared the Dark Lord - even more so when he seemed to be ineffective against the very danger of which his followers warned Britain. With the Death Eater attacks on purebloods in November 1996, the Dark Lord's own actions delivered a propaganda victory to the Resistance Radio.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn

*****​

Diagon Alley, November 30th, 1996

Albus Dumbledore watched the flames shoot up over the roofs of Knockturn Alley through his enchanted glasses. Miss Granger's group had succeeded then - though he did not yet know at what cost. He wouldn't either, until Aberforth reported to him. Once again the need to keep secrets even from his allies vexed him. And yet, it was needed to lessen the danger of betrayal, willing or not.

A minute later, a glowing white goat arrived, snorted at him, and vanished. That meant the Resistance had successfully left Knockturn Alley. There was no longer a need to keep the Aurors busy elsewhere then. He smiled - John was both desperate to achieve any success in his hunt for the Resistance, and not too bright; an easy mark, Mundungus had said.

And indeed, the leader of the Auror task force had jumped on the chance to capture 'muggleborns attacking Nott Manor'. Albus's friend hadn't even needed to launch another diversion.

Hopefully, the goblins would inform the Dark Lord that his Horcrux in Gringotts had been found, fooling him into thinking Albus was wasting time and resources on finding all of them. Ideally, Voldemort would decide to create more Horcruxes to be safe - the amount of work needed to create them, and even more so to hide them would certainly hurt his efforts to take over Britain. Even, Albus reminded himself, if it would mean more sacrificial murders. Sometimes, the lesser evil was still evil.

He watched the first Aurors on brooms arrive over the burning house. The fire wards of the neighbouring buildings would keep the blaze contained, but it was a rather spectacular view. He'd like to call it the funeral pyre of Tom's plans for Knockturn Alley, but the Dark Lord would have other plans in place already.

The information wrung out of Avery on the other hand… that should make a difference. Now if the Weasley twins came through as well, this would be a really bad week for the Death Eaters. He took another look at the flames dancing in Knockturn Alley, then apparated home. Aberforth would meet him soon and report.

*****​

London, East End, November 30th, 1996

They had been lucky, Hermione Granger knew. Their wounded didn't require specialised care - no dark curses had struck them. Even Seamus's shattered bones would be fine in a few days, with Skele-Gro. Hopefully, the painful potion would convince him to pay more attention next time to his own safety. And they needed a magical way to communicate instantly. She had to adapt the wireless system, even though that would not be safe until she managed to encrypt it. But better coordination needed communications. Otherwise, their tactics had worked, apart from Seamus's lapse. The wizard should have used a flashbang to disorient the others and stop their flight.

"You're already making plans to improve our training, aren't you?" Justin's soft question interrupted her thoughts.

"Ah… yes." She smiled. "Force of habit."

"As long as it keeps us alive I won't complain."

She looked at him. Everyone complained about training.

He grinned. "Well, not overly much." Then he grew serious. "The prisoner's been treated, and we can start interrogating him. Seamus and Jeremy are back ho... at headquarters with the rest. The other prisoners are stunned and secure."

She nodded. She didn't think they knew very much that would be useful, but they'd interrogate them later. Avery was the real prize.

"Alright." Hermione turned away from the window in their secondary safe house, and went to what she and Justin had now dubbed 'the interrogation room'.

Aberforth, still in his disguise, was waiting for them outside. "He's an old one. Spent time in Azkaban. He'll have done unspeakable things."

Hermione just stared at him. Did he think she didn't realise just what monsters they were fighting?

The old wizard snorted. "You know, you don't have to act so tough all the time."

Hermione glanced at Justin. "Trust us, we won't lose our tempers and kill him before we have finished wringing every last bit of information out of him."

Strangely, that did not seem to reassure the Headmaster's brother.

*****​

When Hermione and Justin arrived at headquarters, the celebration was winding down. Sally-Anne quickly dragged Justin off to his, or rather, their room, leaving Hermione to face the rest of the group. Seamus was there as well, despite his leg bones currently being in the process of being regrown. It was obvious that he had dulled his pain with quite a lot of alcohol as well, since he simply waved at her with a mellow smile. Dean, though, was not quite as sloshed.

Before he could ask her about the interrogation, she addressed the whole room. "We all did well today. We got our target, we wrecked a Death Eater operation - in public as well - and we didn't lose anyone."

"A dozen Death Eaters dead!" Seamus said, raising his bottle.

"They were fresh recruits, none of them marked, but for Avery." Hermione pursed her lips. Common criminals would probably have fit most of them. "But they certainly were followers of the Dark Lord, ready to massacre muggleborns. They deserved to die."

The group voiced their agreement with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Jeremy was particularly loud. Louise rubbed her ear, then asked, once the noise had died down: "Was our ally happy with the results as well?"

"Yes." Hermione nodded. "Avery knew quite a number of other names and locations, but unfortunately not where the Dark Lord is currently hiding. Voldemort's been meeting his followers in various safe houses, always changing the locations." Avery had also told them about his crimes, and those of his friends. Hermione had executed him without any regret after hearing his bloody tales.

"When will we hit the next house then?" Dean stared at her.

Hermione wondered if the wizard was trying to follow in Allan's footsteps. She didn't let her annoyance show though. "We'll analyse the situation and then pick the most promising target."

"You mean our ally will analyse the situation. The ally we're not allowed to know about!"

Dean was trying to imitate Allan, alright. Hermione wanted to sigh. Instead she nodded. "We'll coordinate with our allies, yes. And you should be aware of the need for security and secrecy."

"I didn't join the Resistance to be a tool for some pureblood wizard!" Dean scoffed. Seamus nodded as well, not that she had expected anything else, especially not when he was inebriated.

"Who says it's a pureblood wizard?" Louise cut in.

"If it was a muggleborn, then we'd have been told. We're all already hiding, after all." Dean looked around, trying to drum up support. He was no Allan though.

"No, you wouldn't have been told. That's how Resistance cells work." Hermione frowned. "I explained that several times."

"That's how muggle cells work. We have magic to protect our secrets!" Dean was standing now, his own bottle on the floor next to his chair. "We don't need all this secrecy!"

"Yes, we do." Hermione stared at him. "We're not about to trust magic to take care of everything. That's the pureblood way." It was a cheap shot, but given how late it already was, more sophisticated arguments would not work anyway.

"So, that means we're some other group's lapdogs? Who holds your leash? Harry or maybe his godfather?" Dean scoffed. "Can't be Ron; he's a lapdog himself."

"We're no one's lapdogs," Hermione said, trying to hold her temper in check. "But we're also not mad dogs running wild. We'll coordinate our attacks with our allies. We'll exchange intel. And we'll help each other when needed. We won't win this war by ourselves. As today has proved." She let her eyes sweep over everyone in the room. Dean met hers, Seamus blinked. No one looked away.

"We did fine so far," Dean muttered, but he was sitting down again.

"And we can do better," Hermione said. "I've already made some plans to improve our training."

Jeremy groaned loudly. "I shouldn't have let them heal my wounds!" He was grinning though, even when Louise elbowed him.

"We won't start tomorrow." Hermione smiled. "But Monday."

That caused a few more groans. But as far as she could tell, they were all good-natured. She had the group's trust. Dean was no Allan; he wouldn't be able to do much. Not after such a success.

But she would have to keep her eye on him and Seamus. There wouldn't be another Allan on her watch.

*****​

Hogwarts, December 1st, 1996

Ron Weasley knew his best friend had a tendency to brood. It was worst on Halloween. For everyone else, it was a holiday. The Old Families, at least those who followed pagan gods, celebrated Samhain. Others Halloween. And many remembered the day Voldemort had been defeated by the Boy-Who-Lived. But for Harry, it would always be the day he lived while his parents died. Not a date he wanted to be reminded of, much less glorify. Ron even suspected that if not for the great food, Harry would skip the feast altogether.

It wasn't Halloween, but Harry had been almost as moody ever since they had returned from Gringotts. He had disappeared in the early afternoon, but Ron had tracked him down to the room they used for training.

"Reducto!"

A stone statue that looked vaguely like a snake-faced monster shattered under the force of Harry's spell.

"Confringo!"

The floor between two more statues exploded, pieces striking both.

"Bombarda!"

Ron dropped to the ground and cast a Shield Charm just in time before the entire floor in front of the back wall exploded. "Mate!"

Harry blinked. "What?"

"I was about to make a joke about how Hermione would have been delighted to hear you're training, but she'd not condone wrecking the school." Ron sighed while he stood up and cleaned his robe of the dust that covered most of the room.

"The room's reinforced. It won't break."

"Well, we're not reinforced." Ron shook his head. "What happened? You're not usually this… intense. You weren't this intense a month ago." On Halloween.

Harry took a deep breath, then cast a cleaning charm on his own robe.

His was sporting a few scratches as well, Ron noticed. And a cut that was bleeding lightly. He raised his wand and took care of them, then waited. Pressing Harry for answers didn't work well. Not that that had ever stopped Hermione.

FInally, after about a minute, Harry sighed. "I've been thinking."

Ron nodded.

Harry glanced at him, then continued. "Our trip to Gringotts. Some things don't add up."

Ron frowned. "What do you mean?" It had gone well, in his opinion. One Horcrux dealt with.

"Why did we take the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron and then walk to the bank, instead of travelling directly to the goblins?" Harry started to pace. "That would have been safer, and more discreet."

"Moody said Dumbledore was around as well… Merlin! Do you think we were bait for Death Eaters?" Ron gasped. Would the Headmaster go that far? "No, that doesn't make any sense. Not with the Prophecy."

Harry nodded. "Yes. I thought that maybe the goblins don't allow outsiders to use their Floo connection."

"I'd have to ask Bill about that," Ron said. "He'd know. But Dumbledore arranged the visit after business hours. He probably could have arranged a Floo trip as well."

"Exactly!" Harry gestured at Ron. "It feels like a setup, somehow."

Ron nodded. "And he told us about the Horcruxes in such secrecy, but then Moody tells the goblins."

"It might have been the only way to make them let us go down to the lowest level."

"Maybe." Ron had to concede that, but still… something wasn't right there. "We could have used Polyjuice or your cloak to disguise ourselves. At least for the trip through Diagon Alley."

Harry nodded. "But that's not what has been really bothering me about our trip."

Ron raised his eyebrows. Harry had been moody this weekend, but if it wasn't because of this...

Harry sighed. "I was wondering why my scar hurt so much when I was close to the Horcrux. It even bled."

"It's your link to Voldemort," Ron said.

"Yes. But what is it?" Harry tapped his scar with his index finger. "What is this link to Voldemort? My scar didn't hurt that much when I destroyed the diary. Or Quirrell. Something changed."

He looked at Ron. "And I think the Headmaster knows what happened."

"Well, let's go ask him?" Ron said.

"Yes."

*****​

Dorset, Britain, December 1st, 1996

"And we have gathered here to celebrate, as our ancestors did since time immemorial. We follow our most ancient tradition as we stand here to honour the dead and let them pass judgment upon us."

Daphne Greengrass watched as Draco stepped forward and lit the bonfire in the garden of his temporary home. Next to her, Tracey sighed. Daphne glanced at her.

Tracey noticed, and took a step closer. "I'm just wondering how long Draco will take to light the fire so we can go inside again," she whispered.

Apparently, not even losing her parents had changed Tracey's view of religion, Daphne thought. She wasn't that religious herself, but the thought of her parents watching her, from beyond the veil, on this day, was comforting. It certainly had helped her sister, who was staring at the slowly growing fire with rapt attention. So, for Astoria's sake, Daphne glared at her friend.

Tracey rolled her eyes. "I just wish Draco would hurry up. It's getting cold, and the tradition of letting the 'sacred fire warm us' instead of a spell is something that should be rethought," she whispered.

"You could always cast a spell yourself," Daphne whispered back.

"What? You expect me to flout 'our most ancient traditions' in the home of the family who gave them back to us after we had lost them for a thousand years?" Tracey snorted. "That would be a faux pas indeed."

Daphne knew that a lot of the Malfoy family's prestige and influence was based upon them rediscovering the lost traditions of the pagan ancestors of the British Wizards after the Statute of Secrecy had gone into effect. That, and their gold, of course. The family had been a bit ostracised for their close association with muggles in the 16th century, but as Daphne's father had told her, it had been those muggle connections that had allowed them to find the old records of pagan rites - apparently, muggle scholars had preserved them.

"Zabini told me that it's fake anyway, you know," Tracey whispered.

"What?" Daphne spoke so loud, Draco noticed and looked over his shoulder.

"Yes. He told me that the muggles had even less knowledge about the pagan rites of Britain than the wizards had. According to him, the Malfoys faked the whole thing." Tracey grinned. "Or why would he do this on the Advent?"

"Zabini says a lot about Draco. That's why he's still at Hogwarts," Daphne said.

Her friend shrugged. "I wouldn't put it past the Malfoys. But we'll never know."

Daphne nodded. Some rival of the Malfoys had destroyed the original records in the early 18th century. And most of the oldest copies had been destroyed together with Malfoy Manor. Another crime to be laid at the feet of the mudbloods, Daphne thought.

Astoria was glaring at them now, and Daphne smiled at her sister. "Sorry," she mouthed.

The young witch sniffed and turned to watch the fire again. Or Draco, Daphne noted. She wasn't certain what to think of her little sister being interested in Draco.

"Oh…"

And of course, Tracey had noticed. Daphne frowned at her friend. "Don't tease her. Or him." Draco might get ideas.

Tracey pouted, but she knew not to cross Daphne where Astoria was concerned.

Daphne turned her attention back to Draco. The fire was burning brightly now. It was time to honour the dead. And this year, there were far too many dead.

Draco pulled out a list, and started to slowly read name after name. His voice wavered a bit at the start.

"Lucius Malfoy."

He waved his wand to make the fire flare up - according to the faith that would light the way to the afterlife for the soul of the dead.

"Narcissa Malfoy."

The fire flared up again.

"Oliver Parkinson."

Daphne heard Pansy sob.

"Florence Parkinson."

Another flare, and another sob.

"Robert Greengrass."

Daphne pulled Astoria into her arms.

"Esme Greengrass."

She closed her eyes, thinking of her parents. They were in the afterlife now. She knew that. And they were watching her and Astoria.

"Zachary Davis."

Tracey didn't sob. Or hid it too well, Daphne thought. Though her friend's relationship with her father hadn't been the closest.

"Grace Davis."

Her friend sniffled. Daphne pulled her into her arms as well. The three witches remained like that as dozens of names were read, one after the other. Goyle. Crabbe. Rowle. Too many. Far too many.

When finally the last name had been read, Draco saluted the fire with his wand, then slowly turned around until he was facing the group with his back to the dying fire.

"Too many of those now travelling to the afterlife left us before their time. Murdered by mudbloods. Not content with scorning and dishonouring our traditions, they have taken up wands to kill their betters. Driven by hatred, they will not be stop until we stop them."

Not just mudbloods, Daphne thought. She shivered, remembering how Fred had almost killed her and Tracey.

"But we will not forget them, or their murderers! We will beat those animals, and make Britain safe again! Safe for our families, and our future!" Draco raised his wand to the sky. "I promise this to our dead ancestors!"

Daphne raised her wand as well, together with Astoria and Tracey. Next year, this war would be over, and they'd be safe again.

*****​

Hogwarts, December 2nd, 1996

Albus Dumbledore nodded at the Weasley twins, after reading the transcripts they had brought. "They held a pagan celebration then." He had expected that - the Malfoys had been trying to make Hogwarts abandon their Halloween feast for a Samhain ritual, and Christmas for Winter Solstice for a long time. Ever since Albus had changed the celebrations, decades ago. It was to be expected Draco would adhere to that faith.

"You could say that. But they were more concerned with future deaths, muggleborns and 'blood traitors'," Fred said, scowling, "than honouring their own deaths. And we have heard nothing that would even hint at them having prisoners."

"Malfoy's their leader. The rest do not seem to have met the Dark Lord yet," George added. "And we also confirmed that they were among the attackers at the Burrow. "

"Stupid Slytherins, they attack us, and then blame us for defending ourselves!" Fred scoffed.

"A common stance, unfortunately," Albus said. Not only among the followers of the Dark Lord, of course. "They cannot see how their own bigotry and blind adherence to Voldemort's ideology have caused this war."

"Malfoy's always been blaming everyone but himself for all his troubles. Of course his friends would be the same." Fred shook his head. "I still can't believe I almost fell for their act."

"I told you."

Fred glared at George. "Yes, you did. Many times - especially after I unmasked them."

Albus let the two boys bicker while he read the transcripts once more. He didn't think it was likely that Mister Malfoy would try use the upcoming Winter Solstice for dark rituals involving sacrifices, but it never hurt to check - Tom certainly had been using the occasion for vile things.

When wands were drawn, he cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, do I have to remind you where you are?"

The two boys looked sheepish. "Sorry, sir," Fred quickly said while his brother nodded.

Albus smiled and nodded. "I am impressed. Your 'Wireless Voles' seem to perform admirably. I would like a number of them, to pass on to a select group."

"Like Hermione's?" Fred asked. "Sure."

Out of habit, Albus didn't confirm that, even though he was aware that the twins knew of his contact with Miss Granger.

"What are we doing about Malfoy's group?" George glanced at Fred, then looked at Albus. "They're already taking part in attacks with the other Death Eaters."

Albus sighed. He had hoped the young people wouldn't cross that line. Even if they were not marked yet, he couldn't let them continue. "They will be dealt with at the earliest opportunity."

"They'll be killed then," George said, then pressed his lips together. His brother nodded.

"Do you disapprove?" Albus asked, curious. George had been suspicious of Miss Greengrass and Miss Davis, and yet now seemed to be less… radical in his views. Fred on the other hand… a wizard scorned and betrayed had quite the fury.

Fred shook his head. "They attacked our home and tried to kill us in our shop. Good riddance to them!"

George though seemed to be hesitating to condemn them. "As far as we know they haven't killed anyone."

"Yet," Fred added. "Not for lack of trying."

"You'll try to take at least Malfoy alive. To find out what he knows." George wasn't looking at his brother now, addressing Albus.

"Yes." Albus looked over his reading glasses. "Do you wish to capture the others as well?"

"I don't want to risk our friends' lives for it…" George said, frowning.

"Of course not!" Fred said. "That would be stupid!"

Albus nodded. "I doubt our forces will take risks, nor will I ask them to, but should the two witches be captured, would you want to interrogate them?"

"Yes." Fred said at once. "We'd like to be involved in the attack."

George didn't say anything. He probably realised that after the interrogation was finished, the question of what to do with the prisoners would have to be answered.

Albus nodded. "For security reasons, I think it would be ill-advised to mix our forces. Not the least because people not used to fighting together are prone to make potentially fatal mistakes."

Fred looked stubborn, but George grabbed his brother's shoulder, and nodded. "We'll take our leave then, and keep spying on Malfoy."

"Goodbye. And be careful." Albus nodded at them as they left, then looked at the time. Harry and Mister Weasley would soon arrive; they had asked to talk to him.

Albus had an idea what the two boys wanted to talk about. And he wasn't looking forward to that particular discussion.

*****​

Hogwarts, December 2nd, 1996

"Thank you for seeing us, Headmaster." Harry smiled.

"My door is always open for you." Dumbledore smiled, and Fawkes trilled. "Please sit down. Lemon drop?" He pointed at the small bowl on his desk.

Harry shook his head. "No, thank you, sir."

Ron declined the offer as well.

Dumbledore took one himself. "What do you wish to discuss?"

Harry quickly glanced to Ron, who nodded at him, then took a deep breath. "We have some questions about the mission to Gringotts."

The old wizard nodded. "I see."

"Some things just… appeared a bit weird, to us," Harry said. He fidgeted a bit on his chair. "You arranged our trip with the goblins in advance."

"Yes, I did."

"So… why did we walk through Diagon Alley? We were seen by a number of people in the Leaky Cauldron, and on the street." Harry watched the old wizard.

"Yes. There could have Death Eaters among them. Or spies," Ron added.

"I assure you that you were perfectly safe. I was present as well." Dumbledore smiled. "And Alastor told me that you were ready for such an outing. He still does not think you are as good as you should be, but he has very demanding standards."

"Merlin, yes!" Ron muttered.

Harry nodded, but didn't let this distract him. "But, wouldn't it have been safer to take the Floo directly to Gringotts? No one would have known about us."

Dumbledore sighed. "You are wondering if this was a setup, are you not?"

Harry blinked. That was a bit more forward than he had expected. Nevertheless, he nodded. "Yes, sir. You told us how important it was to keep the Horcruxes secret, and yet Moody told the goblins."

"And Moody told us just how evil goblins are!" Ron said. "And how greedy! Some of them might turn traitor and tell the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore slowly nodded. "Indeed. I have to apologise to you for not telling you. I am counting on Tom to learn of this." He held up a hand. "I did not use you as bait, if you suspect that - I ensured you would be safe."

"But…" Harry was confused. "If Voldemort learns that we know about his Horcruxes and are hunting them down… he'll do something about them."

"You are correct. I expect that Tom will spend quite some efforts to improve the security of his remaining Horcruxes."

"Blimey!" Ron muttered, "do you plan to have him lead you to their locations? Do you have a spy so close to him?"

Harry stared. Had the Headmaster planned for that?

Dumbledore hesitated, then shook his head. "No. That would have been an ingenious plan, but if I had a spy so close to the Dark Lord, I would have used that to deal with him in a more direct manner. I do not think Tom would tell anyone about his Horcruxes. He distrusts his own followers - and with good reason, I think."

"But why did you want him to do this then? It'll make our mission harder and more dangerous!" Harry couldn't understand what the Headmaster was thinking.

"It will make him focus on protecting his Horcruxes, and wasting time and resources on improving their safety. And it will make him underestimate us." Dumbledore smiled. His own hubris will help us there.

"But… Merlin's ghost!" Ron stared at the Headmaster. "It's a feint! You have another way to kill him!"

Harry blinked. His friend was right. "Why haven't you told us?"

Dumbledore took a deep breath. "I could say that I wanted you to act naturally. Or that it was a test, to find out if you would see through this plot. But the truth is, I kept this from you because you didn't yet need to know."

"Yet?" Harry frowned. "Were you planning to tell us then?"

"Yes."

Harry didn't know if the old wizard was telling him the truth. It made sense, somewhat. But… "Do you think then that the unknown power I supposedly have will vanquish him? Did you find out what it is?"

"I think I have a very good idea of what this power is, yes." Dumbledore sighed. "I am not yet certain though."

Ron cut in: "You're certain enough to use the Horcruxes as a diversion, though."

Harry pressed his lips together and kept staring at the Headmaster. "What is it then? My link to him? My scar bled when I was too close to his Horcruxes."

"In a manner of speaking." Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment, looking far older than Harry had ever seen him. "The prophecy the Dark Lord and you have heard was incomplete. I am the only one who knows the full prophecy."

"Tell me!" Harry demanded. This was his life, the reason his parents had been killed.

Dumbledore recited the Prophecy Harry and Ron already knew, then continued: "...and he and the Dark Lord will be one, and either will crush the other, for neither can let the other survive or they will lose what they hold most dear. The one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month ends."

"What does that mean? I and the Dark Lord will be one?" Harry felt his stomach drop. "What is my link to him?" When he saw how sad Dumbledore looked, he started to tremble.

"Your scar contains a shard of Voldemort's soul."

"What?"

"Damn!"

He had a piece of the Dark Lord in his scar? Harry reached up with his hand, but stopped before he touched it. That evil monster, hiding in his head… He didn't notice he was panting and shaking until Ron grabbed his arm.

"Mate, calm down!"

"The blood protection contains the soul fragment - up to a point. If you are close to other parts of the Dark Lord's soul, it grows stronger." Dumbledore was looking at him with a grave expression. "I am deeply sorry to have to tell you this, Harry."

"So… we're going to be one… he'll possess me, like Quirrell?" He had a sudden vision of the scar splitting, and Voldemort's head emerging from it, and hunched over, feeling sick. Fawkes trilled, and landed on Harry's shoulder, rubbing his head against his own. Harry felt calmer, and patted the phoenix in response.

"That is where your power matters, Harry. Through your link, your mind, your souls, touch each other. Tom has decades of experience as a wizard. His knowledge of the Dark Arts makes him my equal in a duel. You cannot hope to match him spell for spell. Nor will you be able to count on the effect of your wands sharing the same core, as you did once already."

"In the graveyard."

"Yes. But that scene proved one thing: When it comes to a contest of will, you are the Dark Lord's equal."

"That's my power?" Harry felt like laughing at the absurdity of this. He was to face the Dark Lord… like that?

"You have one advantage over Tom: He cares about no one but himself. He has no friends. And, most importantly, he is ruled by fear. And fear makes him weak."

"You're a Gryffindor, Harry!" Ron smiled at him.

Harry didn't think this would be a good moment to mention that the Sorting Hat had wanted to send him to Slytherin.

*****​

Hogwarts, December 2nd, 1996

Albus Dumbledore stopped smiling as soon as the two boys had left his office. He closed his eyes, pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He felt ashamed of himself for treating Harry like this. Keeping the boy in the dark about the real purpose of the hunt for the Horcruxes. Not telling him about the soul fragment in his scar. Or that he was to face Tom through his link to him, in a battle of wills.

But he was most ashamed that he hadn't told him about his contingency plan. The link was a weakness of the Dark Lord, through which he could be attacked by various means. But, as Harry and Tom were linked, spells using their link would affect both.

Fawkes landed on his desk, and rubbed his head against Albus's hand. The phoenix must have sensed his distress, the Headmaster thought. But did he understand how much Albus deserved to suffer, for what he had done? Or was Fawkes's love unconditional, like a dog's? Even after decades, Albus couldn't tell. He patted the bird's head, and slowly leaned back in his seat.

Should he have told Harry about his plans? Would it reassure the boy that if he failed, all hope would not be lost? Or would it weaken his resolve? Would he fight harder if he thought all depended on him? Which could be true - Albus's plan was founded on a few assumptions, and was unlikely to deal with the Horcruxes. Although it would buy time to deal with them, and more importantly, to deal with Wizarding Britain.

He scoffed at his rationalisations. If he was honest with himself - and he tried his best to be - then he had to admit that keeping secrets had become second nature for him. After the betrayals in the last war had cost so many lives, he had sworn to not make the same mistake ever again. He had reorganised the Order. Kept it compartmentalised. And kept the information shared with others to a minimum. It had worked - none of the Order cells had been betrayed so far. No families had been attacked and murdered after the enemy had been informed of their safe houses. And none of his plans had been revealed to Tom before they were implemented.

But then again, his plans had been wrecked because others had not known about them, and inadvertently sabotaged them. The Order couldn't respond in force to Death Eater attacks. And morale suffered because his friends didn't know all that was being done in the war by other cells. And it hurt those who trusted him, when they realised just how little he trusted them.

He massaged his temples. Should he change? Was it worth the increased risk of betrayal? He had taken precautions so his crucial knowledge would not be lost with him, should he die suddenly, but could he take enough precautions to avoid a repeat of the betrayals of the last war? After he had failed to see just what so many purebloods really thought about muggleborns?

Could he even change if he wanted? Or had keeping secrets from everyone truly become part of his very being?

He didn't know the answers. But he knew that no matter what he might decide, others would pay the price should he turn out to have been wrong.

He focused on a slightly more urgent problem. Augusta Longbottom. As far as he knew, the old witch was still alive. Severus had managed to find out that Tom had not killed any of his hostages yet. But Albus was certain that the proud witch was suffering. Even if she was not being tortured by the Dark Lord or his followers - and Albus knew how cruel Tom and his ilk were - the knowledge that she was a prisoner of those who had taken her son from her would hurt her greatly.

Albus wished he could save her. Even though Augusta had never forgiven him for the fate Frank and Alice had suffered while fighting for Albus, he respected her. But Severus didn't know where she was being held. Which, in a perverse way, was a good thing. It meant Albus wouldn't have to decide that saving Augusta wasn't worth risking his spy.

Augusta was a skilled witch, with strong convictions. But she was just one member in the Wizengamot - where she was acting as her grandson's proxy. Severus, though, was a member of Tom's inner circle. If he could earn the Dark Lord's trust enough to find his location, the war would be over in a day, and the Dark Lord would be, if not killed, at least reduced to a shade. His reputation would take another blow as well - it was one thing to return from the dead, it was another to keep being killed.

No, even if Albus knew where Augusta was he would not risk Severus for her. No matter how much he hated himself for it.

*****​

Hogwarts, December 2nd, 1996

Ron Weasley cast a privacy spell as soon as he and Harry were on their way back to the Gryffindor dorms. "So…" he started to speak, then trailed off, not certain what to say.

Harry glanced at him. "What?" his friend snapped.

"We know now why Moody was acting like he did." Ron smiled.

"And we know I have the Dark Lord's soul in my head!" Harry bared his teeth.

"In your scar," Ron corrected him.

"Scar, head - I'm linked to him!" His friend had stopped walking. "I'll have to face him in my mind!" He tapped his scar, then rubbed it. "It almost feels as if this thing is digging into my skull!"

For a moment, Ron even feared Harry would scratch it bloody, as if that would release the soul fragment. He shuddered at the image that thought conjured. "Mate… you also heard Dumbledore: You can beat the Dark Lord." He tried to be positive. Harry needed him now.

"I also heard him say once that we need to track down the Horcruxes to beat the Dark Lord!" Harry snarled. But he dropped his hand from his forehead.

"Do you think he was lying?" Ron hadn't liked that they had been deceived, but he thought the Headmaster's explanation was reasonable.

"I think he's hiding more."

"Well, of course he is. He's running the Order - you know what Hermione said about organising a resistance group. He can't tell people who might get captured much." Ron flashed a weak grin. "I don't like it either, but it makes sense."

Harry sighed. "Of course it does. But… damn it! What do I tell Hermione?"

"What?" Ron stared at his friend.

"I've got Voldemort in my head!"

"And you mastered Occlumency and have your mother's protection."

"Voldemort has certainly mastered Legilimency, and he has taken my blood, so the protection doesn't work that well any more." Harry looked like he wanted to hit the wall. With his fist, or his head.

"It still works well enough, right? You don't feel the Dark Lord until you're almost on top of a Horcrux." Ron put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "You'll get that monster."

"And what if I don't? What if he crushes me?" Harry shook his head.

"You beat him once. After getting tortured with the Cruciatus, and losing a lot of blood." Ron wanted to shake some sense into his friend. "Look, we'll tell Hermione, and discuss the thing. See what she'll say." Harry would listen to Hermione, Ron hoped. He usually did.

Harry sighed. He raised his hand up again, towards his head, and Ron snatched it. "Don't scratch it. Even if it itches."

"It doesn't itch." Harry said, showing his teeth.

"Good."

"I don't want to tell her that through the mirror. We need to meet."

"Yes. As soon as possible," Ron agreed. Before his friend went crazy. "You can also talk to Sirius, can't you?"

Harry stiffened. "He doesn't know about this. You said such secrets need to be kept."

Ron nodded. It sounded like an excuse to him, but he'd not push. Harry was already on edge. At least Ron had still an important task, after hunting Horcruxes had been revealed to be a ruse: He had to take care of his friend. Keep him from going mad.

"Come on, let's swing by the kitchen, and grab some snacks."

"I'm not hungry." Harry scowled.

Ron almost sighed. "For the rest of our house then. Come on!"

Harry scoffed, but followed him down to the kitchen. Hopefully, Ron thought, some sweets would help his friend's mood.

*****​

London, Sutton, December 3rd, 1996

"And this is the living room. As you can see, the appliances are all brand new. You will be hard pressed to find another flat at this price."

Brenda Brocktuckle hadn't understood half the things the muggle had told her during the tour of the flat. That the clothes she was wearing itched hadn't helped either. At least it looked like Martin had managed to follow the woman's words.

"It comes with garage as well - though if you have two cars you might need to rent another parking space."

"We don't have a car," Brenda said. And they could stash their brooms in that umbrella stand easily. "I haven't seen a fireplace though."

"A fireplace? If you want to install an electric one, then you need permission from the landlord, as for all major structural changes to the flat." The muggle laughed loud. "Not that you could install a real fireplace, of course!"

Brenda wished she could tell the dumb muggle that yes, they could install a real fireplace easily. They were not stupid muggles who could only do one thing and even that rarely well. Instead she smiled and nodded.

"The kitchen has a modern dishwasher too, in addition to the washing machine. The former tenant didn't use either much - he was a bachelor, you know." The muggle winked. "He didn't even sleep at home often, I think."

Martin nodded. He seemed to understand what those devices were - and why the muggles needed two different machines to clean things. Brenda just needed her wand.

The flat was surrounded by muggles. Many of them had children - the muggle had mentioned it could be a bit loud if the windows were open - and it was in London. It was as safe from mudblood bombs as it could be. The price sounded steep, but then, this was paper money, not real money.

"We'll take it," Brenda said.

"Oh? A good decision. You will not regret it." The woman pulled out a stack of paper. "I have the contract right here, please read through it carefully."

Brenda glanced at Martin, who winced, but nodded and picked the stack up. While the younger Auror started reading, Brenda went to check the bathroom. The appliances there looked… weird.

"Pardon my curiosity, but… is this the first shared flat for the two of you?"

The muggle had followed her. Brenda nodded, peering at the shower stall. "Yes."

"Ah. You're a lucky woman."

Brenda laughed. "He's my partner at work. This is just a temporary arrangement - until we can return to our homes. Another co-worker might join us as well."

"Oh. Were you reassigned to London?"

"Something like that. We decided it would be better to rent a flat together than look for one for each of us."

"A smart decision!" The woman smiled. "Do you need some decent but not too expensive furniture as well? I know a few businesses with very reasonable prices."

Brenda shook her head - she had all she needed in her pocket, and she could conjure whatever she might lack. "No, we're set for furniture."

"I'm done. You can sign as well, Brenda." Martin interrupted them, saving Brenda from more inane chat with a stupid muggle. It took another half an hour until the woman was finally gone - she had insisted on showing the two Aurors the basement and attic as well.

More than a bit tired, Brenda turned to Martin. "I'll inform Parkinson, ask him if he wants to move in as well. You can start arranging the furniture. I want a proper fireplace."

"Without a Floo connection?" Martin knew as well as she did that the Floo Network Authority was riddled with spies, so they couldn't be trusted.

"It's a matter of principle," Brenda said. A witch's home had a fireplace. Not those muggle contraptions. Even if the central heating worked, or the muggles would have frozen to death by now.

"Alright." Martin hesitated, then added: "Do you know how to use those muggle devices in the kitchen?"

"Didn't they cover that in Muggle Studies?" Brenda asked.

He shook his head. "Not that kind."

"Well, we don't need them. We have spells for that. Start with setting up wards too."

"Alright, boss!" Martin even stood at attention, as if he was a Hit-Wizard. She snorted, and shook her head before apparating away.

*****​

A few hours later, the flat looked more like a proper wizarding home. Fireplace, owl cage, wireless receiver, an ice box, and bookshelves. Parkinson would arrive later - Brenda suspected the Auror wanted to wait until they had set the wards. Which they were in the process of doing. None of them was a Curse-Breaker, but between the two of them, they knew enough to craft some decent protection.

A knock at the door interrupted them, and Brenda frowned. "Do we expect anyone?"

"Might be our neighbours," Martin said.

"Probably. Cover me." Brenda didn't know much about muggle customs, but she knew enough to deal with a noisy neighbour.

She opened the door, hiding her wand behind her back. "Yes?"

"Ah, hello! I'm Susan Farmer, I'm your neighbour." A middle-aged muggle woman pointed at the door opposite theirs.

"I'm Brenda."

"I wanted to say hello, and I was wondering… did you already set up your telly?"

Brenda shook her head. "No, we haven't yet used the electricity."

"Oh… well, once you do, could you check if your telly is working? Mine stopped working, and I'm trying to find out if the problem is in my flat, or in the house."

Brenda nodded. There was no way she would try to use any muggle device, but she couldn't tell the woman that. They wanted to fit in after all.

"Thank you." The woman was smiling, but she was all but craning her neck to peer inside Brenda's new flat.

"Hello, ma'am. I'm Martin." Brenda's partner stepped into sight. "We've just moved in today."

"Oh, pleased to meet you. I know, Emily told me. She's the tenant in the first floor. Her telly is working, you know."

"Good to know."

"But the Smiths from the second floor, above your flat, their telly isn't working either. Mr. Smith was very annoyed - he doesn't want to miss the Derby, you know."

Brenda had no idea what derby the woman was talking about, but she nodded again. And she had a feeling that she needed to confund the woman if she wanted to get rid of her.

"I'll go back to arranging the furniture," Martin said, ignoring her glare.

He better get started on the muggle-repelling wards, Brenda thought, if he knew what was good for him!

*****​

London, Greenwich, December 3rd, 1996

Hermione Granger really missed Grimmauld Place. Instead of meeting her two best friends there, she was meeting them in a café, in disguise. She prefered a familiar place for the kind of talk they were about to have. The witch checked her watch. It was almost time. She grinned ruefully - without her to nag them, they probably would arrive at the last minute in their classrooms. She smiled when she remembered their first Transfiguration lesson.

She missed Hogwarts too.

She spotted them before they entered the café. They were disguised as well, but she knew them better than anyone else. They didn't change their height and build, nor how they walked. And apparently, they had recognised her too - the two came straight towards her table.

Ron stepped forward and hugged her while Harry hung back. "Harry's in a dark mood," he whispered into her ear, then released her. She noticed that when she went and hugged Harry - her friend flinched, and was stiff, then hugged her back hard, and hesitated to let go.

She cast a privacy spell as soon as they had ordered, her wand swishing under the table, then leaned forward. "What happened?" This was certainly more important that talking about their dates.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances, causing her to frown. Couldn't they just get on with it?

Harry sighed. "We were in Gringotts last Friday. Tracking down a Horcrux with Moody. And… well, we thought the whole mission was handled a bit weird."

"How so?" Hermione frowned.

"We didn't travel directly to the bank, but to the Leaky Cauldron, then walked to the bank."

"What? Were you disguised?" Hermione couldn't believe that they had been so… careless? Voldemort had spies all over Diagon Alley, Hermione was certain.

"No."

"Moody let that happen?" Hermione shook her head. "Did you check him for Polyjuice?"

Harry snorted. "We should have… but then again, if he had been a traitor, he could have easily cursed us both." He shook his head. "No, Dumbledore later told us that he had been there as well, so it was safe."

"Supposedly," Ron added.

"But," Harry went on, "when we went to his office two days ago, he told us that he staged the whole thing - he wants Voldemort to know about us hunting the Horcruxes. So that he'll waste resources on protecting them, and doesn't suspect the real plan to kill him."

Hermione took a deep breath. The real plan to kill the Dark Lord? The Horcrux hunt was a diversion? "What is the real plan to kill him?"

Harry tapped his scar with a wry grin. "This contains a part of his soul, and links us two. The Headmaster said that I'll have to defeat the Dark Lord in a battle of wills."

Hermione gaped, then covered her mouth with her hand. "No."

Harry nodded. "Yes. Shocking, right?"

Hermione forced herself to chuckle. Harry carried a piece of the Dark Lord's soul in his cursed scar. And they were linked! That was horrible! "That's… did he say how this will happen?"

"He didn't. But since we're linked, I think it'll be possession or something like it."

Hermione winced. Possession. Like Quirrell.

Harry must have known what she'd think of, since he nodded again. "I've had a nightmare where my scar splits, and his head pushes out of it."

"Ugh." Ron groaned, then looked at the waitress that was approaching with their order. "I just lost my appetite."

Hermione didn't feel like eating anything either, but when she saw Harry's expression - her friend had just found another thing to blame himself for, she just knew it - she started to eat her own cake. Even if she barely tasted it. Harry had a soul shard inside his scar! How was that possible? His blood protection had been so powerful, it had burned Voldemort! Maybe the Killing Curse had been stopped, but opened a weakness in the protection, which had led to the scar, which had absorbed a part of the soul when the Dark Lord's body had disintegrated...

"See? I told you, she's already thinking of a way to handle this."

Ron's cheerful - too cheerful - voice interrupted her. But she played along and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry… I was just considering how this was possible."

"We don't expect a solution right now. Tomorrow is fine," her friend said in a teasing tone.

"I'll see what I can do," she answered, in a dry voice.

"Anyway… you see, I have a link to Voldemort. A part of him, even. So… I don't think…"

"He's trying to say that he thinks he's not safe to be around," Ron interrupted their friend. "I tried to tell him that was bollocks, but he doesn't listen too well."

Hermione sighed. "Honestly, Harry, if you were not safe to be around, don't you think Dumbledore would have said something?" It was the best argument she could think of, without a proper examination of the scar and some research.

"He lied to me about the Horcruxes once already. Lying about this would seem par for the course."

"But if you were a danger to those around you, then he'd risk far more by letting you walk around. Sirius's home, the Gryffindor's dorm, this meeting - Dumbledore would be risking far too much if there was a danger that you'd be possessed at a whim." The longer she argued, the more sense it made to Hermione. "No, we have to assume that your mother's protection effectively seals that scar up. And there's your Occlumency. You haven't felt any signs of possession, have you?"

Harry shook his head. "Only nightmares about it."

She nodded. "Then you're safe." To be around, at least. "It likely will need some effort to activate the link."

"The scar started bleeding when he was close to the Horcrux."

Hermione pressed her lips together to keep from swearing, and nodded. "Or close proximity then. You're still safe. You can even serve as an early warning system with regards to Voldemort's presence."

"Just what I always wanted to grow up into - a living Sneakoscope!" But Harry was smiling again.

"Well, I'll certainly appreciate your new power, mate!" Ron said. Her other best friend was eating his cake now.

They talked about less important things while they finished their tea. School - Hermione really was missing Hogwarts, but she tried to hide it, so her friends wouldn't feel guilty and stop talking about it. She wanted to know what was happening at Hogwarts - and not just the things relevant to the war, but also how and what her friends and acquaintances were doing. Dear Lord, she thought - she had turned into a gossip!

If Lavender could see her now! She chuckled at her realisation.

"So… with Harry straightened out…" Ron said. She noticed that he was looking nervous now. "What about, you know, dating?"

"Dating?" Hermione kept smiling with an effort. She was a Gryffindor, she shouldn't be afraid of talking about anything. "Well…" Hermione took a deep breath. "I loved both dates."

Her friends nodded.

"And while they were different, I couldn't really say which I preferred."

The boys exchanged glances. "Oh," Ron said.

He seemed, to her surprise, more relieved than disappointed. She looked at Harry, who was smiling.

"So…" She trailed off.

"So?" Harry leaned forward.

"The whole 'let's date and see if we're compatible' didn't work out as I thought," Hermione said, wincing. "I'm sorry."

"Well… what now?" Ron asked

"We go on like before?" Hermione proposed.

"You mean another set of dates?" Ron was glancing at Harry, who nodded.

"Yes." Hermione hadn't exactly meant that, but she hadn't not meant that either. She was such a coward when it came to relationships! She was, she realised with a sinking feeling, acting exactly like a heroine in one of the novels her mother read, torn between two men! Or boys!

*****​

Hogwarts, December 4th, 1996

"I hope you're happy with the information you got from Avery." Aberforth said, stepping out of the fireplace in Albus Dumbledore's office.

The Headmaster raised his eyebrows at his brother. His first impulse was to answer with a sarcastic 'I am doing well, thank you for asking', but that would just antagonise Aberforth needlessly - his brother had a chip on his shoulder about Albus's 'habit of trying to lecture him'. Instead he said: "We have the names of two more Death Eaters we did not yet know, Adalbert Bulstrode and Felix Macmillan. And the address of Macmillan. Although I think, as expected, that we will have to wait with using this information. At least until our enemies believe that Avery died in the flames and do not expect an attack any more." Which would take some time.

"And you only had to send kids into war for it."

Albus hid his annoyance. They had gone over this before. "Kids who were training to fight, eagerly, for month before I made contact with them."

"When we interrogated Avery, they tried to assure me that they wouldn't lose their temper and kill him before he had told us all we wanted to know. And they didn't. Killed him cleanly afterwards."

Albus rubbed his chin. "That is remarkably cold-blooded. But, given the circumstances and the information, I am impressed by their self-control."

His brother stood up and glared at him. "Albus! Do you realise what you're saying? You're impressed that two kids killed a man in cold blood!"

"I'm impressed they haven't killed him in a rage, or tortured him." Which, given the way the war was being fought, was not unlikely.

"Two of them were wounded. Luckily, they were facing new recruits, and they weren't hit by dark curses," Aberforth added. "Otherwise, one would have lost his leg. And the other would have interesting scars."

Albus nodded. He wasn't about to say something trivial, but true - like that the Muggleborn Resistance members knew the risks.

"You don't really care, do you? As long as the Dark Lord is defeated, there are only acceptable losses, huh?" Aberforth stood in front of his desk, glaring at him baring his teeth,

"I do care. But as I told you before - those young wizards and witches would be fighting anyway. With our help, we can reduce the risk for them - all kind of risks. Left to themselves, they would run the danger of matching their enemies atrocity for atrocity."

His brother scoffed. "I doubt that. Hermione's keeping the more bloodthirsty members on a short leash."

'Hermione' was it now, Albus noted. "Maybe. But I know how much we have to compromise when we're fighting a war. People change in one."

Aberforth scoffed once again. "So… you're not acting on the information right away. Is there anyone else you want these children to kill for you?"

Albus frowned, but didn't react to the barb. "As a matter of fact, yes." He pushed a piece of parchment over to his brother. "We have discovered the current residence of Draco Malfoy. He leads a group of young wizards and witches in the Dark Lord's service. They meet there regularly."

"And you want the Resistance to hit it?"

"I want them to capture Mister Malfoy. Not just for the information he knows. If he can be persuaded to part with some of his family fortune, then this would both hamper the Dark Lord's war efforts, as well as help ours," Albus said.

"They're going to finish what they started at Hogwarts, aren't they?"

Albus sighed. "Unfortunately, the group led by Mister Malfoy has been rather active. They have yet to murder anyone though, so I hope they'll be captured rather than killed outright. I will certainly stress the need for information."

"And now you want the Resistance to stop following the course of action you condoned before and not kill the Death Eater spawn." He shook his head. "Do you honestly think they should be saved?"

"Not at the expense of others, no. But even leaving the morality aside, I think it would be more beneficial for our cause if they are not killed, which would let other followers of Voldemort inherit their family fortunes, but instead taken prisoner."

"Kidnapping for gold and hostages…" Aberforth shook his head. "What a noble way to wage war."

"There is nothing inherently noble in war, as you know well enough." Albus saw his brother scowl when that remark hit home. "So… can I count on your help with that endeavor?"

"I'll do what I can, though I don't know if I'll be able to join them on this mission. Unless I pose as an informant with a personal grudge."

Albus smiled. "That would work very well I think."

"All those lies are going to have some repercussions."

"A price I will gladly pay if it means I can save more people," Albus said.

"You will? Well, let's hope that no one else will pay the price instead."

Aberforth shook his head and scowled as he stood up and walked towards the fireplace. Obviously, their discussion was over. Seeing his brother leave in anger hurt - even more so since Albus's actions might have rendered any possibility of reconciliation impossible.

But he'd rather suffer himself than sacrifice others.

*****​

Outside Withernsea, Yorkshire, Britain, December 5th, 1996

The Dark Lord Voldemort frowned when he read the report from one of his spies. Harry Potter had been seen entering Gringotts after business hours last week, protected by Moody. The Dark Lord had been certain that the Boy-Who-Lived would not have met the goblins at that time of the day just to talk about his finances. And so he had ordered his spies to find out what exactly Potter had done in the bank.

And his spy had come through, although it had taken more than a few days. He scowled. Potter and Moody had found the Horcrux Voldemort had hidden there, in the deepest levels of the bank, tied to the wards. That was worrying - the enchantments he had crafted had hidden this soul anchor even from the paranoid goblins' eyes. How had the boy managed to find it? He knew it wasn't the work of Moody - if the Auror had been able to track the Horcrux, say with his enchanted eye, then he would not have brought the boy with him. It was Potter then. But how? Was this 'the power he knew not'? That was a possibility he'd have to take into account.

And it meant that soul anchors he had thought safe were not. Depending on how far Potter could track Horcruxes, even those he had hidden on the continent might not be safe. Fortunately, the Dark Lord had not limited himself to Europe. And even if the boy was able to track those soul anchors, he'd have a very difficult time getting to them. Even, or especially, with Dumbledore's help - some of the locations he had chosen to hide his Horcruxes were the domains of wizards who loathed Dumbledore. Still, creating another spare would not go amiss. Just in case.

On the other hand, and this brought a smile to his face, if Potter could track his Horcruxes, then this meant there would be an opportunity to lure the Boy-Who-Lived into a trap. Or ambush him on the way to a Horcrux's hiding location. Dumbledore must be desperate to risk the boy like this. Unless… of course! The boy was bait. Bait for a trap for Voldemort! That was Dumbledore's plan!

He chuckled. He'd not fall for that ploy. He'd watch how the Boy-Who-Lived risked his life finding his soul anchors, and replace them faster than Potter could find and destroy them. And maybe some of the defenses of his Horcruxes would be enough to kill the boy.

Chuckling, he put the report down and grabbed a fresh sheet of parchment. There was another boy he had to deal with. Longbottom. The boy would give his word to stay neutral, or his grandmother would suffer like the boy's parents had suffered. Or worse. That should suffice to break the boy, and make him pliable enough for further demands at a later date.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 20: Assault

'Some historians have claimed that the surge of pureblood wizards and witches moving to live among muggles in the autumn and winter of 1996 led to them having a better understanding of muggle culture. In my opinion, such claims are based on a fundamental misunderstanding of how those purebloods lived. They may have rented and moved into muggle houses, but they did not live among muggles. Afraid for their safety, they did not use the door of their flats, since that would have taken them outside their wards. Instead they relied mainly on Apparition to enter and leave their homes. Even if there was a garden, they would only have used it if it was covered by their wards - which meant they would not mingle with muggles. Even more telling was that the wards themselves prevented the use of any and all muggle technology, further preventing the pureblood refugees from experiencing how muggles lived. Many even went as far as to ward their flats against muggles, effectively isolating themselves completely.
When you consider the fact that at this time during the war, the Muggleborn Resistance was feared by a segment of the pureblood population almost as much as the Dark Lord had been in the First Blood War - although by a different group of purebloods - then you inevitably come to the conclusion that this move into muggle homes led to nothing more than purebloods using muggles as human shields - not a stance that would lead any among the purebloods to feel any empathy for muggles. '
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

London, Ealing, December 6th, 1996

Hermione Granger was glad that the Headmaster had agreed to a sensible location for their meeting, instead of the hotels and clubs Sirius usually wanted. She was sitting on a bench, as if waiting for the bus, and reading a book - quite normal for a girl in the afternoon. She had to move a bit carefully though - the training that morning had been hard on her. Not as hard as on Seamus, though, who had been a bit too reckless, again, and had paid the price in bruises, not just sore muscles.

Some of her friends had grumbled about the intensive training, citing their recent success as proof that they were doing well. She had put her foot down though - they could do better, and they would have to do better. Sooner or later, something would go wrong, and then they would be glad for all the training she was putting them through.

She wasn't actually reading the book, of course - she had to keep an eye on her surroundings. Even with Justin as backup, invisible and on a roof nearby, it would not do to neglect her security.

"I see an older man walking towards you, should be turning the corner soon."

She heard Justin's voice through the enchanted earring she wore. It wasn't a perfect system; Hermione and John had barely gotten it to transmit sound. John was working on refining it, but he hadn't found a way to protect it against others listening in - other than picking a frequency that was not used by Wizards. They would have to use code names until then, to provide minimal security. Another thing they would need to train for. "Alright," she whispered.

As announced, an older man walked around the corner. The size and build fit Dumbledore, but that didn't have to mean anything; the old wizard could be using Polyjuice.

"Is this seat taken, Miss?"

The voice though was his. She looked him over. He had shaved his beard and dyed and styled his hair. Together with muggle clothes, it made him appear like a different - and younger - man. And he was carrying the agreed-upon newspaper from the day before.

"No, please sit down," she answered.

He took a seat, gingerly stretching his legs. Both cast privacy spells.

"How are you and your friends doing?" he asked, not looking at her, but at an ad across the street.

"We're doing fine. More training, to avoid the mistakes we made."

"I see." He smiled, as if she had just handed in an essay for extra-credit.

Hermione smiled in return, then scolded herself. She wasn't in school anymore. She shouldn't crave her teacher's approval.

"Have both of your friends who were hurt recovered?"

"Yes. Though one of them seems determined to hurt himself again." Hermione pursed her lips.

Dumbledore chuckled. Then he grew serious, and passed a rolled up scroll to her. "This is the new address of Draco Malfoy. His home also serves as a meeting spot for the other young wizards and witches who follow him in the service of the Dark Lord."

Hermione had to struggle a bit to coolly nod, instead of smiling widely. Malfoy's home! That creep had wanted all muggleborns to die back in their second year! He was rotten to the core, and him having escaped the bombing of Malfoy Manor had irked her a lot.

"I have to stress that, if possible, Mister Malfoy should be captured so he can be interrogated. He may have crucial information. But do not risk your lives for it, please. Just do not simply turn the house into a crater."

"If I can study the house beforehand, I can calculate the force of the bomb needed to take down the wards - provided it's not standing near other houses," Hermione said.

"Fascinating. A quite ingenious, if a bit heavy-handed, solution to wards. Some Curse-Breakers might want to use the method as well, I think - for more peaceful pursuits."

Hermione wasn't convinced that this method would ever be safe enough for civilian use, but who knew what could be developed? "That should shock them enough so we can capture Malfoy."

"Please capture anyone else, if possible. Not only may others have valuable information as well, but most of them are the current, if still minor, heirs to their family fortunes - and Wizengamot seats. Having them taken prisoner would offer several more possibilities to weaken the Dark Lord's cause further than killing them out of hand."

Hermione could see the sense in that, but she had a duty towards her group. "We'll certainly not go out of our way to kill them, but we'll not take undue risks to capture them." She hadn't forgotten how the Headmaster had used Harry and Ron. She almost asked about them, and that trip, but held her tongue. They'd told her that they had settled that, after all.

"I cannot ask for more." He smiled. "My brother should be available to help you again. You can claim that he was the informant for this."

That would make the mission safer - the Death Eaters would respond quicker than Aurors, Hermione was certain - but it might lead to more questions from the rest of the group. She nodded. "Very well, sir." She could handle questions better than dead friends. "I will inform my group that the prisoners will be used to extort gold then, but they might expect a cut." More gold certainly wouldn't hurt. Sirius was generous, but she felt as if she was taking part of Harry's money as well. If she could get Death Eater gold to pay for waging war against them, that would be ideal. "How quickly should this be done?"

"There is no special hurry. We have them under observation. But should they decide to launch an attack, our hand might be forced to prevent further innocent victims."

Or rather, her and her friends' hand. "I'll get on it then, sir." She nodded at him. "Anything else?"

"I am still preparing the facilities to hold prisoners - they will be ready in two days."

"Good." Hermione didn't expect to be told where those facilities were. She wouldn't have told him either. She checked the schedule for the buses. A few more minutes until the next one arrived. "Have you read the latest article in the Prophet, sir?"

He sighed. "I have, yes. Miss Skeeter's work has grown more and more extremist lately. She also seems rather terrified of you."

That evil liar should be terrified, Hermione thought. She hadn't forgotten what Skeeter had done in their fourth year - or their fifth. The only reason she hadn't chosen her as a target was that the articles Skeeter wrote were such blatant lies, they discredited the Prophet - or at least they should. Though anyone who still believed that muckraker was beyond help anyway. "She still hasn't fled, or stopped writing though."

"Do you think she's under pressure to keep writing?"

Hermione nodded. "I think that's a possibility."

"I will have someone look into it."

The young witch smiled.

*****​

London, East End, December 6th, 1996

Hermione Granger smiled at the Resistance members assembled in the living room - or what had become their living room - of their headquarters. "As you know, I've met with an informant today."

"Yes, your secret informant," Dean mumbled, loud enough even Hermione heard it.

She ignored it, but noted with some pleasure that the majority of the group glared at Dean. "I've been given the location of a new target."

"A new target? What about the information we received from Avery's interrogation? That information almost cost me my legs!" Seamus, of course, wasn't deterred by glares at his friend.

"We'll be waiting on striking at those until the Death Eaters believe they're safe," Hermione said. "In the meantime, we will be focusing on Malfoy's new home."

"What?"

"Yes!"

"We got the bastard!"

Hermione smiled. As she had expected, everyone was very eager to finally deal with Malfoy. That bigot had tormented every one of them for years - even the older students during Umbridge's reign. She waited until the excitement had died down a bit. "He's been working directly for the Dark Lord, as far as we know, and he has been leading a group of Slytherins in raids. Two of them died in the attack on the home of the Weasleys."

"Good riddance!" Seamus said, smiling widely. Many nodded.

"Since Draco is reporting directly to Voldemort, the goal is to capture him alive for interrogation." Hermione looked at every member, to impress how important that was.

"As long as we kill him afterwards." John shrugged.

"We want to see him die!" Dean said.

"We deserve that!" Seamus added.

Hermione glanced around, then nodded. Never give an order you know won't be obeyed, the Major had taught her that. "It'll be a clean execution."

Seamus opened his mouth, but Dean laid his hand on the Irish wizard's arm and shook his head, stopping what Hermione was certain would have been a protest.

"The members of his group - Crabbe, Goyle, Greengrass, Davis have been identified - should be taken alive as well, if possible. Don't take too many risks for that though," Hermione continued.

"Why? Do they know anything important as well?" Sally-Anne asked.

"Well, Draco's probably not smart enough to keep information secret - you know how he always boasted and bragged," John said.

"Still, they wouldn't know anything Draco doesn't know. If we have Draco we don't need to take any risk to capture the rest; we can just kill them." Sally-Anne's ruthless statement surprised Hermione. She hadn't expected that. But then, Sally-Anne was in love with Justin and probably feared for his safety. Hermione could understand that - if she thought Harry and Ron were asked to take pointless risks…

"They might know the names and locations of family members who are Death Eaters. Malfoy wouldn't know about them. Further, they are the heirs of their families. Greengrass and Davis have not just inherited large fortunes, but seats in the Wizengamot as well. If they are killed, then those go to the next of kin - another Death Eater sympathiser or recruit, in all likelihood," Hermione explained. "Astoria Greengrass already tried to kill the Gryffindor third years, as you know. So, if they are captured instead, that gold and maybe even that influence can be used for our cause."

"How would we do that?" Mary asked. "And we can't really keep prisoners; there are not enough of us to guard them and keep fighting."

Hermione shook her head. "We can't do it. But others can. We'll get our fair share of the gold though," she added quickly.

"Can we trust them?" Jeremy asked.

"Yes," she stated. "Implicitly."

"But you won't tell us who they are," Dean said.

"No, I won't. That's not how resistance cells work." Hermione stared him down.

"And if you die?" Seamus asked. "What then? No one but you knows those people."

"Precautions have been taken," Hermione said. She didn't want to be too specific. "We don't have to be concerned about that; all we have to do is hand our captives over. After Malfoy's execution, we're done."

"Crabbe and Goyle are not that rich. Makes no sense leaving them alive." Seamus said.

She was getting tired of this. "If they are not useful alive, and have done enough, they'll be killed as well. In that case, we'll send Malfoy to his death with his two grunts."

Seamus looked like he wanted to argue further, but since she had just given him what he had asked for, he couldn't. Hermione almost smirked.

"Now… we'll be observing the house. It's isolated, so we'll be able to simply blow the wards away. I'll need some time to calculate the amount of explosives necessary. We'll be striking when they are gathered, so we can get the entire group. There's no time pressure, unless they start to plan an attack on others; in that case we'll hit them right away."

Everyone seemed to agree with that.

"And in the meantime, we'll practise indoor assaults and broom interception. We can't let them escape."

That was received by groans all around.

"What about tunnels?" Tania asked.

"We'll be looking for those as well. But if we cover enough of the area with Anti-Apparition Jinxes, even tunnels won't help them." Hermione would still look for a way to scan for those. Just in case.

"Any other questions?" She waited a few seconds. "Then let's get started!"

*****​

Hogwarts, December 7th, 1996

Ron Weasley was still rubbing his shoulder - he had landed quite hard on it when he had dodged one of Moody's more painful spells - even an hour after the training session had ended and he and Harry had returned to the dorms. He could go to Madam Pomfrey, maybe claim he had a little accident with his broom… he shook his head. He could endure this. He had to if he wanted to make a difference, as Hermione put it.

He stared at the embers in the fireplace nearby. He had thought he was doing something important, crucial even, helping Harry find the soul anchors that kept Voldemort from dying. Keep him safe, protect him against Death Eaters. But it was just a distraction. A ruse of the Headmaster's. Harry didn't need his help to defeat Voldemort - his friend would do that alone, inside his mind.

Ron couldn't help with that. He snorted, thinking of the jokes that his brothers would make about him and minds. Harry would be defeating the Dark Lord. Hermione was killing Death Eaters in droves. And Ron? He was Harry's moral support. A joke, in other words.

Well, not entirely. He doubted that Harry could simply stay safe at Hogwarts and kill Voldemort with his mind. The two would have to meet. Which meant a battle. Which meant that someone would have to protect Harry's back while he faced the Dark Lord.

Ron could do that. Would do that. Harry was his best friend, and he'd rather die than let him down. He still felt ashamed when he thought of the Tournament. He had been so stupid, so petty… He shook his head and hissed through his clenched teeth. If Harry died, Hermione would be devastated. And it would be Ron's fault. He ignored the tiny voice in the back of his head which whispered that if Harry died, Ron would have Hermione.

He noticed Ginny heading his way, but kept staring at the glowing remains of the logs in the fireplace.

"What are you moping about?" His sister let herself fall into the armchair next to his.

He glanced at her, turning his head just enough to meet her eyes. He wasn't in the mood for an interrogation. "The war," he grunted.

"Oh." Ginny frowned. But as he had expected, his sister didn't let his attitude stop her. "Well, what's going on with Neville?"

"What?" This time he turned his head.

"Neville Longbottom. Same year as you, has his bed next to yours."

"Your sarcasm needs more work," he spat. "What about him? And why do you know where he sleeps?"

"From the map." She shook her head, then leaned forward. "What's going on? He looks worse than I've ever seen him and barely talks to anyone, not even the teachers. Didn't you notice?"

Ron hadn't, actually. He knew the boy had been crying at night, but that was understandable, wasn't it? And not something he thought Neville wanted to talk about. And, Ron told himself, he had had more important things to worry about.

He must have hesitated a bit too long to answer since Ginny scoffed. "Really? Merlin's pants! He's your roommate!"

"Harry and I have been busy."

"Yes, yes, your secret missions." She rolled her eyes and flipped her hair back over her shoulder.

He quickly cast a privacy spell. "Ginny!"

"Oh, come on - everyone knows you're on some secret mission, or whatever. Think we have missed how you and Harry disappear so often?" Ginny waved his concern away. "We won't tell anyone."

"People can read your minds," he whispered.

That made her eyes widen in surprise for a moment, then she pouted. "As long as you don't tell us what you're doing, it's OK. But Neville's not OK." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I think the Dark Lord sent him another letter."

"Did you tell Dumbledore?"

She shook her head. "He would know already, wouldn't he?"

"Maybe. Probably." Ron wasn't quite certain. "Wouldn't hurt telling him." And Dumbledore might know how to help Neville - Ron certainly didn't. And he doubted that Harry knew either. He didn't know how he'd react, in Neville's place. How could you sacrifice your family, even if it was the right thing to do? "I'll tell him."

"Good."

He expected her to leave, but she looked around, and leaned further forward. "So, how are things with you and Hermione?"

"You mean, how are things with her and Harry."

"Oh." She looked at him with wide eyes.

He winced. She had misunderstood him. "No, they are not together. I meant, you want to know how things are between Harry and her."

"Well, yes." She grinned.

He stared at her. "We're still sounding things out." He didn't want to lie to her, or tell her off, but this was a private matter, between him and his friends.

"Why has Harry been so down then?"

"That wasn't because of his love life. And no, I'm not going to tell you why he was down."

"I can ask him myself!"

"Yes, you can."

She huffed and stood up. "See if I don't!"

He watched her leave, and wondered if she'd actually do it. She was a Weasley, and a Gryffindor, so she might. Although Harry was already up in their room, probably sleeping, or trying to. He blinked. That might not stop Ginny if she was riled up. On the other hand, she hadn't yet talked to Harry about her feelings, and it had been weeks since she had told Ron.

He returned to watching the embers in the fireplace. Some things were best left alone. His sister's love life was one of those things. Unless, of course, someone hurt her.

*****​

Dorset, Britain, December 7th, 1996

"Ah, there she is, the Bane of Bigotry!"

"'Bane of Bigotry'? Really?" Hermione shook her head at Fred and George.

Fred shrugged, grinning. "You're the terror of the Death Eaters. Another year or two, and they'll call you "The-One-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"I doubt that," Hermione said dryly.

"Scythe of the Slytherins?" George asked, with his head cocked to the side.

Hermione rubbed her temple and ignored the two while she looked around inside their wizard tent. It was not as luxuriously furnished as the one Arthur Weasley had borrowed for the World Cup. Sirius might have cut a few corners there. Not that she could blame him - why spend gold on frivolous things for such a mission? "So… what's the status of Malfoy's home?"

"Unchanged. He's not home that often, and apart from Crabbe and Goyle, he hasn't had visitors since the last meeting of his group," Fred said. "You'll need to keep it under constant surveillance though, so you can strike when all the Death Eaters are visiting."

"That won't be a problem." Hermione nodded. The Resistance had enough members for that. "But if there are too many, we might wait until Malfoy is alone instead. If he's as close to the Dark Lord as Dumbledore suspects, help will arrive quickly." Hopefully not Voldemort himself - Aberforth wouldn't be enough to stall for long.

George agreed with her. Fred scowled. "Those witches are dangerous spies. We need to take them out."

"We'll do what we can," Hermione assured him. "But Malfoy is the priority. Now… I'll have to study the wards, so I can prepare the bomb to take them down." If she made a mistake, the results wouldn't be pretty. A bit too much, and she'd level the building, killing everyone inside. A bit too little, and it wouldn't take the wards down, and result in Malfoy knowing that his hideout was compromised. Judging by the twins' expressions, they were aware of that. It couldn't be helped though.

"I'll come with you. Just in case," George said.

"If Harry and Ron kill you for hitting on their girl, I get your belongings," Fred joked, earning a glare from Hermione and his brother. As much as she appreciated and respected the twins for their innovation, she wished they'd be more serious. Far more serious.

Half an hour later, Hermione was studying the wards through her customised Omnioculars while hidden by spells and carefully arranged bushes. The wards were not exactly weak, but a far cry from powerful. The Resistance's HQ had better wards. The house looked sturdy too - another safety margin.

She started to take notes of her readings - she could calculate the explosive needed later, at home. At headquarters. Once she was done, she whispered: "We can leave now."

"Ah…" George said, "There's a thing I wanted to talk about with you."

"Yes?" Hermione frowned. Was that why he had come along? "What has Fred done?"

She heard a surprised hiss, and a muttered "Scary." Then George whispered: "He's taking this very personally. I mean, I warned him about those girls. But he was all over them. One or both, I don't know - but he was in love, I think."

"That must have hurt," Hermione said. If Harry and Ron had betrayed her like that… she didn't know what she'd do.

"Yes. For a while, I feared he might do something foolish." George sighed. "He wants them to die, you know."

"We kill Death Eaters. We only agreed to try to take them prisoner since the Headmaster asked me to." Hermione didn't think they were in the best spot to discuss this.

"Yes. I just… it would help him and me a lot if we could find out just what they were planning for us."

That was standard practice. He would know that. Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What are you trying to ask me?"

"Please, capture them. Fred and I need to know what they thought about us. I don't want Fred to wonder what might have been, you know?"

Hermione resisted the urge to rub her forehead. "We'll do what we can. Let's return now."

At least someone else's love life was as messed up as hers.

******​

Dorset, Britain, December 8th, 1996

"Nice setup you've got here. Though not as cozy as I expected."

Hermione Granger chuckled at Aberforth's comment upon entering the wizarding tent. "It's not mine. I sort of inherited it." And she hadn't seen the need to change the furniture. She had cleaned it though.

The old wizard nodded and sat down on a conjured seat. "So. Albus told you about this."

"The operation? Yes. He wants Malfoy alive, and if possible, the other members of his little Death Eater cell as well." She pointed at the enchanted scrolls of parchment with the transcripts from the Wireless Voles. "We've been monitoring the house for days now, and have been training for the assault." And arranging it so she could meet Aberforth when she was alone here had taken some scheduling. Most of the Resistance was enjoying a night out in town, after a special training session this morning, while she had graciously offered to man the surveillance post.

He nodded. "I'm to pose as an informant with a personal grudge, wanting to observe the attack myself. So I can help, if needed."

She frowned slightly. "If you help then that cover will be blown." Her friends suspected something already - even though some probably suspected everyone she met to be her secret contact.

"Of course. But that's better than needing my help and not having it." Aberforth snorted. "Malfoy may be an idiot, but he's rich and he's close to the Dark Lord. I doubt he's just trusting that no one can find him."

"He isn't," Hermione said. "He hasn't gone into details near one of the Voles, but he mentioned reinforcements they could call upon. The wards won't stop us, but we'll have a rather narrow window before we have to leave or face a sizeable Death Eater force."

"How do you plan to leave then?"

"Brooms." She didn't like them, but they were the best way to retire from a battle - especially at night. She hoped Malfoy would gather his group in the evening, at least. And some covering fire from their machine guns would hopefully discourage pursuit.

"I'll have to bring my own then."

Hermione didn't believe he left his home without a shrunken broom in his pocket - she didn't either, despite her aversion to flying on it - but nodded. If she had the time to fix the invisibility enchantment on the van, they could use it, though they would need to remove the studio gear first. Maybe another flying van would be a good addition. Enchanted to be more durable too. Armored, even. She would be able to stomach the A-Team jokes from Seamus and Dean. "The main problem is that we have to find a way to stop them from fleeing on brooms." Preferably one that didn't impede the Resistance as well.

"Have you thought about filling the sky with conjured animals?" Aberforth asked. "Sometimes the simple solutions are the best."

"We've discussed that." Dennis had wanted Pterosaurs, but the principle was the same. "They would be a tad vulnerable, and their ability to stop a broom rider seems questionable, unless acting in a swarm. And even then, a Shield Charm might allow them to break through." Which was why Dennis had asked for 'flying dinosaurs'.

"Unless the animal's presence scares them off even trying to fly away."

"All of the ones who would achieve that are not native to Britain." She had checked.

"Well, most people don't think clearly when they are attacked, and see a dragon fly overhead."

"None of us can transfigure or conjure a dragon." Hermione pursed her lips. She thought she could learn, but she'd take a lot of time. That kind of spectacular magic seemed to suit Harry, who had mastered a Patronus Charm in their third year, and then driven away dozens of Dementors. She didn't want him involved with this. He was needed at Hogwarts, after all, he couldn't hide with her. Ron had seen dragons up close when he visited his brother Charlie, but Hermione doubted that would let him create one through Transfiguration or Conjuration.

"I can."

"That would pretty much ruin your cover."

"Right." He didn't sound as if he'd mind that too much, Hermione thought - and wondered why that would be the case. Anyone caught with the Resistance would have to go into hiding - the Ministry was still hunting them vigorously.

"Covering the airspace with nets is not feasible - and nets could easily be dispelled or destroyed." She had run the numbers. "We'll have to rely on air cover and shock and awe. Though we'll add conjured birds - owls would be very good for their size and night vision." Hermione had thought about enlarging animals, but any sizeable change would ruin their ability to fly. "And we need to keep an eye out for Death Eaters arriving to save Malfoy."

It would be so much easier if they could simply kill Malfoy. She knew how much explosives they'd need to turn the house into a crater.

And she'd have more than enough around - should the Death Eaters arrive too quickly, and force them to leave, they'd blow up Malfoy and his group with his house before leaving.

*****​

Kent, Greengrass Manor, December 9th, 1996

Even sitting in the living room, eating breakfast, Daphne Greengrass didn't feel safe. She hadn't felt safe in her home for months, but lately it had grown worse. After she and Tracey had barely escaped with their lives from the Weasleys' shop, she had started to reconsider her decision to enter the war against the mudbloods. Draco had been quite persuasive, and the mudbloods were a danger to everyone, but the fight in the twins' shop had been the second time in a week that she had almost died. If she was just dealing with Draco, she would have told him she was taking a break, at least. Claimed she needed to take care of Astoria. Maybe even faked more fear than she actually felt, if he tried to insist she should stay.

But withdrawing from the Dark Lord's forces? She was quite certain he'd see that as desertion, and would punish her. Or, worse, her sister. And he certainly knew, or could easily find out, where she lived. Her family had not been quite as willing to impress their peers by inviting them to their manor as the Malfoys, but there were enough who had been their guests among the Dark Lord's followers.

But even if she stayed in the Dark Lord's service - and she had no real choice there - who knew how long it would take the mudbloods to find her? No, she wasn't safe in her family's ancestral manor. Not anymore.

But she couldn't easily leave. She needed a safe house, a hideout. And she needed to talk to Tracey about this. Together, they might find a solution.

Maybe even for more problems than the danger their homes were in.

Her breakfast had grown cold while her thoughts had wandered, she discovered. Frowning, she pushed her plate away. She wasn't that hungry anyway.

"Daphne?"

She turned her head. Astoria was standing in the door, dressed in her robes. That was a surprise - her little sister was even less of a morning person than Daphne herself. "Yes?"

"When will you take me with you to Draco?"

Daphne closed her eyes. She really didn't need this, not now.

"I already helped attacking mudbloods and blood traitors! I can help you as well! I don't even have to fight, I can make potions, repair things…"

At least her sister had some sense left, Daphne thought, sighing. She met Astoria's eyes. "I almost died twice in one week, Astoria. I only survived because I was lucky and could flee. Vaisey and Warrington died in a trap." She shook her head. "It's too dangerous for you. It might even be too dangerous for me."

"What?" Her sister was gaping.

Daphne scoffed. "What did you think the war is like? Each time we go out, we are in danger. We could walk into a trap, or an ambush."

"But…"

"No, Astoria. It's too dangerous for you. I'm actually thinking we should leave the manor, and move to a safer place for the duration of the war."

"What? Do you think the mudbloods found us?"

Daphne's slight anger at her sister's idea vanished when she saw Astoria's shocked expression. "I don't think so, but they might," she quickly said.

Her sister started to tremble. "Like… like… mum and dad...."

Daphne rushed to wrap her in her arms, just in time for the tears. Stupid, she berated herself - Astoria hadn't yet come to terms with the loss of their parents. Her words had just scared her again.

While she held her crying sister, Daphne couldn't help but curse her life.

*****​

London, East End, December 9th, 1996

"I don't see the problem. Let's just cast the Imperius on the bastards and order them to surrender!" Dean said, slamming his hand on the table the Resistance had gathered around. "Easy!"

Seamus, of course, nodded his approval, Hermione Granger noted. At least Louise and Jeremy, as well as Justin, looked as appalled as Hermione herself felt.

"Using the Unforgivables will do far more harm than good," she told the two wizards. "Yes, it would make capturing Death Eaters easier." It wasn't as if any of those Death Eaters could resist it, unlike Harry. "But it would also harm our reputation. We'd be seen as dark wizards, barely better than the Death Eaters, by many purebloods and half-bloods who are sympathetic to our cause."

"Feh!" Seamus sneered. "There are not many of those around. Apart from your mysterious 'contacts', we haven't received any help from those 'sympathetic purebloods'."

"There are quite a number of purebloods fighting the Dark Lord," Hermione pointed out. "And even more who hate and fear him. Alienating them would hurt us a lot." Especially with regards to the time after the war had ended.

"And trust me - Aurors and Hit-Wizards hate people who use the Unforgivables," Louise cut in.

"Really? You used them yourself in the last war," Dean said. His tone made it clear that he was all but calling Louise a liar.

"That was fifteen years ago," the former Hit-Wizard spat. "Fifteen years where everyone in the Corps only saw those Unforgivables used against them, by criminals."

Hermione doubted that there were many such incidents, but this was not the time to mention the general lack of combat experience of Aurors and Hit-Wizards. "Indeed. Casting an Unforgivable at another wizard or witch carries a life sentence in Azkaban. That should tell you how much they are scorned."

"No one has to know," Seamus said. "No witnesses, no problem."

"You can't count on that," Hermione said. She wasn't about to discuss the morality of killing witnesses; the odds of anyone in the house being innocent were far too low. "Such things tend to get out."

"We'll just have to be careful. If we use it only if there is no other way, we'll be fine," Dean said.

"You can't count on that working out," Justin said. "We shouldn't rely on such spells. We have alternatives."

"With other spells, you need to hit them twice - once to shatter their shield, once to stun them." Dean wasn't giving up on his idea, or so it seemed.

"Good luck hitting a broom rider twice!" Seamus scoffed.

Hermione bit her lower lip, then frowned - at herself as much as at Dean and Seamus. She should have found a better way to capture the Death Eaters. But stopping people fleeing on a broom without killing them was harder than it sounded. Especially if the Resistance had to use the same means to withdraw from the battle. She had had some ideas. Enchanted Bludgers, smashing into the brooms. They could be charmed to not attack the Resistance. In theory at least. The twins were certain they could create them.

But that kind of work took time. Time the Resistance didn't have - the last transcript had shown that Malfoy had called a meeting for a new mission for the next day. They would have to fill the sky with conjured birds, probably owls, as well as bats, and a few broomriders of their own. She knew, though, that the odds of anyone being captured alive after taking to the sky were very slim.

She could live with that.

"We won't be using those spells. There's no guarantee you'd hit anyone on a broom even once. And if they're not on a broom we can deal with them." Hermione stared at Dean. "If they escape on brooms, and we can't stun them in time, we'll shoot them down."

That made Seamus grin. Dean frowned for a few seconds, then finally nodded.

Hermione didn't sigh with relief. She simply went on with the briefing, pointing at the map pinned to the wall behind her. "Here you can see the area around the house. We'll be here," she pointed at a spot, "until the bomb goes off, then we'll move to the house, sealing the windows from both sides. We haven't detected any curses or traps in the vicinity so far, and with the Death Eater cell meeting there, it's unlikely that they'd trap the house itself." Hermione hoped so, at least. If they had the kind of traps Bill Weasley liked to use, then this would be a catastrophe. But those traps couldn't be used when people lived in the house. Hermione had asked.

"Now, Dean and Seamus will be on brooms, above us. They'll support us, if needed, and stop escape attempts. Louise and Jeremy have point for the entry, with Tania and Mary behind them. Justin and Sally-Anne are reserves, and will keep an eye out for Death Eater reinforcements on the north-eastern side. Dennis and Colin will do the same on the other side. John and I will cover the back door, and enter there if needed. Our contact wants to see the attack with his own eyes - he hates Malfoy - and will be with us as well."

She looked at the assembled Resistance. Most of them looked eager. Justin and Sally-Anne at least had more sense and looked grim, but determined.

They were rather stretched for people, she knew. They'd need the enemy afraid and shocked, unable to offer organised resistance at least at the start, or things would go wrong.

Hermione really hoped she hadn't made a mistake in accepting and planning this.

*****​

Hogwarts, December 9th, 1996

Harry Potter was, not quite anxious, but feeling a bit nervous. The Headmaster had asked him and Ron to come to his office, and while whatever Dumbledore wanted to talk about obviously wasn't urgent, or they would have been summoned at once, it had to be important. Which meant related to his scar, or to the war.

"Mate?"

Ron's veiled prodding - his best friend knew he was stalling, and why - made Harry glare at him, even as he spoke the password to the enchanted stone statue guarding the door: "Snickers."

Privately, Harry and his friends were certain that the password was not needed, and that the gargoyle simply alerted the Headmaster upon being spoken to, who then decided if the door would open. Listing a selection of sweets could not be enough to break into Dumbledore's office. If the twins were still at Hogwarts, Harry would ask them to test it, but then, wouldn't the Headmaster expect that? He pushed the thought away when they entered the office.

"Good evening, Harry, Mister Weasley. Please have a seat."

"Good evening, Headmaster," both boys chorused, sitting down on two conjured seats.

Fawkes briefly looked up from where he was grooming his wings, then went back to whatever birds did to their feathers.

"Ah, sir. Before we talk about what you called us here for, I have a question. Or a problem, maybe," Ron spoke up.

"Yes?" Dumbledore looked curious, Harry thought.

"It's about Neville. He looks even more out of it lately," Ron said. "He doesn't want to talk about it, but he's suffering. So… do you know if anything happened?"

The Headmaster sighed. "I do. It is private though."

Harry didn't think that there was anyone at Hogwarts who didn't know that Neville's grandmother was Voldemort's prisoner. But he knew that he wouldn't like being in the same situation as Neville. He had been there a few times, after all. "Can you help him?"

"I am doing what I can, but ultimately, Neville has to decide what course of action he will take." Dumbledore spread his hands. "No one else can decide for him."

Harry winced and exchanged a glance with Ron. That meant a rescue mission was not possible. Poor Neville.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, as if he had been reading Harry's thoughts, "it is a terrible situation to be in. He needs friends now, more than ever."

Fawkes looked up again, trilled, and went back to grooming.

Harry felt guilty again at giving Neville the cold shoulder. "He doesn't want to talk to us, though."

"That never stopped Hermione," Ron said, under his breath, "when you were brooding."

Harry didn't quite glare at him.

"Now… you might wonder why I called you to my office," Dumbledore said, breaking the short silence.

"It's about the war, or my scar." Harry tapped his forehead.

"Precisely." The old wizard beamed at him. "I want to start teaching you the way into the Dark Lord's mind. Legilimency."

Harry hissed in surprise. In retrospect, he should have expected that - he knew from his 'lessons' with Snape about Legilimency. He cleared his throat. "And who will I be training on?" Who would risk revealing his deepest secrets to him?

"I have asked a few friends, to begin with," Dumbledore said.

Harry nodded. He hadn't expected Dumbledore himself - unless the Headmaster was planning to obliviate him of any accidentally acquired secrets. Then he chuckled at his paranoia - he doubted that he would be able to enter the man's mind anytime soon. Or ever.

"Blimey. You'll be able to read minds!" Ron shook his head.

"The ability to discern the thoughts of others can be abused very easily, Harry. It will be difficult to restrain yourself," Dumbledore said, "especially if it might offer you the solution to a problem, or the answer to a question. But a person's mind is theirs - it should not be entered without the most urgent need."

"I understand, sir." Harry did. He remembered how Snape had gleefully read his thoughts, taunting him with the secrets, however banal they had been, that the Potions Master had ferreted out. But he wasn't Snape. He would be better than that git.

"I have to warn you, though. Your particular connection to the Dark Lord will, unless I am sorely mistaken, allow Legilimency to achieve things usually impossible. And you will be in greater danger as well. Fredrick Beanwalker tried to enter his own mind, and was rendered mad as a result. He died after decades in St. Mungo's, never able to recover his wits." Dumbledore said, looking directly at Harry.

"Well, I've been accused of being crazy often enough." Harry chuckled. It wasn't as if he had a choice, anyway - he had to defeat the Dark Lord in a battle of wills, after all. And that would be rather hard without Legilimency. And if he didn't master this first, the Dark Lord might use it on him later.

Dumbledore nodded, a sad smile on his face, then turned to Ron. "Would you like to learn it as well, Mister Weasley?"

Ron looked surprised. "Oh."

Harry wondered why Ron wouldn't have expected to be included - he was trusted with every secret, after all. And he had mastered Occlumency as well.

"This is… I'll have to think about this, sir. As you said, it's very easy to abuse."

"And you fear you should not be trusted with this power?"

Ron nodded.

"Those who question themselves are generally more trustworthy than those who do not, Mister Weasley. The greater the power a wizard wields, the more he needs to question himself. Many a talented wizard has found out too late that his confidence in himself was not justified." Dumbledore smiled, though once again, he looked sad.

"I see," Ron said. "I would still prefer to think on this."

"Of course, Mister Weasley."

Harry felt jealous of Ron. His best friend had a choice. He could refuse to learn this skill. And even if he learned it, he'd not be in as much danger as Harry. He pressed his lips together. He shouldn't feel like this. Ron wasn't at fault for Harry's messed-up life. That was Voldemort's doing. And the Prophecy's. And the Death Eaters'. And Ron was choosing to do this, to follow Harry, of his own free will. He had a choice, and he chose to help Harry.

Harry had no doubt that Ron would follow him in this as well. He was his best friend.

*****​

London, December 9th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle sighed when she arrived at her new and hopefully very temporary home. Another day spent in an increasingly tense office. Rumour had it that Shacklebolt almost cursed Lewis Selwyn when the latter raised his wand to summon a cauldron cake. Of course, Shacklebolt's friends probably told each other that Selwyn had tried to curse the veteran Auror, and had managed to cover up his attempt when he realised Shacklebolt was ready for him. Selwyn was that kind of wizard, underhanded and too clever for his own good, in Brenda's opinion.

But spending hours in an office, recasting discreet protection spells on the door every so often, was stressful. In addition to that, her undercover operation was currently stalled - she had to find another spectacular attack or heist for Rickett and Purvis; all that they were doing so far was giving aid to the few muggleborns still around in Knockturn Alley, and painting slogans on walls. But arranging such a coup without risking a security leak was very hard - she couldn't actually ask other Aurors for help.

And Dawlish and Shacklebolt were still arguing whose task force would have the lead in investigating that massacre in Knockturn Alley. Dawlish insisted that it should be his, since it was an attack by mudbloods. Shacklebolt maintained that since the victims were Death Eaters and their recruits, it was his investigation. Brenda thought Dawlish would come out on top - there was only hearsay and mudblood propaganda that claimed the dead were Death Eater recruits. Not that many cared about it - the general public wasn't really concerned about dead Knockturn Alley residents, no matter their blood. Neither did she care - all Brenda wanted now was to occupy the couch, eat something, and listen to the wireless.

And she would, if not for Parkinson.

"The muggles are still making a ruckus outside." The other Auror was staring out of the window. "They are walking around with their weird devices, and growing angry."

"So what? Martin has finally placed Muggle-Repelling wards on the flat. They won't bother us with their muggle problems." Brenda understood now why the Magical World went into hiding - muggles were noisy and needy. Their new neighbours had knocked on the door three times before Martin finally shut them down. All because their telly was not working.

"Those outside are muggle repairmen," Martin said, entering from the kitchen, where he had placed the takeout food they had brought with them on trays. "Apparently, they cannot find the problem."

"They are the problem," Brenda said, standing up and grabbing her own dinner.

"I could disillusion myself and repair their tellies," Martin said, as he sat down at the table.

"What for?" Parkinson scoffed. "Just cast a Silencing Charm on the window, and their pathetic problems won't bother us. See?" His wand flashed, and the noise of talking muggles disappeared.

Brenda smiled. "Well done!"

If only all their problems could be solved so easily!

*****​

Dorset, Britain, December 10th, 1996

Hermione Granger studied the house through her Omnioculars - which she should rebuild into a form that was easier to handle and conceal, she thought, not for the first time - while Justin looked at the transcripts on the scrolls.

"They're still waiting for Nott," he said.

Malfoy, Parkinson, Nott, Greengrass, Davis, Crabbe, Goyle - if the Resistance managed to capture or kill all of them, that would be a heavy blow against the Death Eaters, Hermione knew. But it was riskier than she liked. They outnumbered them, but only as long as no reinforcements arrived. Which is why they'd focus on casting Anti-Apparition Jinxes over a wide area, to keep Death Eaters from arriving on top of them.

They were hidden in a trench they had created, a few hundred yards from the house. Close enough to observe and rush it, far enough not to have to worry about the bomb Seamus would be dropping on the house as soon as Hermione gave the signal.

She saw Mary and Tania check their rifles. For the fourth time. Those lessons of the Sergeant had stuck. Others - especially those regarding discipline - hadn't been retained that well. A fact Hermione often felt quite keenly when Seamus and Dean tried to derail briefings.

Even Aberforth in his disguise looked nervous - though she knew it was an act. The Headmaster's brother didn't really fear the upcoming battle. Nor did he fear the potential repercussions should he have to reveal his true talents. Hermione even had the impression that he'd like making trouble for his brother.

Justin's voice interrupted her musings. "Nott just arrived."

Half the Resistance jerked, the other half tensed up. Hermione turned towards them. "Take cover!" She paused half a second, checking that everyone was inside the trench. "Shield Charms!" She cast one herself, her words drowned out by the other's incantations. Then she touched her throat mic. "Green, do it."

She heard his yell, followed by "Bomb away!", and counted the seconds until both the wards and parts of Malfoy's house vanished in an explosion that rattled her and the others despite their cover and Shield Charms.

She stuck her head up a second after she had heard the explosion. As planned, the front part of the house had been caved in - turned to rubble, actually. The back part, where the group was meeting, was still standing, but they'd be rattled, panicking, and half-deaf. She touched the mirror again.

"Everyone, go!"

*****​

Daphne Greengrass was holding her ears. She was screaming. Others were as well. Not that she noticed. Again! It was happening again. The mudbloods had found them! Those monsters were going to kill all of them!

She turned to Tracey, who was bleeding from a cut on her head, where some plaster had dropped on her. Daphne didn't think she was looking any better. She had trouble standing upright as well. Or running - she stumbled and fell when she rushed towards the door of the living room they had gathered in. A hand gripped her arm and pulled her up with enough force to lift her off the ground for a second. Goyle.

"Thank you." She doubted he heard her words, but he nodded anyway.

Tracey joined her. Crabbe was moving towards the door. Pansy was shaking, screaming - the only one still to do so, Daphne noticed. Draco was trying to calm her down, holding her, but she was thrashing in his arms. Hysterical.

"Gregory!" Draco yelled, over Pansy's fading screams, holding out his arm. "Touch my mark!"

Goyle was at his side in an instant. The large wizard ripped Draco's left sleeve off, then jabbed his wand at Draco's arm. Draco ground his teeth.

"Help's on the way. The Dark Lord will send his followers. We'll just have to hold out until then."

Crabbe had opened the door. Dust was settling in the hallway. He aimed his wand at the remains of the front. Goyle joined him, covering the back.

Just like… Daphne shuddered when she remembered that awful night. She drew her wand, taking deep breaths. She couldn't panic. That would be fatal.

"Did they misjudge the bomb?" Tracey asked, glancing around. Her wand was trembling. "Merlin's ghost! The windows!"

Daphne whipped around, wand aimed at the windows. Then she noticed that they were blocked from the outside with stone.

"They are trapping us in here!" Tracey yelled. "We'll have to break out."

Daphne panted - the mudbloods wanted to capture them! And torture them to death! Like Pansy's aunt! They had to flee!

"We just have to hold out for a few minutes!" Draco yelled back. "Stay calm! Theo!"

Nott was sitting there, as if dazed. He blinked. "Merlin's balls…"

"Theo! Cover the windows!" Draco still held Pansy, who was sobbing into his chest. "The Dark Lord will save us! Just hold on!"

Daphne wanted to flee. They couldn't hold. Not with the wards down. Not against the mudbloods. She looked at Tracey, who shook her head.

Daphne was about to protest when she heard more explosions and Goyle reeled, stumbling back into the room with his arm hanging down uselessly, blood soaking his sleeve.

The mudbloods were attacking.

*****​

Hermione Granger checked that the windows were still sealed while Louise, Jeremy, Mary and Tania rushed towards the house's broken front on their brooms. They dismounted in the rubble, and started to enter the remains of the house. "Back door's secure!" John reported to her, his rifle aimed at it from a makeshift trench. She checked her watch. Less than a minute had passed. They were fast, but they didn't have much time. The Dark Lord's worst would soon arrive. She raised her wand and added a few birds - owls - to the swarm circling overhead. If they had Bludgers… but they didn't. But the owls could at least spot broom riders better than anyone without night vision gear or spells.

She heard rifles going off - Tania and Mary were engaging the enemy. Cover fire so Louise and Jeremy could close in and use the flashbangs. At least that was the plan. Another thirty seconds gone. Time was already running short.

Finally the flashbangs went off. Hermione grinned. Disoriented…

"Assault One to Lead. Flashbangs delivered, but they sealed themselves inside the living room. Conjured stone. We're about to go through the wall." Louise's voice sounded through her radio.

"Lead to Assault one. Understood." Hermione bit her lower lip. Damn those Death Eaters!

"Watch to Lead. Movement at the edge of the forest. Half a dozen at least." Justin's voice drowned out John's comment. "Suppressing them." Short bursts from Justin's machine gun started.

Hermione cursed under her breath. Reinforcements had arrived. They were now outnumbered - those wouldn't be the only ones. They'd have broom riders as well.

"Green to Lead: Nothing in the air."

"Lass, I'm taking care of them," Aberforth said, already moving. Hermione nodded. They needed more time to dig out Malfoy's goons.

*****​

Daphne's first thought was that someone had cast a Silencing Charm on her - she couldn't hear anything. Her second though was to realise that those cylinders had exploded inside the room. Nott was on the floor, clawing at his eyes - he hadn't had a Shield Charm ready, she knew. Pansy hadn't had one either, but Draco had shielded her with his own body and shield. Tracey was aiming her wand at the windows, but then reconsidered. Her lips were moving, but Daphne couldn't hear her. She shuddered - was that blood running out of her ears? Were her own ears bleeding?

Tracey pointed her wand up, at the ceiling, and Daphne understood. They would be watching the windows, and the doors. She aimed her wand up as well. "Reducto!" she yelled, but didn't hear anything. Tracey's spell followed, and the two ducked when more plaster came down on them. But there was a hole in the ceiling now, leading up to the attic. They could break through the roof easily, with the wards gone! Daphne pulled out her broom.

Draco was yelling something, but she could hardly make out the words. He had a broom in hand, and was shaking it at Pansy, who was shaking her head. Nott was still out, Crabbe and Goyle were covering the door, even though it was sealed with stone. Daphne shook her head. The walls were barely stronger than the ceiling, and they had broken through it.

"Watch the walls!" she yelled, but they didn't react. Their loss. She straddled her broom. She had to get out before it was too late. Tracey was already through the hole in the ceiling. She saw a flash in the attic - that must be her friend blowing a hole in the roof.

Just as she was lifting off, the wall near the door exploded, throwing her into the back wall. Her Shield Charm protected her, but barely held. And through the door, mudbloods came charging!

Daphne aimed her wand at the first, her curse missing though. She saw Crabbe turn, the wizard's own curse hitting the mudblood's shield. Then the Slytherin's shield shattered, and Crabbe fell down, holding his bleeding legs. A Stunner took him out. Goyle sent a curse through the hole, then one at the attacker inside the room. Daphne thought he hit them, but couldn't tell - her own curse had been stopped by the man's shield. Goyle grabbed his friend's collar. Before he could drag Crabbe away, though, his shield broke, and the man collapsed.

Daphne aimed her wand at her broom, summoning it. Before it reached her hands though it blew up - Reductor Curse, she realised, shocked. Crying, she wildly cast the darkest curses she knew at the mudbloods. "Die! Die!" she screamed. "Avada Kedavra!"

She saw Draco lift Pansy on his broom, still yelling at her. No, yelling at Daphne. Waving at her. There was a stone wall offering cover, Daphne just realised. She sprinted to the safety it promised. Where were the Death Eaters coming to save them?

Draco pointed at the broom, then at the ceiling. Daphne blinked. Pansy was stuck to the broom! And trying to get off! Then Daphne understood, and nodded at Draco, who flashed her a grim smile before conjuring another stone wall.

Daphne mounted the broom, ignoring Pansy's tears and her feeble blows to her back. She waited until Draco sent more curses at the room, right when the stone wall to her front vanished, and shot up, to the hole in the ceiling.

"Draco! Nooo!" she heard Pansy scream, directly into her ear. But she was hearing again, she thought. Her shield shattered on the way. There was no time to recast it. No time to stop and draw her wand. She bent low and willed her broom to fly faster. They shot through the attic, then through the hole in the roof. She had escaped!

Something hit her head. She reeled, almost losing her grip on her broom. Pansy was screaming again, had she ever stopped? Pain erupted in her shoulder, and her head was struck again. Feathers flew as she almost lost control of her broom. Lights flew past her, too fast and too numerous for a spell. She pulled away from them, away and up. Gaining altitude was the key. She had to get out of range of the attackers on the ground!

More lights flashed by, closer. Pansy stopped screaming. And Daphne felt as if someone had punched her in the gut. She looked down and saw blood running over her stomach and thighs. She was… she was… slipping off the broom.

*****​

Hermione watched as a body flew through the air, dragged by the clothes it was wearing which she had summoned with her spell. Someone had tried to escape through the roof, but the spell that had blown a hole into it had given John enough warning to aim his rifle, and the first broom rider out had flown straight into the path of his bullets.

Unfortunately, John had changed position, and started firing at the Death Eaters trying to surround them from the west when another broom shot through the hole in the roof - one carrying two people. "Broom leaving roof!" she shouted into her radio.

"On it!" Seamus yelled back. She saw tracers reach out to the fleeing Death Eaters. The first and second burst missed. The third struck home. One rider slipped off the broom and fell, the other seemed stuck on it, but slumped over. And the broom was descending rapidly… there! It crashed straight into the forest.

"Assault to Lead. We captured the main target. I repeat: We captured the main target."

Hermione bared her teeth. Yes! They had Malfoy! The body she had summoned landed near her, and she pointed her wand at the other on the grass. She touched her microphone. "Rally on my position to transport him." Then she pointed her wand at the broom rider who had fallen off. "Accio second body's clothes!"

While she focused on that floating body, she looked over at Justin's position. He was falling back towards her, she saw, together with Sally-Anne. They covered each other as they had been trained to, she noted. On the other side, Dennis and Colin were retreating with less order and discipline. And yet, there were fewer spells flying at them than at Justin - Aberforth must be there, she thought.

"Black to Lead: Sky's getting crowded. Engaging." Machine gun fire followed. The enemy's brooms had arrived.

Hermione's brief feeling of triumph in response to capturing Malfoy vanished. They had to go before they were completely surrounded, even in the sky!

She quickly checked the bodies she had summoned. Both were still alive, she noted - though bleeding, and they were likely to have internal injuries from the crash. Davis, the first, had been hit in the shoulder and side. Multiple broken bones too. The second, Greengrass, had a hole in her stomach, and her legs looked broken as well. Hermione winced at the sight, then opened Aberforth's trunk and levitated both of them inside.

Four brooms raced through towards her. The assault team. Two were carrying a body. Malfoy. They landed, and Louise dismounted. "We left Crabbe and Goyle. This is Nott."

"Stuff them inside! We need to leave!" Hermione aimed her wand at Justin and Sally-Anne's original position, and sent a Blasting Curse at it, hoping it would make any pursuit hesitate.

Justin slid into the trench she was in, right after Sally-Anne. Both were breathing heavily. "They're about a hundred yards behind us!"

John switched his aim in response, and sent a few bursts down the field.

"Covering fire!" Hermione ordered. Justin and Sally-Anne stood up, the wizard shooting his rifle, Sally-Anne casting spells. Hermione added a few of her own. So did Louise and Jeremy, covering the Creeveys. Tania and Mary were securing Nott and Malfoy. She should have had the two Gryffindor witches shoot, and the two former Hit-Wizards take care of the prisoners instead, Hermione berated herself.

Dennis and Colin were twenty yards away. Their pursuers had gone to ground, or so it looked like. Ten yards. Almost. They should have taken their brooms, Hermione thought.

Dark yellow curses hit both from above right before they reached the trench. Colin screamed, his leg collapsing under him. Dennis continued to run, but stumbled and lost his wand when he grabbed his right arm, screaming as well. Hermione saw that it seemed to shrink.

"Accio Dennis's wand!"

"Accio Dennis's clothes!"

"Accio Colin's Clothes!"

The two brothers shot into the trench, followed by Dennis's wand.

"Both of you, into the trunk!" Hermione yelled while opening it. They didn't talk back, this time, and went inside. Or were carried inside. Their limbs were withering, Hermione saw.

"Our informant is missing!" John yelled.

"He'll get away on his own!" Hermione said, hoping she was right. She tapped the trunk and shrunk it. "We need to go now! Green, Black - cover us!"

She put the trunk into her pocket and mounted her own broom. "You know the rally spot! Everyone - go!"

Eight brooms shot out of the trench. Hermione flew up to the forest's canopy, then leveled out, trying to keep as low as possible without crashing into a branch. Behind them Dean and Seamus were filling the night sky with tracer fire. Something flew at her from the front. A spell. A curse. She pulled to the side, flying more erratically. "Death Eaters in front!" she yelled - she couldn't use the radio while dodging. More spells flew towards the group, and the brooms started to fan out. Mary or Tania returned fire with their rifle - Hermione didn't see anything but tracers cutting through the night sky.

She had to reach the edge of the Anti-Apparition Jinxes soon. Hopefully, soon enough. How many Death Eaters were there?

"Dropping gift!" Seamus announced.

Hermione bent low over her broom's handle and counted the seconds again, until a fireball lit the sky up behind her. For a moment, the curses stopped. She thought she even heard screams - someone blinded by the light, maybe.

It didn't matter. She had flown far enough.

A second later, she was at their rally spot. Aberforth was already there, looking none the worse for wear. Hermione landed as quickly as she could and pulled the shrunken trunk out.

"We've got wounded!" she yelled as others arrived and started to land. Sally-Anne, their best healer, jumped off and sprinted over. She looked at Aberforth, who nodded and joined the witch. Hermione hoped they would be able to save Colin and Dennis. And their prisoners.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 21: End of a Line

'Pureblood supporters of the Dark Lord often accused the muggleborns of being ignorant of Wizarding Britain's culture. While, by and large, the muggleborns did not know the intricacies of pureblood society very well, they cannot be blamed for that. There was no course covering this topic at Hogwarts. The reasons given for this vary. Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black once said that it would be a waste of gold and time; muggleborns were neither inclined nor able to learn the sophisticated manners of purebloods.
Headmaster Armando Dippet did not share this opinion, but said that as children picked up how to act in polite society from their family, muggleborns would pick up how to comport themselves properly during their seven years at Hogwarts. And the most famous Headmaster of Hogwarts in the 20th century, Albus Dumbledore, was quoted as saying that he saw "no sense in trying to teach students the manners of people who would never accept them in the first place, nor in elevating the outdated attitudes and pretensions of a very small segment of the pureblood population into a course when the vast majority of the purebloods didn't act that differently". Sadly, that quote has never been properly dated, so we lack the context to interpret it properly.
However, it cannot be denied that even those purebloods Headmaster Dumbledore would not have counted as pretentious were ignorant of muggle culture. A weakness, as it was revealed, that would cost several of them dearly when they went to hide among muggles during the war.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn

*****​

Dorset, Britain, December 10th, 1996

"Justin! Ensure there is a perimeter! And take a headcount of all arrivals!" Hermione Granger said to the former Hufflepuff while she walked towards the trunk containing the wounded and the prisoners of the Resistance.

Aberforth and Sally-Anne had levitated the wounded out of the trunk, and laid them down on the ground nearby. Hermione winced at the sight. Dennis's arm and Colin's leg looked withered. They looked like dried leather wrapped around bones. The boys were trying to be brave, but she could see that both were shocked and horrified by this. Then Dennis started to sob, and Colin followed quickly.

"It's a dark curse," Aberforth said. "I stopped its progress, but I cannot heal the damage done."

Hermione closed her eyes for a second. They couldn't take the boys to St. Mungo's - they would be arrested at once. They could look for a Healer, maybe a muggleborn who had left Wizarding Britain. But… "Do you recognise it?"

The old wizard, still disguised, shook his head. "No. It must be an exotic or family curse."

Which meant there was no chance to find a counter-curse. If it was a dark curse, then there was no way to heal this anyway. The limbs would have to be amputated. She hissed through clenched teeth. She had thought that the two would be safe, watching the perimeter. That the Death Eaters would not rush in, not after the ambush during the attack on Rowle. She had been wrong, and the Creeveys had paid the price. "Please do what you can. We... they can decide what to do later." Maybe she could find a way to heal this damage… if she had the time to spend on research.

She stepped away, towards the wounded prisoners Sally-Anne was working on. Greengrass looked bad. Sally-Anne hadn't been able to close the hole in the girl's belly yet and was pouring a potion down the girl's throat. Davis was unconscious, but no longer bleeding out. Nott was unconscious, as was Malfoy, both sporting numerous wounds, but none of them looked life-threatening. She checked their restraints and added zip-ties. Just in case.

Sally-Anne was still working almost desperately, but it seemed that the wound was worse than what she could handle. For such a case, the Resistance had scouted out a small private muggle clinic. Its staff included former members of the British Army who could handle such wounds, and a Confundus would keep the police from being alerted. But to bring a prisoner there… she shook her head. If Greengrass didn't make it, then so be it. They already had taken a big risk trying to capture them.

They had Malfoy. That had been the priority. Anyone else was a bonus. Hermione wouldn't risk her friends further for a few junior Death Eaters.

A loud yell caught her attention, and she was crouching, her wand aimed, before she realised Seamus and Dean had announced their return. She felt relieved - they had taken longer than she had expected. Then she narrowed her eyes. What if… she strode towards them, wand still out. An Imperius would be fooled by her contract. They'd lose all memories of the Resistance. But Polyjuice… "Hold still!" she ordered, then threw some of the twins' concoction at their faces. They didn't change. She lowered her wand, noting that Justin and John did the same.

"We've not been compromised," Dean said, but he didn't complain - the Resistance knew they couldn't be too cautious.

Seamus grinned widely. "I dropped the second bomb, and it went off as planned! I'm certain half a dozen of the scum was caught in the blast!"

"Should teach them to attack us," Dean added.

"Hopefully," Hermione said. If the enemy was unpredictable, then that would make the war even worse. "I'll check on the prisoners, then we'll move."

Greengrass should have either been stabilised by now, or died. Either way, they could return to London.

Where they'd interrogate Malfoy and the rest. Hopefully their information was worth all of this.

*****​

London, Hampstead, December 10th, 1996

Albus Dumbledore was already sitting in a conjured armchair, waiting, when Miss Granger, Mister Finch-Fletchley and Aberforth arrived with Mister Malfoy.

"They caught Nott, Greengrass and Davis as well," Aberforth said, before Albus could ask, "but that's the only one with a Dark Mark."

Albus nodded. Malfoy was the only one they had to hurry to interrogate then. They still did not know all that Voldemort could use his mark for, and even if no interrogation so far had been interrupted by the Dark Lord, it still was prudent to be both quick and cautious about it.

Miss Granger levitated the unconscious wizard to the chair Albus had set up in the centre of the room. He noticed when she dispelled the magical bonds that she had also secured Mister Malfoy's hands using muggle means - and used those to fix his arms and legs to the chair. Albus approved of such precautions.

"Two of them were struck with a dark curse," Aberforth continued, "the limbs that were hit look as if they had withered - dry, and thin, barely more than skin and bones, and the skin looks like old leather."

Albus ignored the wince from Mister Finch-Fletchley, and the way Miss Granger focused a bit too much on securing the prisoner. He nodded. "I think I have seen such a curse before. It was cast by a Caribbean wizard. I will search my library for a counter-curse."

When Albus saw the smiles on the two muggleborns' faces, he had to struggle to keep smiling himself - he doubted he'd find a counter-curse. That curse he remembered had been cast by a houngan, and they were notoriously secretive. And despised the British wizards.

"Please do," Miss Granger said. "Dennis and Colin were guarding our flank, and when they moved to our rally spot, they were attacked from the air. I underestimated the Death Eaters. I didn't expect them to rush at us on brooms."

Albus hid his reaction. The Creevey brothers. Those were the two youngest members of the Resistance. Children. And they had been struck… He smiled at the young witch, barely more than a child herself. "It is as likely that you might have overestimated them - the Death Eaters are often quite reckless, and even foolish."

"Either way, it's my fault." Miss Granger frowned.

"Hogwash!" Aberforth cut in. "You had a sound plan. As good as anything we thought up. Things went awry, that's all."

Albus nodded. "Indeed. The best plans can be wrecked due to simple bad luck." His own plans had suffered that fate more than once. "Please do not blame yourself for something you could not prevent."

The witch nodded, but Albus doubted that she would heed his advice. He would have to speak with Harry and Mister Weasley, and mention that their friend was in need of some comfort.

He looked at the prisoner, then cast a spell. The wizard was hurt, but the worst of his wounds had been treated. He was in no danger of dying - at least not from his wounds.

"The others are in worse shape," Mister Finch-Fletchley said. "Greengrass almost died. She should be stable now."

Meaning, she could still die. Albus smiled. "I am certain you all did what you could. We're at war, and our friends and allies come first." He still hoped that the Weasley twins would be able to interrogate Miss Greengrass as well as Miss Davis. That should give them some form of closure, at least.

He turned towards the prisoner once more. "Now, let us get started. I fear this will be a long night for us all."

*****​

"... and then the Dark Lord granted me his mark."

Hermione Granger closed her eyes. Malfoy's description of how he had earned his Dark Mark was sickening. She heard Justin mutter a curse under his breath. Her friend had been fingering his wand since Malfoy had started talking about the cruel murder he had committed in front of Voldemort. So had she. Aberforth was glaring at Malfoy. The Headmaster was the only one who had remained calm. To torture someone to death… At least they now knew how he had summoned the other Death Eaters.

"Do you feel any regret about what you have done?" Dumbledore asked, in a tone as if he was asking about the last Potions lesson.

"Yes."

What? Hermione blinked. Justin gasped. Was Malfoy...

"What do you regret?"

"That it was a muggle, and not a mudblood. I could as well have killed an animal, for all the good it did to our cause," Malfoy said.

Hermione ground her teeth. She should have known Malfoy would not regret anything. He had already told them about the other Death Eaters he knew, and what plans he had. Unfortunately, he didn't know where the Dark Lord was hiding - Voldemort summoned his followers to various locations, and Malfoy hadn't been to the same location more than once. Now the interrogation was just covering Malfoy's past, and thoughts. Interesting, in a sick way, but not crucial.

"Why did you join the Dark Lord?" Dumbledore asked.

"To kill mudbloods. To avenge my parents. To protect purebloods from blood traitors and mudbloods."

"Did you send Miss Greengrass to attack the Gryffindor third years?"

"Yes."

"Did you hope that there would be deaths as a result of the attack?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"The blood traitors and mudbloods tried to kill us. They deserve to die."

Dumbledore nodded, as if he had expected that. Hermione frowned. The Death Eaters had started this. They had struck first, depriving the muggleborns of their rights, and preparing to murder them.

"Did you consider the effect such an act would have on the young Miss Greengrass? How do you think she would have been feeling, if she had actually killed those children?"

"She'd have been proud for defending our country and avenging her parents."

Dear lord! This was worse than Hermione had expected. Malfoy was a true believer. He honestly thought that murdering muggleborns was the right thing to do! She glared at Malfoy. The witch longed to ask a few questions of her own, but she wouldn't interrupt the Headmaster. And certainly not simply to satisfy her curiosity.

"Was that the reason you formed your group?"

"Yes. Someone had to do something about those beasts. We had to protect ourselves, and our families."

"Did you have any plans to attack muggleborns before your parents were killed?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"To teach them their place. They should serve their betters. Uppity mudbloods need to be dealt with, before others follow their example." Malfoy's scorn was audible even through the haze Veritaserum had put him in.

Hermione really wanted to know what Malfoy thought of her, but asking that felt petty. Frivolous even. She was better than that.

"Did you really hope that Slytherin's monster would kill all muggleborn students, in your second year?"

"Yes."

"Would you have killed them yourself, given the chance to?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I was weak, then. A mere child."

Dumbledore sighed and cast a Silencing Charm on Malfoy.

"That… that monster!" Justin exclaimed. "He hoped we'd die to the basilisk!"

Hermione nodded. "Too much of a coward to do the deed himself, he hoped a monster would do it for him." She sneered. "That's typical for Malfoy!"

"He's his parents' son," Aberforth said. "Lucius preferred to have others do his dirty work."

"While I cannot deny that the parallels are obvious, a child is not a mere extension of their parents. Even pureblood wizards and witches like Mister Malfoy spend seven years at Hogwarts, surrounded by half-bloods, muggleborns and other purebloods who do not share their views," Dumbledore said. "He had ample opportunities to make up his mind, to judge for himself what he believed in and to choose his own path. He decided to eagerly follow in his father's footsteps. He has no one to blame for his fate but himself." Dumbledore rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We all heard him confess to murder, to planning more murders, and to supporting the Dark Lord in his attempt to take over Britain and murder all muggleborns. We know we cannot bring him to justice by handing him over to the Ministry; the Wizengamot would not convict him."

Hermione knew all of that already. "We'll execute him." As she had promised her friends.

*****​

London, Hampstead, December 11th, 1996

"Six o'clock in the morning," Hermione Granger mumbled. "Almost a traditional time for an execution."

In front of her, Seamus and Dean were busy checking the gallows they had conjured. Hermione would have been fine with simply cutting the wizard's throat while he was strapped to the chair, but the rest of the Resistance wanted to make this as formal and as muggle as possible. Criminals like Malfoy were to be hanged.

The two boys had gone all out - they had created a hole in the floor, down to the basement, for the drop, before conjuring the gallows itself. Hermione wondered if they had calculated the length of the rope, so Malfoy's neck would be broken. She hadn't asked. Malfoy would be dying today, one way or the other. And she was rather tired. She could take a Pepper-Up Potion, but she was loath to use one without a real need. She just wanted this over with.

"Alright… let's test it!" Seamus said, tying a sand bag to the rope. "Ready!"

Dean pulled the lever, and the trapdoor opened. The bag fell down, and the rope jerked.

"Yes!" Seamus smiled. He turned to Hermione. "We're ready now!"

"Good." She gave him a brief nod, then left the room - the execution chamber, she corrected herself - to inform the rest of the Resistance and Aberforth. Dumbledore had left before the Resistance's arrival, but Aberforth's cover required him to stay.

Sally-Anne had stayed with the wounded Creeveys, and Mary and Tania had opted to guard them. Just in case. Which left John, Justin, Louise and Jeremy. The four of them were seated on conjured couches in the other room, all but Louise napping. "It's time," Hermione said.

"Finally!" the older witch said.

She probably would have preferred an simple Piercing Curse to the head as well, Hermione thought. While Louise prodded her partner awake, Hermione roused the rest. Then she followed the two former Hit-Wizards down to the basement, to the cells. Aberforth was there, watching both Malfoy's cell and the one in which the stunned other prisoners were locked up.

"You finished with your stage?" He said, sounding gruffer than she had heard him.

She was tempted to blame Dean and Seamus, but didn't. She was the leader; it was her responsibility. So she nodded. "Yes. Everything's ready. We're lacking a priest, but… I do not think Malfoy would appreciate one."

"The Malfoys have a reputation as being quite religious, despite their past and name," the disguised wizard said.

Hermione shrugged. "Ironic, given their name." She stepped to the door and opened it. "It's time."

Malfoy glared at her. His lips moved, but thanks to the Silencing Charm, she didn't hear a single word. She knew what he'd say anyway - mudblood this, the Dark Lord that. Predictable. Magical ropes bound him, in addition to the plastic bindings on his wrists. Hermione levitated him out of the cell, between Louise and Jeremy, then dispelled the ropes. The two grabbed Malfoy's arms, ignoring his brief struggle. Hermione led them upstairs.

When they entered the execution chamber and Malfoy saw the noose, he started to struggle in earnest. It didn't do him any good - a full Body-Bind Curse later, he was carried up the gallows, and held upright below the noose while his legs were fastened together. Hermione almost sighed when she climbed the gallows as well.

"Do you have any last words?" she asked Malfoy, before dispelling the spells holding him immobile and silent.

"Mudblood whore! Murderers! You'll all pay for this! The Dark Lord will kill you all! He'll make you beg for…"

She cut his tirade off with another Silencing Spell. He swayed, and would have fallen to the ground if Seamus hadn't held him. Dean pulled a hood over Malfoy's head, followed by the noose. Hermione climbed down, to stand next to Justin and Aberforth. She wished this was over already. It felt more like a spectacle than justice being served. And Dean and Seamus seemed to enjoy this a bit too much.

Malfoy was still struggling, moving his head under the hood. Pulling at the bindings on his wrists. He would be yelling as well, she thought. Maybe even crying - though he had been showing more composure than Hermione had expected of the git.

She took a deep breath, then started to speak. "Draco Malfoy, for murder and attempted murder, for willingly joining an organisation with the goal of murdering all muggleborns, and for several other crimes, you will be hanged from the neck until you die."

She nodded at Dean, who pulled the lever.

Draco fell. The rope snapped taut.

Hermione was glad that no one cheered.

*****​

London, Hampstead, December 11th, 1996

Not even thirty minutes after Malfoy's death, Hermione Granger was the only Resistance member left in the safe house Dumbledore had provided. The others had already gone back to their headquarters. She was alone with Aberforth. And with Malfoy's body, wrapped in conjured cloth, with the noose still around his neck.

"That was a spectacle," the old wizard said.

Hermione agreed with that, but she shrugged. She was the leader of the Resistance. "They were not too happy about all the secrecy. They needed to see Malfoy die with their own eyes."

"So they could take revenge?"

She shook her head, then pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. She made a mental note to cut her hair - it was growing too long again. "So they could see what they had fought for, what their friends had been hurt for: The death of a murderer who had wanted to kill all of them." Malfoy had been the most hated student at Hogwarts - doubly so among the muggleborns. "They wouldn't have accepted simply being told he was dead."

"You didn't need to make a production out of it."

"It was a symbolic act. A pureblood bigot, hanged like the common criminal he is. No magical act, just muggle justice being done." Even though the death penalty for murder had been abolished in 1965, treason still carried it - and the Death Eaters were traitors.

Aberforth scoffed. "They enjoyed killing him."

"Some may have," Hermione admitted. "But not all of them. And I think the whole execution impressed on everyone that this was a serious act."

"Maybe." Aberforth snorted. "Will you drop the body in Diagon Alley again?"

"Hogsmeade this time. We don't want to be too predictable." Hermione sighed. "I'll have to write up all his crimes. We'll broadcast them in two days, but I want a list stuck on his chest. So others understand why he was killed."

Aberforth remained silent for a few seconds, looking at her. "You want them to know why you killed Malfoy. What about why you fight?"

"People know why we fight: To defeat Voldemort and his Death Eaters and to restore the rights of the muggleborns the Ministry has taken away," Hermione said. "And to ensure that this will never happen again." That had been written on most of their leaflets, after all.

"And how do you plan to achieve that?"

She knew he didn't mean the defeat of Voldemort. Or the restoring of their rights. She hesitated - she hadn't talked about this with others outside the Resistance - but then answered: "Wizarding Britain needs to be reformed. The system is the problem, not just, as some believe, individuals."

"The Wizengamot, you mean."

"Ultimately, most of the problems of the country can be traced back to the Wizengamot. A parliament and supreme court whose members have either inherited their seats, or are appointed by a man elected by the Wizengamot, is unacceptable. The members need to be elected by popular vote."

Aberforth snorted. "The Wizengamot will fight that tooth and nail. Far, far harder than they'll ever fight any Dark Lord."

"I know." Which was why they hadn't made those plans public, yet. They needed more influence, and more momentum - more victories - for that.

"Did you discuss this with Albus?"

She shook her head. "No." She was convinced though that the Headmaster at least suspected what she wanted. It was the logical consequence of the events that had led to this war, after all.

"Afraid you'll change your opinion after one of his discussions?"

"No. I'd rather focus on the war." Hermione didn't think anyone would be able to make her change her position on such a fundamental demand, but there was no need to discuss this while the Dark Lord was still their most urgent problem.

"You might be surprised just how radical he can be, despite his old age." Aberforth scoffed. "Or how manipulative. Don't wait too long, or he might have already made arrangements for you."

Hermione nodded. "What will happen with the other prisoners?"

"They'll be interrogated, and then kept somewhere safe," the old wizard answered.

"Do you have the numbers to guard them?" Hermione knew the Resistance did not; guarding three prisoners would have taken so much of their manpower that any larger attacks would have been impossible.

"That's Albus's problem to solve. Though they'll probably be given Draught of Living Death, and then kept hidden somewhere."

A drastic, but logical solution. "They'll be woken up from time to time to exert pressure on their families I assume. And to prove they are still alive."

"Aye." Aberforth vanished the gallows and repaired the hole in the floor. "Are your friends alright with that?"

"Malfoy was the one they all wanted dead. The rest…" She shrugged. "They can live with it." Probably - once the war was over, some might feel that justice demanded a bit more. "As long as we get our share of gold, and the information from their interrogations."

She grinned. They were not hurting for gold, but every galleon paid to them by the families of the prisoners was one less galleon spent for Voldemort. And they could always kill the prisoners at a later date, should the interrogation reveal enough reasons for that.

*****​

Dorset, Britain, December 11th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle ground her teeth, staring at the ruins of yet another house destroyed by the mudbloods. And yet another Auror force that had arrived far too late. And another Malfoy residence blown up.

"Why were we called in?" Martin asked. Her partner was a bit annoyed at having been called by headquarters that early. "Shouldn't they have called Shacklebolt or Dawlish?"

Brenda motioned to a tree stump behind the ruins. "They're already here. We were either called because one of them thinks we can help, or because Parkinson pulled some strings."

"Joy. I always wanted to be in the middle of an office feud," Martin muttered. He was sounding more and more like a veteran with each day.

But he wasn't quite there yet. "I'd prefer to be in the middle of an office feud, instead of what could turn out to be a bloody massacre," Brenda said. "I don't know if Dawlish is a Death Eater, but many of his Aurors are." And everyone knew that Shacklebolt was Dumbledore's man.

"Parkinson's a Death Eater too," her partner whispered.

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you certain?"

"I don't have proof, but what he says, and how he says it…" The Auror shrugged. "I know."

"He's been trying to recruit you, then." Brenda wondered why Parkinson hadn't started on her. Maybe he thought it would be easier if Martin was on his side before he tried to recruit her. Or he didn't think she'd join. Brenda didn't know how to feel about that. Death Eaters were quick to count those who didn't want to join as enemies, or so she heard.

"You're not surprised," Martin said, interrupting her thoughts.

She shook her head. "He lost his family to the mudbloods. If he wasn't a Death Eater before, he's likely to be one now just for that." And the Rowles had been Death Eaters. "Where is he, anyway?"

"He should be here already," Martin said. "He left before we did." The Auror crouched down and picked up a piece of copper from the ground. "Another casing," he remarked. "Same type as was found in Knockturn Alley."

"That was to be expected." Brenda didn't care much - the thing was likely the result of a Doubling Charm, and would not last that long. They already knew that the mudbloods were using muggle guns - apparently, the wounds were quite specific, if you were familiar with those filthy weapons.

They walked over to Shacklebolt and Dawlish. The two men were arguing already, though fortunately a bit away from the body covered by a blanket. A young Auror was standing next to it, looking uncomfortable. Maisie Maygold was one of Shacklebolt's - knowing that was important these days.

"Who's that?" Brenda asked, nodding at the blanket.

"She has been identified as Pansy Parkinson," the rookie said.

Brenda closed her eyes and hissed through her clenched teeth. Another of Parkinson's family, gone. No wonder the man wasn't here - he had probably been sent away after losing it. Aurors shouldn't investigate the murder of their family, every one knew that. And yet, few heeded it.

Martin lifted the blanket, then winced. "Merlin's beard!"

Maygold had turned her head away, Brenda noticed, before she took a look herself. Understandable, she thought - the young witch's body was mangled almost beyond recognition. She crouched down and waved her wand. "No sign of curses. She was killed either by the guns, or the impact, or the explosion that followed."

"Impact?" Maygold asked.

Martin pointed at the splintered, blackened wood nearby. "That's a broom." Brenda saw that he was smiling at the other Auror. She almost sighed - a crime scene wasn't the place to flirt. "Who else has been identified so far?"

"Ah…" the witch turned towards Brenda. "They found the bodies of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, inside the ruins."

"Malfoy's missing?" Brenda asked, covering up the corpse again.

Maygold nodded.

"Missing, presumed dead," Martin said.

"Is anyone else missing?" Brenda asked.

"Shacklebolt said that Astoria Greengrass alerted the Ministry when her sister did not return from visiting Malfoy. She was with her friend Tracey Davis, and they suspect that Theodore Nott was present as well."

Brenda whistled. All of them had inherited seats in the Wizengamot, currently held by proxies. Which meant that the pressure to solve this case would be enormous. She was very glad this wasn't her case.

"Why's Shacklebolt here?" Martin asked. "There's no sign of Death Eaters being involved."

"Malfoy is a suspected Death Eater, as were his parents," Maygold said, quoting her team leader verbatim, Brenda thought, "and two bombs were used by the Resistance. The second might have been used against Death Eater forces arriving - there are some signs of combat on the perimeter."

Brenda nodded. Definitely Shacklebolt's analysis. The rookie wouldn't have caught that.

"I guess we'll know when they find the bodies," Martin said.

*****​

Hogsmeade, December 11th, 1996

An hour later, Brenda was staring at the body of Draco Malfoy. The mudbloods had left the him hanging from a conjured gallows in the middle of Hogsmeade.

"I'm glad it's not a weekend," Martin mumbled next to her.

"Why? Do you think this would have shocked them?" Brenda asked. The students had seen a lot, lately.

"No. They might have mutilated the body further," her partner said. "Malfoy had to flee the school, last I heard."

"Ah." If the mudbloods had not taken responsibility by sticking a sheet of parchment on the corpse's chest listing all his supposed crimes, they would have had to interrogate the students as suspects.

"Murder, attempted murder, membership of the Death Eaters…" Martin started to read the parchment.

"Stop that!" Brenda snapped. She was not in the mood to listen to mudblood lies and propaganda. Bragging about their murders, acting as if they were the law… it was sickening.

Martin stopped. "They executed him." After a wave of his wand, he added: "But they didn't kill him here. That was just for show. He was hanged, though."

"Like muggles." Brenda scowled. What was next? Burning wizards alive? How low would those mudbloods sink?

She noticed the gawking people passing more sheets around, and cursed. "Let's get him down, and collect the filth here, before it spreads."

By the time they had managed to undo the conjured gallows, though, the whole village knew about the accusations against Malfoy. Brenda scowled again - her superiors wouldn't like that.

She really needed a success with her undercover operation, but it wasn't as if she could just send them to attack anyone. Unless… she studied the roofs of the houses around them and smiled.

She would have to get it cleared by Bones, but the Avengers would soon strike again.

*****​

Outside Rawtenstall, Lancashire, Britain, December 11th, 1996

Albus Dumbledore frowned, watching the stunned and bound prisoners lined up in the cells of the safe house he had set up in Lancashire. All of them were hurt, Miss Greengrass the worst, and while they were in no immediate danger of dying from their wounds, they needed a Healer.

Unfortunately, while there were several Healers he could count on to treat the members of the Order of the Phoenix, he couldn't exactly trust them with treating prisoners that the Muggleborn Resistance had taken. While all members of the Order were determined to fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters, not all of them understood that the actions Miss Granger and her friends took were needed. And it would be a catastrophe if his close relationship to the muggleborns were revealed to the Ministry and the public. At least at this point.

He sighed. He didn't like obliviating his friends and allies, but sometimes it was needed. At least, he told himself, the Healer he had in mind would prefer to be obliviated instead of letting those three youths go untreated.

It still felt like a betrayal.

*****​

A few hours later, his wards alerted him. He closed the book he had been reading - a description of various dark curses used by houngans in the last war with Jamaica, as well as their counters, unfortunately without an entry for a withering curse - and drew his wand to unlock the back door. Messrs Weasley had arrived.

"That's your own secret Azkaban? It looks rather normal!"

He chuckled politely at Fred Weasley's remark upon entering the kitchen. "It is primarily a safe house. The facilities to keep prisoners were a later addition." He gestured at the table. "Please serve yourself, unless you have eaten dinner already."

"We actually did eat before coming," George said. "We really didn't expect this."

Albus wondered what they had expected. A torture chamber? He didn't ask though, merely kept smiling. "To surprise you two is quite the achievement for a wizard my age."

Both chuckled. Fred grabbed a lemon drizzle slice from the tray. "Do the prisoners get this food as well?"

"Is there a need to deprive them of food?" Albus asked in response. "It seems wasteful to serve different meals to guards and prisoners when a simple Doubling Charm will provide enough food for both. Although most of the time, the prisoners will be under the influence of Draught of Living Death." He couldn't spare the Order members to keep the prisoners under guard.

Fred nodded. "Smart."

George seemed to disagree with his brother, judging by his expression, but the wizard didn't object. Instead he took a cup and filled it with tea. "According to the rumours, the attack on Malfoy was quite bloody. What state are the prisoners in?"

"They have been seen to by a Healer," Albus answered. Whom he had obliviated afterwards, as planned.

"Good." George nodded.

"Wouldn't want them to die before they have been interrogated," Fred said. Albus thought it sounded a bit forced, but he wasn't certain.

"Mister Nott has been interrogated with Veritaserum already." And he had revealed two members of his family as Death Eaters. Confirmed, actually - it wasn't as if Albus hadn't already suspected that Thadesius and Melara Nott were followers of the Dark Lord.

"That leaves Davis and Greengrass, then." Fred nodded.

George smiled briefly, behind his brother.

Albus inclined his head. "Shall we proceed then? The sooner we have the information, the more valuable it will be."

*****​

Outside Rawtenstall, Lancashire, Britain, December 11th, 1996

Daphne Greengrass woke up with a scream. For a moment, she thought she was falling to her death, before she realised she was sitting on a chair. She was alive! Then she remembered the wound, the hole in her belly, and tried to pat herself down to check - but she couldn't move her arms. Her hands were secured behind her back. Her elation at having survived the battle vanished at once.

She was a prisoner of the mudbloods. She knew what that meant - those animals would torture her to death! She didn't want to die. Not like that. Not at all. She struggled, but her hands remained bound, as did her feet. And she was stuck to the chair. She was still wearing her robe, but it sported several rips and tears… and a hole over her stomach.

Daphne looked around. She was in a small room, bare floor and walls. A solid-looking door. No window. And there was a faint smell of blood. No, that was her robe. She pulled on her bonds again. She had to escape. They had taken her wand, but… she ignored how her wrists started to hurt. She had to escape!

The door started to open and she froze for a second, then schooled her features. She'd not give those animals the satisfaction of seeing her cry. But when she saw Fred and George Weasley enter, she couldn't help but gasp. She had known that they were blood traitors, like their whole family, but to… to work with those murderous mudbloods?

"Hello, Miss Greengrass," Fred said, grinning. "Or do you prefer 'Mary'?"

"Traitors!" she spat. "Murderers!"

"Murderers?" Fred sneered at her. "We're not the ones working for the Dark Lord, attacking muggleborns."

"You and your friends murdered my family!" She bared her teeth.

The two traitors exchanged glances. "Your parents died in Malfoy Manor, didn't they?" George asked.

"Yes! Murdered by you and your friends!"

Fred shrugged. "If you ally yourself with the Dark Lord's worst, you have to expect that. People tend to object to getting murdered for being born."

"My parents weren't allied with anyone! They were simply attending a ball!" Daphne felt tears appear in her eyes, and angrily shook her head. She didn't want to show weakness, not now.

"A ball thrown by the Dark Lord's right hand." Fred stepped closer. "Where all the rich purebloods could mingle, and plan how to make his takeover of the Ministry easier." He scoffed. "Did you think the muggleborns wouldn't notice what you were planning?"

"We didn't plan anything! You and your mudblood friends murdered dozens of people just for being purebloods!" She sneered at him. "Or for being rich, I should say. Does it feel good to attack your betters?"

"We didn't attack Malfoy Manor," George cut in, holding up his hand to stop his brother from aiming his wand at her. "But we would have helped, had we been needed. Or asked." He stared at her. "Why do you think the muggleborns attacked you?"

"Because they hate us! They are jealous of us, of our culture, of our way of life. They want to tear it all down!" She felt tears running down her cheeks, but didn't care anymore. She was dead anyway.

"They hate you - now. After all you did to them, on the orders of the Dark Lord." George shook his head.

"We didn't do anything to them!" They hadn't! Daphne hadn't even talked to a mudblood in months, when she had still been at Hogwarts!

"How stupid are you? The changed laws, the discrimination, the punishments by Umbridge! You force them out of Hogwarts, out of Wizarding Britain, and think you didn't do anything? It was your family and friends in the Wizengamot who voted for those laws and policies!" Fred glared at her.

"No one was forced out of Hogwarts! If they had passed the test they could have stayed! It's not our fault they are too stupid or too lazy to study!" She clenched her teeth.

"Hermione was too lazy to study? Too stupid to pass the test?" Fred leaned in, his face but a foot from hers, and his voice became a whisper. "You bigots lied and cheated to drive the muggleborns out, to please the Dark Lord. How many muggleborns were killed by Aurors 'resisting arrest'? Did you think they wouldn't notice? Did you expect them to let you continue until you had killed them all?" He scoffed. "You and your friends were all too happy, getting rid of muggleborns. Cozying up to scum like Malfoy."

Daphne glared at him. Granger. Always Granger. As much as she hated to admit it, that mudblood had been smart. Top of the class, even. A mudblood, beating purebloods! The teachers had been fawning over her. Daphne had loved the day the upstart had been taught her place, the day she had learned that some things you couldn't learn no matter how much you read. She raised her chin, meeting his eyes. "And does getting expelled from Hogwarts justify murdering people? That's the act of a rabid animal!" She saw him jerk, and suddenly, the tip of his wand was digging into her throat. "Go on, murder me! Just as your friends murdered my family!"

For a moment, she thought he would. Then George put his hand on Fred's arm, and pushed it down.

Fred stared at her. "You really don't understand what you and your friends did, do you? You have no idea why the muggleborns fight you. Or why we fight you."

"Because you hate us! Because you're jealous!"

Fred cursed. "George, let's dose her and get this over with, before I kill her."

His brother seemed to hesitate a moment, then Daphne saw him nod and pull a vial out of his pocket. She gasped. Veritaserum!

"You monsters!" She spat, then pressed her lips together. It didn't help her - a simple hex, and her mouth was open. George was there, with the vial, and… things started to get hazy. Easy. The chair was quite comfortable, and why had she wanted to escape again? Oh, they wanted her to answer a few questions. Of course she would!

*****​

"And why did you spy on our shop?"

Albus Dumbledore, disillusioned, watched as Miss Greengrass blinked in response to Fred's question.

"Because Draco wanted us to," the witch said in the typically dreamy voice of those under the effect of Veritaserum.

"What was his plan?"

"We were supposed to lure you into a trap."

Fred hissed. "I knew it! Did he want to kill us?"

"I don't know."

"Did you want to kill us?" Fred asked.

"I don't know. When?"

"How stupid is she?" The young wizard turned to his brother.

George took over: "When you were in our shop and attacked Fred."

"No. I wanted to escape."

"And before that?"

"Draco said that the Dark Lord wanted you alive."

Albus watched the expressions on the two wizards.

"As hostages?"

"I don't know."

Fred sighed, his frustration evident. "She doesn't know anything. No Death Eaters, no plans, no safe houses, nothing!"

George seemed to almost shrug. "Were you just following orders?"

"Yes."

"Even when you were attacking the Burrow?" Fred cut in.

"Yes."

Albus glanced at the transcript of the interrogation. They had gone over this before. Before he said anything though, George spoke up. "I think we're done here. We're repeating questions."

"Right." Fred raised his wand. "Let's stun her and get Davis." The boy turned his head in Albus's direction.

The Headmaster didn't answer - it wouldn't do if Miss Greengrass knew of his involvement; future arrangements might be endangered - but stunned the girl himself. Then he ended his Disillusionment Charm. "A thorough if unfortunately not too fruitful interrogation," he said. "Though I did not expect anything else from Miss Greengrass."

"She really didn't understand why the muggleborns attacked Malfoy Manor," Fred said, shaking his head. "I can't believe it!"

"Her world has no place for muggleborns. She was raised to believe that it was a privilege for them to learn magic - but she never learned how privileged she was herself." Albus knew that he could have made certain that Miss Greengrass and her peers had learned that lesson. But it would have been a harsh and painful one, and would have required efforts or methods that the Ministry and the public wouldn't have tolerated. And yet, if he had made the attempt, maybe… He sighed. He hadn't, preferring to focus on other plans, and he had to live with the results of his choice.

"Well, we know she was not a fanatic," George said.

"She was eager enough. A willing tool of Malfoy," Fred said, glaring at the unconscious witch.

"A fool, I would say - but every one of us is a fool at times," Albus said. He was glad that the young witch had not done anything irredeemable.

Fred scowled, but George nodded. "So… she'll be fed Draught of Living Death, and woken up once the war is over?"

"I gather she will be woken up a few times until then, to deal with things," Albus answered. "Such as instructing her family."

"Alright. I'll fetch Davis." Fred left.

Albus looked at George. "Are you satisfied?"

"It wasn't as bad as I feared, but not as good as I hoped," the young wizard said.

"A result quite common in life." Albus smiled.

"He didn't ask her if her interest in him had been feigned."

"Indeed. Maybe he did not want to know?" Albus shrugged.

"Great. I had hoped he would be over her."

Albus was not certain that the young wizard was quite honest, but didn't press the issue.

*****​

Hogwarts, December 11th, 1996

Ron Weasley pushed his homework - an essay for Potions - around on the table in the library. He hadn't written anything for half an hour. Instead, he had tried to make up his mind whether or not he should learn Legilimency. And he hadn't made any progress. On one hand, it would be very useful. To read an enemy's mind… if he learned how to catch glimpses of their intentions during a duel, he could react to their spells before they cast them. And he would be able to find out what all those Slytherins were thinking.

Only there weren't that many Slytherins still at Hogwarts. Zabini was the most prominent one left - and if he was a Death Eater, he was hiding it really well. And the Headmaster would have already checked, wouldn't he? And Ron didn't think using such a skill to find out what that wizard thought about Ginny would be a responsible thing to do.

Which was the crux of the issue. Despite some rumours to the contrary, Ron wasn't averse to learning and studying, as long as he could see the need for it - which he didn't with regards to that damn Potions essay! But once he had learned it, could he restrain himself from abusing it? He had spent the day wondering how it would be, being able to read minds. To know what the other students were thinking. Or the teachers. Was Digby really a Cannons fan, or was that just a way to get closer to Harry? Was he a fan of the Boy-Who-Lived, or even a Death Eater sympathiser? What had been so amusing that Bones had giggled loudly in class?

"Hey, Ron!"

He almost jerked, snatching his wand up. Lavender was standing in front of his table. Merlin's balls, he hadn't noticed her! If she had been a Slytherin… Moody would roast him alive if he knew!

The witch was showing both her hands. "Don't hex me!" she said, though she was giggling.

"Sorry, you surprised me," he muttered. He didn't stow his wand though - he started to play around with it, as if absentmindedly. A trick Moody had taught him and Harry to keep their wands ready without appearing to. Was it time for their patrol already? Not according to his watch.

She grinned. "If only I had managed to surprise you in the last Defence class!" She twisted one of her blonde locks around her finger. "You hexed me pretty badly."

"I'm sorry." He wasn't, really - compared to Moody's special training, those Defence lessons were nothing. A few Stinging Hexes.

"It still hurts a bit, when I rub it," Lavender said, running a hand over her thigh.

Maybe he had been a bit too callous. But then, Moody always said that it was better to suffer in training than to die in battle. He caught himself staring at her hand, and looked away. He did see her smile though.

"So… I was wondering… Do you do anything but training? Quidditch and Defence?" Lavender asked.

"And patrols," Ron said. They were prefects, after all.

"Yes." He saw her tongue wet her lips. "But I mean, something… fun, you know?"

Ron didn't have to read minds to understand what she meant. "I don't have a girlfriend, if you mean that." He was dating, but… it was complicated.

"That was one of my guesses, actually. I wondered if you were sneaking off to see a witch."

He nodded. He was, sometimes at least, but he couldn't tell her that. "That's more training," he said.

"Mh." She crossed her legs and shifted her position on the table a bit. "You remember what I told you, when we had a similar talk?"

"Yes." But he wasn't over Hermione.

She looked at him with what he thought was hope in her eyes, briefly biting her lower lip. Like Hermione, but different.

He sighed, and shook his head, smiling faintly. "I'm not over her."

He saw how she briefly stiffened, then smiled. "Ah, well… if you do, you know…"

"Yes."

She slid off the table, and nodded. "We've got a patrol in ten minutes… meet at the Fat Lady?"

"Alright."

She was five minutes late for their patrol, and Parvati seemed to glare at him in the common room, but otherwise, they acted like usual. If he were able to read her mind though… he wouldn't, he realised.

*****​

Outside Stamford, Lincolnshire, Britain, December 11th, 1996

Even though he was alone, the Dark Lord Voldemort didn't vent his anger while he paced in the reading room of his latest residence. It wouldn't do to let emotions rule him. Malfoy had been murdered by the mudbloods. By itself, that would not have been a crucial loss. Malfoy's heir would continue to support Voldemort with gold - unless he wanted to become the next late Malfoy - and the boy hadn't been much of an asset apart from that. He had had potential, and had shown initiative by gathering a group for the Dark Lord, but others had done the same, or more.

No, the problem was the manner in which Malfoy had been murdered. He had been attacked in his new home, his wards shattered, his group defeated - killed or captured, all of them - and the Death Eaters the Dark Lord had sent as reinforcements and a relief force had failed. If their leader had not been killed by the second bomb, he would have been punished for such a blunder. News of this, if not all the details, had spread quickly through Wizarding Britain after Malfoy's corpse had been found in Hogsmeade. Two heirs to a seat in the Wizengamot killed, two more still missing - and in the eyes of Wizarding Britain, all of it was the work of the mudbloods!

He knew that Dumbledore was behind it. The timing was too perfect. Just after Voldemort's reputation had recovered thanks to his attacks on blood traitors, the mudbloods copied him. Soon, his old nemesis would offer protection from the mudbloods for anyone who opposed Voldemort. The Dark Lord would do the same in his place. And many, too many of the spineless worms in the Wizengamot and the Ministry would accept such an offer.

He ground his teeth. He couldn't let that happen. But more attacks on blood traitors would not have the same effect as before - he needed to strike at the mudbloods. A trap might be possible. He could lure them into an ambush by using another Death Eater as bait.

He could do that - and play right into Dumbledore's hands. The old wizard was waiting for Voldemort to commit himself to an attack to strike at him. Between the mudbloods and Dumbledore and his Order, the likelihood of the Dark Lord's death was too great. He'd return, thanks to his Horcruxes. But while returning from death once was a legendary feat, returning from death for the second time meant that he'd have been killed twice already. And that was considerably less impressive.

No, he had to fight back in a way Dumbledore wasn't prepared for. A decisive strike.

And there was just one target where that was possible.

*****​

London, East End, December 12th, 1996

"Hermione?"

Sally-Anne's voice interrupted Hermione's planning session with John for the next Resistance Radio broadcast. She looked up to find the witch in the door to the briefing room, which also doubled as an office. "Yes?"

"Colin's awake now."

Hermione didn't freeze up, but she grew tense. "Thank you," she pressed out. Turning to John, she added: "I'll be back. Check the transcripts we received for more information about crimes. But don't mention that Greengrass and Davis only joined Malfoy after their parents had been killed by us." That kind of information wouldn't be conducive in motivating people to oppose the Death Eaters. Hermione knew it should be obvious that people, especially purebloods, would want to avenge dead family members, no matter what those had done to deserve their fate, but not everyone realised that. Or was willing to risk such reactions. But in order to win this war, the Death Eaters had to be fought and killed, or those monsters would murder more innocents. Even if it meant they'd have to fight their children as well - better to do it now, than in ten years.

She followed Sally-Anne down to their Infirmary - not as well-equipped as it should be, but so far it had been good enough. Until the Creeveys had been struck by unknown dark curses.

"He's being brave," Sally-Anne said, unasked. "But… I saw him stare at his leg, and… he's not doing well."

Hermione nodded. She could imagine the horror of seeing your limb shrivel up, become a dead thing hanging on your body. It was thoroughly unnatural - any muggle doctor would realise that at once, after seeing it.

Which meant that the Creeveys would have to very carefully cover themselves when venturing into muggle London. And she didn't want to imagine how their parents would react.

And it was all her fault.

The smile on Hermione's face when she entered the Infirmary was forced. Both brothers were awake now. Colin turned towards her, one hand on Dennis's arm - the good one. "Hermione!"

"Hi Colin, hi Dennis." She ignored Dennis wiping his eyes and putting on a brave face.

"Hi, Hermione." Dennis's voice still shook.

Hermione was painfully reminded of the fact that he was barely fourteen - too young to fight in this war!

"Did we get them all?" Colin asked.

Hermione nodded. "We captured or killed all the targets, and even more Death Eaters when Seamus left a bomb during our retreat." She dropped a picture down on Colin's bed. "That's Malfoy, dead."

Their faces lit up, and both peered at the picture. Hermione winced when she heard Dennis whisper "Yes!"

"Do you have a recording of his execution?" Colin asked, eagerly even.

"We just took pictures, no video," Hermione said.

"Ah… OK."

It wasn't OK though. Why hadn't she thought of recording it? As gruesome as it was, it would have made the two boys feel better.

"Did… did you find out what curse hit us?" Dennis asked suddenly, looking up from the picture.

Hermione shook her head. "I and others are working on it. But so far we haven't found anything, just a hint that it might have been a curse from a houngan."

That caused both of the boys to wince. "Voodoo?" Colin said, shivering. Of course he'd know what a houngan was, even if he couldn't list all the laws of Transfiguration!

"It's just a hint, it might be wrong. We're still at the start of our research."

Colin took a deep breath. "Would… would it be easier if we cut it off and got a pro... an enchanted limb?"

Did the boys think they'd be a burden? Hermione shook her head. "We have the time, don't worry about it." She hoped she was not lying.

Colin nodded. Dennis though… the younger boy pointed with his good hand at his cursed arm, carefully not touching it. "I want it gone! I can't stand looking at it like that!" He was shivering, but wasn't crying - yet.

Hermione felt as if she had received a Bludger to the stomach. He wanted the limb cut off? She should have expected that. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "We'll have to arrange that with a muggle doctor." They would have to be obliviated as well. "That might take some time. So… don't give up hope, please."

Dennis nodded, his lips quivering.

Colin, who was wrapping an arm around his brother, looked at her with an unreadable expression. "I want my leg cut off as well."

Hermione opened her mouth, to ask if he was just following his brother's example, but Colin's gaze hardened, and she shut up. Of course he'd share this with his brother. So she simply nodded. "I'll arrange it."

And she'd try her best to find a counter-curse until then.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, December 13th, 1996

"What's the situation?" Brenda Brocktuckle asked while she ran towards the Apparition point in the Ministry.

"Robbery of a shop went wrong, apparently. 'Haley's Hats', in Diagon Alley," Martin, sprinting next to her, said. "Owner was still around, and a fight ensued. An Auror patrol heard the noise, and placed Anti-Apparition Jinxes over the house."

"Why are we responding?" Brenda said, turning the corner. They were on the night shift, but not as a fast response force. There were Hit-Wizards for that!

"The thieves were shouting mudblood slogans while they engaged the Aurors with Curses."

"Can't be the Resistance. They'd have gone through an Auror patrol easily," Brenda said. "But could be another group of mudbloods." She grinned. Mudbloods arrested were mudbloods arrested. "Did anyone call Parkinson?"

"I didn't call him," Martin said.

"Hopefully, someone did," Brenda said. Their partner would be angry if he missed this… but then, he had taken the day off.

The two Aurors reached the Apparition point, and an instant later, they arrived in Diagon Alley, about 100 yards away from the shop under siege. A group of Hit-Wizards was moving in, from both sides of the shop, sticking close to the fronts so they couldn't be hexed from the shop without the caster exposing himself to the wands of the third group. Standard tactics, Brenda noted, approvingly.

Standard tactics, she remembered with a sinking feelings, meant that they were known. So… just how good were those mudbloods? Brenda took out her Omnioculars and studied the shop's front. No sign of any trap there. The other shops' wards were still up. And the road was free but for the mudholes… the mudholes! The Hit-Wizards were advancing too quickly, no one was checking the mudholes!

She cast an Amplifying Charm and yelled: "Check the mudholes before advancing!"

The groups froze, and one of them pointed his wand at a patch of mud. He disappeared in an explosion that threw his teammates into the middle of the street. A second later, another explosion followed on the other side.

"They trapped the mudholes!" Brenda snarled. Cowards! She rushed forward, Martin at her side, dispelling a few mudholes on the way - though none of them exploded. They were too far away though to do anything when the Hit-Wizards lying in the middle of the street came under fire from the upper floor of the shop.

The rest of the Hit-Wizards tried to provide cover for them, but they were too slow - a Blasting Curse hit the middle of the right side, sending cobblestones flying. Brenda saw one Hit-Wizard, who had just managed to get up, but not cast a Shield Charm, get hit in the head by a stone and fall down again, his face a bleeding mess. Another screamed, trying to crawl with broken legs. The other group of wounded fared better - marginally. One was casting wildly, hobbling towards the next cover, another was still on the ground, but seemed to aim carefully. A green curse - the Killing Curse! - struck the limping wizard, who dropped like a puppet with his strings cut.

The third group of Hit-Wizards was still providing covering fire, but wasn't having a lot of effect. "Bloody amateurs!" Brenda cursed. She reached their position and slid behind the closest cover. "Hit the shop's front with Blasting Curses!"

The Hit-Wizard in front of her turned around. "What?" he yelled.

"Hit the front of the shop with Blasting Curses!" Brenda yelled again. She stood up to cast herself, together with Martin. Two craters appeared in the shop's front, plaster and wood and pulverised bricks dropping to the ground. She didn't know if she had hit anyone, but the curses thrown at them from the building slacked off for a moment.

The remaining Hit-Wizard in the street tried to use the opportunity, sprinting towards the next barricade. Another Killing Curse missed him by a few feet and blew up a part of the street. But Brenda had spotted the dark wizard now.

"Second window from the left, first floor," she told Martin, who smiled grimly. A second later, the window was destroyed when two curses hit it. Brenda saw someone moving inside, but her next curse just missed the figure. Then the curses stopped flying at them altogether. She had a bad feeling about this. "Extend the Anti-Apparition Jinxes!" she yelled.

Then the mudbloods sallied from the shop, wands leading and curses flashing. They were brave, she gave them that. Or stupid. Or both. Six of them, against five Hit-Wizards who had just lost seven of their comrades, and two Aurors, all of them in cover. And yet, if not for Brenda's order, they might have made it - they cleared half the street, curses smashing into the conjured barricades and hitting Shield Charms, forcing more than one Hit-Wizard to keep their head down under the barrage, before the first of them fell - a victim of Martin's Bludgeoning Curse that smashed their hips.

Brenda saw the rest flick their wands, without a spell appearing - they were trying to apparate. "Blast them!" she yelled, casting a Reductor Curse at the feet of the closest one. The witch screamed when her foot was hit and almost blown off. Two down. A third was hit by two Piercing Curses, one in the throat, the other in the chest. In exchange, one of the Hit-Wizards had caught a Killing Curse. She barely noticed how a curse hit her own Shield Charm.

The rest of the mudbloods were splitting up, trying to outrun the Anti-Apparition Jinxes, Brenda bet. Not on her watch! Her Cutting Curse sliced into the legs of the wizard who had cast the Killing Curse, dropping him in a spray of blood, while another was hit with half a dozen curses at once, or so it seemed, and simply went down.

The last one, though, rolled forward, neatly avoiding another Reductor Curse, then dove behind an upturned cart. Amateur, Brenda thought dismissively, a second before her next spell blew up the cart and sent deadly splinters flying - most of them into the Shield Charm of the last mudblood. The wizard was hurt, but still tried to run, though exposed as he was, a Hit-Wizard took him down with a complicated spell.

Brenda waited thirty seconds, then stood up. "Check the wounded! You two - search the shop and house. Martin! With me, we'll secure the prisoners."

She shivered a bit when the tension of the battle left her, but she was smiling widely - for once, they hadn't been too late. And they had prisoners they could use to find even more mudbloods.

This had been a very good night shift.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 22: Unintended Consequences

'When talking about the muggleborn participation in the Second Blood War, most works focus on the Muggleborn Resistance, the group founded and led by Hermione Granger. This is quite understandable, given that their actions were crucial to starting said war, and include some of the most important events of the conflict. However, it would not be correct to assume that they were the only muggleborns taking up wands to fight for their cause - quite the contrary. Being forced to leave the magical world and go into hiding in muggle Britain had caused many muggleborns to not only resent, but also to outright hate, those they deemed responsible. Only the fear of the Auror response to attacks held many hot-headed muggleborns back. But when news of the efforts of the Resistance and later the Avengers spread, a number felt that they too could make a difference.
Unfortunately, few among the muggleborns had the training and preparation that had made the Resistance so successful, and even fewer still were willing to plan their actions carefully. And even those who did were prone to overconfidence after a first success. The consequences were often fatal.'
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, December 14th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle generally didn't like working on the weekend, though she was a veteran Auror and knew it was needed, especially in a crisis like this conflict with the Death Eaters and the mudbloods. Today all that didn't matter though - they had caught two prisoners! Both needed the attention of a Healer, but the witch who had lost a foot to Brenda's curse would be fine with just the bleeding stopped - she could be treated afterwards. She'd not die during the interrogation. There was no need to bother a Healer for her, especially when it was already past midnight.

Brenda levitated the bound and gagged mudblood into the interrogation room and watched as martin secured her to the chair. The witch's trousers were torn and splattered with blood, so Brenda cast a quick Cleaning Charm lest the mudblood dirty up the room, while Martin went to fetch Veritaserum.

When the door was opened she grabbed her wand - even if he ran Martin wouldn't have been back yet.

"When were you going to tell me that you had captured two mudbloods?"

Brenda snorted at Parkinson, who was leaning against the doorframe. "We had the choice of either informing you, or catching the mudbloods. We barely arrived in time to keep them from escaping - the Hit-Wizards certainly wouldn't have been able to stop them."

Parkinson snorted. "I heard about the death toll. Hidden bombs - like the Resistance."

Brenda doubted that the prisoners were members of the Resistance, but held her tongue. Veritaserum would reveal the truth soon enough, and if she actually had caught some of those responsible for the bombing of Malfoy Manor… that'd be a promotion for certain.

Martin arrived, panting. The rookie must have run, Brenda thought, as he handed her the sealed vial.

The prisoner had stopped glaring at them and was now staring at the vial. Brenda saw she was trembling. The Auror grinned as she approached her - that meant the mudblood was afraid of betraying others. Which was exactly what she had hoped.

A few spells later the gag was removed and the mudblood dosed. There was no danger anymore of an attempt to bite her tongue off; the witch was faintly smiling and humming. Brenda pulled out a dictaquill and started the investigation.

"December 14th, 1996. Brenda Brocktuckle, interrogating a suspect arrested in the robbery of 'Haley's Hats' in Diagon Alley." She turned to the witch. "What's your name?

"Mary-Jane Milton." The witch's smile grew.

"Blood status?"

"Muggleborn."

Brenda nodded. As suspected. "Are you a part of the Muggleborn Resistance?"

"Yes."

Brenda's eyes widened. She heard Martin gasp. "Were you involved in the bombing of Malfoy Manor?"

"No."

"Were any others in the group you were with involved?"

"No. William wished he had been."

"Who recruited you and how?"

"We were listening to the wireless, read the newspapers and leaflets… we decided to join the fight. If the Resistance and the Avengers can fight, then so can we!"

Brenda hissed. That wasn't an intended effect of her undercover operation. "Did you form your own group, without any contact with the Muggleborn Resistance?"

"We listened to their broadcasts, and read their leaflets."

"But you didn't talk to any of their members."

"No."

Brenda sighed. Just some idiots who tried to copy the Resistance then. Dangerous idiots though. "Why were you in 'Haley's Hats' on Friday, December 13th, 1996?"

"We wanted to teach the pureblood who had stolen it from Ellie a lesson."

Brenda frowned. That sounded improbable. "Who's Ellie?"

"Ellie was my best friend."

"Was?"

"She was killed today. I saw her die."

"What's her full name?"

"Ellie Pearson."

"Describe her."

"Brown hair, shoulder-length. Five foot five inches. She wore brown trousers and a green shirt."

That fit the witch they had found inside the shop, killed by splinters from the Blasting Curses that had reduced the front of the shop to rubble. Brenda made a small note. "Who stole the shop from her?"

"That pureblood bigot, Millard Macmillan. She had to sell her shop, and he robbed her blind. He paid her a Knut on the Galleon."

Brenda rolled her eyes. So the mudblood had sold too cheaply, and blamed the buyer. "And then you decided to destroy the shop, so no one could have it."

"Yes."

"Who placed the bombs in the mudholes?"

"William."

"What's his full name?"

"William Frederick Poole."

"Muggleborn?"

"Yes."

"Did he make the bombs?"

"Yes. He read about it, but it took him some time to get it right."

"Did all of you know about the bombs?"

"Yes."

"Did you want to kill Aurors and Hit-Wizards?"

"Yes. Ambush them. Make them pay for William's brother."

Brenda frowned. "What happened to his brother?"

"He was murdered by Aurors."

"Killed while resisting arrest," Martin whispered.

Brenda nodded. That was more likely. "Was everyone in your group at the shop?"

"No. Liz and Marc stayed back. They didn't want to come." Milton pouted. "Liz said she was sticking to casting mudholes. As if mudholes did much!"

Brenda smiled. Two more suspects. "Where are Liz and Marc?"

"In our safe house, in London."

The muggle address didn't ring any bell, but Brenda noted it down. They'd find it. And they'd find the other two mudbloods. She had the mudblood list all the names and addresses of the other group members, to confirm that no one had escaped from the shop, and questioned her about the layout of the house, before she remembered something. "Did Liz cast those mudholes at the shop?"

"No. She taught us how to, though. She started the mudholes."

Brenda smiled. That would be a high-profile arrest!

Her good mood didn't last long though. While they were making plans to search the addresses they had received, Martin wondered out loud: "Do you think there are more like them? More mudbloods preparing to attack purebloods?"

"Merlin's Balls!" Parkinson looked shocked. "If this is just the beginning…"

Suddenly, having created the Avengers didn't look like it had been a good idea anymore.

*****​

London, Bromley, December 14th, 1996

At three o'clock in the morning, even a muggle neighbourhood was quiet, without pedestrians on the streets, Brenda Brocktuckle noted with satisfaction - there would be no need to deal with witnesses. The street the mudbloods lived in was broader than she had expected as well - and cars lined both sides, in front of small gardens.

"I don't detect any wards," Martin said, standing next to her.

"The mudblood told us that they had no wards," Parkinson said.

"I know." Brenda's partner frowned. "But it makes no sense. Why would they leave themselves open to any attack?"

"For their television and computers." Brenda couldn't understand why that was worth sacrificing your safety, but as long as it made her task easier, she'd not complain. "Now focus - we'll enter from both back and front. Take the two mudbloods inside down. The Hit-Wizards will prevent any escape attempts." She'd have sent the Hit-Wizards in, if not for the fact that the friends of the two targets had killed over half a dozen of them, and Brenda feared that the Hit-Wizards with her wouldn't be too careful when fighting the mudbloods.

Parkinson and Martin nodded, as did Peter Selwyn, the leader of the Hit-Wizards with them. They moved up to the house next to their target. The lights were on in the house - the mudbloods were probably waiting for their friends. Parkinson went through the garden to the back, Brenda and Martin covered the front. The four Hit-Wizards surrounded the house, two of them on brooms. When they signalled that the Anti-Apparition Jinxes were set, Brenda cast a Silencing Charm on the door, then blew it up. Martin stormed inside, and she rushed after him.

No one was in the living room though, despite the lights burning. Parkinson appeared in the hallway. "Kitchen's empty."

They searched the other rooms, but found no one. Martin pointed at an open armoire, with clothes strewn out on the floor. "Looks like someone packed hastily."

"They've fled." Parkinson growled. "We were too slow."

"We struck as fast as possible," Brenda said. "The two fugitives must have expected this."

"Merlin's balls! What if this is a trap?" Parkinson looked around. "We need to get out before they blow up the house!"

Brenda shook her head. "I doubt there is a bomb - they can't know if their friends have been captured, or simply delayed." She saw Martin's and Parkinson's expression, and frowned. "Let's leave anyway." There was no reason to stay, after all.

On the way out, she repaired the door. At Parkinson's questioning gaze, she explained: "They might come back, to check if their friends have returned. We can catch them then."

"Unless they are watching the house right now," Martin cut in.

Brenda shrugged. "It's worth a try." She'd send a few rookies to stake it out.

She informed the Hit-Wizards, and told them to hide and watch, until relieved, before she apparated back to the Ministry. She had a lot of paperwork to do still.

*****​

Hogwarts, December 14th, 1996

'Muggleborn Murderers Arrested!'

When Harry Potter saw the headline of the Daily Prophet delivered during breakfast, he felt for a moment as if his heart had stopped beating. Had the Ministry caught Hermione? He skimmed the article, with Ron reading over his shoulder.

The article didn't offer much information. Muggleborns had attacked a shop in Diagon Alley, killed several Hit-Wizards with bombs before being overwhelmed. Two were arrested, the rest were killed.

"Blimey!" Ron whispered, even after casting a privacy spell. "If they had caught Hermione, they'd announce it, wouldn't they? We'd have been told so too, right?"

"Yes," Harry said, trying to convince himself as much as his best friend. He looked at the staff table, where Dumbledore was seated. The old wizard smiled at him. That was reassuring. Or should be. Legilimency would be really handy right now, to communicate with the Headmaster.

Around them speculation was running rampant. Harry heard Hermione's name mentioned a few times.

"Look at MacLaggen," Ron said. "He's smiling."

Harry looked down the table. Ron was right - the Gryffindor was smiling while reading the article. That bigot was probably hoping that Hermione had been arrested, he thought. He wanted to curse the git, but controlled himself. Mostly. "Hey, MacLaggen!" he yelled. "What's so funny?"

MacLaggen jerked, panic briefly visible on his face, before he glanced at Harry. "Nothing."

Harry glared at him. "Nothing, huh?" He fingered his wand.

The other student glanced at the staff table. He looked rather nervous now. "Nothing."

Harry snorted and pointed his wand down the table. MacLaggen gasped and threw himself off the bench.

"Accio breadbasket," Harry said, snickering.

MacLaggen glared at him while Ron and many of the other Gryffindors snickered and laughed until the student had left the table.

"What an idiot," Ron said, shaking his head. "But he has learned his lesson. Malfoy would have been in our face, gloating."

Harry sighed. "Yes." The news of Malfoy's death - his execution - had come as quite the surprise. And a bit of a shock. In hindsight, he should have expected this - Malfoy had been too stupid and rash to survive in the war - but still… when Hermione had told him how the git had died… He shuddered.

"You don't miss him, do you?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrows. He wasn't quite serious, Harry knew, but not entirely joking either.

"No, just… Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, well… they were almost part of Hogwarts." Harry refilled his cup. "Their visits in the train were almost a ritual. And now they're dead. Gone."

"Good riddance," Ron said. "The world's a better place without him - you know what Hermione told us. What he had done."

Harry nodded. "Yes. It's just… it sort of made me realise, really realise, that things will never be the same. Not at Hogwarts, not in Britain." He took a deep breath. "At first, I thought we'd return things to how they were. Before Voldemort. But we can't. And we shouldn't. We should make things better."

Ron looked at Harry as if that had been obvious to him. He didn't say anything, though.

*****​

Hogwarts, December 14th, 1996

"I can assure you that the muggleborns mentioned in the article were not members of Miss Granger's group." Albus Dumbledore smiled at Harry and Mister Weasley.

"Thank you, Headmaster!" Harry, sitting in front of Albus's desk, looked relieved. "We didn't want to use the mirror, not if there was another way… in case the Ministry had it."

"That would have been bad," Mister Weasley added.

"Indeed," Albus agreed. If the boys' close contact with the Resistance were revealed, or, even worse, his own, the consequences would be dire.

"So… how much of what's written in the article is true, sir?" Harry asked.

"The article exaggerates the events a bit, but is more or less correct. Two muggleborns were arrested, five were killed. Six Hit-Wizards were killed as well, and more were hurt." Kingsley had already informed him in the morning.

"Blimey!" Mister Weasley shook his head. "Even with the bombs, that must have been a fight."

"By all accounts, it was," Albus said.

"Who were the muggleborns then? Do we know them?"

"I do not think so." The Headmaster shook his head. He knew them, of course - as he knew almost all younger wizards and witches in Britain - from their time at Hogwarts.

Once again the two boys looked relieved, though they were trying to hide their reaction. Albus didn't begrudge them for it - it was just natural to care more for friends and family than strangers. "I hope thus reassured, you can now focus once more on your lessons," he added with a faint smile.

"Speaking of lessons, sir," Mister Weasley said, "I've decided to join Harry for Legilimency training."

"Very well, Mister Weasley. I will inform you as soon as I have arranged the first lesson." The boy didn't say why he had taken this decision, and Albus didn't ask. What mattered was that Harry would have a good friend at his side during those lessons. This would help him greatly. He smiled gently. "But I think you should now enjoy your weekend."

The boys glanced and each other, then nodded. Albus was certain they'd meet or at least talk to Miss Granger later. Ah, youth!

Once he was alone again in his office, Albus sighed as he glanced at the Daily Prophet on his desk, his eyes taking in the pictures of the devastated shop and street. After the 'Avengers', this seemed to be another muggleborn group following Miss Granger's example, although with far less success than the two others. All but two had been killed in the fight, together with half a dozen Hit-Wizards, which presented him with a serious problem.

The dead were not much of a problem. As cynical as it sounded, the muggleborns had killed enough Hit-Wizards to counter the Ministry's attempt to paint this as a great victory in their fight against the Muggleborn Resistance. Especially if Albus let the right people know that these muggleborns had not actually been members of the feared Resistance. That two of them had escaped would help check the Death Eaters attempts to use this to influence others at the Ministry as well.

No, the problem he was facing was what to do about the two survivors who had been arrested. If they went to trial they would be executed. That was a certainty. Tom's supporters in the Wizengamot might not be in the majority anymore, but neither were Albus's allies, and those outside both camps were quite firm in their stance towards 'muggleborn murderers'.

However, Albus could save the two. That was, if not a certainty, a very likely result of the preparations he had made after Martin Cokes had been executed. But in doing this, he would also compromise his resources, which would prevent him from repeating this feat, should one or more members of the Resistance be arrested in the future. He had alternatives in mind, but those would run a high risk of exposing his own involvement.

Could he let those two muggleborns die just so he retained the ability to save others? He leaned back in his seat, sighing again. Fawkes trilled and flew from his perch to land in his lap, butting his head against his hand. He stroke the bird's plumage, pondering his dilemma. To weigh one life against another - two, in this case - was not a moral thing to do. All life was precious. And yet, he had done it before, and would have to do it again - such was the burden of a leader during war.

Maybe he should inform Miss Granger. Ask her if he should save the two arrested muggleborns, at the cost of future rescue attempts. Let her decide. Albus shook his head. No, he would not stoop so low as to dump this terrible decision on the young witch. It was his responsibility, and he would live up to it.

And, even though he hated to admit it, his decision was clear. The Muggleborn Resistance had proven invaluable in the war against Voldemort. Their admittedly brutal means had cost the Dark Lord dozens of his most powerful supporters, and the fear they had caused among the purebloods had both preserved and increased his own influence on the Ministry. They were skilled, determined, brave, and Miss Granger had proved that she would not tolerate crimes and atrocities from her own.

On the other hand this new group of muggleborns hadn't struck at Death Eaters, but at purebloods. And while it was understandable that they would strike at those purebloods who had profited from the muggleborns' misery, they had deliberately tried to kill as many Hit-Wizards and Aurors they could - and succeeded in part. That was, again, understandable, given the role of the Ministry forces in enforcing the unjust laws that oppressed muggleborns, but Albus was certain that it would also strengthen the Dark Lord's support in the Wizengamot, for little gain. But most importantly: this new group had failed. They had proved that they were neither as skilled and trained as the resistance, nor as careful in planning their attacks. They had lost most of their strength already after their first attack.

Seen objectively, the Resistance was simply more valuable to the war effort, which would mean less victims in the long run. Albus hated himself for it, but he would not save the two muggleborns. Unless of course Miss Granger asked him to - her cooperation and trust was worth it.

But he didn't think she would.

*****​

London, East End, December 14th, 1996

Hermione Granger stared at the newspaper during lunch, studying the pictures. 'Muggleborn Murderers Arrested!'?

"Someone's copying us!" Seamus exclaimed. "Look at the damage to the street!"

"They were caught, though," Justin said. "Two arrested, the rest killed."

"That's the Prophet. Can't trust it." Dean shook his head. "They'd claim we were all dead should we stub a toe during a fight."

Hermione pursed her lips. She didn't think that sort of comment was appropriate, given what had happened to the Creeveys. She didn't say anything, though - she wouldn't start an argument over it. Instead, she tapped the picture of the crater in the street. "Seamus, what's your estimate of the amount of explosive they used there? It was hidden in a mudhole, according to the article."

The Irish wizard peered at the picture, frowning. "Hm… it's not a good angle. Not enough I'd say, though - some Hit-Wizards survived!" He chuckled at his own comment.

Hermione ignored that as well. She'd work out the amount used for herself then. "They used bombs, but not efficiently, and they were trapped in the shop by the Aurors. They didn't have lookouts then, and had no escape route prepared. With brooms, they might have escaped."

"Poor planning," Justin summed up.

Hermione nodded. She felt more than a bit guilty - if the muggleborns mentioned in the article had attacked that shop because of the Resistance's example, and the leaflets and broadcasts, then she was at least partially responsible.

"They still gave as good as they got, more or less," Seamus said. "We should tell people how to build better bombs in the next broadcast."

"And how to plan attacks better," Dean added. "Some tactics, too."

Hermione didn't wince, though she felt like. "I don't think we can really teach anyone that through a broadcast." And she didn't think the British government would appreciate muggleborns blowing themselves up making explosives - or stealing them. Before Dean or Seamus could protest, she continued: "What we can do is to tell people to prepare carefully and extensively before going off to fight. To train, and plan, and consider their actions."

"Do you think they'll be able to train well enough?" Sally-Anne was frowning.

Hermione sighed. "The goal is to keep them training instead of attacking some random purebloods. Our enemies are the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters. Not some hat shop in Diagon Alley."

"Not everyone has mysterious contacts who tell them the locations of Death Eaters," Dean said.

"Don't fire if you're not certain of your target," Hermione quoted. "We're not at war with all purebloods."

"Says you," Seamus muttered. "Most of them support the Ministry or the Death Eaters."

"Or both," Dean added.

"And if muggleborns start attacking random civilians for being purebloods, they'll just drive more to join Voldemort." Hermione shook her head. "They'd also be not much better than Death Eaters themselves."

"It's not as if we can order them around." Dean shrugged.

"Well, we could use the broadcasts, but the Ministry and the Dark Lord would be listening in as well," Sally-Anne said.

Hermione smiled at her. "We can use the broadcasts to give them general advice. Make them focus on keeping safe, and protecting themselves. But we'd have to give out a huge number of targets to prevent the enemy from using our own broadcasts to ambush muggleborns."

"Well, there're lots of targets in the Wizengamot," John pointed out.

"All of them are hiding, though," Mary said.

"We need to recruit more." Louise was looking at Hermione. "And we need to find a way to contact the other muggleborn groups."

Hermione winced. "I know. But contacting prospective recruits is difficult, and sounding them out is slow. I've thought of broadcasting an e-mail address, but our enemies would use it to try and infiltrate or ambush us."

"I've been contacted by two older Hufflepuffs," Justin said. "Through e-mail. But I don't know if they are purebloods impersonating them, or under duress."

Hermione felt both angry and hurt that Justin hadn't told her this before, but told herself she was not exactly telling him everything she was up to either. Still, she would have expected him to mention it.

"We should risk it," Seamus said. "We can always prepare an ambush of our own."

"And make the government think we're a terrorist group?" Tania scoffed. "That's stupid."

Hermione cut in before things escalated. "We'll do what we can to recruit more and get in contact with other groups, but our security takes priority." She pressed her lips together. "I don't want anyone else getting cursed like Colin and Dennis."

She also didn't want other muggleborns turning this conflict into a war against purebloods. But she was not certain she could prevent that. Even if she wanted to tell people not to fight, she doubted everyone would listen.

For now, though, she had to contact Harry and Ron. To tell them that she was fine, and to arrange a meeting. She needed their help.

*****​

London, Soho, December 14th, 1996

Ron Weasley was constantly keeping an eye on his surroundings while he and Harry walked towards the café where they were meeting Hermione. A few months ago, he'd have done so because he hadn't been in this area before, and there were quite a few sights to take in. But now he was doing it because Moody had trained him and Harry to always be on their guard.

Hermione, in disguise - black hair this time, straight and shoulder length, was already waiting for them at a table. It was a good location. Both the entrance in front and the backdoor were visible from there, as well as most of the street while a potted plant shielded the table some... Ron shook his head.

"What?" Harry asked.

"I just realised I've been thinking a bit too much like Moody." He snorted.

"Oh," his friend said. "Right. Constant Vigilance!" Harry added in a low voice in a passable imitation of their demanding and more than a bit paranoid teacher.

Both were chuckling when they reached the table. Hermione stood to greet them, her smile looking slightly puzzled. She was, Ron noticed, wearing a turtleneck and jeans, both tighter than he had expected or remembered. Not that he was complaining. She hugged Harry, then him, and he had to resist the temptation to run his hands down her back when he felt her body pressed against his. He wanted to keep hugging her. Keep her with him. Safe. The moment he had feared that she had been arrested had been one of the worst in his life. Far too quickly they separated, and took their seats.

All of them cast privacy spells after their orders had arrived - you couldn't be too cautious with them. Ron sipped his soda - another brand he hadn't tried before today - in the sudden silence.

"So... do you know who those muggleborns were who attacked in Diagon Alley?" Harry asked. Which was, Ron thought, a less blunt way of asking if those had been friends of hers.

Hermione put her teacup down before answering. "No, I don't. None of the others know them either. I think they were just a bunch of muggleborns who decided to fight." She frowned. "I should have emphasised planning and preparing, in our broadcasts. Maybe they'd not have been caught then."

"It's not your fault," Ron said. He almost reached out and patted her hand, but grabbed his glass instead. "They should have known better."

Judging by her impression, she didn't share his opinion, but she nodded at least. "I hope that their fate will make others hold off launching similar attacks. If this turns into muggleborns attacking random purebloods…"

Ron winced. That would be a disaster.

"But what can you do?" Harry asked.

"Not much." Their friend pressed her lips together in a familiar manner. She was frustrated, Ron knew - he had caused that same expression in the past. "We could send them against some known Death Eaters or sympathisers, but that would only make them run into ambushes and traps."

"That might be better than have them attack innocents," Ron said. His family was pureblood as well, after all.

Hermione nodded, though he thought it was a bit reluctantly. "I'll emphasise that we are not at war with purebloods, but Death Eaters. Hopefully the more eager will take this to heart."

Ron didn't think it would help much. "You need to organise the others. Those Avengers as well."

She frowned at him. "That's easier said than done. It's not as if we can simply call them up and give out orders. Not with the Ministry and the Death Eaters looking for us. Any contact could be an imperiused trap."

"The Dark Lord has a big advantage there. Groups like Malfoy's are under his command, whether they know it or not," Harry pointed out, which earned him a frown as well.

Ron didn't quite smile, but he felt better knowing he wasn't the only one making their friend mad. Hermione had told them about Malfoy's interrogation, and the others. Fred and George hadn't wanted to talk about the girls, though.

"Which means attacks on other purebloods will help the Dark Lord recruit even more into his ranks," Hermione said. "Not that many understand that. Not even among the Resistance!"

Ron glanced at Harry. That sounded like their friend was having some trouble. "Dean and Seamus?" He had heard about them before, after all.

Her scowl was answer enough, even if she stuck to not complaining about her group, or not too much. "I know that we can't really avoid driving more into Voldemort's arms when we kill his Death Eaters, but we shouldn't go out of our way to do it."

"Good riddance to them!" Ron said. "If they join the Dark Lord, they're scum anyway." They had attacked the Burrow, ready to kill his family. He had no sympathy for Malfoy's friends.

"Well, you can take them prisoner," Harry pointed out.

"Keeping prisoners requires a lot of guards and effort. We can't afford that."

"Dumbledore can," Harry said. "He's keeping Nott, Greengrass and Davis, isn't he?"

"Yes. But those are special cases," Hermione said. "Rich heirs. He's planning to drain them of their gold, and hobble their proxies in the Wizengamot. I doubt he would do that for every Death Eater."

"No need to keep anyone a prisoner when they'll be executed anyway - or would, if we hadn't so many Death Eaters in the Wizengamot." Ron had heard enough about the court from his parents to know how things stood at the Ministry.

His two friends looked grim, but didn't contradict him while all of them sipped their drinks.

Hermione broke the silence. "I have a favour to ask of you."

"Sure thing," Ron said, at the same time Harry said: "Of course."

Ron saw Hermione smile briefly, then she went on: "Colin and Dennis were cursed, as you know, and they want the affected limbs amputated."

Ron hissed. That was… Merlin's arse! They wanted their limbs cut off?

Harry winced, obviously sharing his thoughts.

Hermione slowly nodded. "I hope we find a way to help them before it comes to that, but… I need to know about magical prosthetics. And if they can be fitted to stumps left by muggle doctors."

Ron felt rather sick at imagining that, but Hermione needed his help. "You want us to ask Moody?"

"Only if the Headmaster agrees. I was thinking of Bill. He's a Curse-Breaker, isn't he?"

"Yes. One of the best," Ron said. Bill was, as far as he knew, too. "He might know how to deal with the curse. But he might need to see the effect for himself." He bit his lips, then added: "And, he probably knows about amputations and prosthetics as well. Those curses in tombs can be nasty." There was a reason mum had exploded when he had told them what he'd do after Hogwarts.

"Thank you."

Hermione smiled at him, and Ron once again almost reached out to take her hand. But they weren't on a date. Which reminded him. "We should go on another set of dates."

"Yes," Harry quickly said.

Hermione looked surprised, then nodded slowly. "If we have time."

"Yes, of course." Ron knew that the question was if Hermione could take two evenings off.

Given how the war was going, he feared that might not be the case.

*****​

London, Soho, December 14th, 1996

Harry Potter was jealous. He didn't like it, but he couldn't help it. Ron was just too smooth. Proposing another set of dates, offering to ask his big, cool brother Bill for help with the dark curses that had struck Dennis and Colin, complimenting Hermione…

Harry finished his sandwich and refilled his glass. Ron was his best friend. They had gone through so much together. Harry trusted him with his life, and he was certain Ron trusted him with his. It was very selfish of him to hope that Ron would anger Hermione, like he used to. Maybe he would make some ignorant remark about muggles - Harry was the muggle-raised here - or something about Quidditch being better than any muggle sports.

But no… Ron was just being nice, even thoughtful. Where was the Ron from first year? Brave, but not that charming? He just needed his ear pierced for a dragon fang, and a leather jacket, and he'd be another Bill. Well, maybe not that smooth. Still too smooth in Harry's opinion though.

"I wish we could do more for you," he said, changing the topic. "We're safe at Hogwarts and you're risking your life."

"You're training to defeat the Dark Lord, and you're risking your life deceiving him about Dumbledore's actual plan." Hermione pursed her lips. "You don't have any reason to feel guilty, or as if you're not doing enough."

"We haven't received our next mission yet," Ron cut in.

"It just feels as if we could do more." Harry sighed.

Hermione shook her head, but she seemed to suppress a smile. "You're doing more than enough. You're the key to defeating Voldemort. Honestly, it's already a risk to let you play decoy."

Now it was his turn to frown. "I'm not going to hide at Hogwarts while you risk your lives."

Ron wisely didn't say anything.

"We're playing it as safe as we can." Hermione raised her chin slightly.

"Which is not that safe," Harry retorted. "The Ministry and the Death Eaters are hunting you."

The witch opened her mouth, then pressed her lips together before answering. "We're being careful, and working closely with the Headmaster."

Harry kept himself from saying that that wasn't a guarantee. He didn't want to make his friend angry. Angrier. Instead he sighed. "I just worry. What if it's you next time on the Prophet's front page? Or," he added, a second later, "your friends?"

She had noticed his slight pause, and was frowning again. Harry mentally cursed - this wasn't his day. "We're planning and preparing far more than this other group, and we've taken precautions for such a case."

Harry wanted to ask what kind of precautions, but he didn't think pressing the issue was a good idea. "Well, that makes me feel a bit better. I still worry, though."

"Me too," Ron added.

Hermione huffed, but she was smiling again. "Honestly! If I made such a fuss each time you do something dangerous…"

"Well, you usually do," Harry said.

Ron chuckled, and Hermione glared at him again. But the tense mood was gone.

*****​

Hogwarts, December 14th, 1996

He had blown that meeting, Harry Potter thought. He should have been more supportive. Less patronising. Sirius had told him how James had just infuriated Lily when he had tried to act protective. But he hadn't been able to help it - he hated the thought of Hermione fighting while he stayed safe. Although he wasn't certain if he hated himself not doing much more than her risking her life. Which was another of his faults.

"Do you think she'll have time for dating?"

Ron's question shook Harry out of his rather morbid thoughts. He turned his head to glance at his friend as they were walking through the tunnel from Hogsmeade. He shrugged. "If anyone can make the time, she'll be able to."

"If she wants to make the time," Ron said. "She might also feel she can't have fun while others are suffering."

Harry nodded. That fit Hermione. She obviously had had fun on the last dates - more so with Ron, though - so she could expect to have fun again. Harry would have to make a greater effort, though, if he wanted to stay in the running. Maybe he could ask… who could he ask, apart from Sirius? Remus wasn't a good choice. The man hadn't had a date in decades. If only Harry had some cool older brothers to ask for advice!

Ron sighed. "Damn war!"

The two continued in silence for a bit. Before they reached the hidden exit though, Ron turned to Harry. "I just wanted to say… if she picks one of us, then I don't want that to change anything between us, you know? The important thing is that she is happy." His friend blinked. "Shite! I sound like a wizard from those novels Ginny reads."

Harry didn't know what novels Ginny read, but he nodded. "Yes. I won't be exactly happy if she picks you, but… as long as you make her happy I can deal with it." He had better get used to this, Harry thought. Sirius had said to play to his strengths, as if Hermione was interested in Quidditch, or was a fan of the Boy-Who-Lived. Or wanted gold.

Ron was frowning. "Mate, I need you to promise me something. If Hermione somehow picks me, don't do anything stupid, alright? If you go and sacrifice yourself in the war, it'd destroy her. She'd blame herself for it, you know."

Harry hissed. He hadn't exactly planned on such a thing, but… he had thought, guiltily, that it would simplify things if one of them died in the war. A dead hero, remembered fondly by the surviving couple…

"Harry?" Ron grabbed his shoulders.

He took a deep breath and tried to sound as if he had never even thought of that. "I promise - if you do the same."

"It's a deal, then."

They shook on it.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, December 14th, 1996

"There you are, Auror Brocktuckle. I've read your report about your latest arrest." Bones said as soon as Brenda Brocktuckle entered the office of the Head of the DMLE.

Brenda saw Scrimgeour standing next to Bones's desk. The Head Auror was frowning, which was rather normal for him, but she thought he looked even less happy than usual. "Yes, ma'am." She stood straight.

"The Minister was disappointed that those suspects were not involved in the murder of Malfoy." Bones was frowning, and Brenda suspected that Fudge had suggested to find evidence to that effect. The Minister was known for such attempts to fit facts to politics. Fortunately, both Bones and Scrimgeour were not the kind of people to bow to such pressure - or succumb to temptation.

"I hoped so myself," Brenda said, "but the results of the interrogations were clear. We're dealing with a new group who followed the example of the Resistance, influenced by their propaganda."

"And by the example of the Avengers." Bones added. "I gather they were even more convincing than we expected."

Scrimgeour stood just a bit straighter, while Brenda winced. Neither of them had foreseen that particular effect. Stupid mudbloods!

"But there has been no contact with the Resistance yet, despite this." Bones narrowed her eyes. "The Minister was quite disappointed about that as well." When Brenda took a sharp breath, the older witch held her hand up. "He is not aware of this particular operation."

Brenda relaxed again. If Fudge had been informed about her undercover operation, half the Wizengamot would probably know it a day later.

"But he is correct - the goal of this operation is to infiltrate and eliminate the Resistance, not to incite even more unrest among the muggleborn population." Bones leaned forward. "I hope you have a plan, Auror Brocktuckle."

Brenda swallowed. She had a plan, or rather an idea. "Contacting the Resistance has been more difficult than expected. They address their supporters through the wireless broadcasts, but they do not seem to listen to anyone. Purvis and Rickett have been telling their muggleborn contacts that they would like to coordinate their efforts with the Resistance, but no one has known how to. But the arrest of this new group gives us a chance." Bones was still frowning. "Although I think that the Avengers have to strike once more, and spectacularly, for this to work. And," she hastened to add, "they'll need a broadcast of their own."

Scrimgeour was glaring at her - with good reason. She hadn't cleared or even discussed this with him. But Bones had put her on the spot, and Brenda could not afford to disappoint the Head of the DMLE, not with her career already in jeopardy.

Bones ran a finger over her chin. "I see. You plan to present the Avengers as serious competition for the Resistance. A group they cannot ignore, not without risking fragmenting the muggleborns or losing a lot of their influence."

"Yes, ma'am."

The older witch remained silent for a while. Brenda didn't fidget, but she wanted to. Scrimgeour, though, simply remained as he was.

Finally, Bones spoke again: "Alright. I don't like it, but it's the most promising plan we have."

That was a rather bad sign of the state of the Ministry, Brenda thought.

The Head of the DMLE continued: "And the Wizengamot, especially the proxies of Greengrass, Nott and Davis, are raising a lot of support to save the kidnapped before they too are murdered."

Or to see them get killed as a reaction, Brenda added, cynically, to herself. She had some experience with that sort of pureblood family.

"Now… what kind of spectacular attack did you have in mind, Auror?" Bones stared at her.

"In my opinion, no attack on anything will ever equal the destruction of Malfoy Manor," Brenda began. It wasn't as if they could let the undercover Aurors kill anyone, anyway. "So I feel that rescuing the arrested suspects from the Diagon Alley attack seems the best way to impress the Resistance." Scrimgeour gasped, and Brenda knew that but for Bones's presence, he would be screaming at her and wonder if she had lost her mind. Bones had grown rigid, but hadn't said anything yet. "The Resistance has lost one member, Martin Cokes, who was arrested and executed. They were not able to free him. If the Avengers can do that, then the Resistance is likely to contact them just because of that."

"And allow us to ambush them." Bones nodded. "I'll authorise this - provided you can ensure that the arrested suspects will not escape for good."

Brenda met her eyes. "For that, I'd need special authorisation, ma'am."

Bones stiffened. Brenda knew she was asking for a lot. Special authorisation. Permission to use the Unforgivables. The last time this had been granted to Aurors had been in the last war - which many had started to call the First Blood War. But the Auror didn't see any other way to ensure that the freed suspects would not actually escape, no matter how the mission went.

"The Minister is likely to grant this, but there will be resistance in the Wizengamot," Bones said. "But if this goes through your plan is approved. Dismissed, Auror."

Brenda knew Scrimgeour would be making his displeasure with her going over his head known as soon as he left Bones's office as well, but she didn't care too much. Her plan might have been a bit improvised, but it was a valid one.

And having the authorisation to use the Unforgivables wouldn't hurt either. At least not the Ministry.

*****​

Hogsmeade, December 15th, 1996

Ron Weasley was once again sneaking into the Hog's Head Inn, but he wasn't cutting classes for it, this time. His brother was already seated at a table in the back, flirting with the waitress. Ron shook his head. Bill was just too smooth. Too handsome. Too cool.

"Hello, Bill." He slid into the seat opposite his oldest brother, startling the witch - she apparently hadn't noticed him. Or anyone else but Bill.

"Ron!" Bill smiled at him, then nodded at the waitress. "A butterbeer for my brother."

When the waitress had left, Ron sighed. He'd like to rib Bill a little, ask if Fleur knew he was flirting with other witches, but he'd rather not provoke his brother into pranking him when he needed his help - the twins had learned from someone, after all.

"Girl trouble?" Bill raised an eyebrow.

"Sort of," Ron said.

Both waited to cast privacy spells until their order had been served - a butterbeer for Ron; no point in asking for a soda here, and a pint for Bill.

"You've heard about Malfoy?"

Bill nodded. "Yes. Serves the little Death Eater right - he was among those who attacked the Burrow."

"Yes. I've heard that two of those who captured him were hit with dark curses. Shriveled up the limb hit, or rather, the limbs withered. Leathery skin, over bones." Ron took out a few pictures Hermione had given him, and slid them over to Bill. He avoided looking at them - the thought of such a limb dangling from his own body was sickening.

Bill, though, was not affected. He studied the pictures. "It might be a variant of the Living Mummy Curse - which, contrary to the name, kills you once it is done - but I doubt it. That curse doesn't start with a single limb. Nor does it stop there."

"The Headmaster thinks it might be a curse from a Houngan," Ron said. He didn't like the wince that caused.

"That's bad news. We don't have any contacts with houngans. Gringotts does do business with them through intermediaries, but they keep their Curse-Breakers out of the Caribbean." Bill rubbed his chin. "Although we've had some encounters with African curses, when we went after the Upper Nile Tombs."

"What do African wizards have to do with this?" Ron didn't know much about African Wizards. He knew most of them had been killed when the ICW had intervened, after they had used magic against the muggle colonies.

"Houngans have their roots in Africa," Bill explained.

"Oh." That probably explained why the ICW came down so harshly on Africa, Ron thought. "So… do you think you can help there?"

Bill sighed. "I don't know. I'll ask around - but I'll have to be careful."

Ron knew that - the Death Eaters would know what curses they had used, and if Bill happened to ask for cures to such… hopefully, the caster of that curse had been killed in the fighting. "Of course." He took a deep breath. "Also… in case there is no cure, what do you know about magical prosthetics?"

Bill looked grim. "A few of my colleagues have them. They're better than nothing, but… it's not the same. If you lose your wand arm, you'll have a better chance to learn casting with your off-hand than to use a prosthetic. And you'll not run very well with a peg leg, enchanted or not."

Ron had expected that - he knew that Moody would be even more impressive and terrifying if he hadn't lost his leg. "They are looking for people who make them." After a second, he added: "And for people who can, you know, remove the withered limbs without doing more damage."

Bill nodded. "I have a few addresses. I assume British locations are out."

"Yes." Ron confirmed that. "Thank you."

"No problem, Ron. Though that doesn't really explain the 'sort of' girl troubles you mentioned."

"Ah." Ron frowned. "We might go on another date, if we have the time. And I need a few more tips."

Bill's smiled widely. "Ah, you're in luck! I've just had the most wonderful date with Fleur."

Yes, Ron thought, his brother was just too damn smooth. And too damn lucky.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, December 15th, 1996

Albus Dumbledore didn't know why Cornelius had called a special session of the Wizengamot. The death of Draco Malfoy, and the kidnapping of Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis might be the reason - though Albus hadn't thought the Minister would want to face their families in the Wizengamot, not after his attempt to claim the arrested muggleborns had been part of that attack had not succeeded. On the other hand, the mere fact that he didn't know the reason told him something, and he'd be able to deduce more once it was revealed.

The chamber was almost full now, the last members who had been talking outside were filing in. Sirius was looking bored, though Albus knew it was an act. Augustus Malfoy looked angry - though whether it was due to the death of Draco Malfoy, the loss of face the manner of his death and the subsequent revelations had caused, or because this was probably his last session, Albus didn't know. Eric Greengrass walked stiffly - the man was barely holding together, Albus knew; he had been heard screaming with rage at an Auror when told there was no trace of his niece. Cressida Davis was holding up better, or so it looked like. Albus didn't feel guilty about causing them pain; they would get their relative back after the war, and they had been supporting the Dark Lord, knowingly or not. He had even less sympathy for Thaddeus Nott. Theodore Nott had been almost as bad as Draco Malfoy; Albus doubted that the young wizard would live to see the end of the war, unless a truly fair trial could be organised.

Cornelius arrived, at last. The Minister was putting up a good front - he was a talented politician - but Albus knew he was very stressed, under pressure from all sides, including Albus himself. Once again, the Headmaster didn't feel any guilt for adding to the Minister's burden - if not for his foolish policies, they would not be at this point.

He looked around. Everyone was seated now. Time to begin. "The chair recognises the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge."

Cornelius stood up, cleared his throat, and started to speak. His voice didn't show his stress. "Honoured members of the Wizengamot! I have called for this session in response to the events of the last week. One heir of a seat in this very chamber has been murdered, three more have been kidnapped. A few days ago, a band of muggleborn criminals attacked a shop in Diagon Alley, killing several of our Hit-Wizards in the ensuing battle before they were overcome."

Murmurs greeted his words. Most members already knew about this - Albus doubted anyone had missed the news - but they still had to whisper to each other.

"It is clear that the Ministry's forces are strained. Artificially so - for while their enemies use the most vile tactics, and dark spells, they are prohibited from using the most effective spells to fight for law and order."

That caused the whispers to increase in volume. Albus started to frown - he knew where this was leading. Cornelius's predecessor had used almost exactly the same words for her proposal, back in the last war.

"Once before the Ministry was in a similar situation, in 1980. And the Wizengamot stepped in, and solved it. I hence propose the same solution: To pass a bill that authorises the Ministry's Aurors and Hit-Wizards to use the Unforgivable Curses for the duration of the current crisis."

Yells and exclamations drowned out the Minister's closing words as the members of the Wizengamot voiced their opinions of this proposal. Albus let them vent for a bit, then flicked his wand. An amplified giong cut through the cacophony of voices. "This is the Wizengamot. As tradition dictates, we will debate any proposal in a civilised manner." A few had the grace to flinch at his admonishment. "The chair recognises Madam Bones."

Albus sat back while Amelia explained why this authorisation was needed, in her opinion. The witch was up to something, he knew that. She wanted at least one of those spells available to her department, but which one? Not the Torture Curse, that was obvious. And the Killing Curse, while infamous, was not quite as crucial in battle as many thought - plenty of spells were nearly as deadly, but not forbidden. It had to be the Imperius Curse then. And she hadn't contacted him beforehand, to secure his support, which meant she didn't think she could portray this as a move against Voldemort - and thought she could get a majority. He almost smiled. The conclusion was obvious - this was aimed at the Resistance. The Ministry was planning to use the Imperius against them.

And, he added, listening to Eric Greengrass, she might very well get her way. The proxy for Miss Greengrass was passionately pleading to strengthen the Aurors so no more pureblood witches would fall prey to the barbarian hordes. Many, not just Death Eaters and their friends, were nodding.

Bilius Longbottom stood to oppose the bill, but while his arguments had a lot of merit, he focused on denouncing the Torture Curse, pointing out that there was no discernable reason for that vile spell to be used by anyone. Amelia quickly amended the proposal, removing the authorisation for that spell, to further approval.

Voldemort's supporters drew their clues from Augustus Malfoy, who supported the bill. This caused a few of Albus's friends to oppose it on principle, but not enough. Albus didn't speak up - he was not about to fight a battle he knew he would lose.

But he would inform Miss Granger to be very cautious in the future. And Harry and Mister Weasley. He wouldn't put it past the Ministry to try and use the two boys against the young witch. Harry had shown in the past that he could throw off the Imperius Curse, but Mister Weasley had not shown such mental fortitude.

Albus didn't know if their training could remedy that, but he'd tell Alastor to make the attempt. He was certain Tom would do all he could to exploit the opportunities this presented. And, he thought, maybe a visit to Miss Skeeter was in order. Just to put a bit more pressure on Cornelius.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, December 17th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle ducked under a protruding pipe on her way through the tunnels under the Ministry. Long, winding, twisted tunnels with ceilings so low, she barely could stand up. Behind her, Martin cursed - he probably had hit his head. He should have been a bit more careful, she thought.

Parkinson chuckled. "Those tunnels are probably made for goblins or elves, not wizards."

"They might have been built by goblins, actually, as part of the settlement of the goblin revolt in 1759," Martin said, ever the Ravenclaw. "The plans we found seem to indicate that."

"If you can call a couple of sketches by a drunk wizard on soiled parchment 'plans'," Parkinson said, scoffing. "I still say we should just frame one of Shacklebolt's team for this. We have the spells to do so, now."

Brenda was tempted to remark that he seemed quite proficient with the Unforgivables, but held her tongue. To divide themselves while hunting the mudbloods would be foolish. Besides, the Ministry just legalised two of the three curses, so they couldn't be that bad. And it would be better if an experienced wizard cast the Imperius on the two Mudbloods, Milton and Smith. They could not afford to mess this up. "You know what Bones ordered. No killing, no framing anyone in the Ministry. This has to look like Purvis and Rickett did it all by themselves, using knowledge gained as Aurors before they quit in protest."

Parkinson grumbled, but didn't complain again as they continued through what was once an escape tunnel. An escape tunnel built by the very species the Ministry had fought the most wars against - Brenda wondered what the Minister who had ordered this had been thinking. Unless it had been a trap aimed at the goblins - they had passed a few old wards that didn't react to wizards or witches.

The tunnel changed direction again, and she sighed. Not even goblins would build something as twisted. It was probably the result of a magical accident during the remodelling. Then she blinked. There was a dead end? Before she could curse the map they had, though, she spotted the outline hidden under dust and dirt. A door, right where it was supposed to be. And if the map was correct, it led straight to the sewers of muggle London.

A spell had the door unlocked, but it took a few repair spells to actually open it - the whole thing had been rusted shut. The stench behind it was the sewers, indeed. Though… Brenda took a step outside, then sighed. "We're in a goblin sewer."

Martin and Parkinson shuddered. She glared at them. "You know our orders: We are to map out the entire route." Besides, a Bubble-Head Charm and a Cleaning Charm would deal with the stench and dirt. Brenda wouldn't let a bit of excrement ruin her career.

Which, she thought, was quite an apt thing to say.

*****​

"I thought dragon dung was a highly valuable fertilisers!" Brenda said, grinding her teeth. "Why are the goblins wasting that by dropping it into the sewers?"

"Not all dragon dung is actually good fertiliser," Martin said. "Some is rather toxic to the soil. There is a subspecies of a…"

"We're wading through poison?" Parkinson cut in, sounding as sick as Brenda felt.

"Not poison, it's just too acidic for most plants," Martin explained.

"Acid?" Parkinson's voice rose another octave.

"Cut it out you two!" Brenda snarled. "We're almost done." She turned to Martin. "Take some of it with you; we might want to use it to make the evidence for this look more authentic."

When she thought of Dawlish having to go through this, with at least half his team, once Purvis and Rickett had finished, she grinned. If only she could install a camera to take a picture! Maybe if she waited in the office… no, her team had to be away from the Ministry when this happened, to not be linked to it.

Dawlish would catch the blame, again. It was just fair - he wasn't catching anything else.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, December 19th, 1996

"They entered through an old escape tunnel from 1759, and made their way to the holding cells. They stunned the guard on duty, freed the two suspects, and escaped the same way they had entered."

Albus Dumbledore, sitting on a seat in the Minister's office, was not paying much attention to John Dawlish telling him what he had already read in the report Kingsley had sent him. The breakout of the two arrested muggleborns last night had gone off without a hitch, as far as he could tell. No one hurt, a clean escape.

He would be happy about it, if not for the fact that the Avengers - they had left a big 'A' inside a circle on each cell door - had used the same route he had planned to use should one of Miss Granger's group need to be sprung.

Now he had to prepare an alternative. He had a plan already, but that one was too likely to end up with his involvement made public. A desperate measure. Albus sighed. Dawlish winced. He smiled at the man. Kingsley had also sent him pictures taken of the Auror after his return from the pursuit - Cleaning Charms could only do so much, if not cast expertly. "My apologies - it does not look like this is your fault at all."

"Not everyone shares your view, sir," Dawlish grumbled. "Brocktuckle is livid; the two suspects she arrested escaped."

"This is a catastrophe!" Cornelius said. "Once the public hears of this…" He shook his head. "Unacceptable! This is simply unacceptable!"

"This has to be the work of traitors!" Dawlish said. "They knew exactly where to go."

"Former Aurors or Hit-Wizards, probably," Amelia added. "We'll go through the names of those who left the Ministry in the last year."

"Left, or were forced out," Albus added, smiling softly.

"If they turned traitor it was obviously a good thing they were let go!" Cornelius said, huffing. "Now, we need to discuss how to present this to the public." The Minister glanced at Albus. "We cannot afford to look like fools! Not now, not with both Death Eaters and those muggleborns fighting us!"

The Headmaster smiled, nodding slowly. "Indeed. We cannot have people think that arrested suspects can easily escape from our cells."

Cornelius looked surprised, but Albus knew that the pressure to speed up trials, or skip them altogether and move suspects directly to Azkaban, would only increase should this be publicised in a sensational manner. As would the numbers of suspects killed while resisting arrest.

"But I think the Daily Prophet will show the usual caution in reporting this." They'd better, he thought, or he'd have to visit Rita again.

Albus noticed that Amelia seemed to be slightly annoyed at him, even though she hid it well. He wondered if she was planning to replace Cornelius, and would have liked a scandal to damage his reputation further. Unless there was another reason for her reaction - but why would she want this blown up all over the front page of the Daily Prophet?

*****​

Outside Stamford, Lincolnshire, Britain, December 19th, 1996

The Dark Lord Voldemort checked his appearance again. He wasn't quite used to wearing a mask a if he was one of his own Death Eaters. But if he was recognised tonight, then Dumbledore might be alerted, and this could ruin his plans.

The Headmaster could not know of his presence. Not until it was too late.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 23: Red Holidays

'The attack on 'Haley's Hats' in Diagon Alley would have been a rather unremarkable event, despite the relatively high casualties on both sides, if not for two things: The arrest and the subsequent escape of two muggleborn attackers. It had been the first time since Martin Cokes that the Ministry had managed to arrest a muggleborn who had been fighting them as part of an organised group, which was a feather in the cap of the arresting Aurors and did improve Ministry morale - if only for a short time. It can also be seen as the main cause for the Resistance's subsequent change of policy towards muggleborn supporters, as their broadcasts started to focus on actual advice for fighting their enemies instead of more general propaganda, in an obvious attempt to avoid another such defeat.
More important, though, was the fact that the attack also demonstrated a significant change among the muggleborn population. More and more muggleborns, especially but not exclusively the younger generations, were willing to take up wands - and were not particularly concerned whether they were raised against the supporters of the Dark Lord, the Ministry, or just purebloods in general. The Second Blood War was entering a new phase.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, December 19th, 1996

When she heard the alarm, Brenda Brocktuckle jerked. Ever since she had helped plan and organise the escape of the two mudbloods, she had been nervous. Other than her team, no one but Bones and Scrimgeour knew about the undercover mission. If she had made a mistake, and left some evidence, then she would be seen as a traitor by the investigating team. Normally, that wouldn't worry her too much. At worst she'd spend a short time in a cell, until Bones intervened. But tempers had been on edge for weeks now, and Dawlish's people were so angry about the escape, if they thought she was a blood traitor, Brenda might very well not survive the arrest.

Martin was already at the door to their office and peered out, wand drawn. No one tried to hex him, and Brenda joined him at the door. Outside, a dozen Aurors were rushing towards the exit. Shacklebolt's team, she realised.

Brenda looked at Peter Flint, who was filling out forms at his desk. "What has them rushing out?" she asked.

The man who hadn't been out in the field in a decade or longer looked at her, shrugging. "Death Eaters are attacking a family in East Sussex. Shacklebolt's on the case."

Death Eaters were not their problem, Brenda thought. She nodded at Flint and returned to her office. Parkinson had taken the evening off, earlier, and for a moment she wondered… then she shook her head. He wouldn't be that stupid. Or at least he'd be too smart to get caught.

*****​

Outskirts of Peacehaven, East Sussex, Britain, December 19th, 1996

The Dark Lord Voldemort waited patiently, watching the lone house through his omnioculars. Given the average response time, Shacklebolt should have arrived by now, but Dumbledore's chief spy in the Ministry was cagey, and would not rush in, despite the ongoing attack on the Pinsey family's home. He might even suspect a trap.

But would he suspect that the attack had already happened this afternoon, without any alert leaving the house, thanks to a well-placed Imperius? Voldemort didn't think so. Patrick Pinsey had been a thorn in his side in the last war, until his death, and while the rest of the family hadn't lifted a wand against his men, they were still blood traitors. Which was why he had picked them out for his plan. And had them stunned and bound in the basement of the muggle house he was occupying. Outside their own home, at the very edge of the town, a few of his followers were attacking the wards. They didn't know the house was empty, of course - the attack had to look genuine, after all. And his more expendable followers, hoping to earn a Dark Mark tonight, were not the best actors.

He studied them through the enchanted drapes. They were doing better than he had expected. He might have to intervene to slow them down, if Dumbledore's pet Auror dragged his feet any longer. Shacklebolt was no coward, and he was no seer. He shouldn't be able to spot the trap at all. And a family under attack was the perfect lure. Or, Voldemort thought, had Dumbledore's men become so ruthless as to be willing to sacrifice innocents at the mere suspicion of a trap? Maybe he should have left one of the Pinseys inside the house, imperiused to scream for help… but no. His followers had interrupted the Floo Network, and the yells wouldn't carry far. More importantly, it would endanger his plan.

Suddenly, spells hit the Death Eaters watching the rear of their group. Or not watching the rear, as it seemed - the Aurors had managed to sneak up on them. Voldemort sneered. He had chosen his followers for this mission well indeed.

He watched dispassionately as the half a dozen Death Eater recruits were cut down by spells - just a few of them Stunners - while wounding one, possibly two Aurors in return. Granted, they were surprised and outnumbered, but the Dark Lord had higher standards for his followers, even discounting the fact that had they been sufficiently attentive, they wouldn't have been surprised. And none of them even thought of fleeing by broom, or doing anything more creative than slinging curses at the enemies. No walls, no transfigured or conjured creatures… He sighed.

The uneven combat was over within five minutes, and the Aurors started securing the few prisoners. Voldemort watched as a tall, dark-skinned Auror walked up to the wardline. He held his hands up, facing the house. Voldemort smiled. That no one was coming out right then wouldn't make him suspicious - not after the trick the Dark Lord had played on Augusta Longbottom.

All of the Aurors were close enough now. Voldemort picked up the small remote and pushed a button. The Pinseys' home and surrounding area vanished in an explosion. The shock wave from a ton of explosives going off cracked the fragile muggle glass of the window the Dark Lord was standing behind, and fragments from the bomb's casing flew every which way. When the dust started to settle, he saw that the house had been destroyed as well. As planned.

Dumbledore's main contact to the Aurors, dead. A dozen blood traitors in the Ministry gone with him. All killed by a muggle bomb. And since it had been an old German aerial bomb, the Statute of Secrecy would not be in danger. He shook his head, briefly remembering the Blitz.

There was just one thing left to do. He walked to the entrance to the basement, where he had put the Pinseys. They were awake by now, but still held by his spells. He could see their eyes move in panic when they saw him enter, wearing a mask and dark clothes.

He smiled, and crouched down in front of them. "Hello. You've probably heard the explosion. I'm sorry to say that your house was destroyed, but it was necessary - we killed dozens of Death Eaters and lackeys of the fascist Ministry today! Your wands are upstairs. Please do not do anything foolish after I end the spells holding you, alright?"

He stood up and flicked his borrowed wand, dispelling the full Body-Bind Curses on the family. While they hugged each other, he apparated away. Dumbledore would have a devil of a time trying to clear this up.

*****​

Outskirts of Peacehaven, East Sussex, Britain, December 19th, 1996

Albus Dumbledore stared at the crater that had swallowed half of the Pinseys' house. And Kingsley together with his entire team. And it was his fault. Albus had asked his friend to serve as bait. To lure the Death Eaters out in the open. He had been convinced he had the Dark Lord's measure. Kingsley had trusted him, had been depending on him. And he had let him down. Him and all his Aurors.

Albus had known that Tom had been raised as a muggle orphan. That he would have known about muggle weapons. And yet he had utterly failed to predict this trap. In his arrogance, he had assumed that the Dark Lord wouldn't stoop to using muggle bombs. Not when he had claimed for decades to fight for pureblood culture and values. Kingsley had been expecting magical traps and ambushes, not… this.

Aurors were sifting through the rubble and ruins, recovering bodies. And parts of bodies. Hit-Wizards secured the area, wands out. Muggle-Repelling Charms kept witnesses away, and a Confundus Spell had dealt with the muggle police already.

He saw that Amelia was walking towards him, a scowl on her face. He knew what she'd say. The setup was obvious, but he doubted she'd understand.

"Albus." She was curt, controlled, hiding her anger. For now.

"Amelia." He nodded at her. "It's a tragedy. I heard the Pinseys were unharmed though. A small consolation."

"A tragedy?" She scoffed. "A crime, Albus. Committed by muggleborns. The same muggleborns you went to such great lengths to protect!"

"I honestly doubt that this was the work of the Resistance." Theoretically, it was possible that another muggleborn group had done this, of course. A more radical one. But Albus doubted that. They would have had to know about a Death Eater attack in advance. And not even Albus's best spy had access to that knowledge.

"Who else would use a muggle bomb? We've investigated: No magic was used to do this." She pointed at the crater. "Don't try to blame the Death Eaters for this, Albus. We've recovered several bodies wearing their robes and masks."

"The Dark Lord is not above sacrificing his own for a plot," Albus said.

"And would he leave a family of blood traitors alive? I've spoken to them. They were overpowered by a wizard wearing muggle clothes and a muggle mask." Amelia shook her head. "Your theories aside, all of the evidence points at muggleborn culprits."

"But why was the Ministry alerted then? Generally, Death Eaters are not that sloppy. Why did the Pinseys have enough time to use the Floo connection, but not to flee?"

The witch frowned. "The Pinseys did not alert the Ministry. They were attacked and stunned in the afternoon."

"I see. So, the Ministry was deliberately alerted to lure the Aurors into this trap." Had Tom missed that? Albus wondered.

"Yes." Amelia was narrowing her eyes.

"That does not sound like muggleborns. They would know that the Aurors responding were not followers of the Dark Lord." Albus smiled.

"The muggleborns hate the Ministry as much as the Death Eaters," Amelia said. "They probably wanted to kill two nifflers with one spell."

"They are aware that not everyone at the Ministry shares the bigoted views of the Wizengamot's majority." Albus met her eyes.

"I doubt they care. The two we arrested recently simply wanted to strike at purebloods they blamed for taking advantage of them." Amelia sniffed.

"I do not think so," Albus said. But he knew many would - even among his allies. And even some among his Order. Which would make what he needed to do even more difficult. But with Kingsley and many of his hand-picked Aurors dead, Albus had to act swiftly before the Dark Lord exploited this.

Amelia shook her head, no longer hiding her disgust. "You still defend them? Even after they killed your pet Auror? I didn't think you'd go that far, Albus."

"If you expected me to fall for the Dark Lord's lies like a naive youth, then you might not know me as well as you think." Albus smiled gently - as if he was talking to a student.

Amelia clenched her jaws together before answering. "If you're convinced that you're always right, then you're not nearly as smart as you think you are."

He inclined his head towards her. "I know that I am not always right." He looked at the crater again. "This tragedy would prove that, even if I had forgotten."

"How so?" Amelia stared at him.

"I should have expected the Dark Lord to use such means, and I should have warned against it."

She scoffed again. "You'll never change, will you?"

He sighed. "I have changed a great deal during my life." Often painfully, too.

Amelia's expression showed that she didn't believe him. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about that. "I've work to do." She turned on her heel and strode away, leaving Albus to stare at the grisly scene again. And ponder how he could handle the repercussions of this.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, December 20th, 1996

"Good evening, Sirius," Albus Dumbledore said, stepping out of the fireplace in Grimmauld Place. "Have you heard about the attack in Peacehaven?"

"Nymphadora arrived half an hour ago." Sirius sighed. "She looked rather shocked."

With good reason, Albus thought. She had wanted to join Kingsley's group for some time, but as a metamorphmagus, her talents had been in such high demand, she had not been assigned to any permanent team or task force. Which, in hindsight, had saved her life. "I have to talk to her."

"No one else left at the Ministry?" Sirius asked, opening the door for him.

"No one as well-placed among the Aurors," Albus corrected him. Even before this tragedy, he hadn't had enough supporters in the Ministry, in case things turned violent.

"She's my cousin. Practically my niece, Albus. Despite her… doubts." Sirius said, without looking at the Headmaster.

"I know." Albus understood what his friend was telling him. But this would have to be Nymphadora's own decision.

"I'll ask her to join us in the living room."

Albus had barely taken a seat when Sirius arrived with the young auror in tow. Nymphadora looked rather agitated indeed, in the Headmaster's opinion. And angry.

"Good evening, Nymphadora." He stood up and nodded at her.

"Headmaster," she said, curtly. She didn't tell him to call her 'Tonks', and her expression - exaggerated by her metamorphmagus talent - looked grim.

"You have heard about Kingsley's death," Albus said.

"Killed by muggleborns, according to the Aurors investigating it." The young witch folded her arms and glared at him.

The old wizard nodded. "I'm afraid to say that they are wrong. This was a trap by the Dark Lord's forces."

"Bones told us you'd claim that."

He sighed. He had expected Amelia to spread her view of the situation in her department, but to go as far as to discredit him? "Amelia is blind when it concerns muggleborns. Of course she'd jump to conclusions without considering the evidence."

"There is plenty of evidence!" the Auror said with a rather mulish expression.

"But no proof of muggleborn involvement." He held up a hand to stop another passionate counter-argument. "I can assure you though that this was not the work of the Muggleborn Resistance. They use different bombs. Something which should have been mentioned in the reports you heard - provided they detected that."

"They only mentioned muggle explosives."

Sirius snorted. "Typical of them." The wizard had, Albus knew, a rather poor opinion of the department that had sent him to Azkaban without trial or proof of a crime. "They don't jump to conclusions, they apparate to them." When the Headmaster raised an eyebrow and Nymphadora looked confused, Sirius added: "Well, you know what I mean."

"I do," Albus agreed. "And I also know that for quite a number of Aurors, facts are not as important as personal beliefs. Or orders from their master."

"Bones isn't the type to follow anyone's orders. Not even the Minister's!" Nymphadora huffed.

"Amelia follows the orders of the Wizengamot, in the form of the laws they pass. It would be an admirable trait in a Ministry employee, if not for the fact that the Wizengamot is riddled with Death Eaters and their sometimes unwitting allies."

Nymphadora didn't meet his eyes when she mumbled: "I've read up on the Nazis. The Ministry wasn't going that far. Werewolves have had to register for decades, and they were not killed."

Sirius snorted. "In the 70s, there were three different bills that proposed to imprison all werewolves so they could not fight for the Dark Lord. Two of them proposed to hunt down and kill those who were not surrendering themselves."

"What?" Nymphadora stared the wizard.

"I was with Remus at Hogwarts. I paid attention to such things." Sirius stared back until she looked away.

"To be fair," Albus added, "the bills were all defeated soundly in the Wizengamot." Because those who sympathised with the plight of werewolves, those who supported the Dark Lord, and those who knew that it would push more werewolves into the arms of Voldemort all voted against it.

"And they wouldn't have been defeated if there had been a handy atrocity depicted in the Prophet." Sirius shrugged.

"You don't know that!"

"Please," Albus interrupted the beginning row, "there is an important matter to discuss." When both looked at him, he continued. "No matter who was behind the trap that killed Kingsley and his team, the Dark Lord will not hesitate to exploit the opportunity this has created. Almost all of the prominent and skilled Aurors sympathetic to our cause have just been eliminated. And as Nymphadora proves, many of the remaining Ministry employees who oppose the Dark Lord have developed doubts about supporting muggleborns. The Ministry has been rendered vulnerable to a coup."

Nymphadora gasped. "You expect a takeover of the Ministry by Death Eaters?"

"Half of it already answers to him," Sirius said. "Bunch of scum."

"I expect him to make the attempt," Albus corrected the young Auror. "But, with your help, and the help of friends of mine, we can prevent him from succeeding." It wouldn't be prudent to mention that among those friends he counted the Muggleborn Resistance. Sirius already knew that, of course - or expected it.

"My help? What do I have to do?" Nymphadora asked, and Albus was pleased to discover that she was as eager to fight the Death Eaters as before. Of course, she knew that her entire family would be killed if the Dark Lord won.

"Thanks to your special talent, you can pass for any Ministry employee, allowing you to visit every department without raising suspicion - with the exception of the Department of Mysteries," the Headmaster started to explain. "There are a number of devices that I need you to hide at key locations."

Not many knew that among the trinkets Albus had collected over the years and stored in his office were quite a number of very exotic and often very lethal items.

"Of course, Headmaster!" Nymphadora nodded eagerly. Albus wondered if she realised that those devices might very well cause collateral damage. Especially if the Death Eaters used the Imperius Curse.

*****​

Hogwarts, December 21st, 1996

Harry Potter sighed when he saw the owls arrive during breakfast in the Great Hall. He knew what was coming - Sirius had informed him the day before about Shacklebolt's death. The other students though, many of whom would be taking the Hogwarts Express later, to return to their families for Christmas, or Yuletide, as some purebloods called it, didn't.

He unrolled his own copy of the Prophet and stared at the headlines while the noise in the Great Hall grew so loud, he had trouble understanding Ron's comments.

'Muggleborns bomb Aurors! A dozen killed in bloody ambush!'

"Look at the size of that crater!" Ron said, directly into his ear.

At least the article hadn't been written by Skeeter, Harry thought. Still, the gist of it was clear: Evil muggleborns - at least the Prophet didn't call them mudbloods in print yet - had attacked both Death Eaters and Aurors, killing all of them with a bomb. Although the author didn't quite call for all purebloods to close ranks, no matter their political views, until this threat was dealt with. He just hinted at such an 'obvious decision'. Harry shook his head. "The Dark Lord's using muggle bombs now..." He turned to look at Ron, casting a privacy spell before continuing: "What are the odds Sirius and everyone else will try to sit on us during the holidays so we're not at risk from a similar trap?"

"Blimey!" Ron shook his head. "They won't let us do anything."

Harry nodded grimly. He was aware of the danger, but he loathed being safe and hidden while everyone else was risking their lives. Wouldn't him staying hidden risk Voldemort discovering the Headmaster's real plan to defeat Voldemort?

"Potter!" A loud voice interrupted his thoughts.

He looked up and saw Dan Fawley, a seventh year Gryffindor, was glaring at him. Harry dropped the privacy spell. "Yes?"

"Why did your muggleborn friends kill my aunt? She was an Auror, not a Death Eater!" Fawley was shaking.

Harry took a deep breath as the table fell silent. "That wasn't done by muggleborns, but by Death Eaters."

"Are you dumb, Potter?" MacLaggen cut in. "The Death Eaters don't use muggle weapons!"

Harry glared at the bigot. Of course the arse would try to capitalise on this opportunity.

Ron snorted. "The Death Eaters will use anything and anyone. Have you forgotten how they claim to protect purebloods, and yet attacked far more purebloods than muggleborns?"

"Purebloods who helped the muggleborns," MacLaggen spat.

"Really?" Ron scoffed. "Neville's grandmother helped muggleborns then? Do you know her voting history?"

"Don't drag my family into this!" Neville had stood up and was glaring at the redhead.

For a moment, no one said anything, then Ron muttered: "Sorry, Neville."

Harry used the brief silence to address Fawley. "Your aunt worked with Shacklebolt, didn't she?"

"Yes."

"She was hunting Death Eaters then. Why would the muggleborns go after Shacklebolt's team?" Harry shook his head. "They're not dumb." Everyone knew who he meant with 'they'.

"It could have been an accident," Fawley said. "They wanted to kill Death Eaters, but the Aurors arrived too quickly."

"Do you honestly think the muggleborns have spies among the Death Eaters that let them know of planned attacks?" Harry shook his head emphatically.

"And the Dark Lord would sacrifice his own men for such a trap?" MacLaggen wasn't finished.

Ron shrugged. "Who says those were his men? An Imperius, and you'd wear the robe and mask happily. Maybe even without an Imperius." Harry's friend sneered at MacLaggen, who had gone pale with anger and shock.

"You… you…"

"Yes, I said it." Ron scoffed. "If you're spewing the Dark Lord's drivel here, then I'm calling you out for it." He turned to look at the rest. "You, and anyone else."

The Gryffindors seemed to accept that, though with some hesitation, as far as Harry could tell, and started to settle down again. He saw that the other tables were still quite agitated. Several Ravenclaws were yelling at Luna, until Flitwick intervened. Sprout had sat down at the Hufflepuff table, right in the middle.

"I'm glad most of us are heading home today," Ron said. "Gives them time to cool down." He sighed. "Even if, you know, it's not home."

Harry nodded. The destruction of the Burrow had been a blow to the Weasleys, and to himself as well. "We'll have lessons anyway. And training."

"Don't remind me! Moody will be able to be even nastier!" Ron said, but Harry thought his friend sounded more eager than apprehensive - just like Harry himself felt.

They wanted to do their part in the war. And it would hopefully be easier to meet Hermione during the holidays.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, December 21st, 1996

Shacklebolt was dead. Killed in a mudblood trap, together with his entire team. Brenda Brocktuckle felt like shaking her head each time she saw the empty desks in the offices when walking past. He should have known better, the damn muggle-loving fool! You couldn't trust those animals!

The sound of a few scrolls hitting the floor and a muffled yelp made her turn around. The rookie, Tonks, had apparently stubbed her toe on a desk. Brenda snorted. If the half-blood were not a metamorphmagus, she'd have never made it into the Corps. Too clumsy. And, she added, too much of a muggle-lover. One of the last well-known muggle-lovers in the Ministry, after Shacklebolt's team had been wiped out. The rest of the Corps either knew just how dangerous mudbloods were, or at least didn't voice their opinions. But Brenda thought that even those who were on the sidelines of the conflict would not stand mudbloods killing their fellow Aurors.

She watched the witch fumble around for the scrolls that had fallen to the floor, and returned to her own office. Parkinson was sitting on his chair, reading the Prophet. Her earlier suspicion that the Auror might have been involved in the attack had obviously been wrong, seeing as he had not been killed.

Martin was there as well, reading a report. Brenda craned her neck and caught the title - it was a copy of the Peacehaven incident report.

"Do we have that report officially?" she asked, mildly curious - everyone knew that such information spread through the Corps like Fiendfyre through a forest, despite regulations. As long as you didn't flaunt your knowledge too openly, no one cared. It was a miracle that the secrecy surrounding her own mission had held up so far. Of course, she added with a slight amount of guilt, with Shacklebolt's team dead, the odds of the mudbloods getting a warning were much reduced.

Martin nodded. "I received it from Scrimgeour, so we are kept aware of the latest mudblood tactics."

Parkinson snorted, and Brenda turned towards him. "Hm?"

"Nothing," the Auror said, folding the Prophet up. "I've just had an amusing thought."

Brenda didn't think there was anything amusing about the news - unless you were a follower of the Dark Lord. But even if that was the case, half a dozen Death Eaters had been killed in that trap as well. Parkinson was an odd one, indeed. He was also one of the few experienced and smart Aurors left in the Ministry though. Pushing him on this wouldn't serve any purpose. Nor, Brenda added, would it be smart, given that the balance of power inside the Corps had shifted decisively with Shacklebolt's demise. She had a career to think of.

Martin put the report down and slid it over to her. She skimmed it - there was nothing new. "More and bigger metal splinters," she noted aloud, "than with earlier bombs. That'll be a bigger strain on Shield Charms." Shock waves were easier to deflect than such projectiles.

"Given the size of the blast, no Shield Charm would have been able to stand up to it anyway," Martin said.

"What a comforting thought!" Parkinson shook his head. "Incidentally, what's the status of our mission?"

Brenda checked that the privacy spells were working, before answering: "I just received a note. They are trying to make contact with the Resistance through some new sort of muggle mail."

"Tracking charms on the envelope? I'd think the mudbloods would expect that," Martin said.

"Not if they are confident that we'd not use muggle means. But it doesn't matter if you simply track the muggle delivering the mail." Parkinson grinned. "Even if they have a dropbox somewhere, someone has to fetch the mail."

Brenda shook her head. "Apparently, this sort of mail cannot be tracked by magic."

"What?" Martin looked up. "How is that possible?"

"It's a sort of wireless broadcast." At least that was what Brenda had understood. "Probably related to that television they have so much trouble with." Their neighbours still hadn't found whatever mistake the muggles had made with their construction.

"Ah." Martin nodded. "We'll have to trust that the two decoys will follow orders then."

Parkinson chuckled. "Not like they can resist those kind of orders."

"Not unless they are the Boy-Who-Lived," Martin added.

The older Auror scoffed. "That's some stupid rumour. A mere boy cannot resist the Imperius. Especially not one cast by the Dark Lord."

"He defeated him as a baby. It's quite possible that he can resist all the Dark Lord's spells," Martin, ever the Ravenclaw, retorted.

"They are not the Boy-Who-Lived," Brenda cut in before an argument could start, "They are just some mudblood scum. They'll do what they have been ordered to."

They had to - a lot was riding on this mission. Such as Brenda's career.

*****​

London, East End, December 21st, 1996

"Wow! Half a dozen Death Eaters and a dozen Aurors, with one bomb!" Dean said, half-hidden behind the latest Daily Prophet.

"We got more of them at Malfoy Manor," Seamus said, reading over his friend's shoulder.

Hermione Granger pursed her lips. She had read the article already. And she had talked to Harry and Ron last night. "It's very likely that this was done by Death Eaters," she said, trying, but failing, to avoid glaring at the two wizards.

"What?" Seamus stared at her.

"The Aurors killed were the ones hunting Death Eaters," Hermione pointed out. "With them gone, the risk of the Dark Lord taking over the Ministry has grown considerably."

"He already controls most of it," Dean said. "And the rest would rather follow him than risk their lives - or their positions."

"Bloody Aurors deserved it anyway. They were hunting us as well," Seamus added. "If they and the Death Eaters kill each other off, we win."

Hermione frowned when the Creeveys nodded at that with eager expressions. At least Louise and Jeremy seemed to share her opinion - but then, they probably knew decent Hit-Wizards as well. No matter how tiring and repetitive it was, she had to step in again. The Resistance would not start to treat all purebloods and Ministry employees as Death Eaters. Not as long as she had anything to say about it. "The purebloods and half-bloods fighting the Death Eaters are not our enemies."

"They work for the Ministry, which is hunting us," John said.

"And those responsible will pay, once the Dark Lord is dead. But the Aurors who died haven't been hunting us. Shacklebolt was working for Dumbledore," Hermione said.

"The Headmaster hasn't done that much for us," Seamus said. "He talks well, but what has he done?"

"He keeps the Ministry and the Dark Lord in check." Hermione wished she could tell them everything Dumbledore was doing in the war. What she knew about, at least. "Without him, the Dark Lord would be far more active. And I'm certain that he's doing more than just talking."

"Is that a guess, or do you know that?" Dean asked.

"I heard some things from my friends." The Resistance already knew that Hermione was regularly talking to and meeting Harry and Ron.

"What kind of things?" Dean leaned forward slightly, handing the Daily Prophet over to Seamus.

"Private things. I don't tell them what you're doing either." Hermione glanced at the frowning wizard.

"You better not be telling them," Seamus mumbled.

Dean held her gaze for a moment longer, then shrugged. "It's up to Dumbledore, then, to keep his people from getting killed. It's not our problem."

Hermione was about to retort, when Justin arrived, followed by Sally-Anne. Seamus made a crack about being busy in bed, which earned him a glare from Sally-Anne. Justin, though, ignored it. "I've received an email from the Avengers," he announced. "Or from people who claim to be the Avengers. They want to meet us, to coordinate attacks."

While everyone seemed to be talking over each other, Hermione was already pondering how to meet the other group safely. The Avengers appeared to be both skilled and resourceful - the kind of allies the Resistance needed.

*****​

Outside Rawtenstall, Lancashire, Britain, December 21st, 1996

Daphne Greengrass woke up with a start. For a moment, she was confused, staring at a plain grey ceiling. That wasn't her room. Then she remembered. The attack on Draco's house. The flight. The interrogation. And the potion… Draught of Living Death. She was a prisoner of the blood traitors.

"Good morning. Or rather, good evening."

She turned her head and glared at the smirking Weasleys - Fred and George - standing in the door of her cell. For a moment, she wanted to say nothing. Ignore the blood traitors until they left. Face their mocking with the dignity of a true pureblood.

But she wanted to know how long she had been dead to the world. How much time had passed. Fred didn't look older, so it couldn't have been that long, could it? She ground her teeth. "What date is it?"

"Winter Solstice," George said.

Ten days then. If he was telling the truth. There was no point in trying to remain silent after she had already started to talk to the traitor. "Why did you wake me up?" They had already forced her to sign over as many assets of her family fortune as she could control without her guardian.

"There's a new bill being discussed in the Wizengamot," Fred answered her. "Harsher punishments depending on your blood status. You know, things the Dark Lord demands. We want you to write a letter to your uncle, asking him to abstain from the vote."

She snorted. "That sounds familiar. Will you torture me as well, if I refuse?" She hoped that she sounded braver than she felt - they could do anything to her. She was their prisoner, bereft of her wand. And she dreaded what tortures the twins could think of, after she had seen and experienced their pranks.

"If you do write the letter, you'll be able to celebrate the Winter Solstice," Fred said. "Within certain limits, of course."

Daphne could imagine those limits. "A burning candle, placed in my cell?" She scoffed. Although a letter would let her family know that she was still alive. Give some hope to Astoria. And she would not have to drink that draught again, and be dead to the world. She shuddered at that thought, despite her efforts to show no emotion to her captors.

George must have noticed, since he grinned. "A bit more than that. If you write the letter convincingly, you and Davis get to celebrate together, under the open sky."

Daphne hissed. "For blood traitors, you know our culture well."

They shrugged, at the same time. Eerie. "We were taught the traditions. We just don't follow them." George said.

"Why?"

"Hm?"

"Why don't you follow our traditions? What made you turn your back on your own culture?" Daphne asked. This was more than just stalling for time, now.

"It's simple: It's not our culture," Fred said, shrugging.

"What? Your family is a pureblood family!" Daphne stared at them.

"That's just coincidence," George said. "We married half-bloods and muggleborns in the past."

"That happens if you marry for love, instead of for gold," Fred added sneering at her.

She glared at him.

George sighed. "Anyway - once one of our ancestors married a muggleborn, the Weasleys were excluded from the celebrations held by the Old Families. And of course that meant we were not marriageable for those families either."

"There were exceptions, of course. Gran was a Black, but she was cast out of the family when she married Grandfather." Fred spread his hands. "Pureblood bigots, you know."

Daphne had heard about that scandal - Cedrella Black had married Septimus Weasley. Her parents had sworn that no daughter of theirs would ever make such a mistake.

George cleared his throat. "So, the Weasleys mingled with the half-bloods and the muggleborns. And they were not exactly into the Old Gods. Especially not the muggleborns. Which meant we grew up with Christmas, Easter, and Halloween."

"For generations," Fred cut in. "I think without Gran we wouldn't really know much about the traditions either."

"And," George said, sounding slightly annoyed, "We're not the only family. Many other families were excluded in the past for marrying a muggleborn or half-bloods, and then they turned away from the traditions. And we're not the only family that didn't return to the old ways, once we happened to be a pureblood family again for a generation or two."

"But why didn't you return? Others did!" Daphne had met new pureblood families at the celebrations.

"We're not suck-ups," Fred said. "And we'd have been cast out anyway as soon as we married a muggleborn. So, why bother?"

"Apart from that, it's as I said: It's not our culture." George shrugged. "No one but a few stuck-up families takes it seriously any more. For the rest, even if they attend a celebration, it's just a party."

"What?" That couldn't be! The others had to have their own celebrations, Daphne knew. Just because they didn't attend the exclusive gatherings didn't mean...

"Why do you think we celebrate Halloween and not Samhain at Hogwarts? Christmas, and not Winter Solstice?" Fred grinned. "Dumbledore knows the majority of the students don't care about the old celebrations."

"That's the mudbloods' fault!" Daphne yelled. "They want to destroy our culture!"

The twins glanced at each other.

"I'll fetch the letter," Fred said. "Keep an eye on her."

George nodded. Once his brother had gone, he shook his head. "Your culture's already dead. It's tainted by bigotry, and associated with the Dark Lord. Once he's dead, people will drop the traditions in droves, just so they'll not be mistaken for Death Eaters."

"No!" Daphne shook her head wildly. She didn't want to hear such lies. Purebloods wouldn't do that. They would prevail. They would win this war! They had to!

*****​

Daphne looked up at the night sky, craning her neck. The stars shone brightly above her, and she could feel the bonfire's warmth in front of her. And if she kept looking up, she wouldn't see the walls of her prison.

Next to her, Tracey took a deep breath. "If only Theo had written the letter as well… it's not as if they would listen to us. They know we're prisoners, and writing under duress."

"Yes." They had spoken the prayers and wishes together. It had been the smallest Winter Solstice celebration Daphne had ever seen or heard of. And they didn't have their wands, so they hadn't been able to properly pray. But it had been moving anyway. Now they would wait until the fire had burned down. Then they would be taken back to their cells, and drink that draught again.

"Did they talk to you about our traditions?" Daphne asked.

"Hm? No. They just said what they'd let us do," her friend answered.

"Do… do you think we should let mudbloods celebrate with us? Should have, I mean." Daphne kept looking up.

"What?" Tracey scoffed. "They don't care for our traditions. They don't understand us either. They should stick with their muggle rituals, and leave us to celebrate our traditions properly."

Daphne closed her eyes and mumbled some agreement.

"Did the twins offer to attend? To mock us? They're blood traitors." Tracey sounded angry.

Daphne was still not looking at her friend. "No, they didn't. They don't celebrate Winter Solstice."

"That's why they are blood traitors!"

Daphne didn't answer, but kept staring at the sky.

*****​

London, Soho, December 22nd, 1996

Just about all shops and most cafés were decked out in Christmas decorations. The waiters in the café Hermione Granger was sitting in even wore hats like Santa Claus'. But the hot chocolate they served was very good. Which was why the witch was meeting Dumbledore here - he'd appreciate the treat. And so did she.

An old, distinguished looking clean-shaven gentleman with a bowler hat and an umbrella, wearing a thick but elegant coat, approached her table. She had her wand out and pointed at him under the table, even though he was wearing a bright red pin on his tie - the agreed-upon sign.

He didn't comment, simply sat down and smiled at her. "Good afternoon, Miss."

"Good afternoon, sir." Her wand flashed, casting privacy spells. "I've taken the liberty to order for you already," she said when his eyebrows rose.

"Efficient as always, Miss Granger." He smiled. "You might wonder why I asked to meet you while everyone should be with their families, celebrating."

Everyone should, indeed. But not everyone was. The Creeveys didn't want to have their parents see them in their current state. Justin thought his parents might be too well-known to risk visiting them. Sally-Anne thought he might not want to present her as his girlfriend, as she had told Hermione, who had been forced to spend an hour assuring the girl that Justin wasn't like that. And Hermione would be feeling guilty for meeting her own parents while others couldn't meet theirs. Some holiday!

She didn't say that though, but nodded, smiling. "I assume it's about the death of your Aurors."

"Perceptive as expected." He smiled, as if she had just answered a question at school. "Indeed. Their loss is not just a personal tragedy - many of them were dear friends - but they also weaken the Ministry's capability to resist the Dark Lord."

Hermione took a sip from her chocolate, to mask her expression. Did he intend to…?

The waitress arrived with a tray full of hot chocolate and cakes. The old wizard smiled at the woman, then at Hermione. When he took a sip from his cup, his smile widened. "Delicious. I shall make certain to revisit this café."

"What is your plan to prevent a takeover of the Ministry?" Hermione asked.

He set the cup down. "I've taken certain precautions. Items have been placed in concealed locations, certain goblin-made ones among them." He smiled. "The gold donated by our prisoners is being put to good use. I've informed my friends and cautioned them to be alert. But Kingsley and his friends were among the most experienced combatants of the Order."

He intended to. Hermione pressed her lips together, preventing her first thought from being voiced. A bit calmer, she said: "Do you plan to have the Resistance fight in the Ministry, should Death Eaters attempt a violent takeover?"

"As reserves, to deal with, shall we say, concentrations of Death Eaters, and prominent leaders. There are still Aurors and especially Hit-Wizards loyal to the Ministry." Dumbledore smiled.

"Which means they'll attack us as well," Hermione said in a flat voice.

"That is a risk, yes. But I believe that should you be needed, gratitude for your help will outweigh other orders. Gratitude, and a healthy dose of fear."

Hermione snorted at that. "Even if that works, there are my friends to consider. A number of them are not fond of the Ministry."

"I am aware of that, Miss Granger. But should the Dark Lord take over the Ministry, the consequences would be far worse, and many more Ministry employees would die - at the hands of Death Eaters, or as curse-fodder sent against you and your friends." He sighed. "That the Wizengamot has granted the Aurors and Hit-Wizards permission to use the Imperius Curse in the line of duty makes such ploys even easier for the Dark Lord's followers. Both your friends as well as mine are in danger of being put under that vile spell, and forced to betray their allies."

She had taken precautions against that - some at least - but his points were valid. She slowly nodded. "I will need to discuss this with my friends, sir. The matter is… delicate."

He smiled. "Of course. With some luck, you'll not be needed anyway - I am working on both increasing the training for my remaining friends in the Ministry, as well as hiring more Hit-Wizards."

"That would be preferable," Hermione said. She didn't think it would work, of course - if the Headmaster had enough friends in the Ministry to beat the Death Eaters back, the war would have gone far, far differently. And he knew that as well.

She sighed. "There is another thing. I know you are busy, but I wondered if you had made any progress finding a counter-curse for the Withering Curse."

Dumbledore's expression grew sad. "I'm sorry, but with the recent events, I have had no time to dedicate to that research."

She nodded. She hadn't expected anything else. This was turning out to be a rather sombre holiday.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, December 23rd, 1996

Ron Weasley was feeling a tad nervous when he entered the 'Eastern Salon', as Sirius called the room on the first floor, facing - as evident - east. He and Harry would have their first Legilimency lesson. The first of many - the Headmaster had told them that contrary to earlier plans, he'd teach them over the holidays.

It didn't take a genius to realise that Dumbledore was stepping up their training because he was worried about the Dark Lord's next step. And that meant things were not going at all well in the war. At least the Weasleys staying with Sirius and Harry for the holidays meant that Ron's mum had taken over the kitchen, and the food was, everyone agreed, far better than the usual fare.

Dumbledore hadn't arrived yet. Sirius wasn't home either - the Wizengamot was busy debating the latest 'travesty of justice the Death Eater scum' among the body were proposing, as Harry's godfather had put it this morning. Ron sighed.

"Having second thoughts?" Harry asked.

"No. Just wishing we were not at war."

"Don't we all!" Harry snorted. "We sound like old men."

Ron chuckled, but it wasn't funny. He sighed again. "Remember last Christmas?"

Harry nodded. "Things had started back then."

"But it wasn't that bad, yet." Ron shook his head. "Hermione saw it coming. If we had joined her…"

"She didn't want us to join her. She wanted us to finish our education," Harry pointed out.

"She didn't want us to risk our lives, you mean." Ron knew their friend. "We'd have done the same, in her place."

"But would she have gone along with it?"

Ron winced. "She'd have come with us, no matter what we thought about it."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, she would have."

"We should have done the same," Ron said. "No matter what she wanted us to do."

"Yes, we should have."

Ron sat down on the floor, his back against the wall, and closed his eyes. They should have. He should have. They hadn't, though. He hadn't. And now it was too late. They hadn't the sort of training the Resistance had gone through. Moody was a great and evil teacher, but they didn't cover guns. Or bombs. And Ron was quite certain that Dumbledore wouldn't let Harry join the Resistance anyway. Not when he needed to learn how to defeat Voldemort with his mind. Ron might be able to join the Resistance, but that would leave Harry without either of his best friends. And Ron had sworn, two years ago, to never let Harry face such trials alone again. And he'd keep that vow.

The door opened before either of them said anything else, and Dumbledore entered.

"Good evening, Headmaster," both boys chorused, jumping to their feet.

"Good evening, Harry, Mister Weasley. Or maybe that should be 'Ron', seeing as you will be rummaging through my mind, if all goes well," Dumbledore added with a smile. "You cannot get any more familiar than that."

Ron, in the process of sitting down himself, blinked. Having the Headmaster call him by his first name, like Harry, was… he nodded quickly. "Of course!"

"Very well, Ron." The old wizard smiled again, and took a seat in one of the old armchairs. "Now, before we start, is there anything else you would like to discuss? You might not be in a state to do so once we finish."

That sounded ominous. For a moment, Ron had second thoughts again. Then he sat up straighter. He was a Gryffindor. Harry needed him. He'd do this.

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. We were wondering if we could ask Moody about his prosthetics. Without, you know, revealing that we are in close contact with Hermione."

"Ah." The Headmaster slightly shook his head. "Alastor certainly suspects that already. But there is no need to prove his suspicion - I know who made his eye and leg for him. Although I do hope that the two Creevey brothers are not actually planning such drastic measures."

Ron winced. Harry didn't say anything, but the old wizard sighed. "I see. I have an address in my office, I will send it to you later. It's a foreign specialist, and apolitical."

"Thank you, sir."

"It's the least I can do. Though I reckon I might also help enchant the prosthetics, once they are made. I did so for Alastor as well."

Ron smiled. That would certainly help a lot. But to have a wooden leg or arm, enchanted or not… he shuddered.

Harry cleared his throat. "I was also wondering if we will still be hunting Horcruxes. With the Dark Lord using bombs, I mean."

"I think it is impossible for the Dark Lord to hide bombs in the places he could hide a Horcrux in. Not only are they heavily warded, usually, but an explosion would likely destroy the Horcrux as well, rendering the protection moot."

That made sense to Ron. "So...we'd be safe enough?"

"I think so, but further studies of potential locations will be needed, to avoid undue risk."

Ron smiled, and glanced at Harry. It was dangerous, but they'd be doing something concrete, soon enough.

The Headmaster nodded and continued. "Now, Legilimency. Many think it is the art of reading someone's mind, though that is not entirely correct. It's far more akin to navigating a strong current, in the night, with only your skill in Legilimency to act as a lantern. Or to fit together a puzzle made with dozens of pieces which do not connect easily with each other. Your training in Divination will help there - you have learned to interpret and deduce from small clues."

Ron's smile grew strained. Neither he nor Harry had learned much in that class.

Dumbledore continued, as if he hadn't noticed their reaction. "But the connection is rather loose. Legilimency is a unique skill, and few ever learn it. The mind is not organised as a library - not even Miss Granger's. It's more a maelstrom of thoughts and memories, real and imagined. And for a beginner, both will look alike. We will cover that later, for now, you'll learn how to cast the spell, and enter a mind. Or in my case, a part of my mind I deliberately left open for you to practise on." The Headmaster raised his wand. "The movements and incantation are rather simple. Let me demonstrate."

*****​

Ron saw Harry collapse, holding his head after his attempt to enter Dumbledore's mind. "That looks like someone entered his mind, not the other way around."

"In a way, it is - the minds are touching. It is not unheard of for a strong mind to push back, and invade the invader's mind." Dumbledore nodded at him. "Your turn, Ron."

Ron took a deep breath and raised his wand, aiming it at the Headmaster's forehead, then focused his mind, as instructed, as his wand flashed. "Legilimens!"

For a moment, his field of view narrowed so much, he thought he had gone blind, then it expanded, and he felt like falling through a tunnel covered with walking, talking life-like portraits. Dozens of snippets of talks assaulted his ears at the same time and hundreds of people seemed to surround him, talking to him, staring at him, talking about him, or ignoring him… and he kept falling.

He flailed his arms, trying to stop his fall - it worked in dreams - and he slowly started to float. Shaking his head, he began to focus on one picture. It was Hermione, he realised, sipping tea in a café. He couldn't hear what she was saying though, the noise from the other scenes was too loud. And growing louder. He turned his head, shouting "shut up!", to no avail. And when he tried to focus on the café scene again, it was gone, replaced with some unknown teacher at Hogwarts, yelling at him and waving his wand wildly.

Ron recoiled, and the scenes started to whirl around him while the noise grew louder and louder. His ears started to hurt, and dozens of scenes flitting this way and that flashed before his eyes. He was starting to grow dizzy from all the movement. And his ears. Merlin, his ears!

He came to kneeling on the floor, hands clamped over his ears, panting. That had been… horrible. He looked up, exchanging a wry smile with Harry, who was sitting in an armchair.

Dumbledore sounded pleased. "Very good, Ron. That was rather smooth and relatively painless for a beginner."

Ron blinked, then gaped. That had been 'relatively painless'? He was not so certain any more if he wanted to find out what the Headmaster considered 'painful'.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, December 24th, 1996

Harry Potter was in a good mood when he descended the stairs towards the kitchen in Sirius's and his home the morning after his first Legilimency lesson. It was Christmas Eve, his head didn't hurt any more, he was making good progress according to the Headmaster, and he'd do something useful in the war soon.

His good mood lasted until he entered the kitchen, and saw Sirius standing at the table, staring at a note. His godfather looked grim, no trace of humour visible. Molly was at the stove, and wiping her eyes, mumbling under her breath. And Ginny looked pale and sad.

"What happened?" Harry asked, instead of a greeting.

Sirius turned towards him. "Tonks send me a note. Voldemort murdered Augusta Longbottom. Her head was found in the Wizengamot Chamber this morning."

"Before we left Hogwarts, Neville told me he'd do the right thing, what his parents and gran would expect him to," Ginny said, sniffling. "He knew this would happen."

"The poor boy!" Molly exclaimed, tears filling her eyes again.

Harry felt like he had been punched in the gut. Neville's last family, gone. And he had treated the boy like… he shook his head. He'd have to apologise.

"His proxy voted against the new blood laws in the Wizengamot. They were passed anyway, but the Dark Lord probably wanted to make an example out of her," Sirius said.

Harry hissed through his clenched teeth. To sacrifice his own grandmother like that… he didn't know if he could do this. What if Sirius was taken hostage? Or Ron? Or Hermione? If that happened… he didn't know what he'd do, but… he had a sudden thought. "Someone needs to keep an eye on Neville. He might try to get revenge."

"Against the Dark Lord?" Sirius asked.

"Against anyone he thinks is following the Dark Lord," Harry said. He didn't add 'It's what I'd do', but judging by the sharp look he received from his godfather, Sirius had caught that anyway.

"I'll inform Albus. He is close to a few of the Longbottoms' relatives," the Wizard said.

While Sirius scribbled a hasty letter, Harry sat down at the kitchen table. He wasn't hungry anymore, but he forced himself to eat something, if only to not worry Molly any further. He suddenly snorted, startling Ginny who had been sitting there, hunched over, and nibbling listlessly on a toast. "Sorry," he said, forcing a smile on his face. "I just thought that just as I can't really celebrate Halloween without remembering my parents' deaths, Neville will not be able to celebrate Christmas without remembering his gran's murder."

"If he's celebrating Christmas anyway, and not Yuletide and the Winter Solstice," Sirius said. "The Longbottoms are an Old Family."

Harry rolled his eyes at his godfather. "Then he will not be able to celebrate Yuletide without remembering her murder." Then he realised that Sirius's words were exactly what Hermione would have said, and sighed. Some holiday this was turning out to be!

*****​

The mood had improved somewhat by the evening. Molly's excellent meals - she had cooked a veritable feast for dinner - and Sirius's antics with Remus and the twins were mostly responsible for that. Tonks was late, but added her own brand of humour, despite being exhausted - she had been pushing herself, according to her mum, accumulating overtime.

Still, it was a rather subdued affair, in Harry's opinion. At least compared to last Christmas. He had to admit he was biased, though - that Christmas had been the first he had celebrated at Sirius's, and now his, home. He had slipped out of the living room, unnoticed, and was now sitting on the couch in the library. He imagined Hermione sitting at the desk, stacks of books on both sides, scribbling furiously as she took notes from two or three tomes at once. She should be here, he thought. Here with him. Not hiding in muggle London, hunted by Aurors and Death Eaters.

Suddenly, his side was hit by a Stinging Hex. He was halfway off the couch and had his wand drawn before he realised Sirius had cast it. "Whoa!" his godfather said. "Moody's been training you well. Apart from you not noticing me stepping into the room, and not reacting until I hexed you."

Harry scoffed, and sat down on the couch again. "We still can hardly hit him in practice."

"Even the Headmaster might have trouble, despite Moody's peg leg." Sirius sat down next to him - or rather, let himself fall on to the couch in an almost sitting position, then wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulder.

They sat like this for a while, not saying anything. Sirius looked around, then suddenly stood up. "I've got it!"

"What?" Harry said, startled by the sudden movement.

"Your last present! I'll fetch it at once! It'll be a surprise!"

And his godfather left the library in a hurry, leaving Harry to shake his head in confusion. Then he chuckled. That had been so like Sirius, or like he should be. Although… would Sirius prank him on Christmas Day?

Harry groaned. Of course he would.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, December 25th, 1996

For a present for which Sirius had dragged Harry Potter out of bed at an ungodly hour - he, Ron and Sirius himself were the only ones currently up - the thing his godfather had pressed into his hands looked decidedly unremarkable.

"A sock?" Harry asked, bewildered, holding up the colorful garment, trying to make sense of it. "All that to give me a sock? A single sock?"

"It's a very special sock, and it's for you two!" Sirius grinned, showing so many teeth, Harry was reminded of his godfather's animagus form.

"What?" Harry blinked. Had Sirius gone around the bend? He glanced at Ron, who was staring at the sock with his mouth half-open.

Sirius nodded. "You have to both be touching it together. The activation phrase is … I'll tell you once you are touching it. It looks like you'd blurt it out otherwise."

"What?" Harry repeated himself. It was too early to think clearly.

"Blimey! It's a portkey!" Ron exclaimed.

"A portkey?" Harry's eyes widened. "You're sending us away?"

"Not far, and not for long - I'll expect you back … tomorrow morning, at the very latest." Sirius grinned widely, then handed Ron a flat box. "I don't think you'll need all of it, but it's better to have it and not need it than the other way around." He grabbed Ron's hand and put it on the sock. "Now grab it. If you say "Padfoot!" it'll activate - both to get you there and back."

"Those are… contraceptive potions!" Ron said. "And muggle money!"

Harry blinked. Was his godfather sending him to some brothel? He saw the wizard transform into a dog so dark, it looked like a Grim, and took a deep breath. "Padfoot…"

And then the portkey activated.

The room Harry and Ron landed in didn't look like the entrance hall of a brothel, to Harry's relief. It looked like a muggle hotel room. An expensive muggle hotel room. What had his godfather been thinking?

"Harry! Ron!"

A very familiar voice interrupted his thoughts, shortly before he found himself in a hug, and short brown hair in his face. Then Hermione released him, and hugged Ron.

"Sirius called me last night, interrupting my evening with my parents - I met them in the hotel here, you know, on Christmas Eve, under a fake name - and he said I'd better not have plans for today, he'd send me something in the morning. But I'd have never thought…"

While their best friend told them her story in rapid-fire sentences, Harry exchanged a smile with Ron. This time, Sirius had found the ideal gift.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 24: Ambush

'While some historians consider the attack on 'Haley's Hats' the most important event in the week before Christmas 1996, citing its importance for the following developments among the muggleborn population, it is my opinion that the death of an entire Auror team assigned to track down and arrest the followers of the Dark Lord is far more important. The attack on the shop in Diagon Alley was merely the first visible sign of the changes happening among muggleborns while the loss of so many enemies of the Death Eaters in the Ministry was the direct cause of several events that shaped the war.
It is thus with some puzzlement that we find that, even now, there remains doubt among historians about who exactly was responsible for the bomb that took the Aurors' lives. While I have to admit that both the Muggleborn Resistance and the Dark Lord had good reasons to deny their culpability, and their denials therefore can not be trusted implicitly, the details of the bombing show several key differences to other attacks by the Muggleborn Resistance. And while, as one colleague of mine postulates, this could theoretically be a deliberate act to cover up their involvement, this would also require the attack to have been deliberately aimed at the Aurors - a decision that, frankly, lacks any sense and for which there is no supporting evidence. It is my conclusion that the attack was a well-planned and executed so-called 'false-flag' operation by the Dark Lord's forces - possibly with the help, willing or not, of a half-blood or even muggleborn familiar with muggle explosives.'
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

London, City of Westminster, December 25th, 1996

"And that's Trafalgar Square." Hermione Granger pointed at the famous Nelson's Column. "It was named in honour of the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805, where Britain defeated the combined fleets of Spain and France. Admiral Nelson was mortally wounded during his victorious battle."

Harry looked impressed while Ron looked slightly confused. "Did the muggles fight everyone on the world? That's yet another war they fought. I thought we had a lot of goblin rebellions, but this… was there a year the muggles weren't fighting a war anywhere?"

Hermione sighed. "Unfortunately, I don't think so. Though Britain has been at peace for a long time now - mostly." To change the topic - they had been taking care not to talk about their own war, and this was straying a bit too close - she pointed at the giant Christmas tree on the square. "A tree has been donated by Norway every year since 1947." She looked at the birds occupying a lot of the square and frowned. "The pigeons are a plague. People keep feeding them, which makes their numbers grow, even though everyone should know how damaging they are to the area, especially the statues."

"I could eat a whole flock of them right now," Ron said.

Hermione blushed in slight embarrassment - she had been more or less dragging the boys around since morning. "We can take a break in one of the cafés nearby."

Ron didn't quite sigh in relief, but his smile said enough. Harry's slightly too eager nod didn't help her bout of guilt either. "My treat," she quickly added. Which set off a short discussion about who had the right to invite the others that lasted until their orders arrived, and eating took precedence over talking - for Hermione as well, as she found herself quite hungry.

"So, where will we be going next?" Ron asked, breaking the silence.

"I've ordered you around long enough," Hermione said, only half-jokingly. "What would you like to do?" That seemed to surprise both of them, so she quickly added: "I mean it. Let's do what you want to do, not what you think I want to do."

"Well… I don't know that much about muggle London," Ron said. "What about watching a movie?"

"Sounds good," Harry quickly agreed.

"Alright. Let's get a newspaper and see what movies are currently being shown." Hermione flagged down the waiter. She couldn't help noticing that this looked like a date - movie, then dinner. Not that any of the three of them had mentioned anything about the dates they were planning so far.

She didn't know if that should worry her or not.

*****​

London, East End, December 26th, 1996

It was a very happy Hermione Granger who returned to the Resistance headquarters in the morning. She entered the kitchen, and waved at Sally-Anne, who was brewing tea. "Good morning!"

Her friend looked surprised. "Welcome back, Hermione." In a slightly amused tone, she added: "You must have really missed your parents."

Hermione nodded. "It felt good to forget the war for a day or two." They had had a very enjoyable evening, playing a few muggle board and card games after dinner, but mostly talking. About anything but the war and dating.

The other witch shook her head. "Did you actually not even think about it?"

"Well…" Hermione grinned. "Not as much as usual." Which was true.

Sally-Anne chuckled. "Good for you. You had me worried there." She sighed. "Justin's been busy mailing those 'Avengers'. They seem to really want to meet us. Or rather, the two muggleborns they saved want to join us."

Hermione frowned. On one hand, it was understandable that the two survivors wanted to join the Resistance - it was their best option to take revenge, or so it would seem. On the other hand, why wouldn't they want to stick with the Avengers? Or why wouldn't the Avengers want to recruit them? They had saved them, after all. There could be plausible reasons for that, of course - but she didn't like it. And since the Ministry was now authorised to cast the Imperius Curse… "We'll have to be very careful when meeting them. It sounds a bit… odd."

"Yes!" Sally-Anne said, nodding emphatically. "Justin said so as well, and he's been the one mailing them."

"We'll have to decide if we want to meet with them in London, where they can't start too much trouble, if it turns out to be a trap, or in some out of the way safe house, where we have more options." Hermione rubbed her chin. She'd usually favour the second option, but after Shacklebolt, they might expect that. It would be a hard decision.

Sally-Anne chuckled again. "You're already planning, before taking your coat off."

Hermione chuckled herself, though if she was honest, it wasn't a good thing how easily she fell back into the role of a guerilla leader.

*****​

Young's Ram Brewery, Borough of Wandsworth, London, December 28th, 1996

Hermione Granger sipped from her tea cup, sitting on a conjured chair in the middle of a decrepit room that looked like it had been pillaged by vikings a few times, or used as a spot to hang out by teenagers. Not that the rest of the building, and its neighbours, looked any better.

After some thinking, she had decided to meet the Avengers and the survivors of the other muggleborn group in London, in a derelict brewery. It provided enough cover and advantages for them to set up a tight perimeter, and a few surprises. There were no muggles nearby who'd be in danger should it come to a battle, but it was in London proper, which meant any wizards attacking would have to be careful lest they endanger the Statute of Secrecy. And since it had been a brewery, there were well-sized sewers, making it easy to arrange a few escape routes. Just in case.

Every member of the Resistance but the Creeveys were present, most of them hidden and spread out. Colin and Denis had begged to be allowed to come as well, but she had not given in - although they were monitoring communications within the group. Hermione didn't think that would be needed, but it gave them something to do that would hopefully not let them feel useless.

Next to her, Justin, standing and looking out of the small window, sighed.

"Please don't start again," Hermione said.

He turned to frown at her, but didn't say what he had been about to say.

Justin had wanted to take up a position on top of the chimney towering over the area with his rifle, but Hermione had vetoed that. It was too exposed, in her opinion. And he had been the primary contact with the Avengers, so he should be present for the meeting. Instead, John was on a muggle building overlooking the area, disillusioned and with a light machine gun. Dean would be acting as his spotter, bodyguard and broom rider if needed. The boys wanting to play sniper had grumbled at that, but even they had had to admit that a sniper wouldn't do much against enemy brooms.

Her friend knocked on the conjured steel plate that they had stuck to the wall so it covered the empty window looking into the main hall, then disillusioned it - an innovation born from John's continuing attempts to disillusion their broadcasting van. "Do you think it's a trap?"

Hermione shrugged. "I hope not, but I'd rather be safe than sorry." She had read the e-mails several times, and they were just a bit too pushy. In the Avengers' place, Hermione would have been a bit more cautious - and a bit more respectful too. Although the Avengers had been rather reckless in their actions. Breaking into the Ministry to free arrested muggleborns? That was impressive. And yet… why hadn't they done anything else at the same time? Even if she had been determined not to kill people, Hermione would have used the opportunity to leave a few surprises for the Minister, and his employees, and embarrass them so much, they'd be busy dealing with internal rivals for a while.

Seamus arrived. "Everything's set." He grinned. "The old brewing tanks will work perfectly for this!"

She smiled at him. "Good work."

"I'm almost hoping this turns out to be a trap," he said. "Just to see what happens."

She rolled her eyes at him.

He frowned at her cup. "Drinking tea in a brewery?"

"It's a former brewery," she retorted.

"Even worse. No respect for the dead!" He grinned, and even Justin chuckled.

Boys! She finished her tea and vanished the cup. According to her watch, it was about time for the meeting.

As if he had heard her thoughts, Dean reported over the radio: "Four people are walking towards the gate. I don't see anyone else, so far."

"Four people, as they said and we agreed upon," Justin said.

Hermione pushed the button of her headset. "Sally-Anne?"

"Nothing on this side," the witch answered. She was with Mary and Tania, hiding on the other side of the building. "The jinxes are still up as well."

Which meant no one could be sneaking up on them while disillusioned, or apparating right on top of them. Brooms of course were not hindered, and could stay out of range of the jinxes and still be at the brewery in a very short time. They had reinforced the walls and roofs as well - just in case someone decided to drop a bomb on them. And to contain Seamus's surprise, just in case.

"They're entering the area now," Dean reported.

Hermione fought the urge to bite her lower lip and tapped her radio button again. "Louise, lead them inside." If this was a trap, then the two former Hit-Wizards would be facing four enemies. But if it was a trap, they'd likely not spring it right now. They'd want to wait until they met her. Hermione knew that she was the one the Ministry wanted more than anyone else in the Resistance.

"Bubble-Head Charms." She said, standing up and casting one herself, before leaving the room. Justin and Seamus followed her, the Irish wizard splitting off as soon as they were in the hall - He'd be watching from the side, with his rifle ready.

Justin remained at her side, though they were far enough apart so they'd be able to move freely. And there was cover close by. Contrary to where their visitors would be standing. Hermione's hand dipped into her pocket, gripping the small remote control.

They had done all that was possible to prepare, she told herself as the door at the other end was opened, and two wizards and two witches, all wearing common muggle clothes, entered, with Louise and Jeremy at their back. Their visitors looked nervous, or so Hermione thought - but then again, they would likely be nervous as well if this wasn't a trap.

She frowned when she realised that she was now convinced that this was a trap. Such assumptions could ruin a lot if she was wrong, she told herself. And yet…

She kept her hand in her pocket and raised the other when the four were about ten yards away. Within the range of her privacy spells. "Hello. The Avengers, I presume?"

They stopped walking, and the man on the right nodded. "Indeed. I'm Daniel, she is Doris." He pointed at the other two. "Those are the ones we saved from the Ministry's cell. Mary-Jane and Brad."

Hermione nodded at them. "I'm Hermione Granger. This is Justin Finch-Fetchley. You wanted to meet us."

She saw Daniel's eyes widen when she introduced herself, and how he glanced at Doris, for just a second. Either they were not quite so confident any more, or…

"Ah, yes. Brad and Mary-Jane wanted to meet you, to join you," Daniel said. "We wanted to meet you so we can coordinate our attacks. It would be heavy if we wrecked each other's plans accidentally."

Before Hermione could answer, Dean's voice rang in her ear: "Brooms in the air!"

*****​

Borough of Wandsworth, London, December 28th, 1996

Brenda Brocktuckle studied the decrepit muggle buildings from the roof of a muggle building nearby. It was far larger than she had expected when she had heard it was a brewery - just how much beer did muggles drink? Although it had been abandoned, so who knew what the owners had thought. The tall chimney worried her - it would make a perfect spot for a guard. Muggle guns would be effective if used up there as well - though not as precise at that range, or so she had been told. Of course, if her plan worked there wouldn't be any fighting, not here at least. The two imperiused mudbloods would be recruited by the Resistance, and lead the Aurors to their base while the two undercover half-bloods would leave. Brenda snorted - she wasn't that lucky. But she had contingency plans.

"Rickett and Purvis are entering the main building," Martin announced, unnecessarily - she could hear the mudblood guards greet the group at the door through the enchanted mirror Purvis had in her pocket.

Brenda grunted in reply, staring through her Omnioculars. One mudblood on the chimney. Two had been at the door, ushering the undercover group inside. Where were the rest? Disillusioned and spread over the area? No. They'd be inside the building. At windows. Ready to flee at the slightest danger - that was how the Resistance operated. They didn't stand and fight; they hit and ran.

"Nervous?" Parkinson asked. "Don't you trust your plan?"

She scoffed. "It's a solid plan, but the mudbloods are slippery criminals."

Parkinson shrugged. "The only ones who can mess this up are the two half-bloods."

He was correct, but that wouldn't help Brenda if the mission failed - it had been her idea. Her plan. She had picked the two undercover Aurors as well. The Ministry expected results, even more so after she had made them lose face with the fake escape of Wilton and Smith. If this failed, then her career was over. She'd probably be sent to guard Azkaban.

She huffed. She'd not fail. She had a dozen Aurors and two dozen Hit-Wizards ready to apparate in on her command. She wished she could have had them deployed in advance, but that would have endangered the mission - even with Shacklebolt's team wiped out, you couldn't trust everyone, not even in the Corps.

She heard Rickett's voice through the mirror. "Hey… I hope this is not your base. It's in desperate need of some repair work."

The mudbloods snorted, but didn't let any information slip. Brenda hoped Rickett didn't overdo it - though the Avengers were supposed to be cocky and reckless. The two former prisoners made a few comments about how it was still better than Ministry cells. Brenda tried to tune them out and focus on anyone, anything else she could hear. She wished she had a way to watch what the two Aurors were seeing.

She heard a door open with the sound of shrieking metal. One of the mudbloods, a wizard, said: "After you."

"Wow, that's Hermione Granger!" Purvis said, sounding like an awed schoolgirl.

Brenda drew a hissing breath. Granger! The mudblood who had killed her partner. The leader of the Resistance. The most wanted mudblood in Britain. Here, in the brewery. The witch had guts, to come in person. Brenda hoped that meant her plan was working.

"Should we call the others?" Martin asked.

"Yes," Parkinson hissed. "Let's get the scum."

Brenda hesitated. The plan was to let the Resistance recruit the two mudblood moles. Having the Ministry forces charge in was just the contingency plan. But… if she managed to capture or kill Granger, then the Resistance was done for anyway - without their leader, they'd either break up, or make mistakes and get killed. But if she sent the Aurors and Hit-Wizards in, she'd endanger Rickett and Purvis. They were half-bloods, and they knew the risks, but...

The two unwitting moles were prattling in hushed voices about Granger. She heard Rickett say: "That must be Finch-Fletchley." Their mail contact. Another important member, as far as they knew.

Suddenly, the chatter and whispers cut off - she couldn't hear anything anymore. Not a sound. Privacy spells, she realised. But why would the mudbloods cast the spells in the middle of a secure building? There was no way anyone could listen in from afar, and if they suspected an eavesdropper close by… they suspected a trap, Brenda realised.

"Merlin's arse," Parkinson spat. "It was a trap. They knew."

"No… they didn't know," Brenda said. "But they suspect something is up." Could Rickett and Purvis fool them? Talk their way out? She shook her head. They were half-bloods, not mudbloods.

She took out the other mirror in her pocket. "Flint! Attack! Granger is in there! We have two undercover Aurors there as well, Daniel Rickett and Doris Purvis. They're wearing grey coats and black trousers."

Brenda pulled her own broom out and mounted it while she heard Flint shout to the response force to apparate.

"They won't exactly stop to check who they are cursing," Martin said, already on his own broom.

Parkinson shrugged. "The half-bloods are probably already stunned - or dead."

They had barely started to fly when dozens of broom riders appeared in the air above the brewery. "Anti-Disillusion Jinxes," Brenda muttered. But they had expected that.

Then she saw one of the broom riders - an Auror - jerk, and fall off his broom, his Shield Charm shattered. Then another screamed, veering wildly, trying to steer his broom for a few seconds before rolling over and falling as well.

She hadn't seen a spell… guns! "They're shooting at the broom riders!" she yelled. But where were they? The chimney was clear…

The attackers were now flying evasively. That should save most of them, Brenda thought. They were either diving down to the muggle building, to charge inside, or climbing up to keep the mudbloods from escaping with brooms - Anti-Disillusionment Jinxes worked both ways.

But where was the damn mudblood with the gun? They had to be outside the Jinx's range.

Another broom rider was hit and went down, screaming. But Brenda had seen from which side his shield had been hit. "They're on top of the tall muggle building!" she yelled into the mirror. But the distance… she hadn't expected them to be that far away.

Flint reacted at once. "Avery! Take your group and take the bastard out!" Five broom riders changed direction and flew towards the muggle building.

"The roof's withstanding Blasting Curses," she heard another Hit-Wizard yell.

"Use transfiguration!" Flint ordered.

"Brains of a Flobberworm," Brenda heard Parkinson curse. "We should have taken more veterans."

Then Brenda and her group hit the area covered by Anti-Disillusionment Jinxes, and the Auror hoped fervently that the muggle with the gun would shoot at Avery's group, and not at hers.

*****​

Young's Ram Brewery, Borough of Wandsworth, London, December 28th, 1996

Hermione Granger was diving behind the prepared cover - steel walls anchored solidly in the reinforced floor - as soon as she heard Dean's warning, casting a Shield Charm before she hit the ground. She bruised her shoulder, but bit down on the pain, rolling and coming up with her wand aimed.

Louise and Jeremy were stepping back out of the room, but their wands were flashing, spells flying at the four visitors.

Daniel was yelling, waving his wand and something else around. "They've seen through ou…" Two bursts from assault rifles cut into him. He dropped both his wand and the other thing while he was falling down on his knees, and Hermione saw a mirror hit the ground before the traitor collapsed, blood pouring out of his mouth.

Her own Piercing Curse shattered the Shield Charm Doris had just finished casting. They had been as surprised as the Resistance, she realised - but they had been ready for an attack as well. A second later, Justin's Cutting Curse hit her, slicing into her side. Before she could scream with pain, her body jerked from the impact of several bullets and she fell down, blood spreading in a pool beneath her.

Seamus shot both in the head before starting towards them from his hiding spot. The two other muggleborns - the freed prisoners, if that was not a lie - were already down, stunned or killed by Louise and Jeremy. Justin moved forward to check on them. "It was a trap - the Imperius?" he asked, kneeling down.

That was a possibility, Hermione knew. Or they were imposters, and the real Avengers were dead or arrested. But they'd have heard about that, she thought. It was as or more likely that the Avengers had been a false flag operation from the start.

"He's dead, but she's just stunned," Justin announced. "Do we take her with us?"

Hermione was tempted, but she needed more information. "Strip her completely - they might have tracked them with magic tied to her clothes." The Resistance had done that, after all, to find some hiding purebloods.

"The broom riders are landing, they couldn't get through the roof," Dean announced over the radio. "We've shot down several of them, but they spotted our position, and a group is flying towards us."

"Apparate out as soon as you can. We're withdrawing," Hermione ordered. "Seamus - prepare your surprise. Everyone else - fall back to the basement!"

The Irish wizard whooped with glee and rushed off while Justin vanished Mary-Jane's clothes, then ran his wand over her body. "Nothing inside her that I can find."

"Alright." Hermione waved her wand, and cast a Full-Body Bind Curse, followed by conjuring a blanket to wrap around the witch, securing it with tight conjured ropes. "Leviate her!" she told Justin. "Let's move."

They hurried out of the room, through a side door, to the reinforced stairs that led to the basement. Sally-Anne arrived with Tania and Mary, who took up positions at the entrance of the stairs, to wait for Seamus.

Hermione led the group down, to the basement. They had reinforced the floor above them as well. Louise and Jeremy aimed their wands at a massive steel plate, right before Hermione vanished it, revealing the tunnel they had created beforehand.

The two former Hit-Wizards descended, wands out. Shortly afterwards, Hermione heard Louise's voice through the radio: "All's clear here. No hidden enemies."

The attackers hadn't found the escape tunnel then. This tunnel, at least - they had another one prepared, just in case. Hermione pushed the button on her radio. "Seamus, do it."

A giddy "Yes!" was her answer. A minute later, Seamus, Mary and Tania rushed down the stairs.

"They're breaking through the windows in the first floor," Tania announced.

"We have ten minutes until it's ready. Timer's running," Seamus said.

Hermione nodded at them. "Let's move then."

She let the others descend the stairs, then followed them. Once she was down a floor, she turned around and sealed the entrance with conjured concrete, three yards thick - better safe than sorry.

*****​

Brenda Brocktuckle let out a relieved sigh when she landed in the area of the brewery and had a solid wall between her and the mudblood with the gun. Ahead of her, Aurors and Hit-Wizards were casting spells at the building, breaking in. They were taking far more time than expected, though.

"The mudbloods have reinforced the walls and roof," Martin said, "but the windows are a weak spot."

Brenda blinked, then pulled out the mirror. "Flint! Do your men see anyone? Is anyone fighting you?"

It took a while for the leader of the response force to answer. An eternity, in Brenda's opinion. "No, we have seen someone running inside, but no one cast at us."

Brenda paled. "It's a trap!" she screamed, at the mirror, and at the Aurors she could see floating near the windows, jumping inside. "Get away!"

She saw people scramble out of the windows, waiting for the building to blow up. It didn't. Aurors and Hit-Wizards rushed away from the building, gathering right at the edge of the area of the Muggle-Repelling Charms, which coincided with the walls forming the area's border. Brenda had rushed out, taking cover on the other side of the wall.

Minutes passed. Flint walked up to her. "What's going on? We were just told to be ready to help an operation out."

"Undercover operation," Brenda said. "Our team was meeting the mudbloods inside, but they were discovered."

Flint cursed. "And we were too late…"

"They could still be alive," Brenda said.

"I'll go and check." Martin was already moving.

"Wait!" Brenda yelled.

Her partner turned around. "Someone has to check."

'Not you', Brenda wanted to say. But she didn't.

Martin grinned. "And you're the commander." Which meant she couldn't risk her life.

"Selwyn, Hupwinkle - go with him!" Flint ordered.

The two Hit-Wizards looked unhappy, but followed Martin, entering the building through a broken window on the ground floor. Brenda saw a few other Aurors - brave or stupid - step closer.

"The air's smelling funny!" one of them yelled.

Brenda's eyes widened. "Bubble-Head Charms!" she yelled, casting one herself.

Then her world turned into fire.

*****​

London, East End, December 28th, 1996

Hermione Granger sighed and turned away from the muggleborn witch - Mary-Jane - who was sitting on the chair, smiling brainlessly under the effect of Veritaserum. That had been a chilling interrogation.

"So… it was a setup. She and her friend were imperiused to betray us," Justin said, once they had stepped out of the room. "The question is: Were the Avengers imperiused as well?"

The witch shook her head. "I doubt that. We know when they arrested Milton's group. They wouldn't have expected the jailbreak; we didn't even consider it. To imperius Milton and Smith in anticipation of such an attempt seems too far out for the Ministry."

"They could have arrested them during the attempt."

"And then decided on the fly to use the opportunity to hunt us?" Hermione pondered the idea, but dismissed it. "That sounds a bit too complicated for the Ministry."

"It's not impossible though."

"But very hard to keep a secret." Even after Shacklebolt and his team had been killed, Dumbledore had many sources within the Ministry. "I think if they had arrested the Avengers, they would have announced that success to everyone."

"But why would they have waited so long to contact us, if the Avengers were undercover Aurors from the beginning?" Justin asked. "That's rather patient for a Ministry in need of some victories to keep the confidence of the purebloods."

"Maybe they thought we'd be less suspicious of them if they had a longer history of fighting the Ministry." Hermione shrugged. "We know they had a communication mirror, and were talking to someone, right when the broom riders attacked." It wasn't impossible that they had been imperiused as well, of course. Just unlikely. And it would mean they hadn't killed three, but just one victim of the Ministry.

"We have to be even more cautious when recruiting," Justin said, sighing.

Hermione nodded. "Yes." That was a good policy anyway.

"At least we hit them hard in return - John saw the fireball before he and Dean apparated away." Justin grinned briefly.

Hermione snorted. "We hurt them, yes. But even more people will think we killed Shacklebolt's team."

Justin winced. "That'll make trouble for our allies."

"Some," Hermione said, "But overall I think the loss of all those purebloods eager to hunt us down will help us more than it'll hurt us."

"Unless that drives the Ministry into joining the Dark Lord."

Hermione nodded. "That's a possible consequence, but the Ministry was in danger of taken over anyway, by force even." She sighed. "Others will handle the Ministry." Hopefully. "We need to sort out how to help Mary-Jane; we need to free her from the Imperius." And she knew only one way - Thief's Downfall.

"You think the goblins will refuse to help us?"

"Or betray us; they are greedy and hate all wizards," Hermione said. "I'll look into it though." She hoped Dumbledore could pull some strings.

"She's not going anywhere," Justin said. "The others are celebrating. They'll not like to hear we killed one innocent victim."

"We had no choice," Hermione said. Though privately, she wondered if that would cause a few of the Resistance members reconsider their bloodthirsty views. Probably not, she thought - they'd simply blame the purebloods for this again. She couldn't fault them for that - she did the same, after all.

The witch patted the enchanted mirror in her pocket - she had to inform her friends, and through them, Dumbledore, of what she had learned.

*****​

London, St. Mungo's, December 29th, 1996

She saw the flames shoot out of the windows of the hall, turning into a huge fireball that engulfed the entire building. She saw two broom riders disappear in the flames before they could even scream. Another was turning his broom to flee, then threw up his hands right when the flames reached him. She saw an Auror on the ground wave his wand, whatever spell he was casting showing no effect before he, too vanished in the fires that filled the courtyard. She saw the flames rushing towards her, turned to dive behind the wall, away from the flames, but knew she was too slow. Then the flames reached her, surrounded her, and she burned, screaming...

Brenda Brocktuckle woke up screaming. She had been… she wasn't dead? She looked around. She was in a white room, in a bed. Hospital bed, she realised. The familiar smell reached her nose. St. Mungo's.

Panting and shivering, she ran her hands over her body. She wasn't dead. She didn't hurt. Merlin, she was alive.

"Auror Brocktuckle?"

Brenda whipped her head around. A wizard in the robes of a Healer was standing in the door to the room, smiling at her. "Yes?" she managed to say.

"I'm glad to see you awake."

He looked tired, and his smile was even less sincere than usual, Brenda thought. She took a deep breath. "What happened?"

His wince told her enough. "As far as we can reconstruct what happened, your shield charm kept the flames from directly touching you, but the heat still burned you, and set your robes on fire. If not for the quick help of your partner, you would have likely died."

"My partner? Martin Runcorn?" Brenda gasped. Martin had survived!

"Runcorn?" The Healer looked puzzled. "No, I mean Auror Parkinson."

Parkinson. Of course - the man had been standing behind the wall. Under cover, sort of. Martin had been inside the building, when the bomb went off. He wouldn't have survived. She closed her eyes.

The Healer kept talking. "You had a Bubble-Head Charm as well, contrary to others. We're not yet certain how, but it must have contributed to your survival. The burns were easily treated, once we had you here. Your hair can be restored as soon as you have fully recovered." The man was going through the motions, she realised. Either he had been doing this too often already, or…

"How many survived?" she asked, looking at him.

"I don't know," the wizard told her. "I wasn't informed about that. I can only tell you that including you, we have treated eight Ministry employees."

Brenda cursed under her breath. Nine. Three dozen Aurors and Hit-Wizards in the Response Force. And five in her task force. Avery's team would have been too far away to be hit, and Parkinson might not have been wounded, but that still left… over two dozen dead. And all due to her plan. All her fault.

She barely noticed the Healer leaving. She was done for. They'd not even let her guard Azkaban, they'd imprison her for this!

"Shorter hair suits you, but this is a bit too short."

She looked up. Parkinson was standing in the door. He leaned against the frame, arms folded, but she saw he was tired as well, and parts of his face looked a bit… spotty. He was wearing his robe though, not a hospital gown like herself.

"I heard you saved me," she said.

He shrugged. "I put your robe out and healed what I could. I was lucky, barely scorched myself." His grin was even more cynical than usual. "You might have absorbed the blast for me."

Brenda snorted. "And all for nothing. They'll burn me for this." Someone had to pay for this disaster, and she was the one who had organised this. She had been in charge.

The other Auror stepped inside and closed the door. "No. They'll burn Flint, although he was already burned to death."

"What?" She looked at him.

Parkinson's grin widened. "You warned him of the bomb. He didn't pull his forces back far enough. Unlike you, and myself."

That… Brenda blinked. That was a very generous interpretation of the events. "You reported that?"

He nodded. "We're the only ones who survived and know what happened."

"They'll not believe it. They'll blame me." There were too many dead.

"They'll believe it. I've explained it to a few friends." Parkinson stepped closer and looked into her eyes. "We can't afford to lose you. We've lost too many good Aurors already to the mudbloods."

Brenda knew he didn't mean the Ministry. She knew the price she'd pay for this help. She didn't care though - Granger had murdered another of her partners. To bring the mudblood to justice, she'd do anything.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, December 30th, 1996

Albus Dumbledore smiled politely while he watched the Minister for Magic all but shaking in his dragon-hide shoes. Cornelius had a good reason, of course - the Ministry's latest and most cunning scheme to deal with the Muggleborn Resistance had just failed spectacularly, as Miss Granger had informed him through her friends.

"Albus! Two dozen Aurors and Hit-Wizards are dead! Murdered by the Resistance! In broad daylight, in muggle London! This is a catastrophe! We have to do something!"

"'We', Cornelius?" Albus looked over his reading glasses at the Minister. "Did I not warn you not to persecute the Muggleborn Resistance?"

He could almost hear Amelia grinding her teeth. The Head of the DMLE was standing at the side of the Minister's desk.

"You said you'd not support murderers!" Cornelius blinked.

"And I do not," the Headmaster said. "But defending yourself against an attack is not murder."

"They are mass-murderers, Albus!" Amelia said, trembling with anger, or so he thought. "They murdered dozens of people! They even killed your own friends!"

"They did no such thing." Albus looked at the witch and let the least amount of contempt shine through his expression. "They exclusively attacked Death Eaters and their supporters."

"They bombed Malfoy Manor and murdered everyone present!" The Minister was trembling now as well.

"A ball thrown by a Death Eater," the Headmaster said. Cornelius opened his mouth, but he cut the Minister off. "Lucius Malfoy was one of the worst Death Eaters, Cornelius. A devoted follower and the right hand of the Dark Lord. Striking at him was a legitimate attack against the Dark Lord."

"And the innocents present there? Not everyone there was a Death Eater! Many were simply purebloods attending a ball!" Amelia bared her teeth. "What do you call killing them but murder?"

"The muggles call such deaths 'collateral damage'," Albus said. "An apt name, I think." Both were staring at him, shocked. He had to remind himself that they did not truly know him, or what he had done in the past. He chuckled, mirthlessly. "Everyone knew what Lucius and his ilk stood for. Anyone attending his ball showed their support for him - or at the very least, their willingness to accept the Dark Lord. Some would call that treason, even."

"What?" The Minister gaped openly. "Are you… Merlin, are you saying that they deserved to die?"

"I would not say that," the old wizard said. "But if they had to die so Lucius and his allies could be killed, then that was certainly acceptable." He shrugged. "After Grindelwald's War, I was sick of all the bloodshed. The things I had done…" He shook his head. Both were staring at him, and he chuckled at their expressions. "A few months ago I told you that you had no idea what a real war was. Did either of you look up what happened in Grindelwald's War? What I did there?"

Judging by Cornelius's expression, he hadn't. Amelia though looked even tenser than before.

He shook his head. "What you call a catastrophe, two dozen wizards and witches killed, would have been called a skirmish by those fighting Grindelwald. Thousands died in that war." With a sneer, he added: "But since they were not British, and most of them were not purebloods of Old Families, I guess you didn't care."

"Muggleborns were the most numerous of those fighting for Grindelwald!" Amelia said.

"And they had good reasons to fight for Grindelwald," Albus said. Once more, the two were shocked. He sighed. "Why do you think I pushed for equal rights for muggleborns so hard after Grindelwald's defeat? I know first-hand how people fight who have nothing to lose and everything to gain." He snorted. "And now you know it as well."

"But… but… why didn't you tell us that?" Cornelius looked confused and desperate.

"And let the Death Eaters in the Wizengamot claim the muggleborns are the second coming of Grindelwald? You know how that would have been received." He smiled grimly.

"You didn't warn us in private either," Amelia said, glaring at him.

"I know what you would have done, had I warned you of a muggleborn uprising in the style of Grindelwald." Amelia would have done her best, or worst, to get the authorisation for a pre-emptive strike. And she would have received it - from the Minister and the Wizengamot.

"You… you protected them! You wanted them to be prepared for this war!" The witch sounded mortally wounded.

"I wanted to avoid this war. I failed. Now I want to win this war. At all costs," the Headmaster said.

"But then you need to work with us! The Ministry needs you, together we can win this!" The Minister stood up. "We need to join forces!"

"Cornelius!" Amelia glared at Albus while she spoke to the Minister. "He wants the muggleborns to win this war!"

"I want the Dark Lord to lose this war," Albus said. "And for that, the muggleborns are crucial."

"You would sacrifice the Ministry to them? Your own country?" Cornelius sat down again, pale and shivering.

"The Resistance has not attacked the Ministry so far, they have only defended themselves. Even though they had good reasons to fight you, they haven't struck back at you. Yet." Albus met the Minister's and Amelia's eyes. "There is still time to mend fences. To repeal those evil laws, and restore equal rights for muggleborns. Against all of us, together, the Death Eaters would stand no chance."

"I assume you want the Ministry to pardon those mass-murderers as well," Amelia said.

"I want the Ministry to stop persecuting muggleborns. That includes the Muggleborn Resistance." He leaned forward. "Even if you still do not accept that those laws were evil and unjust, and that the muggleborns had the right to fight back, you cannot ignore that you have no choice any more. Unless you want to submit to the Dark Lord, in the faint hope that his most loyal followers will not take revenge against you for their imprisonment on Azkaban." He saw both of them grow pale at that. "Make no mistake: I would rather ally with the Muggleborn Resistance than with a Ministry that is still pursuing a pureblood agenda."

The Minister sputtered, intelligible sounds escaping his trembling lips. Amelia, though, was made of sterner stuff. She glared at him. "You cannot defeat the Dark Lord by yourself, with or without the muggleborns. You need the support of the Ministry."

"You are sorely mistaken, my dear." He stood up. "It is up to you to decide if you would rather be Voldemort's slaves, or accept muggleborns as equals. I advise you not to tarry though - not everyone is as patient as I am. Or as forgiving."

Flashing them a smile that was anything but forgiving, he left the Minister's office.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, December 30th, 1996

"... and then we found out that the muggleborns we were meeting with had been imperiused by the Ministry in a plot to trap us! Two people, deprived of their will, turned into puppets, dozens of Aurors and Hit-Wizards ready to pounce, all because we dared to fight back against the Dark Lord and his followers, instead of letting them take away our rights through their puppets in the Wizengamot!"

Harry Potter nodded slightly as he sat in the living room of Grimmauld Place and listened to the Resistance Radio wireless broadcast. Usually they broadcast on Fridays, but after the Ministry ambush, they had made an exception - or so Hermione had told Ron and him.

"But we were prepared for such treachery! When the Ministry forces reached the meeting spot, all they found was death. Let that be a lesson, Aurors and Hit-Wizards: Fight us, fight muggleborns, and you will die!

"But the just reward for mindless thugs enforcing evil laws aside, those among our audience who are still in Wizarding Britain are now faced with a lot of questions. And the most important question is: Will you be next to be imperiused? The Ministry has given its forces permission to use the Unforgivables - for the duration of this 'crisis'. Do you trust the Aurors and Hit-Wizards not to abuse this? To settle scores with old enemies, or to take someone to bed for the night? Who is watching them? Who is watching you? Anyone wearing the red robes of the Aurors, or the grey ones of the Hit-Wizards, could take control of you. And once they have what they want from you, they can send you to die, attacking others.

"Is that how you want to live? In constant fear of becoming an Auror's puppet?

"We, the Resistance, do not use those vile spells. And yet we have killed more Death Eaters than the Ministry. So, why are they claiming that they need those spells to fight, when we prove they are not needed? Why do the Ministry want its forces to use spells so evil, one cast is enough for a lifetime sentence in Azkaban?

"Ask yourself that next time you see an Auror patrol! But maybe duck out of their way first."

"Blimey!" Ron muttered, next to Harry. "That'll be pouring Exploding Fluid into the cauldron. The Ministry's going to foaming at the mouth."

"They already desperately want to kill her," Harry whispered. Hermione was the number one enemy of the Ministry. At least of the Ministry that was left, with Shacklebolt and his team dead. He glanced at Tonks, sitting in an armchair, staring at the floor, one tray with sweets and a glass balanced on the armrest.

Sirius, sitting in another chair, chuckled. "Quite a speech, but it's wasted on the pureblood sheep. They simply don't want to see what's going on."

"They're afraid of muggleborns," Remus said, standing at the window. "The Daily Prophet's been working on them for over a year now."

"Well, they certainly don't need to imperius any of the Prophet's staff; those are already mindless tools of the Ministry." Sirius snorted.

Neither of the two men seemed to be looking at Tonks. The young Auror, though, was glaring at them. Then she stood up. "You act as if the Ministry is one big bloc or whatever. You have no idea what's it like, in the Ministry. No one knows if you can trust your co-worker! There are spies of the Dark Lord everywhere! The Ministry was one miscast spell away from tearing itself up, before the recent bombings."

Sirius said: "At least you've finally admitted who the real enemy is."

Tonks bared her teeth at him. "I always knew that, you idiot! Mum was removed from the family tree for marrying Dad. Everyone knows I'm no friend of the Dark Lord, and that Bellatrix wants to kill all of us. If not for my talent to change my appearance, I'd have been cursed in the back already."

"So, have you stopped thinking that the Resistance are criminals?" Harry saw that the three adults present were surprised by him cutting in. But he needed to know if he could trust Tonks. For all that she was family, to Sirius at least, and an Order member - even if he wasn't supposed to know that - she was still an Auror, working for the Ministry. Which was hunting Hermione.

She glared at him, but he met her eyes without flinching. Between Moody's and Dumbledore's training, a young Auror simply didn't look that tough. What could she do to him that he hadn't suffered already, and worse, in training?

Tonks looked away first. "I've looked into history. The Ministry's in the wrong." She raised a finger. "But if anyone says 'I told you so', I'll hex them!"

Harry nodded. It wasn't easy accepting that the Ministry you had been working for, believing in, was controlled by evil people. And Tonks probably had known most of those killed in the recent bombings; they were not simply numbers to her.

Sirius grinned, and for a moment, Harry feared his godfather would push the metamorphmagus. But the wizard just clapped her on the back. "Good to hear. Now, what have you been doing for Dumbledore? You wouldn't be risking your life for nothing, would you?"

"That's none of your business. If the Headmaster wants you to know, he'll tell you personally."

Remus chuckled. "She's not going to betray her orders, Sirius."

Harry's godfather pouted while Tonks grinned at Remus. The wizard quickly grew serious, though. "You are in danger, Tonks. Even your shapeshifting won't help you that much - all they need is to get a superior to call you into their office, and ambush you when you leave."

"I know that."

"And yet you still go back there." Sirius looked as if he wasn't certain whether he should praise or criticise his cousin.

"It's important."

"I hope it is worth the risk, Tonks," Sirius said.

Harry fully agreed.

*****​

London, Soho, December 30th, 1996

Hermione Granger was tired when she sat down in the booth of the pub she was to meet the Headmaster in. The Resistance had trained in the morning, and she had been helping with the broadcast earlier that evening as well. But this meeting was important - she needed help with Mary-Jane.

The Headmaster hadn't arrived yet, so she picked up one of the newspapers and skimmed it. One article caught her attention - TVs were inexplicably failing in several houses all over London. Brand-new or slightly used, they didn't work with cable, and sometimes not with a shared antenna either. That sounded like wards interfering with electronics… and that meant wizards. She glanced around, then duplicated the newspaper and stored the original in her enchanted pocket. She'd have to look into this.

The Headmaster, again disguised as a distinguished older muggle gentleman, arrived shortly afterwards. "Good evening, Miss."

"Good evening, sir." She flicked her wand and cast a few privacy spells.

"I am glad you were able to meet with me on such short notice," the old wizard said. "Especially given the circumstances."

"The failed ambush by Ministry forces." She wasn't in the mood for veiled words.

"Indeed. The Minister was trembling with fear when I saw him earlier today."

Hermione snorted. "I think he'd have reacted the same if there had been a wild puffskein in his office." Fudge was a morally bankrupt coward, in her opinion.

"Cornelius is not among the bravest wizards, but he is not quite that timid. Although he does find himself in a rather unenviable position, caught between the Muggleborn Resistance and the Dark Lord's forces."

"A position he ended up in due to his own choices," Hermione said, sneering.

"Choices he is now regretting." The Headmaster sighed. "I explained to him that he has but one option if he does not want to become a prisoner of the Dark Lord, likely given over to those held in Azkaban during his term: He has to stop persecuting muggleborns and repeal those evil laws, as well as pardoning the Resistance."

Hermione drew a sharp breath. She hadn't expected that. It sounded a bit too good to be true. "Can he do that? With the Dark Lord's influence in the Ministry and the Wizengamot?"

"Cornelius has many faults, but he is a capable politician, if a bit too easily led astray by bribes," Dumbledore said. "The recent murder of Augusta Longbottom has shown to many of the more naive members of the Wizengamot just what kind of man Voldemort is. And the loss of three dozen Aurors and Hit-Wizards, with nothing to show for, has undermined confidence in the Ministry - and among the Wizengamot. I do think he can force those changes through, if he calls in some of the favours owed to him and uses his personal knowledge of a few members. It will be a very close vote though."

Hermione frowned. A faint hope, then - she didn't think those who had eagerly voted to deprive muggleborns of their rights would risk the Dark Lord's anger and vote for such a change. On the other hand, Dumbledore was the one with decades of experience in the Wizengamot. He should know better than her.

"There is, however, the risk of an armed takeover attempt by the Dark Lord." Dumbledore sighed. "The risk has lessened somewhat, with the losses the Aurors and Hit-Wizards most eager to fight muggleborns took in the ambush two days ago, but despite my best efforts, I cannot claim to have found all the sympathisers of the Dark Lord inside the Ministry."

"And he can bring in outsiders easily with the help of some of his moles." Hermione bit her lower lip. "Can you stop such a takeover?"

"Unfortunately, the Order is split into many small groups whose members do not know each other. I've had some traps and other surprises prepared, but that will not help with the lack of wands." Dumbledore smiled at her.

She closed her eyes when she realised what he was about to tell her. To ask of her. "I can't ask them to help the Ministry." Shaking her head, she added: "Not after the Ministry tried to ambush us. It was all I could do to keep a few of my friends from taking revenge on the Ministry." If that proposal had been accepted...

"I was afraid of that, Miss Granger. As unfortunate as this is, it's quite understandable. And yet - if the Dark Lord attempts a coup, he will expose a lot of his spies and moles. The Resistance could deal a severe blow to the enemy, and gain a lot of goodwill with the Ministry. Sooner or later, the war will end, with us winning, I sincerely hope, at which point fences will need to be mended."

"I know," Hermione admitted. "But a leader should never give an order they know will not be obeyed." She bit her lower lip again. "This is an angle that might work - once tempers have cooled somewhat. But we still have two boys with a withered limb each, and one imperiused prisoner."

The old wizard smiled. "And if I were to help with that, it would generate a lot of goodwill as well, as I understand."

"If I could tell them you're working with us, and how, it would certainly help convincing them to assist you there." But it was dangerous to spread that knowledge, Hermione knew.

"This might become a possibility, though more like a last resort." Dumbledore sighed. "Nevertheless, you will be needing access to a Thief's Downfall to end this vile spell. Fortunately, the Nott, Davis and Greengrass fortunes allowed me to secure two of those devices."

That would help a lot. "Thank you, sir. It was quite a blow when we realised that we had killed a wizard forced to fight us."

The Headmaster smiled sadly. "I understand."

"Have you made progress finding a cure for the Creeveys?" Hermione didn't want to allow herself to be optimistic, but maybe there was a book in the restricted section of the Hogwarts Library that would restore the boys' limbs...

"Unfortunately, the current crisis has absorbed just about all of my time." Dumbledore smiled apologetically at her. "Although I heard that Ron's brother is working on this problem as well."

She simply nodded. There was still hope. But the boys were growing impatient.

Hermione really didn't want to find that they had cut their own limbs off because they grew tired of waiting. Those two were just stubborn and impulsive enough to do such a thing.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, December 31st, 1996

"We're going to Paris?"

Ron Weasley's stupid question - the Headmaster had just said that - left his lips before he could reconsider. In his defense, he was completely surprised and he had just spent another hour getting hexed, jinxed and cursed by Moody. At least he and Harry, working together, had managed to hit the retired Auror as well, although they usually had to sacrifice one of themselves to achieve that.

"Yes, Ron." The Headmaster smiled. "Provided Sirius agrees, of course."

Ron wasn't Hermione, but he wasn't that slow on the uptake. Of course they'd not ask his parents - his mum would never give her permission if she knew about the mission. He snorted, and the old wizard inclined his head, still smiling.

"Great," Harry muttered, sitting next to Ron on the conjured bench in what had become their training room at Grimmauld Place. "Sirius won't let me go."

"He will, if he knows what's good for him, and you," Moody said, halting his repairing of the slightly damaged room for a moment. "You're still far from what you should be, but you're not useless or helpless any more."

Coming from Moody, that was high praise. Ron perked up, then deflated a bit - Moody was probably talking about Harry, not them both. He wasn't as quick or precise as Harry. Not too far behind, but he simply wasn't as good. But he'd be going to Paris anyway. As long as Sirius agreed to let Harry go, of course.

*****​

"Have you gone mad, Albus?" Sirius all but yelled, jumping up from his seat. "You want to send Harry to Paris as a decoy for the Dark Lord?"

Ron winced at the wizard's expression, and glanced at Harry. His friend was not looking happy. He understood the feeling - Sirius wasn't quite as loud or expressive as Ron's mum, but he certainly was coming close.

"I am sending them to Paris so the Dark Lord continues to think that we're trying to hunt down his Horcruxes. Should he suspect the real plan, Harry would be in much more danger," the Headmaster said in a voice so calm, he might be discussing the weather.

"'Much more danger'? The Dark Lord is certain to have trapped his Soul Anchors! He's had decades to prepare them!" Sirius was pacing now, like a caged animal. "And you plan to let Harry brave this danger, just to fool the Dark Lord?"

"We do not know if there is even a Horcrux in the Magical Bastille. It is a place well-suited for hiding such an evil object, but it is also a prison as feared as Azkaban. Tom might very well not have tried to use it for his own purposes - after all, even his power has limits, and he is not delusional."

"Could have fooled me," Ron heard Harry mutter under his breath.

"And you're sending Harry to French Azkaban?" Ron could hear Sirius breathe loudly through clenched teeth. Of course that would touch a nerve with the wizard.

"There are no Dementors there. It's in the middle of muggle Paris, after all, hidden beneath one of their most famous squares. It is well-guarded and protected, but not by those abominations, Sirius," Dumbledore said. "And they will be helped along by friends on the continent, as well as Bill Weasley, one of the best Curse-Breakers we know."

"I don't trust the French!" Sirius was about to say something else, but Harry had stood up as well.

"Sirius, please. We need to do this." Harry put his hand on his godfather's shoulder. "I'll never be safe as long as he lives."

The other wizard closed his eyes, then suddenly grabbed Harry and pulled him into a hug. Not quite up to the standards of Ron's mum, but coming close. "I don't want you to risk your life, Harry."

The animagus mumbled something else, but Ron couldn't make the words out. He saw how Harry stiffened, though, and then patted the man's back, slightly awkwardly.

The two remained like that, whispering to each other. Ron glanced at the Headmaster, who was simply sitting there, watching with that smile of his, then sighed silently and leaned back in his seat. That wasn't how things were done at home.

After a while - Ron had kept busy trying to remember a few particularly humiliating training sessions, and going over what he could have done differently in his head, like he did with chess matches, sometimes - Sirius sighed loudly and let Harry go. "Alright. But I'm coming with you. And Remus too!"

One more the Headmaster nodded, smiling slightly. As if he had expected that all along. He probably had, Ron realised.

"When will we go?" Ron asked.

"January 2nd. Not many people will be on duty, so it will be easier to avoid attention," Dumbledore said.

"Do the French know about this?" Sirius stared at the old wizard. "Does the Dark Lord?"

"I trust the Delacours to keep the visit confidential." Dumbledore smiled. "Their daughter will be present, and endangering Harry will endanger her as well."

"Bill and Fleur know what they are doing," Ron said. "With them, Moody, and you, we'll be safe."

"I'd rather have you with us," Sirius said, glaring at the Headmaster.

"My presence in France, or more precisely, my absence from Britain, would give the Dark Lord free reign to act with impunity. In the current situation, that could prove fatal." Dumbledore's smile grew thin. "As much as it pains me, I cannot leave the country."

"France's just a few miles over the sea." Sirius folded his arms.

"The defenses of the Bastille will make leaving quickly impossible."

"Damn the French!" Harry's godfather sat down in his seat again. "Always complicating things!"

That was, once again, rather close to the reaction Ron's mum had when Bill told her about his engagement.

*****​

Outside Withernsea, Yorkshire, Britain, December 31st, 1996

The Dark Lord Voldemort sat in his favorite chair, hands folded, with the tips of his index fingers and thumbs touching his face. Dumbledore had visited the Ministry, and now Fudge was apparently starting a rather drastic change in the Ministry's policy. Voldemort had hoped, expected, that the death of two dozen Ministry employees at the hands of mudbloods would be a boon to his cause. Proof of just how dangerous they were. Proof that he was right and that Wizarding Britain needed him and his followers to be safe.

Instead, this bumbling, corrupt fool was now working on getting the muggleborn laws repealed. No doubt forced to by Dumbledore. Or bribed by Black, on the old fool's order. He had supporters, of course. A lot of them, in the Wizengamot. But not enough, yet. His gesture towards the young Longbottom had not cowed as many as he would have liked. Or not enough - those who wavered in their support of him, those who tried to avoid joining him, but did not want to join Dumbledore either, might fear those mudbloods more than him. An unfortunate effect of emphasising the danger they represented.

He frowned. If only he could slaughter a dozen or two of the mudbloods! That would demonstrate to Wizarding Britain that he was the only one able to deal with that danger. But the cursed filth were hiding from him.

Which left him with far fewer options. Blood traitors, but they were hiding as well. He shook his head. There was only one target left that wasn't hiding. Couldn't hide.

If he couldn't stop Fudge through politics, he'd have to use more direct means.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 25: French Connection

'The Second Blood War was, especially at the beginning, essentially an internal affair of Wizarding Britain, like the First Blood War had been. None of the different factions fighting in the war were supported by other countries or international organisations, although the occasional support by individuals, often due to family ties, was not uncommon. There was even an unspoken agreement not to involve the International Confederation of Wizards, despite Albus Dumbledore holding the post of its Supreme Mugwump.
Nevertheless, several European countries kept a close eye on Britain. The muggleborn uprising undoubtedly impressed and influenced their policies towards their own muggleborn population - not many on the continent had forgotten the horrors of Grindelwald's War, nor that many of his followers had been muggleborns. No wizarding country wanted to risk pushing their own muggleborns into rebelling, and yet all of them were, sometimes painfully, aware of the example the Muggleborn Resistance was setting. It was thus a very delicate situation the European countries found themselves in, having to tread a fine line between appeasing their muggleborns, and ensuring they would not present a threat to the government should they nevertheless rebel.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, December 31st, 1996

Harry Potter glanced at the clock on the wall, which had been enlarged for this evening, while he grabbed another butterbeer. It was still another hour until midnight. He couldn't wait for this year to end. It hadn't brought anything but pain and loss. Well, almost anything. He was now dating Hermione - sort of. She still had to pick between Ron and himself, something he wasn't looking forward to.

"You idiots!"

"Ack! No!"

He heard Ron suddenly yell behind him and he whirled around, wand drawn, in a slight crouch. When he saw his friend was just hexing the twins - quite thoroughly - he relaxed. The two must have tried to prank Ron, again - they hadn't taken well to discovering that their little brother wasn't the ideal test subject or victim anymore. Harry nodded appreciatively when Ron had both of them bound on the floor and was 'finishing them off' with Stinging Hexes to the forehead. Just as Moody had taught them.

"Ron! Fred! George! What are you doing!"

And there came Molly Weasley, rushing towards her children, loudly sharing her opinion on such antics. At least she wasn't complaining about underage magic any more, after Sirius had pointed out that the children were much safer if they would not hesitate to defend themselves should they be attacked.

Harry put another lesson from Moody - though one the Auror had not emphasized quite as much as fighting - to good use and slipped out of the room. He wasn't in the mood to listen to another loud Weasley row, no matter how entertaining many others found it.

He entered the Black Library, passing through the spells that kept the noise from outside away. He closed the door and took a deep breath. The smell of old books reminded him of the library in Hogwarts, a place he'd always associate with Hermione. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine her sitting at the table, flipping through half a dozen open books, taking notes at a fast pace and chewing on her lower lip whenever she encountered a particularly difficult or challenging piece of information.

He heard the door open behind him, and stepped to the side, his wand sliding into his hand. He winced - Moody's lessons had affected him in more ways than the obvious. He still kept the wand in hand, though - if not quite aimed at the door.

"Harry?"

He recognised the voice before the girl entered the library. Ginny. "Yes?" he said. "Do they want me back in the living room?"

She flinched, just a bit, and closed the door behind her. "No. I saw you leave, and I followed you. My brothers are being annoying again."

"Ah." He nodded. He could understand that. "Ron can handle them, though. They just have to understand that he's not their favorite easy target anymore."

She looked at him, then snorted. "Good luck with that. They're as stubborn as Mum."

"So's Ron." Too stubborn to quit, Harry knew. Like himself.

The young witch sighed and leaned against the door, briefly looking at the floor. Then she straightened up, and raised her chin. "You and Ron are still dating Hermione, aren't you?"

Harry nodded. "Yes." Not as frequently as he wished, but they were.

"How is that going?" She started to fidget a bit. "I mean… you're best friends, but competing for the same witch." She shrugged. "That sounds like trouble."

"We don't want trouble. Whoever she chooses, we want Hermione to be happy. And she'd not be happy if we started a feud over this." She might refuse to go out with either of them as well, if she feared their friendship could be ruined.

"That sounds noble, but I think things usually don't work out like that," Ginny said.

Harry looked at her. "Oh? Have you seen that happen?"

"Not directly. I've read about such love triangles though." She blushed a bit.

"Ah, in those novels you like to read?"

"What? How do you know about that?" Ginny was staring at him with a mix of surprise and horror, her mouth half-open.

"Ron told me," Harry said. His friend hadn't mentioned what kind of novels they were, just that Ginny read them.

"That git! I'll teach him not to share my secrets!" The redhead was fuming.

"He didn't tell me anything, he just said that you liked to read some novels, when we talked about our situation." Harry wondered why that would have been a secret - Hermione never made any secret about the books she was reading. Quite the contrary. Unless those were the kind of books Sirius had shown him when he had moved in here.

"Ah." Ginny looked slightly mollified, but not placated. Then she sighed. "How is Hermione doing, anyway? I haven't heard from her at all."

Harry wasn't about to share his friend's secrets, so he simply said: "She's under a lot of stress, with the war and the fighting. Very busy too."

Ginny nodded, as if Harry had just told her something she wouldn't have known already. "We miss her in the dorms. It's not the same without her bossing us around. Lavender certainly can't replace her."

"No one can replace her," Harry said, nodding firmly.

Ginny looked a bit pained when she agreed with him.

*****​

London, East End, December 31st, 1996

"And here's to another successful year!" Justin raised his glass, grinning widely.

The assembled Resistance joined him in the toast. Hermione as well, of course - she was leading by example. Even though she didn't think it was a good year, not at all. She'd have much, much preferred to celebrate the New Year after a boring term at Hogwarts. Not that Hogwarts had ever been boring for her, or her friends. Her best friends, that was.

"Death to the Death Eaters!" Dean was raising his glass now.

Hermione didn't frown as she raised her glass again. As bloodthirsty as it sounded, she could drink to that. As long as Dean and Seamus knew that not all purebloods were Death Eaters. Reminding them of Allan's death in her own speech hadn't helped with that, of course - but there was no way she could have skipped reminding the resistance of their fallen members. Not without raising suspicions.

"To victory!" Jeremy kept it simple.

Hermione took another sip from her glass. Even champagne started to have an effect if you drank too much. And she'd be damned before she let herself get drunk. She was the leader of the Resistance, and couldn't afford to lose control. But if everyone wanted to make a toast, she'd have to fake drinking soon - and she wasn't among those who'd be going out and partying in muggle clubs after this, to properly celebrate the new year.

Fortunately, the toasts stopped, and someone turned up the volume of the wireless again. Hermione, and most of the others, preferred muggle music, but the Weird Sisters were a decent band. Or at least, not terrible. And with muggle radio receivers not working right inside wards, the pickings for entertainment were slim. Apart from books, of course.

She checked her watch. An hour left until midnight.

Dean and Seamus emptied their glasses, then waved. "See you next year!" Dean said, grinning, while the two left for their favourite pub. Theirs, and Allan's, Hermione knew. Mary, Tania and, to her surprise, John, left together, followed by Jeremy and Louise. Not exactly the rousing team and morale building event she had had in mind when she had planned this.

She sighed and sat down on the nearest couch. Colin and Dennis occupied another. The younger Creevey brother was asleep already while his older brother looked like he was about to fall asleep any minute. Both of them had drunk too much - they were so young, they shouldn't have been drinking, she thought, at least not as much as they had, but… she couldn't have denied them that. Not with their… curse.

There went Colin, slowly leaning on his brother, eyes closed. Hermione hit both with a Silencing Charm.

"Is that the standard wizarding approach to babysitting, or just your own idea?"

Hermione turned her head, and frowned at the grinning Sally-Anne. "I'm just being practical. I don't want the two to wake up when I levitate them to their room."

The other witch laughed and shook her head. "I'm still not going to let you babysit my children!"

"What makes you think I want to babysit your children?"

"You volunteered to babysit them?" Sally-Anne nodded at the Creeveys.

Hermione had volunteered to hold down the fort, as Justin called it, while everyone else went to party, because she felt that was her duty as the Resistance's leader. Last to eat, last to sleep, as the Major had told her. Of course, knowing that she'd not be able to celebrate with Harry and Ron since they were stuck at Grimmauld Place had made the decision more than a bit easier. And she had no intention of babysitting anyone's children. She didn't say that, though. Instead she stuck her tongue out at her friend.

Justin, stepping up to his girlfriend and handing her her jacket, shook his head. "I can't leave the two of you alone, can I?" He chuckled.

"Do you mean me, or her?" Sally-Anne asked, pouting.

"Both," her boyfriend said.

Justin had probably drunk a bit too much, Hermione thought. "Have fun!" she said, waving at them.

The former Hufflepuff hesitated, and looked at her, then at the Creeveys.

"Go on, you two!" Hermione said, making shooing gestures now, "Enjoy the evening!" When she saw Justin wince, she knew she shouldn't have implied that she wouldn't be enjoying her evening. She could claim she'd enjoy a book, but… Justin knew her too well. But he also knew, or should know, that she would not have that much fun without Harry or Ron either. Or both of them - no, he didn't know her that well. She hoped.

"Are you certain?" Justin asked, but Sally-Anne had grabbed his arm and was already dragging him out.

"I am. Have fun, you two!"

Hermione kept smiling until she heard the door close behind the couple. Then she sighed and closed her eyes. Damn it, she wanted her friends! Or her parents. But when her gaze fell on the Creeveys, she felt guilty again. She hadn't been cursed, hadn't had a limb wither away, didn't have to deal with a dead arm or leg looking like dried meat. The two were braver than she would be, in their place, Hermione knew.

And she felt guilty for having failed them. Both for not having been able to protect them, and for not being able to find a counter-curse to heal them. She sighed again. There was another option. Harry had reminded her of the silver hand Pettigrew had received from Voldemort, after having cut his own hand off to resurrect the Dark Lord. An instant replacement, apparently. She didn't know how good it was - Pettigrew certainly wouldn't dare to complain to his master - but it was likely that hand was far better than enchanted wood. Liquid metal, as Harry had described it - hopefully it wasn't mercury. Well, Pettigrew would deserve getting poisoned, she thought.

But what was important was that she knew that such a thing was possible. And if it was possible, it could be recreated. Or reverse-engineered. Maybe Fred and George could help there… the Creeveys wouldn't be the only ones struck with dark curses. Such a prosthetic could help a lot of people.

The song from the wireless, still playing in the background, suddenly stopped in the middle of the refrain. Hermione frowned, and flicked her wand, turning the volume up a bit.

"... just in: There was a fire attack in Diagon Alley, on wizards celebrating the new year. According to witnesses, it wasn't Fiendfyre, but several people were burned alive or were rushed to St. Mungo's. People out in the streets are asked to return to their homes until the culprits have been apprehended."

Hermione drew a hissing breath. It could have been an attack by Voldemort's followers, of course. But she had a feeling that this had been the work of muggleborns. Probably molotov cocktails. Maybe even homemade napalm.

She closed her eyes. If this had been an attack on random purebloods, then this was bad. Very bad.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, December 31st, 1996

It was a testament to how badly the war was going, Brenda Brocktuckle thought, that three people burned to death by mudblood scum throwing fire on them and half a dozen more getting treated in St. Mungo's for extensive burns was not considered a catastrophe anymore, but just another attack. And an amateurish one, at that - bottles dropped from brooms on a group of wizards. Half of them had missed, and either hit the ground, or the warded roof.

"Damn animals!" Parkinson muttered, next to her, staring at the blackened cobblestones. Half of them hadn't missed, after all. Had covered their victims with fire. The faint smell of burned flesh still lingered.

Brenda knelt down, ignoring her new partner - it wasn't official yet, but who else would work with her after she had lost two Aurors in less than a year? - and rubbed her fingers over the cobblestones, then smelled them.

"Did you find anything?" Parkinson asked.

"Remains of the liquid that was in the bottles that started the fires."

"Potions?"

"Or a muggle concoction," Brenda said, standing up. "I think it was something muggle."

"An expert will be looking into it."

Brenda shrugged. The more she thought about it, the more it looked like some muggle weapon - there was no magical residue apart from the water the surviving wizards had conjured in an attempt to extinguish the flames, and the smell of the remains… It reminded her of muggle cars. "How did they escape our broom patrols?"

Parkinson shrugged. "It's night, the mudbloods didn't cast spells that would have given away their position, the only ones on duty tonight were rookies…"

Rookies, and disgraced Aurors, Brenda thought. She had been on duty as well. Parkinson too. They were not officially blamed for the debacle at the brewery, and Parkinson's 'friends' didn't heckle or sneer at her, but she'd be first choice for the bad shifts for a while. "Figures." She sighed.

"That wasn't the Resistance."

Brenda rolled her eyes. Of course it wasn't the work of the Resistance; if those mudbloods had attacked Diagon Alley, they'd have wrecked half the street with one of their bombs. She often wondered why they hadn't attacked Diagon Alley, yet. "Probably some mudbloods thinking murder would be fun, like the ones we caught." Caught, and lost again.

"Why were those idiots out in the street anyway?" Parkinson nodded at a body on the ground, covered by a conjured blanket. "Had they forgotten that there are mudbloods out there just waiting to attack us?"

Brenda snorted. Smart people stayed home, or traveled through the Floo Network and by apparition. But there were always those who simply didn't listen. "Probably thought they'd be safe. Or thought this would be a thrill. Or they were too drunk to remember why they should have stayed in the pub." All that mattered was that they were dead, or burned, or both.

"At least some of them will survive. Without scarring even, according to a Healer friend of mine," Parkinson said. "And it'll serve as a lesson for the public."

Brenda nodded. A lesson that shouldn't have been needed. The British wizards should have learned already that mudbloods were a danger to all purebloods. "That doesn't change the fact that we'll need to catch the scum who did this."

"We would have caught them, if our broom patrol would have been on the quaffle."

Parkinson had chosen the one who'd be blamed for this. Brenda agreed with him - the broom patrol was there to prevent such attacks, or at the very least catch the attackers. For a moment, she felt a bit of sympathy. It wasn't easy - or rather, it was nigh-impossible - to catch a broom rider at night. Not without the help of difficult spells, or expensive enchanted items. Neither of which a rookie was likely to have access to; those who had the skills or the gold would have better posts. Then she shrugged. She had been blamed for things she couldn't have prevented; why should others fare better?

She looked up, staring at the night sky. They'd have to find a way to find broom riders at night. Human-presence-revealing-spells had a paltry range. A bit away, in muggle London, fireworks shot into the air. Muggles! They were celebrating, ignorant of the deadly war being fought just next to them.

Brenda blinked. Fireworks… Those rockets flew high, and they packed a punch, as she had found out years ago, when a drunken relative had lit one and then knocked it over before it could fly off. A number of them, prepared correctly, would be able to turn night to day, or at least expose the broom riders enough to hit them with other spells. Yes… that should work. The next time those mudblood murderers arrived, they'd receive a deadly surprise.

"Hey!"

The Auror looked at Parkinson. "Hm?"

Her partner pointed at the clock, blackened by soot, but protected from the actual flames by the building's wards. "Happy New Year!"

Brenda snorted. Happy New Year, indeed.

*****​

London, East End, January 1st, 1997

The other members of the Resistance were surprised by the news of the attack on Diagon Alley, Hermione Granger thought, when they heard about it at the later than usual breakfast. That was a good thing - it meant they were not involved. That had been very unlikely, but it had been theoretically possible.

What wasn't a good thing was the smiles the news were greeted with.

"Another group is taking action? Yes!" Seamus said with open glee.

His friend Dean nodded, biting into a scone. After swallowing, he added: "That should keep the Ministry even busier. I just hope they don't get caught."

"They dropped fire bombs from brooms, I think." Justin refilled his tea cup, then his girlfriend's. "So, they would have been safe."

Hermione frowned. Didn't anyone see the issue? Granted, they all had been out clubbing and had just woken up, but still... "Tactical matters aside, this could be a very big problem," she said. "Even worse, this could end in a disaster for us."

"Huh?" John looked at her. He wasn't the only one who seemed to be lost.

She withstood the urge to sigh and rub the bridge of her nose. "A group of wizards celebrating the New Year was firebombed from above. Do you think it's very likely that those were Death Eaters, and that the muggleborns knew that, and knew that they would leave the warded pub in the Alley?"

Justin drew a hissing breath. He had understood the problem then.

"You mean…" Sally-Anne's eyes widened.

"Yes. It is very plausible that the culprits simply dropped bombs on the first wizards and witches they saw outside." She narrowed her eyes. "Which means this was an attack on civilians - a war crime, in other words."

"So what? Those were purebloods," Seamus said.

The table fell silent. Hermione glared at him. She couldn't let that slide. "Do you think being pureblood wizards means they are acceptable targets and deserve to die?" she said in the coldest voice she could manage while she felt enraged. "Do you think we should start attacking all purebloods for being purebloods?" She saw him wince, and he started to say something, but she continued, cutting him off. "And maybe we should kill the half-bloods too, it's not as if we can tell them apart from the purebloods on sight, can we? Just kill them all, huh? And the children too? Want to burn down a house and watch them burn? Or hex a baby?"

Seamus was glaring at her. "I didn't mean that!"

"What did you mean then? That we should act like Death Eaters, attacking others because of their blood?" Hermione spat. She glanced around the table, noting how many looked ashamed. Even Dean seemed taken aback. "Because that is what happens if you start attacking purebloods indiscriminately!"

"You don't know if those were innocents!" Seamus said. "They could have been Death Eaters!"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, they could have been. It's entirely possible that this was an attack on Death Eaters or their supporters, by a group that knew that." Possible, but unlikely. "But if that was not the case, then we're dealing with a war crime - and with muggleborns acting like Death Eaters."

"It could be a false flag operation, like the bomb in Peacehaven," Justin pointed out.

"Yes. That is possible as well." Hermione nodded again. She saw the rest of the group relax. "I hope, I sincerely hope, that this was not a crime by muggleborns, but either the work of Death Eaters or an attack on them." She took a deep breath. "But if it isn't, then we have a problem."

Everyone was looking at her now.

"If there are muggleborns indiscriminately attacking purebloods, then we need to deal with them - now, or later. If we tolerate such crimes, then we're no better than Death Eaters."

"It's war," Dean said. "Bad things happen."

"Should we let a captured Death Eater go, because 'bad things happen in war'?" Hermione scoffed. "This is not about blood, this is about justice."

"Do you want us to hunt down and kill muggleborns?" John said, looking almost shocked.

"No. We cannot spare the time or people for such, not while we need to hunt down Death Eaters." Voldemort had to die; it was the only way to win this war. "But," she continued, "we need to make it clear in our broadcast that attacking innocents is a crime we'll not tolerate. And, should we discover such crimes, and the culprits, we need to deal with them."

While Justin and Sally-Anne as well as Tania, Mary, Louise and Jeremy nodded, Dean and Seamus looked mulish. Hermione shook her head. "We cannot let such things go, or people will assume we're no better than Death Eaters. And if we tolerate such crimes, then we will be no better than Death Eaters."

She raised her chin. "I'm not fighting this war so I can become a Death Eater. And neither are you."

Seamus and Dean nodded, though slowly. Hermione hoped they understood how important this was.

*****​

Hogwarts, January 1st, 1997

Albus Dumbledore sighed, reading the reports Nymphadora had just delivered. He had feared this - and expected it. With the Death Eaters and most of their supporters in hiding - mainly thanks to the efforts of the Resistance - muggleborns were starting to lash out at any purebloods they could find.

Unless this was another ploy by the Dark Lord. That was a possibility - after Kingsley's death, such a plan certainly would fit Tom. And yet… the Dark Lord would likely have arranged a far more devastating attack, to better frame the Resistance. Although, he might count on that being expected, and deliberately use a weaker attack…

The old wizard shook his head. He lacked enough information to find the truth. And, ultimately, it wasn't even that important whether this was the work of radicalised muggleborns, or Death Eaters acting undercover. After months in hiding, the other muggleborns were likely to follow the apparent example.

And that meant that the war would turn even bloodier as people started to slaughter whoever they could find. Hatred and revenge would spurn all of them on, in a rapidly escalating cycle of violence and murder. At least Miss Granger was, according to Sirius, doing what she could to stop this. Albus just hoped it would be enough.

The wards on his office announced the visitor he expected. "Please come in, Severus," he said, putting a smile on his face despite his thoughts.

"Good evening, Albus." The young Potions master stepped into Albus's office.

Fawkes trilled, but the young man didn't react. Ah, pride and self-loathing - Albus wasn't certain if Severus would ever forgive himself for his past sins. "Please have a seat."

Severus lowered himself into the conjured seat. "The Dark Lord has yet to trust me with his location, but he has forgiven me for 'failing to teach Malfoy how to stay alive', as he put it. But on the other hand, he has yet to summon me to the same place twice."

Albus nodded. Tom was acting with far more caution than in the last war. "Even if he reused some of his meeting places, we would be hard-pressed to prepare traps in all of them that he would not detect." What they needed - Albus and his friend both knew - was Voldemort's home, or base. The location he lived.

"I've been 'cultivating' Bellatrix. She is one of the Dark Lord's most loyal and most trusted servants, and he might take her to his home. She hopes so, at least, which is why she was receptive to certain potions I could offer."

"I am not certain if Tom returns the feelings of Mrs Lestrange," Albus said. It wasn't impossible - Tom had been a charming young man in his youth, and many a witch had fallen for him. But the kind of magic he had used to achieve his limited immortality demanded a price, and Albus doubted that Tom's new body was 'fully functional', as the muggles put it. On the other hand, he had known houngans who had turned themselves into far worse things, without losing such earthly desires.

"He might not, but he might still take her with him, to show her his trust." Severus smiled thinly. "And she'll trust me. I'll find his location, even if it's the last thing I do." He bared his teeth in a parody of a smile.

Albus nodded. There was another way, of course. Tom was very cautious, but he was still meeting his followers. Severus could carry a bomb with him. Shrunken, he could smuggle it inside. Pull it out, and set it off. The effects of the wards would make triggering it difficult, but not impossible - he had checked. Against anyone else, it would be almost certain to work. But against Voldemort? He knew about bombs, as he had so cruelly demonstrated. He was used to treachery, and would expect it. And he was one of the fastest wands Albus knew. Not even Filius was as quick. Would he be able to vanish or transfigure the bomb before it detonated?

Probably. Albus knew he could do the same, after all. He had tested it, just in case a friend of his fell victim to the Imperius, and Voldemort decided to use this ploy on the Headmaster.

Besides, while the death of Voldemort would be a likely fatal blow to his current campaign, it would be temporary. Only Harry could kill the Dark Lord for good. So far, things had not been as dire as to necessitate such a risky plan. But, the Headmaster added, with a glance at the drawer the report was now resting in, he might find himself in a situation where he'd have to ask Severus to sacrifice himself for such a chance sooner than expected.

He looked at Severus, sitting there, stiff and tense. If Albus asked him to, he would do it. Gladly even.

Guilt was a powerful force. Almost as strong as love. Albus knew that very well. Very well indeed.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, January 2nd, 1997

"Ah, Paris, the City of Love! The centre of Courtesan culture! Where love is an artform!"

Harry Potter, waiting next to the Floo connection in Grimmauld Place, narrowed his eyes at his godfather, who had the silliest grin on his face he could manage, without changing into Padfoot. "You know we're traveling to the manor of the Delacours, right?"

Sirius made a dismissive gesture. "Technicalities! We'll be traveling to Paris as soon as possible. And those Delacours… mmm!"

"He does know that if he goes after Fleur, then Bill will kill him, and if he goes after Gabrielle, then everyone will kill him, doesn't he?" Ron asked, leaning against the wall next to Harry.

His friend did not sound like he was entirely joking, Harry thought. He nodded. "Of course he does. He's just doing this to distract himself from the fact that we're about to head out on a dangerous mission."

That earned him a glare from Sirius. "And I was succeeding, until you ruined it."

"Sorry." Harry wasn't that sorry - he still had a slight headache from the Legilimency training with the Headmaster last evening. Or he thought he had a headache; after a few hours of diving through memories, things tended to blur a bit. Things and thoughts. He didn't remember what he had dreamed last night, just that it had been very, very confusing.

The Fireplace flashed, and Harry had his wand out and aimed before a figure stepped out of it. Ron had done the same.

"Ah… good reactions, lads!" Moody grumbled, in his 'pleased' voice. "Still too slow to take me on, and you'd have been as helpless as a flobberworm, had I arrived with a Blasting Curse, since you are far too close, but it's a start."

Harry shrugged, lowering his wand.

"The room's too small for that," Ron said, frowning, "And it's better to be close and in their face if you can't gain enough distance."

"Aye - but where are your Shield Charms then?" Moody shook his head. "You should have cast them already! Constant Vigilance!"

Despite being used to the old Auror, Harry still winced at the volume of Moody's words. He winced even more when he saw Sirius scowling.

"I was told the two were ready for such a mission. If they are still making basic mistakes…" Harry's godfather trailed off and glared at the other wizard.

Moody wasn't impressed, judging by his guffaw. "You weren't ready either, Black, and you want to come as well?"

"The fireplace is warded," Sirius hissed in response.

Harry and Ron started to inch back a bit. Just in case the two needed more room.

"And I could've been imperiused, lad! Constant Vigilance means just that!"

"But if we are always looking and acting like we are about to attack, others will feel threatened. And fear drives many people to making mistakes. Fatal ones, even." Dumbledore was standing in the doorway, smiling slightly. Next to him stood Remus, with a half-smile on his face.

"Weeds out the stupid," Moody said, chuckling.

The Headmaster briefly shook his head, though his expression did not waver. He turned to Harry's godfather. "Sirius, I can assure you that the two boys are ready for this. They might not be the equal to Moody, but they will not be a liability. There are many Aurors and Hit-Wizards who'd not fare well against them."

Sirius grumbled. "That's not exactly reassuring. A Puffskein could probably challenge half the Ministry's recruits in a duel these days."

Moody laughed out loud. "It's not quite that bad, but the Ministry's not getting the cream of the crop these days." He shook his head. "It was the same in the last war - curse fodder, the lot of them, but a few among them had the talent and luck to last." He pointed his thumb at Harry and Ron. "Those two would be among them, with a bit of experience and some blooding."

Harry wanted to say that he had experience, having fought the Dark Lord several times, and having killed already, but held his tongue - saying such things would have had the opposite effect.

"Besides, we're going to France. That's a safe country," Ron said.

"I would not go that far, I think," Dumbledore said. "While the Dark Lord is not active in our neighbouring country, he has sympathisers there as well."

"French Death Eaters? Wouldn't they laugh at his name?" Harry said, snorting.

"No more than once, I think," Remus said.

"And trust Moony to remind everyone of that particular tidbit!" Sirius said.

"Didn't you just try to tell us that this was too dangerous for us?" Harry said.

"Well, it's different when Remus does it," Sirius said, frowning.

Remus rolled his eyes, and muttered something Harry didn't catch.

"I trust you will be on your best behaviour while you are in a foreign country," Dumbledore said. Harry wondered if he had sounded like that when the Marauders had been at Hogwarts and he had to scold them.

"I even know the Old Forms. Mother was quite thorough," Sirius grumbled.

"Um." Harry cleared his throat. "Forms?"

"The pretentious rituals pureblood snobs go through when they are trying to inflate their importance." Sirius scoffed. "No one uses them anymore, though."

"Rules on how to greet strangers and family, how to treat guests… quite fascinating, actually. They date back centuries," Remus said.

"And they haven't been used outside some circles for centuries. I bet not even the Dark Lord uses them," Harry's godfather said.

Harry glanced at Ron, who shrugged.

"Since you are meeting friends, allies, even future family," Dumbledore said, with a glance at Ron, "I do not think you shall have to act as if you are entering into negotiations with a rival family." He gestured at the fireplace. "But best be off now - being late would be rude." With a smile, he added: "Some things have not fallen out of fashion."

Sirius, of course, had to have the last word: "Then why do people call it 'being fashionably late'?"

*****​

Outside Paris, Château De la Cour, France, January 2nd, 1997

"Welcome to my 'umble 'ome!"

Ron Weasley kept smiling, even though he wanted to wince. The home of the Delacour family was anything but humble, no matter what Fleur's father claimed. Judging by the entrance hall they had arrived in, it was a manor, filled with old and expensive furniture. Maybe a palace even - though to judge that, he'd have to see the outside; Extension Charms meant the size of a building couldn't be measured from the inside. Bill, who was standing with Fleur next to her father, had been rather vague when he had talked about his visits. Unsurprisingly - Ron's family was poor, but proud.

The Burrow, now just ruins and rubble, had been a humble home, held together by spells and the hard work of them all. Ron knew he was being unreasonable, but he couldn't help resenting the Delacours for … well, they weren't showing off, and were friends - and family, once Bill married Fleur...

He shook his head. He had to focus on the mission, not on his family's lack of wealth and his own issues.

"'Arry!"

Both Ron and Harry jerked, and Ron almost drew his wand - and wouldn't that have been embarrassing - as a young Veela slipped around her father and made a beeline for Harry, almost bowling the wizard over when she hugged him.

Gabrielle had grown a lot since he had seen her the last time, Ron thought, grinning. Which made her latching on to Harry and babbling in French cute instead of annoying. Especially since Harry didn't understand a word of it. The little witch had also received her wand since the tournament, and started to demonstrate all the spells she had learned so far. Which, fortunately, weren't that many, seeing as she was still a first year. Quite impressive, though, for her to cast while keeping an iron grip on Harry's arm.

"Gabrielle!" A loud voice, close to screeching, actually, cut through the babble and chuckling.

The girl's mother made an appearance, and with a flick of her wand, had the protesting girl floating towards her. She also whispered some words to her husband, probably admonishing him for not having put a stop to this. Just like at home, when Dad would indulge Ginny, Ron thought.

While Harry rubbed some circulation back into his arm, the group followed Mister Delacour to a salon where food and drink waited for them - quite attentive, in Ron's opinion.

"I 'ave informed the Commandant de la Bastille that I'll be giving a few friends a tour," Fleur's father said, gesturing at the trays floating near the seats. "Please indulge yourself!"

"They let tourists tour the prison?" Harry sounded as surprised as Ron felt - he imagined touring Azkaban, and shuddered.

"Not everyone, of course," Mister Delacour answered. "But I 'ave some influence, and some rules can be bent." He smiled widely.

"We might need to visit the wardstones," Remus said. "We're not certain yet, though."

They didn't have to visit, Ron knew that - it was just a decoy operation. But they had to act as if this was their best plan.

"I will see what I can do. We might need to 'ave a few guards with us, though."

"That will not be a problem," Remus said.

Ron agreed - guards were good. Unless they were traitors - but Voldemort wouldn't have that many spies in France, much less in their most secure prison, would he?

"Are there any monsters in the Bastille?" Harry asked. "Like Dementors?"

Ron knew Harry was asking not for himself, but for his godfather. If Sirius had a lapse…

"No." Mister Delacour sounded quite disgusted. "We do not use such foul creatures. The cells of the Bastille are covered with wards, lined with cold iron, reinforced with all the spells we could think of - there is no need to torment our prisoners to keep them from escaping." He chuckled. "It would be rather difficult to place such monsters there, seeing as our prison is in the 'eart of muggle Paris."

Some Death Eaters would probably consider that a fate worse than death, but it sounded like a much better system than Azkaban, Ron thought. More expensive, of course. Which meant that the British Ministry of Magic wouldn't switch unless, or until forced to. He saw Harry pat Sirius's shoulder, and the older wizard grab Harry's hand for a moment, and looked away. That felt a bit too personal to watch.

"Who is guarding the prisoners? Aurors?" Ron asked, mostly to distract himself.

"No, our Gendarmes are not serving as prison guards. We have specially trained people for that."

Ron exchanged a glance with Harry. "Hermione would love it if Britain had the same system."

His friend nodded. "We'll tell her about it."

*****​

Paris, beneath the Place de la Bastille, France, January 2nd, 1997

Hermione wouldn't like the Bastille, Harry Potter thought, walking behind Mister Delacour and the Warden of the Bastille. The Prison was completely underground, prisoners and guards both missing daylight, and the tunnels they were walking through were damp and gloomy.

As were the prisoners - he could hear some of them moan or mutter in their cells. This wasn't a modern prison; this was a medieval dungeon, he thought. They had even seen the torture chamber - which, to Harry's relief, wasn't being used anymore, but was still being kept ready to use since technically, murdering the Duc, the ruler of Magical France, was still punished by being tortured to death.

The laughter of the warden during his explanation - he spoke English, although with an accent of course - hadn't endeared the man to Harry. He couldn't help but think that the French wizard reminded him of Umbridge - a sadist just waiting for the occasion to indulge himself.

He gripped his wand more tightly - the tunnels lacked sufficient lighting. People needed to use their wands to light their way, which would reveal their position even when disillusioned. Moody had griped about that some, but had acknowledged that it might help in case there was an attempt at breaking out.

His eyes fell on a wall, where words had been scratched into the stones. "Mort au directeur!" He frowned and stepped closer, cocking his head to the side to see if he could make out more.

Then the words disappeared in front of him, and the warden stashed his wand. "I'm deeply sorry, we 'ave some regular vandalism by our ghosts."

"Ghosts?" Harry hadn't noticed any.

"Many people were executed in ze Bastille. Some of zem stayed after death." The man smiled as they went down yet another stairway. "Now, 'ere is our second to lowest level, and our most secure. The worst prisoners are incarcerated here. Dark wizards." He sneered. "Zey do not even leave zis place after death - zeir bodies are buried in our catacombs." He didn't ask if Sirius could escape from those cells - Sirius's answer when he had asked that for the first time, in the upper levels, had not been pretty.

"Catacombs?" Harry had a bad feeling about this, but he had to ask - he had felt a shadow of Voldemort since he had entered the prison, but he hadn't sensed where it was coming from. But it had grown a bit stronger, now. Or so he thought.

"Yes. Small, but we don't need more - not many criminals are as bad as to merit imprisonment even after zeir death." The warden smiled.

"I trust that this is a symbolic imprisonment," Sirius said. "And that their souls pass over."

"Of course." The warden nodded. "Although I like to imagine ze worst monsters being imprisoned 'ere forever."

Harry believed that at once.

Remus shuddered - the wizard had been ill at ease ever since they had passed the section where unregistered werewolves were being kept. He wasn't unregistered, Harry knew, not since he had been outed in their third year, but to think he could have ended up in a place like this for hiding his condition…

"There is a cemetery in Azkaban as well. Many prisoners are forgotten by their families, and their bodies are not claimed after their deaths," Sirius said.

"I think we should take a look at those catacombs," Harry said. Judging by the looks that earned him, not many shared his opinion.

Well, tough for them - he was risking his life here, and he was the one struggling with a headache! And the pain in his legs from walking for hours was amplified by his modified Supersensory Charm as well.

Even the smarmy warden hesitated, before nodding. "Of course. Please follow me."

Another staircase down. Harry briefly leaned close to the walls. They were covered with scratched threats to the warden. The man didn't notice, and Harry doubted anyone but Moody noticed them without specifically looking for them - how Moody managed to function with what had to be a sort of Supersensory Charm constantly active, Harry couldn't imagine.

Another turn, and he hissed when the pain started to grow worse. There was definitely a Horcrux there.

"You alright, lad?" Moody asked, in a whisper the others would miss.

He nodded in response. He had gone through worse. Especially in training. They reached a large door, and the Warden fiddled with an ancient-looking key.

"Zis is ze lowest level, or part of it. The wardstones are in another room, of course, unconnected to zis room." The warden pushed the door open. "Behold ze catacombs of ze Bastille!"

Harry drew a sharp breath, mostly due to the increasing pain - the view itself was not too overwhelming. Lots of niches, with cheap-looking coffins in them. Or bags, linen bags, all of them covered with a thick layer of dust, as was the floor, though fading footsteps could be seen there. There was no smell though, other than dry dust.

He slowly moved to the sides, and then ahead. The pain grew when he headed towards the far wall. He nodded at Bill, who looked grim, then started to wave his wand around.

"Monsieur?" The warden sounded alarmed.

"Beel's just checking for curses," Fleur said with a smile. "'e's a bit overprotective of me."

The wizard chuckled. "Well, I can assure you that zere's nothing to fear 'ere - none of the guards have ever been 'urt when burying a prisoner." He stepped forward and spread his arms. "Zese prisoners 'ere are not dangerous anymore!"

"But the curses are," Bill said, in a strained voice. "There is a curse on that coffin back there." He pointed at a coffin in the middle of the rows.

"What? What kind of curse?" The warden turned to look at the coffin.

"I don't know. The coffin is under some kind of transfiguration. It looks simple, but I'm certain that it's a complex one." Bill shook his head. "I haven't encountered this type of curse yet."

"I think it would be best if we call in a few more Curse-Breakers," Mister Delacour said. "Do you agree, Monsieur le Directeur?"

The man shook his head, then nodded. "Of course." Suddenly, he pointed his wand at the door and cast a spell at it Harry didn't know. He fell down, struck by four stunners and a Bludgeoning Curse courtesy of Moody, a second later.

"That was a sealing spell!" Moody barked. "Forget that coffin, and get that door open, lad!" the old Auror bellowed at Bill.

Bill's answer was lost in the noise of dozens of coffins opening and linen bags being torn.

*****​

"Inferi!"

For a second, Ron Weasley stared with horror at the monsters tearing their way out of linen wrappings and wooden coffins. Then training took over. He cast a Bubble-Head Charm - you couldn't trust the air in confined places if you fought there - and stepped up to Harry, who was just about to do the same. Either he had been slower than usual… Ron shook his head. Harry had had to cancel the Supersensory Charm first, or he'd be taken out by the first wound.

"Seal the other half of the room off!" Moody bellowed while his wand spat fire at one monster that had slid free of the remains of its coffin and was walking towards them. Ron turned to conjure a wall, together with Harry. They weren't the only ones - solid stone filled the room, wall to wall.

That still left them trapped with two dozens of the monsters. Ron cast a Shield Charm. Bill was slinging spell after spell at the door, but there was no effect as far as Ron could tell, not with the quick glance he spared, before setting an Inferius afire that had just rolled out of its niche, then cutting its legs off with another curse. It started thrashing on the ground, setting another alight. A third charged at him, but Harry blew it back with a Reductor Curse, covering him as they had trained to.

The room was rapidly filling with smoke, and while their Bubble-Head Charms kept them breathing, it was becoming harder to spot the enemies. At least for anyone without an enchanted eye.

Moody was in a frenzy, cutting down monsters left and right. "Fall back, we need to seal more of them off!"

Harry and Ron obeyed at once, falling back towards Bill and Fleur, who were now working together on the door. Ron sent a creature that looked to be more bones than dried meat back with a Bludgeoning Curse, and Harry conjured a cage around it, trapping it. Sirius and Remus were close by, but Mister Delacour…

Fleur's father had been moving to the downed warden and had been surprised by two of the monsters. Both were burning, but he was cut off now. Ron saw him casting at one monster, trying to open a path, but another smashed into Mister Delacour, hands turned to claws glancing off the French wizard's Shield Charm. Another was fended off as well, then the shield failed, and a third raked its claws over the wizard's back.

His scream prompted a yell by Fleur: "Papa!" Seconds later, an enraged transformed Veela charged the Inferi, fireballs flying from her hands at them. Half a dozen of them were struck and caught fire- they had to be as dry as tinder, Ron realised - but they were still moving, and still attacking Mister Delacour - and now Fleur as well.

"Depulso!" Harry yelled next to him. The Banishing Curse threw one Inferi into another, pushing both away from Fleur, into the thickening smoke from their burning brethren.

Ron followed Harry's example, though he only hit one the monsters. Another reached Fleur, but the witch dodged its grasping arms and slid over the floor. More curses hit the ones attacking - striking - at Mister Delacour.

"Accio Antoine's robes!" Ron heard Bill yell, and from amidst the fight, Mister Delacour shot out, and towards Ron's brother. Ron didn't know if the man was still alive - he was busy trying to stay alive himself. Covering Fleur had left him and Harry up for an attack by more of the monsters, and if the two of them fell back further, they'd expose Sirius and Remus, who were moving to protect Fleur. Visibility was shrinking, too, with each burning creature.

Ron clenched his teeth and cast a Reductor Curse at the closest Inferi, blowing its head off. Then he cursed himself for his stupidity - they didn't need their heads. Moody had taught them to always go for their legs first. A Blasting Curse took care of that, but strained his and Harry's Shield Charms. That was far too close now. Ron wanted to turn and flee, but he couldn't. He couldn't leave Harry, or the others. Not that he could flee anyway.

"Don't waste your time, boy!" Moody, who was holding down one flank all by himself, shouted at Bill. "Open that door or we all die!" Ron didn't know what Bill was doing, probably treating Mister Delacour's wounds.

Fleur had managed to reach Sirius and Remus, by jumping or flying over two of the monsters, but she had been hurt as well, bleeding from a gash on her shoulder. And behind her, a dozen burning Inferi were advancing out of the smoke. Remus conjured another wall, but it couldn't contain them all - two slid around it, and charged him. The werewolf managed to stop one with a Reductor Curse that blew its chest apart, but the other hit him, and dragged him down on the floor, where the burning monster and the struggling wizard rolled around.

Ron saw Sirius jump to Remus's aid, transforming, before he had to dodge a legless Inferius which had dragged itself towards him. He destroyed it with another Blasting Curse. "Sirius!" he heard Harry yell. Ron didn't need to check to know Harry was moving to help his godfather.

But that left him to cover the flank - and two more of the monsters were still coming. A Banishing Curse threw one of them back, into the burning remains of another. The second swiped at him, but Ron ducked, pointed his wand at the enemy's belly and cast a Reductor Curse.

His shield stopped most of the chunks of dead flesh and bones before it failed. Ron turned to check on Harry when he caught something jumping at him out of the smoke. He didn't manage to evade, and screamed when he was smashed into the stone floor, then again when claws ripped over his chest, tearing his robe and skin. He kicked at the monster and fended off a claw swipe at his face that left his arm a bleeding, hurting mess.

"Depulso!"

His Banishing Charm ripped the monster off him, and sent it up into the ceiling. Ron rolled to the side, over his wounded arm - Merlin's Balls, that hurt! - and caught the creature with a Blasting Curse before it could get back up. Panting, he tried to scramble to his feet, but his arm was hurting so much, he took two tries to get up.

Another of the Inferi was climbing along the ceiling, he noticed, barely visible in the smoke. "Watch out, they're climbing!" Ron yelled, casting again, trying to ignore his bleeding arm and the pain that seemed to be everywhere.

Harry was at his side again, restoring one of the walls that had been battered down - when had that happened? - while behind him, Sirius dragged Remus, or Remus's body, towards the door. Harry was bleeding too, Ron noted, from his side.

Next to him, his friend blew a crumbling wall apart, toppling three of the creatures over, before conjuring a new one. But before they were sealed off again, Ron had caught a glimpse of dozens more of the Inferi, waiting to attack.

They would be dying here, he realised. Torn apart by undead monsters. Probably turned into Inferi as well, later. The Dark Lord would like this. Rage filled him. He'd not die like this! He'd not become a tool of the Dark Lord! He started casting at a burning monster still trying to reach them.

"It's open! Go go go!"

Ron whipped his head around, saw the door open, and was moving at once. Moody was there, covering the retreat. He didn't see the warden, and didn't care. Traitors should die. Fleur was levitating her father, or so he thought. Another Inferius pushed itself through a gap, and Ron cast a Reductor Curse at it. He missed, though, and blew part of the wall up, letting the monster charge - but Harry got it with a Cutting Curse.

Then they were past the door, on the stairs, and Moody pulled the door closed, then cast a spell at it.

"That should hold them for a while."

They still rushed back up a level, and filled the entire stairway with stone before stopping to treat their wounds.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 26: Sacrifices

'As has been detailed, the loss of two dozen Aurors in a failed ambush was a shock for the Ministry, prompting Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge to question his policies. In the same vein, the firebomb attack on a group of purebloods celebrating the new year in Diagon Alley and the following events caused the Muggleborn Resistance to reconsider their latest messages, as evidenced by the first broadcast of the Resistance Radio in 1997. Contrary to some of my colleagues, I do not consider those events by themselves as crucial for the war. Instead I postulate that the consequences of the change in policies those events caused were of critical importance for the outcome of the war. Not only was Albus Dumbledore's role as a link between the Ministry and the Resistance exposed, but also a possible way to mend the rift between the two factions. It was thus only logical that the Dark Lord would react to those developments.'
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

Paris, beneath the Place de la Bastille, France, January 2nd, 1997

Harry Potter leaned against the wall, next to a prison cell, and gulped down air. Now that he wasn't fighting for his life any more, he felt each breath hurting the wound in his right side despite the fact that he had stopped the bleeding with a quick Episkey. At least there wouldn't be internal bleeding since it had been an open wound. It still hurt. He clenched his teeth, and told himself that he had suffered worse in training. At least worse pain. And, he added, looking at his friends, he wasn't the worst wounded. Not by far.

Mister Delacour… Harry winced. Bill and Moody, the only ones untouched by the Inferi, as well as Fleur, were working frantically to keep the French wizard alive. They were pouring potions into him and casting spells, and Harry didn't know if they would succeed. So much blood, so many wounds… one leg had been almost torn off, and the arms… Harry looked away when he saw the tears running down Fleur's face, mixing with the blood from wounds she was ignoring as she struggled to save her father.

Harry's own skills at Healing were rather pathetic, so he pushed himself off the wall and walked - slowly, carefully - over to Sirius, who was running his wand over Remus's unconscious form. Sirius himself looked bruised, one eye swelling shut, with several red scratches visible on his face. His thick fur as a Grim must have protected him, Harry thought.

"He's going to be alright," Harry's godfather said, before the boy could ask. "I need to get help now - watch the others!"

With that, Sirius transformed into a Grim and took off, racing to the stairs leading to the upper levels. They had sent a Patronus Messenger off already, but that had gone to the Delacours, and they might be delayed - one didn't simply walk into the Bastille, much less rush into the prison, even in an emergency.

Harry looked at Remus. Sirius had said he'd be OK, but... the man looked in bad shape, as Moody would call it. Battered and bruised, claw marks dotting his chest and arms, and also burned from wrestling with an Inferius that had been ablaze. And he had taken at least one hit to the head, knocking him unconscious. That was dangerous, Harry knew - Madam Pomfrey had lectured him often enough about his Quidditch injuries. But once again, there was nothing he could do there.

Harry could help Ron, though - his friend was sitting on the ground, trying to aim his wand at his left arm. "Let me," he said, crouching down and flicking his wand. "Episkey."

It took two more castings until the deep gashes in Ron's arm had closed and the bleeding stopped. "A bit deeper, and it would have taken your arm off," Harry muttered.

"Better my arm than my face," Ron said. "And it's not my wand arm, so it's the expendable one."

"You've been listening to Moody a bit too much," Harry said, chuckling. It wasn't that funny. It wasn't funny at all. But he'd rather laugh than cry. He waved his wand, and the cuts in Ron's chest closed as well.

"Thanks." Ron smiled, tiredly.

Harry knew his friend was still in pain - like himself. He sat down next to him. Neither of the two was looking at the desperate struggle for a man's life going on right next to them. As long as Fleur didn't scream, Harry thought, then her father was still alive. That was all he needed, and wanted, to know.

*****​

Outside Paris, Château De la Cour, France, January 2nd, 1997

"So much for Harry being safe! All of us are hurt, and Fleur's father almost died. Might yet die!"

Harry Potter winced at the anger audible in Sirius's voice. He wanted to say something, but held his tongue - Sirius still hadn't calmed down, and Harry didn't want to make things worse.

Moody, of course, had no such concerns. "The Healers in the Hôpital Hermétique aren't that bad. Delacour wasn't cursed, so as long as he arrived there alive, he'll be fine. As will your friend."

Harry was glad for their privacy spells - even if the Delacours and Bill weren't at the Hôpital. Moody was a bit too callous when talking about the battle, in his opinion.

The old Auror shrugged. "Besides, neither me nor the lad's brother got hurt, and neither did you. Scratches don't count."

Harry saw Sirius's hand twitch, and for a moment, he feared that his godfather would start something, but the wizard controlled himself. "We almost died!" he said in a clipped tone Harry had seldom heard from him. "Harry and Ron almost died!"

"They didn't, though, and they performed well."

"They're not bloody Aurors!" Sirius spat.

"Not yet, no." Moody grinned. "I'm working on that, though. We'll need good people in the Corps after the war."

Harry cleared his throat. The two looked at him, as did Ron. "Err… how did Voldemort manage to infiltrate the Bastille like that? I thought it was the most secure place in France." The Horcrux in Gringotts hadn't been protected that well.

Moody snorted. "He probably placed the thing there in the 60s, before he started the war. The French were just slacking off back then, with their security, twenty years after Grindelwald."

"And did he imperius the warden as well back then?"

"Maybe. Wish we could ask him, but…"

Harry winced. The Inferi had swarmed over the unconscious warden. Even if they had not attacked the man, he'd likely would have died when the fires in the room had consumed all the air. He felt guilty about that, and about being glad that the warden had died, and not someone else.

"We haven't even destroyed the Horcrux!" Sirius said.

"I've sent word to Albus. He'll take care of that," Moody said. "Some good might come off this too - the French are bound to be unhappy about the Dark Lord putting traps in their dungeon, and almost killing Delacour."

Sirius ground his teeth, then looked at Harry for a moment.

"I'll be OK. Go and see Remus!" Harry knew his godfather was torn between watching out for him, and checking up on Remus. But he was safe here, relatively. Safer, at least, than he'd be if Sirius started a fight.

When his godfather had left through the Floo connection, Harry relaxed. At least until Ron, who had been silent so far, spoke up.

"What do we tell Mum?"

*****​

Hogwarts, January 2nd, 1997

Albus Dumbledore sighed when he returned to his office. Fawkes, picking up on his mood, left his perch and landed on the wizard's shoulder, nipping at his ear and trilling softly. The Headmaster smiled at his companion, but didn't really feel better.

Sirius had - understandably - been livid about the close brush with death Harry had had. Alastor's gruff words hadn't helped, of course, but Albus had been able to handle Sirius. Or rather, he had let Harry handle his godfather. Sirius had, after a lengthy argument, caved in. As Albus had expected. The Headmaster wasn't proud of having manipulated both of them like this, but needs must - Voldemort could not know Albus's real plan to defeat him once and for all. The Dark Lord had to believe that they were hunting his Horcruxes, as futile as that was. Even if it meant risking Harry.

Albus scoffed. Harry might even be safer now - if Voldemort was convinced that the traps protecting his Horcruxes could kill the Boy-Who-Lived, then he might not make an effort to kill the lad with other means. Of course, if Tom's other traps turned out to be even more lethal than the one in the Bastille, the Dark Lord might very well be correct. It was all hypothetical anyway - Albus could not trust Tom to be that careless.

The trap had been lethal, though fortunately only the compromised warden had been killed, although Antoine Delacour had come very close to dying, and from what the Headmaster had gathered, it had been a near thing for the others as well. If it had been just Alastor and the boys… he shuddered at the thought, and Fawkes redoubled his efforts to cheer him up.

Albus didn't know how Tom had managed to hide Inferi in the very heart of the Bastille, right under the nose of the Duc's Court. The French might have grown sloppy and careless in the time since Albus had fought at their side against Grindelwald. Or the warden had been a more active spy for the Dark Lord than other moles. Or - the most unsettling possibility - Tom might have found a way to fool conventional detection spells. In his search for a counter-curse to help the two Creevey brothers, Albus had read reports of British wizards being surprised by zombies in Jamaica, during the island's rebellion. If Tom had managed to acquire the knowledge of the Houngans…

He ran a hand over his beard, smoothing out what Fawkes's attempts to groom him had wrought. First, this withering curse, now another possible connection. Albus might have to investigate this more closely. The Dark Lord with the secrets of the Houngans at his disposal was a terrifying possibility.

But that would cost time, time he could barely spare. He had to handle the incident in France, and the growing crisis in Britain. The first should not pose too many problems - at least not on the French side. The Duc d'Orléans was livid that one of his closest friends had been almost killed by a trap of a British criminal - and enraged and embarrassed that this trap had been placed inside one of the most secure locations of Magical France. Albus smiled. The French were proud wizards, and after this, even their blood bigots would be very unlikely to lend any aid to Voldemort. Quite the contrary, actually - Magical France would be a very hostile country for the Death Eaters. The Duc was not willing to intervene in England, though - but that was not necessarily a bad thing. Albus didn't think the Ministry and the Wizengamot would react well to a French intervention - and Tom would call it an invasion in a heartbeat.

The Delacours, of course, wanted blood and would not be content to stay in France. In private, the Duc condoned that, but officially, it was the family's decision. It didn't matter, though - their support would be a great boon for the Order - they needed skilled fighters more than anything else, right now.

Which brought Albus's thoughts to the brewing crisis in Britain. Because of that firebombing in Diagon Alley, and the resulting outrage among the purebloods, Cornelius was reconsidering his decision to stop persecuting and discriminating against the muggleborns. The Order was spreading the rumour that this had been an attack by Death Eaters to frame the muggleborns - which, Albus hoped, was actually the truth; the alternative was far worse - but it didn't help much. Many purebloods were too afraid, or too angry, to see reason. They wanted revenge.

The Headmaster snorted at the irony - he was certain that the muggleborns shared those exact sentiments. He closed his eyes. Maybe he should arrange for Amelia's Aurors to catch some purebloods masquerading as muggleborns?

It would certainly deal Tom a heavy blow. But he'd need some Death Eaters to frame for it. And they were hard to come by. Of course, there were alternatives. Not all supporters of Voldemort were marked. Or even following his orders. Some simply shared his goals. They would be cautious, though, since their views were known.

And Voldemort wouldn't be sacrificing such useful allies for such a ploy. No, he'd use the dregs of his followers, the scum attracted by the promise of riches, and the opportunity to indulge their base desires. Wizards and witches the Dark Lord would not miss.

Wizards and witches Albus would not feel too guilty about using for his plan - no matter if they were working for the Dark Lord, or not.

He petted Fawkes, grabbed a lemon drop, and summoned a piece of parchment. He had to write to his brother. Aberforth knew his way around such people, and where to find them. More importantly, though, he was, unlike Mundungus, quite capable of capturing them as well. Although a bit of help might not go amiss.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, January 3rd, 1997

"You what?"

Ron Weasley cringed. His mum had just heard about Paris. Fortunately, the privacy spells on this room in Sirius's house were very powerful - that yell would have been heard in Hogwarts otherwise.

There had been some discussion about not telling her - Moody had cited 'operational security'. Both Dumbledore and Sirius had insisted on telling her, though. Sirius probably so he had some help trying to keep Harry safe. Dumbledore… Ron didn't know why the Headmaster was doing this. He'd be blamed the most. Ron was torn himself. On one hand, he didn't want his parents to worry about him. On the other hand, he didn't want to lie to them either.

"While they were on a mission in Paris, they encountered a trap of the Dark Lord. They were able to handle it, although one follower of Voldemort was killed in the process, and Miss Delacour's father nearly died." Dumbledore was telling the truth, though he was also being a bit economical with it, or so Ron thought. Or maybe that was diplomatic.

"Ron!"

"I'm fine, Mum!" Ron said quickly, forcing himself to smile.

"Were you hurt?"

Ron hesitated for a moment, glancing at the Headmaster. Should he lie? His mum usually saw through his lies.

"You were!" Apparently, she didn't need Legilimency to read his thoughts either. "Albus! Are you sending children into combat now?"

Ron cringed. His mum was truly livid. And she had her wand out.

"Yes, he is," Sirius grumbled.

Ron glared at the wizard, and saw Harry was doing the same.

"We volunteered," Ron's friend said.

"You're too young!" The witch turned to Ron's dad. "Arthur!"

Ron's dad didn't yell, or curse. But Ron knew his expression, even though he had rarely seen it. The wizard was angry. "I would like to know why my youngest son was on a mission for the Order - and had to fight for his life."

"Harry is the Boy-Who-Lived. He has fought Voldemort three times already, four if you count 1981," Dumbledore calmly said. "The Dark Lord will not rest until Harry's dead - preferably killed by his own hand."

"And you send him out there, where the Dark Lord can get to him?" Molly shook her head. "Are you mad?"

"Yes!" Sirius said.

"Harry is crucial for the defeat of Voldemort. Believe me, I'd prefer to keep him behind Hogwarts' wards for the duration of the war, if that was possible. But as things are, the mission, despite the danger, was needed to keep him safe."

Ron heard Harry snort at Dumbledore's words. "I told Sirius already: I'm not going to hide. I'm going to do what I need to. Just as you all are." Scoffing, he added: "There is no choice anyway. This fight started even before I was born, and it will end only once one of us is dead."

Ron saw his mum blink, open her mouth, then close it as the realisation sank in. "Merlin's Ghost!" She turned her head to Albus. "Don't tell me…"

"You might say it is fated," the Headmaster said. Ron couldn't tell if he was angry at Harry for spilling his secret. "We are doing what we can to help him, train him, of course. Needless to say, this has to be kept secret at all costs."

"Will you obliviate them?" Ron said, without thinking, earning him sharp looks from everyone.

"Your parents know how to keep secrets," Dumbledore said. "They proved that in the last war, and in this war."

They knew Occlumency then, Ron thought. And they had never told him. They had never said much about the war - and he and his siblings had rarely asked; they all knew that Mum had lost her brothers to a Death Eater ambush and that it hurt her to think about them.

"But Ron…"

He raised his chin. "I'm not going to leave Harry to face this alone," he said, as forcefully as possible. He wanted to say that he'd be 17 and not a child any more in three months, but didn't. His parents knew that already. "It's bad enough that we left Hermione alone." They shouldn't have listened to her when she told them to stay at Hogwarts, he thought, not for the first time. And not for the last time either.

His mum opened her mouth, but his dad put his hand on her shoulder. "We can't stop them, Molly," he said quietly.

"All of them, Arthur," Ron heard his mother whisper in the sudden silence. "All of my sons going to war. Fighting, getting hurt, getting…" Whatever she had been about to say was swallowed by her sobs.

Ron closed his eyes when his mum started to cry in his dad's arms. He didn't want to see that. It was bad enough to hear it. He felt terribly guilty about doing this to his parents - but he'd feel even worse if he let his friends down.

And he knew that trying to hide this from them would have been wrong. He clenched his teeth, then opened his eyes, and walked over to hug his parents.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, January 3rd, 1997

"How's your mum?" Harry Potter asked when Ron entered the entrance hall in Grimmauld Place.

"She's busy in the kitchen," his friend answered. "Preparing for our guests."

Harry felt a bit irked at that - this was Sirius's, Remus's and his home. Everyone else was a guest. Even if they were staying for a long time. He didn't say anything, though.

"She's still not alright with it, of course," Ron continued. "Can't blame her, either."

Harry nodded. "Sirius's the same."

"I wonder how her parents feel about the war," Ron said. He didn't have to say who he was talking about.

"We can ask her next time we meet her." Harry wondered how much Hermione had told her parents. And if she felt guilty about worrying them.

Ron nodded, leaning against the wall. "When are the French expected to arrive?"

"Few more minutes." Harry joined him. His side still ached a bit, and he rubbed his ribs.

Ron snorted. When Harry looked at him, he said: "I just imagined Gabrielle coming with them. Mum would probably personally drag her back to France."

Harry chuckled. Fleur's little sister had sworn to repay her father's injury tenfold - as soon as she came of age. She had been serious too, and it wasn't really funny when you thought about it, given the circumstances, but the pint-sized Veela had just looked too cute with her wand raised.

"Do you think there'll be many Veela?" Ron asked.

Harry glanced at him. "I had the impression there'd be a few, at least. They seemed quite close. The family, I mean." Unlike his own relatives. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering if there'll be trouble."

"Ah." Harry thought about it, then shook his head. "I doubt it. We're not at Hogwarts." There weren't that many unattached wizards in Grimmauld Place. And he and Ron were too young. And taken.

For a brief moment, he imagined Ron falling for a Veela. That would leave Hermione for him. He shook his head. He was better than that. But it would still be nice, and leave everyone happy.

Sirius entered the room, took a look at them, and grinned. "Oh… can't wait for the Veela to arrive, huh? If your girlfriend knew that!"

Harry shot him a glare. "We're being good hosts, since we didn't know if you'd be late."

"Me, late to meet pretty witches? Never!" His godfather's grin widened, then he leered exaggeratedly.

"I should have brought the burn ointment," Harry said to Ron. "He'll need it."

His friend nodded while Sirius frowned. "Hey!"

The fireplace flared up, and all three wizards took a step forward. Instead of the Delacours, the Headmaster stepped out of the flames. "Good evening, Sirius, Harry, Ron."

Harry's godfather nodded. He was still angry, Harry thought.

"Good evening, sir," the two boys chorused.

"I take it that our French friends have yet to arrive?" Dumbledore said while brushing some soot off his robes.

"They shouldn't be long now," Sirius said, looking at his watch instead of Dumbledore.

If the old wizard noticed Sirius's mood, then he didn't say anything about it. He simply stood there, waiting. And smiling.

"Did you talk to the French Ministry?" Harry asked, as much out of curiosity as to simply pass the time.

"It is actually the French Court, not the Ministry," the Headmaster said, "and yes, I did. To the Duc in person. He has agreed to keep the attack a secret, and blame the death of the warden on a curse at his home."

"Voldemort will suspect something if his agent is cursed," Ron said.

"He will. And he will discover that you triggered his trap, but survived. And that I tried to hide that. That should convince him that we're focusing on hunting his soul anchors."

"Ah." Ron nodded, as did Harry.

Sirius grumbled something Harry didn't catch. And didn't want to.

Then the fireplace flared up again, and Fleur stepped through, followed by Bill. Harry didn't see any sign of the wounds they had taken yesterday on them. The way they moved - Moody had trained them to pay attention to that - didn't show any lingering pain either.

More people arrived while Sirius greeted the couple.

"Blimey," Ron said, quietly enough that Harry doubted anyone but himself heard it. "Must be a dozen of them."

His friend was correct, Harry thought. And among them, five Veela. No, four - that witch was too plain for a Veela, he thought.

"Welcome to my humble home!" Sirius said, with a sweeping bow. His angry mood seemed to have evaporated in the face of pretty witches. Pretty, smiling and giggling witches.

Harry sighed. He sincerely hoped this wouldn't lead to trouble.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, January 3rd, 1997

"The Muggleborn Resistance stands for justice! Our war is not with the purebloods - we fight Death Eaters and everyone else who supports them. We do not attack purebloods for being purebloods! We do not attack those who do not fight us."

Albus Dumbledore, in disguise, nodded to the words of the Resistance Radio which filled the Hog's Head Inn. Miss Granger stuck to her ideals.

"We have been persecuted, hunted like animals, simply because we were not born to wizards and witches. Our enemies happen to be purebloods, and loudly claim to fight for pureblood culture and values. It's only natural to want revenge. To fight back using the same means that our foes use."

Once again Albus nodded. Far too easy for many, he knew.

"But we cannot! For if we stooped to such levels, we'd be no better than the Death Eaters! Purebloods are not our enemies - Death Eaters and bigots are. Many purebloods risk their lives fighting the Dark Lord's forces. They defy him just as we do. Blood doesn't mean anything to them, nor to us."

Aberforth, sitting across from him, snorted. His brother was quite the cynic, Albus thought. Or, to be more precise, Aberforth wanted to be a cynic. But the Headmaster was quite certain that his brother had not managed that. Aberforth cared too much, no matter how much he tried to hide it. And, Albus added, catching the other's glare, he still blamed Albus for much of his pain. Not entirely unfairly, he had to admit.

"Every pureblood killed just for being a pureblood is a blow against us. Each of those murders directly helps the Dark Lord, for the bigots want to make this war into a blood war. They want to turn this war into purebloods against muggleborns. They want to drag us down to their level so all of the purebloods will join them out of fear and hatred. And each time a group of muggleborns decides to go and hurt purebloods, they get closer to their goal."

Albus wasn't certain how effective this appeal would be. If it saved even one innocent life it would have been worth it, but he doubted that it would keep every muggleborn from lashing out, or worse.

"That doesn't mean you cannot fight. There are many purebloods who have, in word and deed, shown their allegiance with the Dark Lord. Those who fight for him, hidden beneath masks, and those who act in his interest while appearing to be independent. Those are our enemies. Those are the ones who want to kill us all. Members of the Wizengamot. Ministry employees. Journalists. And so-called concerned citizens.

"Adalbert Avery, Auror. Beatrice Avery, Ministry employee in the Floo Network Authority. Hermann Bulstrode, member of the Wizengamot. Winnifred Burke, Journalist. …"

Albus closed his eyes. "Proscriptions," he whispered. Death lists.

"Was that your idea?" Aberforth looked at him.

Albus couldn't tell if his brother approved of this turn of events or despised it. "I knew about it." He could have stopped it, maybe. But Miss Granger had been quite convincing - those who wanted to fight needed targets, or they'd seek their own. Albus had his reservations, still - to name people to be killed felt a bit too much like the practice of the Death Eaters.

His brother snorted. "Did you check the names?"

He nodded, slowly.

"And are you afraid you made a mistake, and left an innocent on the list?"

"Not particularly." He trusted his information. And his spies.

"What's eating you then? Are you feeling sorry for the scum who caused this damn war?" Aberforth narrowed his eyes at him.

"Even with the lists being spread as leaflets, people might add names for various reasons. And once the practice of proscriptions has been established, it is difficult to stop. People can turn into a mob quite easily." Albus knew how quickly an enraged group could turn onto a perceived enemy, and how brutal men could act if they thought themselves justified.

The other wizard shrugged. "The Death Eaters and their bootlickers are reaping what they have sown. Yes, there'll be some excess, but it's better than a bloodbath in Diagon Alley."

"Which might still happen anyway." Both of them knew about Mister Baker, after all. The former member of the Resistance would not be the only muggleborn who had 'gone over the edge', as Kingsley used to call it. Albus felt a brief pang of sorrow, thinking of his dead friend.

"Oh, yes. But it's a bit less likely now."

That was true. And Miss Granger's influence on the muggleborns had grown again, Albus thought. This would be a great boon for a negotiated peace, should the opportunity present itself. He nodded.

"But you didn't visit me to listen to the Muggleborn Wireless. What do you want, Albus?" Aberforth asked in a harsh voice.

"I need a few of those people who were just named. Alive, and reasonably unhurt." The Headmaster almost smiled when he saw Aberforth's eyebrows rise. "I need them to keep the Dark Lord from using those attacks for his own goals."

His brother stiffened for a moment, then nodded.

Albus had expected that. Even if Aberforth liked to claim that Albus was manipulating people and plotting without care for those his plans hurt, his younger brother was no stranger to such ploys himself.

Something, the Headmaster knew, his brother blamed him for as well. And not entirely unfairly.

*****​

London, Sutton, January 3rd, 1997

"... Brenda Brocktuckle, Auror, …"

Brenda Brocktuckle, sitting in their muggle flat next to the wireless receiver, gasped. Those mudbloods… no, that mudblood had dared! Called out to the other mudbloods to murder her! For a moment, she felt fear. To be singled out like that… like others who had been murdered. But she fought the feeling down. She was an Auror! A veteran Auror! Not some Ministry clerk trembling in her Madam Malkin's special offer boots! She grinned grimly. So, Granger felt it was personal as well. Good.

"Wow, the mudbloods really did it - they openly declared their intentions to murder every pureblood who does not bow to them!" Parkinson, sitting next to her in that infuriatingly casual manner of his, with his arm propped up on the table, was shaking his head in what looked like cynical amusement, Brenda noted. "I wonder if they list me as well."

Brenda narrowed her eyes, she was certain that the other Auror wouldn't be jealous if the mudbloods didn't list him as a target, but… Ah! "Since you're not that prominent, it means they might have spies inside the Auror Corps."

"Or someone in the Corps has loose lips," Parkinson said, "and is talking to a spy."

Brenda sighed. "Right." Office gossip, the bane of investigations - in more than one way.

"... Malcolm Parkinson, Auror, …"

"Ah, there I go. The mudbloods do know of me!" Brenda's flatmate definitely sounded amused now.

She didn't share the sentiment. "It's not a good thing."

He shrugged. "It's not as if the mudbloods can find us, or anyone else on the list who's smarter than the average Flobberworm."

Brenda shook her head. "Some might not even know that the mudbloods want them dead." After all, Brenda wasn't a Death Eater herself, yet she had been listed. And some people on the list might not be as cautious as they should be.

"Well, they'll find out soon enough from the Prophet. Although it might be better if the Prophet didn't print the mudblood list. We wouldn't want to help them spread their propaganda."

"If you don't publish the list, the people will find out themselves. And might endanger themselves in the process." The chance was small, though, Brenda knew that - the mudbloods would plaster their damned leaflets all over Diagon Alley, as usual.

"Hm… if the published list would be a bit altered, we could make some trouble for the blood traitors. Put some of them on it."

Brenda laughed. "That would be funny!" She doubted that any mudblood would attack them - they would have the original list - but it might make some of those traitors reconsider their stance.

"Speaking of funny, how goes your plan to stop the next attack from fire-dropping mudbloods?"

Brenda narrowed her eyes at him, but Parkinson gave no indication that he thought her plan was stupid. "I've met some setback - apparently, Zonko's can't deliver the fireworks I need."

"And the Weasleys won't speak to you, much less sell to you."

Brenda nodded. "I can't even buy through a middleman since I need a special order."

Parkinson rubbed his chin. "You might have to talk to the Unspeakables."

Brenda sighed. "Bothering them for a joke shop item…" She pressed her lips together. She didn't like talking to the members of that department. She didn't know anyone who did.

"Do you have another idea to stop the mudbloods?" The other Auror shrugged. "Short of checking if someone created a spell for that, and never bothered to share it…"

Brenda stared at him. "If I hear just one joke about this from another Auror…"

"My lips are sealed!" he said, quickly, but with a faint grin. "But if that fails, I might know someone who can help you, but it would be…" he trailed off.

She knew what he meant, or rather, who. But she wasn't certain she wanted to go that far, yet. She shook her head and switched the wireless to the Ministry channel. They were playing music, of course - as if the mudbloods had not just challenged Wizarding Britain. The witch ground her teeth, then summoned a bottle. She needed a drink to deal with this. And the stupid muggles were doing something to the house too - at least they were working during the day, and not when she was home.

*****​

Hogwarts, January 4th, 1997

Albus Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, putting the letter he had just read on his desk. One Horcrux destroyed. He smiled at the man sitting across his desk. "Do you know the contents of this letter, Mister Delacour?"

Marcel Delacour, younger brother of Antoine Delacour, shook his head. "No. My niece insisted no one could know. She is very 'eadstrong, and loyal." He sounded both bemused and annoyed. "Although, I must confess I am a bit vexed zat I'm not to know why my brother almost died."

"It is for your own safety, and for the safety of others" Albus said.

The younger wizard nodded, but his smile could not hide that he didn't like it. It could not be helped, though - the Headmaster had to make the effort to hide this, or Voldemort might see through his ruse. "I do have to say once again how grateful my friends and I are for your help. It takes a brave soul to face the Death Eaters."

The French wizard waved his left his hand in an intricate gesture. "Bah. After zis attack on my brother, 'ow could we not take up wands? We're French, after all. We stood firm even when 'alf of France 'ad fallen to Grindelwald. An uncle and an aunt of mine were killed fighting 'is hordes, and we paid back that debt as well."

Albus remembered what had happened after Gellert's defeat. The revenge the victors took on those who had fought for his old friend had been bloody and brutal. He still wondered if he should have let them kill Gellert, if it had meant that his followers would live. Less, though, these days, after those who had been spared after Tom's first defeat had joined the Dark Lord again. The Headmaster was certain that this time, mercy would be in short supply, again. He kept smiling, though, and nodded. "Indeed. And now another Dark Lord is trying to rise, in Britain, this time."

"'e tried before, and failed," Delacour said. "'e'll fail again. We'll make certain of it."

Albus almost shook his head. French elan! It seemed that those who had fought and bled in Grindelwald's War had not passed on the lessons learned to their children. Although he was grateful for their eagerness - he needed their help. With the Delacours and the d'Aigles, he could meet Tom's forces without the Resistance, should his enemy try to take over the Ministry by force.

Something that seemed to be less likely these days than Albus had thought. Even Miss Granger's broadcast wouldn't change much - many purebloods were scared, even though they were not on the list, and had no reason to fear they'd be on it. But they were slowly realising that if the Death Eaters lost the war, then Britain would change - and many might not like that.

Out loud, he said: "And we appreciate your help, very much. Between the Ministry's corruption and the Death Eaters, we are hard-pressed."

"And you 'ave to deal with the muggleborns, don't you? They are the main enemies of the Dark Lord."

Albus nodded, a bit slower. The Delacours were no bigots - Fleur marrying Mister Weasley was, if not proof, still a clear indication of that - but France hadn't forgotten that muggleborns had rushed to Gellert's banner. The press in Paris had been quite dramatic in their reports too. "They saw the signs before many others, and were ready for the war. Unlike the Ministry."

"They started the war, so some say at least." Delacour kept smiling, but his eyes had narrowed just a tiny bit.

"Those who say so are wrong. It was obvious that the Dark Lord planned to weaken his enemies, before murdering them." Albus met the man's eyes. "That plan failed, thanks to the Muggleborn Resistance's initiative. The Ministry will not admit it, but without the muggleborns, they would have fallen to the Dark Lord already."

"And yet they still fight them."

"That policy is about to change." Or had been - Albus had to pressure Cornelius some more.

Delacour shrugged. "As long as they are not attacking us or ours, then we should not have a problem."

"The Resistance will not. Unfortunately, there are some muggleborns who have gone too far in their desire for revenge, and are attacking any purebloods." Albus didn't think those behind the fire bombing would stop. They had gone too far, and would know it. "Rest assured that they will be dealt with, when found."

The man's smile grew wider, though a bit more cruel as well. "Very well. We're currently visiting the landmarks in Britain, so we can apparate easily to wherever we're needed."

"Very good." Albus knew they were training as well, with the Weasleys, and also with Sirius and Remus. With Alastor added, that would give Albus close to twenty well-trained wizards to react to an attack. "Do you need anything?"

The French wizard made a show of mulling this over, then shook his head. "No, I do not think so. Our 'ost has been most gracious."

Sirius would have been, Albus thought, given the number of pretty witches who had come to Britain. The Headmaster just hoped this would not lead to problems with the rest of the French.

*****​

London, Soho, January 3rd, 1997

Hermione Granger wasn't tapping her foot - not quite; she had stopped herself twice so far - but she was frowning. Her friends were… well, they were not yet late, she amended, after glancing at her wristwatch. Even if it felt as if they were late. She took another sip from her tea, then set the cup down so quickly, some tea was spilled. There!

Harry and Ron were just entering the café, looking around for her. She saw Ron smile when he spotted her and nudge Harry. She looked them over carefully while they made their way towards her through the café. Both were moving a bit more slowly than usual, or so she thought. No, it was true. They were moving like after one of those violent Quidditch matches, or training. They had been hurt worse than they had told her through the mirror!

Something on her face must have given her thoughts away, since both boys were wincing when they reached her table. For a moment, she was taken aback, then she stood up, shaking her head, and went to hug them - maybe a bit harder than normal.

Once they had ordered and cast their privacy spells, she stared at both of them. "Just 'some scratches', hm?"

Ron grimaced. Harry looked sheepish, but said: "There were scratches. Among other things. But nothing really bad - the Healers had no trouble."

Ron nodded.

Hermione pursed her lips. "Madam Pomfrey had no trouble putting you together either, after your many mishaps." She took a deep breath. She couldn't get angry. She couldn't tell them about the Resistance's missions in advance, and neither could they tell her.

"Well…" Ron started, "I'm sorry. We're sorry. We didn't want to make you worry."

"And now I'm worrying even more," she said, "when you're on a mission."

"Which makes us even," Harry said.

She glared at him, but he didn't flinch. And as much as she hated to admit it, he was right. Sighing, she looked down. To his credit, he didn't rub it in. "Still, both of you were hurt."

"Yes. Moody was good, but… there were too many. Of the Inferi, and of us," Ron said. "Moody held one side by himself. But the others… Fleur's father tried to save the warden, who had sprung the trap on us, and most of the rest were hurt saving him. It showed that we hadn't trained together, all of us I mean."

"Ah." Hermione nodded, even though she wanted to cringe. Inferi - animated corpses. Most spells wouldn't do much to them, nor would bullets. They were a bit slow, but trapped in a room with them… She forced herself to stay calm. "So… Bubble-Head Charms, then you set them on fire?"

"Basically," Ron said. "But they were tricky - some climbed over the walls, and even along the ceiling. Remus didn't mention that when he taught us, so maybe that was something Voldemort added."

"Noted." Hermione and her friends might have to deal with that as well, once they attacked a base of the Dark Lord. "How was the trap triggered?"

"The warden did it. Probably imperiused - he was killed by the Inferi as well. Locked us in the crypt when they started to move."

"The crypt?"

"The place they buried, or rather, stored the dead prisoners," Harry said. "The man said some prisoners wouldn't even leave the Bastille in death. I hope he didn't mean that literally."

Hermione nodded, but given that the British Ministry punished some criminals by having a monster suck out their soul, she wouldn't put it past the French to imprison souls as well. Another thing that would have to change, once this war was over. Dementors would have to go. "You did well, then." Sirius had told her so already, between rants.

"We stayed with Moody, as long as possible, and did what we trained for. The others were rushing into the middle of the monsters," Harry said, shrugging.

He probably felt as if he had done less than he could have, Hermione thought, just because he hadn't foolishly risked his life.

"Well, we did good. Moody was even praising us. In his own way," Ron said.

"He might have said that just so Sirius and your mum wouldn't curse him." Harry snorted.

The other boy shook his head. "No, Moody wouldn't care. He'd probably think it was good training if they attacked him."

While both boys chuckled, Hermione wondered just how hard their training was, and how good they were, compared to the Resistance and herself. At least it seemed as if they had weathered their first battle well enough. She'd not ask about the nightmares she was certain they had.

Ron broke the short silence that followed. "So, we listened to your broadcast. Do you think those who attacked Diagon Alley will stop?"

Hermione sighed. "No, I don't. I don't even know if they were muggleborns, and not Death Eaters, or imperiused."

"Sirius said they didn't find any ties to Voldemort," Harry said.

Hermione had known that already. It didn't mean there weren't any, but… "Yes. I hate the thought, but I think those were muggleborns." She took a deep breath. "They already crossed the line, and they may think they have nothing to lose now." Or they might simply not care - such atrocities were common in wars, especially in civil wars. "The list may sound impressive, but most of those people will be hiding. We struggle to find them, and those other groups won't have our resources."

"Shite," Ron muttered under his breath. Hermione didn't bother to call him on it.

"They really might be imperiused, or Death Eaters in disguise," Harry said.

"Hopefully." And they would be, if the headmaster's plan succeeded, the young witch knew that. "How did Sirius and your parents react?"

Both boys sighed and glanced at each other.

"As expected, then," she said. Sirius and the Weasleys were very protective of their children. Or godson, in Sirius's case.

"Yes," Harry said, before taking a big sip from his soda.

"Dumbledore handled it, though." Ron sounded as if that was one of the Headmaster's greatest feats. And, given the tempers of both Sirius and Mrs Weasley, he might even be correct, she added to herself, with a smile.

"At least Sirius is now distracted by the French witches staying at Grimmauld Place," Harry said. "He was getting far too protective."

Her friend sounded annoyed, but Hermione didn't think he really minded that his godfather cared so much for him. Quite the contrary. So why would he be in that mood? She almost smirked when she found an answer. "Are you worried about getting a stepmother?"

Harry jerked and stared at her. "What?"

"Children often have trouble when their parents remarry," Hermione said. Sirius was the closest person to a father Harry had, after all.

"It's not that," her friend said. "I just think he is overdoing it."

"Four Veela, mate," Ron added with a grin. "And one other hot French witch. Of course Sirius is distracted."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. While she wasn't that concerned with appearances, or so she liked to think, she was not certain that she would like to hear too much about Veela and 'hot French witches'. Especially not if said witches lived with Harry and Ron. She huffed and said: "I hope you didn't stare at them." The witch clearly remembered his reaction to Fleur in their fourth year.

Ron quickly shook his head. "I didn't drool, if you mean that. But I doubt there is any man in the house who did not stare at them at least once. Well, not Dad."

Harry sighed. "Sirius said we should familiarise ourselves with them, so we don't mistake them for an enemy in the middle of a fight."

Hermione scoffed. "Of course he'd say that." That was exactly what she expected of the wizard. She also noted that Harry hadn't denied staring either. Well, boys would be boys. And would it be that bad if one of them fell for a French witch? The selfish, jealous part of her thought it would. But she wouldn't have to choose then, wouldn't have to hurt either of them if that happened. Although if both boys fell for the prettier, more mature French witches or Veela… She told herself that those witches were adults, and wouldn't be interested in teenage boys, so the point was moot. Hopefully. "Sirius also said that they were a bit concerned about us," she said. "About the Resistance."

"They are," Harry said. "Dumbledore said he'd explain that you're our allies, but…"

"They are no bigots, but as Fleur told us, purebloods in France have had bad experiences with muggleborns fighting for Grindelwald," Ron added. "They are concerned about a repeat of that."

That sounded a tad bigoted to Hermione, but she didn't say that. "I see." Hopefully, that would not be a problem. She didn't want to imagine Seamus and Dean meeting the French. Well, if there were only French witches and Veela, it probably wouldn't be that bad… dear Lord, she had to stop thinking like that! The witch took another sip from her tea, and the conversation lapsed.

"Was there any success finding a cure for the Creeveys?" Ron asked, once again breaking the silence.

She shook her head. "No. The Headmaster is looking into it, but…"

"But he's busy with the war," Harry finished for her. "And with teaching and training us."

Hermione nodded. It was selfish, it was cruel, and she felt guilty for feeling like it, but as long as it kept her two friends alive, she was fine with that. The Creeveys were in no danger of dying right now, after all. They were even safer now, unable to go on missions.

And when Hermione laughed at a joke Ron made she tried really hard not to think about the fact that even if the Creeveys' lives were in danger, she'd pick Harry and Ron over them.

*****​

Outskirts of Newcastle upon Tyne, Britain, January 5th, 1997

"Your sacrifices are ready."

Albus Dumbledore nodded at his brother's comment. Aberforth might be biased, and trying to hurt him, but he was ultimately correct - the three wizards currently stunned and bound in the basement of the safe house would be sacrificed, if not in the way most witches and wizards of Britain understood the term. "Thank you, Aberforth."

His brother glared at him. "I don't like this sort of plot."

"I do not like it either," Albus admitted, truthfully.

"Could have fooled me. Isn't that sort of sacrifice just your thing? Sacrifice a few to save many?"

"I trust that the men you picked are not innocents, but those who would harm and kill others for personal gain." Albus knew that his brother was quite familiar with those sorts.

Aberforth huffed, but didn't press the issue. "Not many will believe they were behind the other attack."

"But it will seed doubts." And, once the war was won, it would allow the purebloods to blame the Death Eaters for all those attacks, which should help with reconciliation.

"The Aurors still have people who can spot a False Memory Charm. Even one cast by you."

Aberforth managed to make that sound like an accusation. As if Albus used the charm extensively. The Headmaster didn't rise to the bait, though. "That will not be a problem. They'll not be captured alive."

"How would you manage that? Imperius?" Aberforth stared at him.

Albus narrowed his eyes. As if he'd sink that low. "No. Careful application of the False Memory Charm will ensure they will not plan to survive."

"That lot might plan to die, but they might mess that up. They aren't the brightest bunch of chaps."

"Which is why the actual plan will be mine." Albus smiled. "They will not survive; trust me."

Aberforth drew a hissing breath. "You sound quite experienced."

"Not as much as you might think."

His brother scoffed and sat down in one of the chairs he had conjured. "Are you even working on curing those two boys, in between arranging murders and traps?"

This time Albus had to make an effort to control his own temper. "Of course." Not as much as he could, unfortunately - the current crisis took precedence. "It's not going as quickly as I hoped, that's all." Looking into Houngan business was not something even a wizard as powerful as Albus could rush. He stood up. "I'll handle this then."

"And I'll be in my pub, trying to forget what I just helped you do."

Albus didn't say anything, simply shook his head once his brother had apparated away.

*****​

Outside Stamford, Lincolnshire, Britain, January 5th, 1997

The Dark Lord Voldemort was in a happy mood. Thanks to those mudbloods attacking fools in Diagon Alley, his efforts - or rather, the efforts of his followers in the Wizengamot - to stop Fudge from making a deal with the Resistance were enjoying far more success than he had expected. Just another attack or two, and Dumbledore's proposal would be buried. That would compensate for the loss of so many of his followers in the Auror Corps, somewhat at least.

He frowned. He still had not made up that loss. Parkinson was dragging his feet - that man was skilled, but too cautious for his taste. Others would have jumped at the chance to lead the Aurors in his service. Parkinson, though, was 'cultivating' Brocktuckle - an Auror who had failed to stop the mudbloods for months now. And had been in charge of that failed ambush that had cost him so many of his Aurors. If not for Parkinson's pledge that this had just been bad luck - after Voldemort had gone over the plans himself - he would have made her pay for that disaster. He still might - there were various ways to initiate a new Death Eater, after all. Some Bellatrix would greatly enjoy helping him with; the way she could use the Torture Curse impressed even him.

He looked at the report from one of his agents in Paris. His agent in Paris, now. The warden of the Bastille had been killed in an undisclosed accident. He snorted. As if he'd fall for such a ruse. The warden was dead, and Antoine Delacour, future father-in-law to one of the Weasleys, almost died as well? The only thing that could explain that was that Delacour had tried to reach the Horcrux Voldemort had hidden in the Bastille, and the warden had triggered the trap to stop him.

Which meant that Dumbledore was stepping up his game, reaching past the British borders on his hunt. Voldemort was not worried, of course - he had hidden Horcruxes all over the world before he had made his first attempt to take over Britain. Those who do not prepare for a defeat, however unlikely it was, were doomed, after all. But he was wondering if the Boy-Who-Lived had been present as well. Would Dumbledore risk the boy, counting on whatever protection the boy's mudblood mother had managed to create? He summoned a piece of parchment and wrote a letter to his agent, ordering him to look into the matter. If the boy had been present, then that might mean that his trap had been defeated by Potter's protection. And that would mean that the boy was a more important obstacle than Voldemort had thought. An obstacle that had to be removed before he could take over Britain. And he wanted to know how his Inferi had performed in battle. They had been an experiment, following his visit to the Caribbean in 1957.

He sighed. But first things first. Standing up, he left his room and took the stairs down to the basement. He checked the circle he had prepared again - it wouldn't do to make a mistake with such an important task. Then he put a ring down in the middle of it. Not too cheap, not too expensive. Average. Banal even - a muggle wedding ring. Taken from the muggle currently staring at him, and, judging by the way her mouth was moving, trying to say something under the effect of his Silencing Charm. Likely begging or pleading. Pitiful.

The Dark Lord took out his wand, and saw the muggle's eyes widen as she started to struggle. He shook his head. Why couldn't she face her end with dignity? This was a sacred ritual, after all.

She should be honoured to give her life so Voldemort would live forever.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 27: Cursed

'Officially, the French wizards and witches taking part in the Second Blood War were volunteers, without any connection to the Court of Magical France. Unofficially, everyone in France and Britain at the time was aware that this was a mission sanctioned by the Duc d'Orléans himself, to avenge the attack on his close friend Antoine Delacour in the Bastille.
There has been much speculation about what exactly happened that day in the Bastille, but all involved have refused to give any details about the event - or died in it. What is known, though, is that Mister Delacour was hurt by a trap guarding a dark artifact hidden there. All involved agree that the Dark Lord had placed it there, an opinion obviously shared by the Duc himself. And yet, dissenting opinions have been voiced, in recent times.
At first sight, the fact that no one among half a dozen wizards and witches who survived the trap was the victim of a dark curse might throw some doubt upon the Dark Lord's responsibility. Wasn't he known to have studied the Dark Arts more extensively than anyone else? Why would he not use the darkest curses to protect whatever he had hidden there? And why would he risk offending Magical France in the first place by using the Bastille for this? It is not uncommon for those questions to be followed by speculation that Dumbledore had arranged the whole 'attack' to give his French allies the pretext to come to his aid even though Magical France was officially neutral.
Those among my colleagues who support this theory often fail to ask themselves why Dumbledore would have stooped to such a complicated plan if he could simply have faked an attack on the home of the Delacours. If they were his allies and looking for a pretext, they could have easily arranged things. All without taking the very same risks that my colleagues claim would have stopped the Dark Lord. Not to mention that if Dumbledore had wanted to frame his enemy, he would have certainly chosen a dark curse for that purpose.
The only logical conclusion is that the Dark Lord was responsible for the trap that almost cost Antoine Delacour his life and brought his family's wands into the war on Dumbledore's side.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, January 5th, 1997

"Why are we on the night shift, again?" Parkinson asked.

If she hadn't been disillusioned, Brenda Brocktuckle would have raised her eyebrows at her partner. As it was she didn't answer. He knew as well as she did that they were on this shift for two reasons. First, they had survived where two dozen Aurors and Hit-Wizards had not, under their command - well, Brenda's, but Parkinson had been in her group. And second, if the mudbloods attacked again, it would be at night.

Instead she lifted the Omnioculars she had managed to procure from the DMLE archives, where it had been stored as evidence for twenty years, and scanned the sky again from their vantage point, on the roof of a house at the start of the alley.

"And why are we here? In the cold, on a roof, one slip away from breaking our necks?"

Once again, Brenda didn't want to answer. They had spells against the cold, and were sitting on brooms with Cushioning Charms. But if her partner continued to gripe, then they might be heard by mudbloods before Brenda could spot them. The moon was waning, and without the Omnioculars, it would be a hopeless task. Even with it, it was easy to miss a broom at a distance, with a disillusioned rider. But she would be damned if she gave up, not now, not when the mudbloods were targeting her personally!

Just as she was about to tell him to shut up for the fifth time, she caught something flying over Knockturn Alley. A few adjustments, and she saw it more clearly. A broom rider! And anyone riding a broom to Diagon Alley or Knockturn Alley was a suspect even if they were not at war with mudbloods - they would have to fly over muggle London, which could endanger the Statute of Secrecy. But at night, and nowadays? Brenda would bet what was left of her career that this was a mudblood.

Was betting her career, she realised, when she pointed him out to Parkinson. Then she saw two more flying next to the first. None of them were disillusioned, but that was hardly surprising - even among the Aurors, few had mastered that spell.

Brenda had, though, as had Parkinson. And she had a Human-presence-revealing Spell cast as well, showing her where Parkinson was, as long as he stayed in the - sadly, rather short - range of the spell. Which she doubted he'd manage - they hadn't been working together that long; even Martin - she felt the pain of his loss again - had not been good enough.

Still, it would suffice to stop three mudbloods. Unless it was a trap.

For a moment, she hesitated. Traps and ambushes was how the Resistance fought. If they were waiting for them… She shook her head, even though no one could see her. The Resistance wouldn't be that clumsy.

"I'll get the one in front," she said. "You take care of the Jinxes."

"Alright," Parkinson answered.

Then they were off.

Contrary to her expectations, Parkinson stuck close to her on the approach. Shortly before they were in range of spells though, he veered off. She couldn't pay much attention, though - the mudbloods were pulling out small things, probably the bombs. Brenda ground her teeth and aimed her wand. Just a bit closer, to be certain to hit… Now!

Her Bludgeoning Curse hit the lead mudblood in the chest, and the man was thrown off his broom. He fell down, screaming and flailing, and she saw the bomb drop as well. Both hit the roof below, and Brenda heard the bomb go off.

The Auror was already turning around, climbing to dive at the remaining mudbloods. She wasn't an expert, but she knew the basics of broom combat.

The two mudbloods seemed to panic, looking wildly around for her. One of them was suddenly hit by a Cutting Curse, or rather, his broom was, and started to go down as well. The other dived down, evading Brenda's own curse at the last moment - he too seemed to know the basics of broom combat.

It wouldn't help him, though. Thanks to Parkinson's Anti-Apparition Jinx, the mudblood couldn't escape - and she had altitude on him. Her next spell missed, but he jinked to the left, as expected, losing more speed. She was gaining. And he was low enough now so he'd survive a fall - she needed at least one arrest. Another spell flew past the man, and when he pulled to the side and up, the bristles of his broom touched the roof underneath him.

Brenda was still diving, wand out, but she pulled up as well, leveling her flight, and the mudblood flew right across her - and into her next spell. The Bludgeoning Curse blew him off his broom, and he fell down on the roof, five yards below him, then skidded over the wet shingles until he slid over the edge and fell another story down into a dark courtyard.

Brenda followed, descending quickly, then jumped off her broom. The culprit was lying on his back, legs bent at unnatural angles, but he was still conscious, and glaring at her. His hands were empty - he must have lost his wand in the crash.

"You're… not… taking me… alive…" he spat out.

Brenda's eyes widened and she stunned him at once. Despite this, she saw black liquid dribble out of his mouth - poison! She fumbled for one of the bezoars on her with her left hand and countered the Stunner with her wand, but by the time she opened his mouth to push the stone down his throat, he was already dead.

Grinding her teeth, she stood up, kicking the barrel that had been broken by the man's fall. A swish of her wand shrunk the corpse, and she mounted her broom again, to look for her partner and the other mudbloods.

As she rose out of the courtyard, she saw that not all of the buildings in Knockturn Alley had had the required wards against fire, not even half a year into this war - flames were shooting out of the burning roof of the building the first mudblood had fallen onto. Parkinson was flying nearby, and shooting water at the fire with his wand.

Brenda briefly closed her eyes, sighing - they couldn't get lucky at least once, could they? - and then went to join him. Working together, they should be able to save the rest of the buildings until the other Aurors arrived.

*****​

Hogwarts, January 5th, 1997

"Albus! Hogsmeade is under attack! Multiple wizards on brooms!"

Albus Dumbledore had been about to go to bed when his brother's voice from the fireplace stopped him. Hogsmeade, under attack. If this was a diversion, meant to draw him away from Hogwarts - or simply to occupy his attention, freeing the Dark Lord to strike at another target without having to fear his intervention… He shook his head. He couldn't leave Hogsmeade to those attackers on a simple possibility.

A wave of his wand created a shimmering, gleaming phoenix, floating in front of him. "Sirius, Hogsmeade is under attack. Gather your group and the Delacours and meet me at the Hog's Head Inn!" Albus said while Fawkes cocked his head, watching his transparent double until it flew away, towards London.

Albus created another Patronus Messenger. "Alastor, take the boys and come to my office. Alert me at once, should there be news of another attack!"

That done, he grabbed Floo powder and entered his fireplace.

"Hog's Head Inn!"

A second later and lightly covered with soot - Aberforth should clean his fireplace better - he stepped into the inn. Unlike during his other visits, his brother's 'friends' were not drinking in excess, but standing at the windows and doors, wands out. Aberforth was standing in the centre of the room, organising the defense. "More allies will arrive shortly," Albus said, passing his brother and leaving the inn. He had to take stock of the situation as soon as possible. It could be an attack on a Death Eater cell, or an attack by Death Eaters. Or it could be muggleborns attacking purebloods.

Outside, he was faced with an - unfortunately - familiar view: Screaming people were fleeing their homes while others rushed into houses. The Aurors on duty tried to gain control over the panicking mob at the same time as they were also attempting to fight back, failing to achieve either goal. And from the air, almost invisible in the dark sky, fire bombs were dropping on roofs and streets - and on people. It seemed that Miss Granger's broadcast had not reached those it had been meant for.

Twenty yards away, a cylinder hit the street right next to a family and burst into a fireball that engulfed all of them before they could react. In seconds the Merriweathers - Albus recognised them; their youngest daughter was in Ravenclaw - were on fire, screaming as they tried to put out the flames. One of them, Albus couldn't tell who, managed to conjure water, but that wouldn't help with those flames.

The Headmaster flicked his wand, and the water was transfigured into clay. Another flick and the clay was enlarged, and a swish had the entire family covered in the clay. Albus pressed his lips together while he saw the three people struggle - the clay was not just smothering the flames, but preventing them from breathing as well. He didn't like to do this to them, but it was the quickest way to save them from burning to death.

After more than thirty seconds, he vanished the clay, revealing the burned but alive family. "Fawley!" His voice cut through the noise of the battle, enhanced by magic, and he saw the Auror jerk. "Get those people to St. Mungo's, now!"

The Auror - Gryffindor, graduated two years ago - rushed to the Merriweathers. Albus didn't know and didn't care if the boy had even recognised him - those people needed help, and Fawley wasn't doing any good trying to cast spells from the ground.

Albus spent a few more seconds covering the nearby roofs with clay, then conjured a few dozen bats, made them glow with a spell the Weasley twins had invented for a prank, and sent them up in the air. It didn't matter if the attackers were disillusioned or simply dressed in clothes matching the night sky, the bats would find them, and mark them with their own bodies. He made a mental note to advise Miss Granger to stop dropping the Resistances leaflets from brooms; his trick would quickly spread.

As the bats spread out, then started to converge on the broom riders in the sky, people started to rush out of Aberforth's pub, wands ready - Sirius's cell and the Delacours had arrived.

"The bats will follow all brooms in the air." Albus pointed up. "Mister Delacour, ensure they cannot apparate away, and cut them off from fleeing by broom, but be careful not to curse each other." He saw one broom rider trying to evade the bats. "Sirius, take your group and cover the ground. The people need help, and there might be some enemies on the ground as well." Unlikely, but possible.

The two groups hastened to follow his orders - they knew better than to argue. As the French spread out, the Veela taking to the air, Albus started to cast at the closest enemy he had discovered. Or rather, near and in front of the man's broom.

Hitting a speeding broom rider was difficult even for him; sending a spark into a conjured cloud of Knallgas, as Gellert called oxyhydrogen, was easy. The explosion didn't throw the man off his broom - he had likely stuck himself to it - but he was pressing his hands against his ears, and his broom almost crashed.

And he had become an easier target. Albus next spell cut the broom in two and barely failed to cut off the man's leg. He screamed as his broom turned into dead wood in an instant, but Albus caught him with a Levitation Charm before he had fallen more than twenty yards, and stunned and disarmed him with his next spells.

He needed at least one of them alive, to find out who was behind this attack. And, he added to himself when he saw another broom rider crash into the ground, followed by fireballs, the French didn't seem to be in the mood to take the enemies prisoner.

The floating body of the broom rider reached him. Muggle clothes, and muggle-style cloth mask. Albus winced. A flick of his wand rolled the mask up, revealing the man's face. The Headmaster knew the man.

Felix Smith. Gryffindor, graduated four years ago.

Muggleborn.

*****​

Hogsmeade, Britain, January 6th, 1997

"Alright, is everyone ready?" Felix Smith asked, sliding his wand into its holster.

"Are you really certain we should be doing this? You heard the Resistance." Bess looked at him. The muggleborn witch had been worrying all evening. "They said we shouldn't attack random purebloods any more."

Felix scoffed. "They had to say that, but it's just politics. They don't want to lose Dumbledore's support. But do you really think they mind what we do? They blew up Malfoy Manor, and not all of those who died there were Death Eaters!" A group of muggleborns who had killed so many purebloods couldn't really be against killing more of the bastards, Felix thought. It simply made no sense.

"But why are we risking Dumbledore's support then?" Bess wasn't giving up. The witch could be very stubborn, as Felix knew from their time at Hogwarts.

He smiled. "We aren't. He's not supporting us. He doesn't even know us. We're just doing our part in the war."

"They said we're helping the Dark Lord if we do this."

He scoffed again. "As if! The purebloods are already on his side - did anyone help us when they started to hunt us?"

"Some did." Bess crossed her arms.

"Some, yes. But did that help Teddy?"

Bess flinched. Felix nodded. Teddy had been their friend, since Hogwarts. And he had been murdered by Aurors in Diagon Alley. And no pureblood had helped him. None of them had cared about a mudblood. But they'd care now.

"Besides, we're not attacking random purebloods - we're attacking known supporters of the Dark Lord. Selwyn and Flint."

"They are not on the list."

"The Resistance is not perfect. They can't know all Death Eaters. Have your forgotten how those two sneered at us when we entered their shops?" He shook his head. "Trust me, even if they're not marked Death Eaters, they are helping them. Maybe with gold, maybe with information." He smiled. "But if you still are not certain you can do this, you can stay here. Ricky, Mark and I can drop the bombs by ourselves."

Bess shook her head. "No, I'm coming."

Felix beamed at her.

*****​

Albus Dumbledore closed his eyes as he ended his Legilimency spell. As he had expected, these muggleborns hadn't been forced by Tom to do this. They had chosen to do this. He sighed. And now two of them were dead, both killed by the the Delacours, or rather, the d'Aigles. The prisoner, Smith, would soon join them - the Wizengamot would show no mercy to muggleborns caught attacking purebloods. Nor, he added, muggleborns caught doing anything that could be seen as supporting the Resistance.

He sighed and looked around. Half a dozen Aurors and Hit-Wizards were watching him. The Ministry forces had arrived just in time to mess things up. They had almost attacked the Veela in the air, if Albus hadn't quickly intervened. And while they didn't dare take Smith off his hands, their presence prevented Albus from taking the steps needed to deny Tom another propaganda victory.

"Albus!"

And now Amelia had arrived. She wouldn't be intimidated by him, or rather, not enough to keep Smith out of her hands. He turned towards her with a tired smile. "Good evening, Amelia."

She nodded at him, looking at the muggleborn prisoner. Albus had treated the worst of the man's wounds, but he was no Healer. "You took a prisoner."

"I did."

"And your 'friends' killed two more." She didn't quite glare at him, but it came close. "Foreign friends, or so I've heard. Friends the Ministry didn't know about."

"I was not aware that the Ministry required us to register visitors."

She bared her teeth and glared at him. "Don't mince words, Albus! We're not talking about visiting friends, we're talking about foreigners fighting in our war! My Aurors almost attacked them because they didn't know about them!"

As if on cue, Marcel Delacour approached them, a wide smile on his face. The French wizard looked like he had just stepped out of his home for an evening in town. Not a single hair was out of place. And he had heard the witch, since he said: "It was a good thing they didn't, since that would have gone badly for them." He bowed. "Marcel Delacour, at your service, Madam Bones."

Albus saw Amelia's eyes widen when she realised just who his 'foreign friends' were. He wondered if she had truly not expected this. She did school her features at once, though, and even managed a smile, although a rather empty one. "You have a rather high opinion of your friends, Mister Delacour."

He shrugged. "The British Aurors we saw fighting were not very effective. Although I assume the best were held in reserve."

He had better cut in, Albus thought. The French were fine fighters, but they knew it as well. And their opinion of the British Ministry was likely influenced by Sirius and his friends. He cleared his throat. "One attacker was captured, two killed. There was a fourth, who I assume escaped?"

Delacour nodded, his smile slipping a bit. "Unfortunately, yes. One of them managed to evade us long enough to fly out of the area covered by the Anti-Apparition Jinxes."

Which wouldn't have been that difficult, given the circumstances, even counting Albus's own spell. But Amelia looked satisfied. At least as much as the stern witch could be, he thought. The Headmaster nodded.

"We'll be taking the prisoner off your hands now." Amelia stared at him, daring him to deny her.

"I recognised him. Felix Smith. Muggleborn. It seems he and his friends didn't listen to the Resistance."

"And you stopped them."

"Of course, Amelia. I'll not let criminals attack the innocent, no matter their blood."

That should, coupled with the attack by purebloods disguised as muggleborns on Diagon Alley, negate some of the political capital Tom's allies would gain from this fight.

Albus hoped it would be enough.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, January 7th, 1997

Brenda Brocktuckle was both tired and annoyed when she finally returned to the Ministry. The only reason she was not complaining about it was that Parkinson had been whining about it already and she refused to show the same attitude. They had spent an hour dealing with the fire the mudbloods had started, most of it due to the residents hindering their efforts in their panic - the scum living there feared the Aurors as much or more than the mudbloods.

But they had saved the buildings adjacent to the burning house, and and they had caught the mudbloods responsible for the firebombings! That should impress the Head Auror. But when she left entered the Auror offices, she saw that far too many of her colleagues were around, and far too alert as well, for this time of the night.

She grabbed the first rookie trying to hurry past her. "What's going on?"

"There was an attack on Diagon Alley, followed by an attack on Hogsmeade! More attacks might be expected - this could be a general offensive!" The rookie Auror said.

"What?" Parkinson stared at the young witch. "What happened in Hogsmeade?"

"Dumbledore personally killed all attackers but for one whom he took prisoner!"

Brenda blinked. Dumbledore, killing mudbloods? She shook her head. There was a more urgent issue to settle. "Why weren't we informed? We were at the attack in Diagon Alley?" If that had been a deliberate act she'd make someone pay; if those attacking Hogsmeade had instead reinforced Diagon Alley…

"I don't know! I've just been following my orders - securing a perimeter around the village, then returning to the Ministry with the prisoner." The rookie looked nervous now. "I'm expected down in the cell area."

Brenda released her, angry with herself. She was a veteran Auror; she shouldn't act like a rookie. She shook her head and looked at her partner. "Busy night."

Parkinson had recovered as well. "Yeah. If Dumbledore has started to kill mudbloods…"

"We might finally be able to find them and wipe them out," Brenda finished for him. "But why would he suddenly betray his friends?"

"I don't know, but I'll find out!" Parkinson said, and walked off.

Brenda shook her head as she continued towards their office. Her partner was off gossipping again, leaving her with the paperwork. But at least he'd find out everything they needed to know about the latest office politics.

*****​

"We killed purebloods?"

Brenda nodded at Parkinson. "They identified the attackers we killed. All of them were purebloods. Knockturn Alley residents too, one had prior convictions." She glanced at her watch. Their shift was ending soon.

Parkinson frowned, sitting down at the desk he almost never seemed to use. "Does that mean that we didn't foil a terror attack on purebloods? Was that just some Knockturn Alley scum trying to burn down their competition?"

Brenda shrugged. "It could have been an attempt to frame the mudbloods." She studied Parkinson, watching for a reaction.

He frowned. "That's… possible, I guess."

Which probably meant he'd have to ask the Dark Lord. If he dared. "Dumbledore at least claimed that," she said.

The other Auror snorted. "Dumbledore also disproved his own theory when he captured that mudblood in Hogsmeade."

"It's not actually disproven. Just because there is a group of mudbloods attacking random purebloods doesn't mean there can't be an attempt to frame them as well."

"How many know about this anyway?" Parkinson asked, a bit too casually.

"By now? Half the Aurors in the building. That sort of news spreads fast." Brenda had seen the Auror who had told her head straight to the break area afterwards. She smiled cynically when her partner frowned - he probably had hoped to suppress this evidence. "Dumbledore requested a copy of the report as well." And she doubted anyone in the Ministry would refuse the man. Not if half the things Parkinson had heard were true.

"Well, I think it was just some criminals using the mudbloods as a cover," her partner said after a few moments.

"Those kind of criminals don't suicide to evade arrest. And I've heard that the Dark Lord's recruiting heavily." Brenda didn't quite smirk. Parkinson had been more subtle than she had expected, but he was trying pretty hard to recruit her for the Dark Lord.

"Well, it's all speculation." Parkinson shrugged. "I doubt we can prove it one way or the other. We can't ask the Dark Lord if he recruited them, after all."

Brenda joined her partner in a brief cynical chuckle. She knew enough about politics that this would make waves in the Wizengamot. Hopefully enough to finally bury the proposal to come to an agreement with the Resistance. To think anyone would want to let the mudbloods who had murdered so many purebloods get away with it… the mere possibility turned her stomach.

Granger would pay for what she had done.

*****​

London, East End, January 7th, 1997

"... the attackers were stopped by Ministry forces before significant damage was done to the village. According to witnesses, the Chief Warlock personally arrested one attacker. The Minister for Magic was not yet available for a comment, but..."

Hermione Granger, who had been about to spread some jam on a piece of toast, clenched her teeth while the Wizarding Wireless announcer - she didn't think the Ministry mouthpiece deserved to be called a journalist - continued with this morning's news. That wasn't a good way to start the day. The other Resistance members sitting at the breakfast table looked like they shared her thoughts. Most of them, at least.

"Dumbledore's fighting muggleborns? Arresting them?" Seamus said. "Did he turn on us?"

"He didn't. They said that he defended Hogsmeade against an attack," Hermione said.

"He fought for the Ministry, and against muggleborns. How could he tell that they were not attacking Death Eaters?" Dean asked.

"We don't have any Death Eaters listed in Hogsmeade," Justin said.

"Doesn't mean there aren't any," Seamus said. "We can't know everything. Not even Hermione."

The young witch pursed her lips. That last remark would have been a friendly joke, even a compliment, if Harry and Ron had said it. Coming from Seamus, though, it was almost an insult. "We can't know everything, no. And we can't trust the Ministry's lies. I'll look into this, and get the truth." It was possible that another group had found Death Eaters in Hogsmeade. Possible, but not that likely, she thought. Not under the nose of both Dumbledores. It was more likely that some muggleborns had decided to attack the village since the majority of the residents were purebloods.

"He'll tell you a fine story that explains it all, but that doesn't have to be the truth," Dean said. "And working with the Ministry? The same Ministry that tries to kill us all?"

"That's Ministry propaganda," Justin said.

"So is the claim that this was an attack on the town, instead of a single building!" Dean shot back.

"We don't know what happened, so we shouldn't make any assumptions." Hermione pressed her lips together.

"Assumptions like that Dumbledore is on our side?" Seamus snorted. "How do you even plan to find the truth with all those lies going around?"

"I plan to use multiple sources to verify each account." She stared at him until he looked away.

*****​

London, Greenwich, January 7th, 1997

"I miss meeting you at home," Sirius said, sitting down.

"I do as well," Hermione Granger said, pushing a menu over the table. They were early for the lunch crowd, but the restaurant was filling up quickly.

The older wizard perked up. "You do?"

"Because I could meet Harry and Ron there." Hermione had to chuckle at Sirius's exaggerated crestfallen expression. "Though I've heard that you're quite fond of your new guests."

"Well…" Sirius grinned. "Who'd not be fond of Veela?"

"Heterosexual witches," Hermione said.

"Ah, yes. I can imagine that. Melanie told me that other witches were often jealous of them." Sirius nodded sagely. Hermione tried not to react, but her expression must have given something away, since his smile widened. "Oh, don't tell me you're jealous of Veela!"

She glared at him. She wasn't jealous - she didn't even know those witches - but… Hermione sighed. She was jealous. She wasn't ugly, nor plain, as Rita Skeeter had once claimed, but she wasn't the prettiest witch in her year.

She made a mental note to work on her poker face since Sirius grew serious and reached over the table to pat her hand. "Don't fret, Hermione. I'm just joking. Remember, Harry didn't go all gaga over Fleur."

She wanted to say that Ron had shown a rather more pronounced reaction to the presence of the Veela, but refrained from doing so. Her friend had matured a lot since then. So she made a noncommittal sound. Besides, her friends were back at Hogwarts, now. Although they would still be traveling back to Grimmauld Place for some training sessions.

Apparently, it wasn't enough for the older wizard. "Seriously, girl, don't worry - the boys are not interested in the Veela, or not any more than normal for boys their age." Which was not reassuring at all, Hermione thought. Sirius went on: "But more importantly, the girls are not interested in boys. Not even in the Boy-Who-Lived."

That was more reassuring, Hermione thought. Although she wanted to protest that her two friends were not mere 'boys' - she remembered Harry's reaction to Fleur calling him 'little boy' in their fourth year. She didn't, though. Instead she raised her eyebrows at the wizard. "I assume this is where you try to impress me with stories of your conquests? By all means, go ahead. Given the latest news from the war, I could do with some laughter."

Sirius huffed. "If you're acting like that, then I'll keep the secrets of French love making to myself." Then he grinned. "Joking aside, how are your other friends doing? I assume they didn't like what they heard."

Hermione winced. "Most didn't, and a few took it rather badly. What exactly happened?"

Sirius sighed. "The Headmaster called us late at night. Hogsmeade was under attack. When we arrived at the Hog's Head Inn, Dumbledore was already there, sending up conjured glowing bats to mark the attackers for the Veela, who took to the air."

Hermione hissed - if that spell spread, then the Resistance would have to change their broom riding tactics. Although bats could be dealt with by high-frequency sounds… she'd have to ask Dumbledore if they could test that.

"The French engaged the broom fliers, and we - my group and I - searched the village for attackers on the ground, helped put out the fires, took care of the wounded, until the Ministry forces arrived." Sirius grimaced. "There were no enemies on the ground, but the burned people…" He shook his head. "Apart from the one Dumbledore captured, two more were killed, one escaped."

Hermione nodded. A group of four, attacking a target in a village - bad odds, if the element of surprise was lost. It looked as if the attackers had lingered for too long - an amateur mistake. Blinded by bloodlust, maybe. She frowned. "Were the attackers really muggleborns? And did they attack random purebloods?" And, she added silently, did the Headmaster know that when he engaged them?

"Well, Dumbledore told us that he read the mind of the prisoner he took, before the Ministry took him - Bones herself was there - and apparently, that was a muggleborn group who wanted to attack Adalbert Selwyn and Frederick Flint."

Hermione winced. She knew the shops those two men owned. Most muggleborns didn't buy anything there after their first visit. To assume that those two were Death Eaters was a bit much, but they certainly approved of the discrimination against muggleborns. Approved, and took part in.

"There were burning people in the street, though," Sirius said. "Families, children among them - the attackers were using some nasty stuff water wouldn't put out."

Hermione pressed her lips together for a moment, so she'd not curse. That was what she had feared. "They either had truly terrible aim, or they didn't care. Or," she added, "they wanted to hit the purebloods - any purebloods."

Sirius nodded. "Dumbledore said they didn't care about who else they hit, as long as it was a pureblood."

The witch nodded. She could accept that, but would the Resistance? "So, one survived. And one will be executed."

The wizard nodded. "Unless there's some miracle, but…" He looked at Hermione and shrugged.

She nodded. She wasn't about to ask the Headmaster to use whatever precaution he had taken to spring a captured Resistance member from the Ministry's custody on a wizard who had been burning down random civilians - whether or not he were a muggleborn.

She just hoped the rest of the group would share her opinion.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, January 7th, 1997

Albus Dumbledore's customary polite smile was more forced than usual when he walked to the office of the Minister for Magic that afternoon. While Sirius's report from his meeting with Miss Granger was cautiously optimistic - the young witch shared Albus's view on the matter - Albus didn't think everyone in her group would have the same opinion. The Ministry certainly had painted the whole battle as if there was a close alliance between itself and Albus's Order. Which was far from the truth.

Cornelius was alone, which was a surprise - Albus had expected Amelia to be there already; the stern witch knew that the Minister was a bit more suggestible than one would expect from the leader of Wizarding Britain.

"Albus! Here you are! Great news!" Cornelius beamed at the Headmaster.

Albus raised an eyebrow. "I would rather say that the events of last night were tragic in nature. A number of people died, many of them quite brutally."

"Ah." For a moment, the Minister seemed surprised, then he nodded, almost solemnly. "Of course, the deaths are a tragedy. So many who should still be alive, killed so senselessly!"

Not so senselessly, Albus thought - at least one of those battles had been carefully planned. He nodded, though - agreeing on general things with Cornelius made influencing him easier. "Indeed. One child died before my eyes." He shook his head; his sorrow was honest, although he was thinking of the effects of that on the trial.

"But at least two groups of murderers were dealt with! And the public has seen that the Ministry can protect them!" The Minister was beaming again.

"Those who believe the Daily Prophet, at least," Albus said. "Their account of the events of last night might be a bit misleading, I believe." He allowed some of his annoyance to creep into his voice.

Cornelius cleared his throat and smiled weakly. "I would say they were a bit optimistic, maybe?"

Albus inclined his head. "Maybe. It depends on the policy of the Ministry - or, to be precise, on its change."

Cornelius took a deep breath. "You know that the attack on Diagon Alley had a rather negative effect on those plans. Many Wizengamot members who were in favour of repealing the muggleborn laws changed their opinion. I'm certain you are aware of that as well."

"Some," Albus said. "But not everyone. And I am certain that a sizeable number of them can be persuaded to change their opinion again, with some effort."

"Less than you expect, Albus." The Minister shook his head. "The people are not willing to grant any concession to those who attack them."

"Oh?" Albus narrowed his eyes. "That is quite a surprising development. A bit more than a year ago, there was widespread support to granting a lot of concessions to exactly those who'd threaten and attack British wizards and witches; namely, the Death Eaters."

Cornelius coughed. "Err, that's…"

"...an entirely correct description of the appeasement policy, Cornelius." Albus's smile lacked any humour.

The Minister blushed. "What happened in the past doesn't change the fact that in the current climate, there is no majority to be found to grant the muggleborn anything; that's something even those who support such a change agree upon."

"And how much do you think the current climate would change if I were to publicly announce that I can no longer support the Ministry as long as it discriminates against the muggleborns?" Albus said.

Cornelius gasped. "But… you can't!"

"You may be assured that I very well can do this. Or did you think I was joking when I warned you a week ago?"

"But…" The Minister fell silent, apparently at a loss for words. "But…"

Cornelius gained a respite thanks to Amelia's arrival. "Amelia! Albus is threatening to publicly call the Ministry out as criminal if we don't change the laws on muggleborns!"

The Head of the DMLE stared at Dumbledore.

He met her eyes. "If the Ministry will not change its laws, laws that were passed on behalf of the Dark Lord, I might add, then I cannot support it." He smiled. "I said it before, and I will say it again: I will rather ally with the Muggleborn Resistance than with a Ministry that is still pursuing a pureblood agenda."

"Even if it drives the Ministry and the British people into the Dark Lord's arms?" Amelia asked.

"If they would rather join him than accept muggleborns as equals, then they already are in his camp," Albus said. He was forcing this, he knew, but with the recent attacks, he feared the Dark Lord might gain too much of an advantage if Albus let him exploit this.

Once again, both gaped at him. He chuckled, which seemed to further confuse them. "Is it that hard to believe that I am willing to risk facing the Ministry and the Dark Lord's forces together?"

After a moment, Amelia said: "It seems rather foolhardy."

Albus laughed out loud. Both were staring him now. "As foolhardy as facing Grindelwald when he had conquered much of Magical Europe?" In that conflict, too, Albus had waited too long, but for other, even worse, reasons.

Amelia scoffed. "I see."

Albus was tempted to ask if she did, really, but simply nodded.

"But you have to see that is currently impossible to find a majority in the Wizengamot who will support what you ask for!" Cornelius said.

"Is it really?" Albus said. He knew that it was difficult, but Cornelius had been confident of success before the attack on Diagon Alley. "Even if the only alternatives are to either face me, or the Dark Lord?"

"Would you really lower yourself to the same level as the Dark Lord?" Amelia asked. "Put yourself outside the law?"

"If the law is evil, breaking it becomes a good man's duty," Albus said. "I have already let this go on for far too long." Neither the Headmaster nor the Ministry had been ready for a war when the Dark Lord had returned, but Albus often wondered if he should have pushed for war anyway, forced Cornelius's hand as he was doing now. Voldemort wouldn't have been that prepared either, after all. But if he had done so, would the Resistance have formed anyway? He doubted it. Without the Resistance, the Aurors would have had to take the brunt of the fighting, and they were of limited reliability.

"That's easy to say, Albus, but harder to do," Cornelius said. "What will happen if the Wizengamot sides with the Dark Lord? What about Hogwarts?"

That had been the main reason Albus hadn't pushed this yet. Hogwarts. His school. His students. If the Ministry turned on him, they'd be in danger. But he had no choice anymore. "Hogwarts will remain as it is. I will not allow anyone to threaten the students."

"But will you remain Headmaster even if you are waging war?" Amelia said. "Even if you are fighting the Ministry, and many of your student's families?"

"Yes. I will not let people who have chosen the Dark Lord's side have any power over my students."

"That would bring the war to Hogwarts," the witch said. "You'd risk endangering the children you claim you want to keep safe."

"If I left, war would come to Hogwarts - the Dark Lord would not spare any of the children whose families oppose him. And the muggleborns…" he trailed off. "No, I will not let the Dark Lord or his helpers get a hold of the children." He smiled, cynically, when he added: "Which is another argument that might persuade some Wizengamot members to do what's right."

"You'd take their children hostage?" Cornelius gasped.

"No. But you might remind them that I would never use their families against them. Something the Dark Lord has done in the last war, and in this war as well, as Augusta's murder proves." Albus glared at the man. He had already made preparations, if worst came to worst, and the school came under attack.

"You will not be able to keep this under wraps if you plan to use this argument on the Wizengamot. The news will spread like Fiendfyre to the public."

Amelia was shaking her head, but Albus thought she was beginning to realise that he would not budge. And it wasn't as if she had an alternative - Tom would not let her live, if only to placate those of his followers he had freed from Azkaban. Sirius was no Death Eater, but his opinion of the DMLE, and of Amelia was rather extreme. Actual Death Eaters would be even worse.

He smiled. "I am not planning to keep this secret. I will tell them and anyone who asks that I will fight those who attack the innocents, no matter their blood. And I will add that I will consider anyone who supports blood-based discrimination as a supporter of the Dark Lord. Which includes the Ministry."

"That will…" Cornelius was shaking his head. "The people will be in an uproar, Albus! Frightened, scared, angry!"

"I rather think they will be, yes." Albus said. "But then again - sometimes, such a shock is good for them. Compared to what the muggleborns went through, it's not even that bad." They were not about to be persecuted for being born, after all.

"That's rather callous of you, Albus. Not everyone is a hero." Amelia frowned at him.

"I am well aware of that, Amelia." He shook his head. "But everyone can see what is right and what is wrong. Even those raised in bigoted families will spend seven years at Hogwarts, apart from their parents, surrounded by other students and teachers from all sorts of backgrounds. Those who did not see how vile those laws were chose not to." And he didn't really feel bad for shocking those who looked away and ignored the muggleborns' plight. Even though he had to admit that he should have made more efforts to teach the students that bigotry was wrong, some basic truths were obvious to everyone. Or should be.

"There is no dissuading you from this, is there?" Cornelius said. He was sitting hunched over in his seat, and almost pleading with his eyes.

Albus didn't answer that. He didn't have to.

"You might need to talk with a few members in person, Albus," the Minister continued. "They will not listen otherwise."

The Headmaster nodded. It seemed Cornelius was, finally, working on their problem, instead of trying to avoid it. "I will do whatever is needed, of course."

"What about the prisoner you took?" Amelia asked.

"What about him?"

"Will he be covered by this 'change of policy'?" The witch stared at him.

Albus had been weighing this question for quite some time. Felix Smith hadn't started out with a plan to kill all purebloods. But he had not cared if he killed any either. And he had picked his targets for rather petty reasons, too. The Headmaster shook his head. "He attacked random purebloods for being purebloods. He didn't know or care if they were Death Eaters. That's not the same as defending yourself, or attacking Death Eaters."

And, he thought, with some guilt, executing him would help in persuading the purebloods that they would be protected from muggleborns wanting to take revenge. At least those who had done nothing, of course.

Albus wasn't planning to save any of those who had supported the Dark Lord.

*****​

Hogwarts, January 9th, 1997

Usually, the delivery of the Daily Prophet wasn't an event that he was looking forward to, Harry Potter thought. Today was an exception, though. Today everyone in the house was waiting for the article covering 'Dumbledore's finally making a stand against the Ministry', as Sirius put it. Followed by his wish that it wouldn't be a final stand. Harry still didn't understand why some thought that sort of joke was funny.

"What's keeping the owls? We could have taken the Floo to the Cauldron and bought a paper already," Ron said.

"Well, of course - the Floo's much faster than flying," Harry said.

Ron rolled his eyes at him. "Well, you know what I mean."

Harry nodded, grinning. He was half-heartedly poking at the sausages on his plate. Ron was showing more of an appetite, but both were craning their necks whenever they thought they heard something. And trying not to grab their wands - Moody's training and the fight in Paris had left an impression.

Harry was still dreaming of the Inferi, an unstoppable wave of them, rushing him. And Ron had nightmares too, he knew that, though neither of them had talked about it. Even though a number of the adults had offered to listen. Hermione would berate them for it, they knew. But… Harry didn't want to talk about it. Not now. After, he told himself, after the war he'd talk about it.

Finally, the owls arrived, entering the Great Hall and spreading out. Usually, Harry would be looking for Hedwig, her white plumage easy to spot among the brown owls, but not today.

"There!" Ron pointed at one owl banking towards them, a rolled up newspaper in its talon. Ron had the money ready and was putting it into the purse tied to the owl's leg while Harry grabbed the Daily Prophet, almost toppling the bird over when one string wasn't quite free when he pulled. A bit of sausage mollified the angry bird, a quick cleaning charm took care of the spilled tea, and they could finally read the newspaper.

Albus Dumbledore challenges Ministry! Repeal the muggleborn laws, or fight him, Dumbledore says!

The article itself - not written by Skeeter - was less sensational, they found out, but given the topic, that didn't mean much. It stated that the Headmaster had sent the Ministry an ultimatum - either the Ministry stopped any discrimination of muggleborns, or he'd consider them followers of Voldemort, with all that entailed.

"Blimey!" Ron said, shaking his head. "We knew it was coming, but still… look at the other students!"

Harry looked up and saw that at all the tables, even the half-vacated of Slytherin, students were loudly discussing the news. He glanced to the staff table, where Dumbledore was calmly eating breakfast, and talking to McGonagall. Not all of the teachers looked like they had known about this, either. Of course, Harry knew that some might just be able to hide their surprise better. Moody's training had covered more than just fighting, after all.

"Bet you that all of those who cheer this don't think what it might mean for Hogwarts," Ron said.

"The staff have realised that," Harry said. "McGonagall looks angrier than in our first year."

"Well… we'll need to step up the training of our house," his friend said. "Focus on running away."

Harry nodded. "The Headmaster will have an evacuation plan already. But it never hurts to have alternatives."

"Unless you can't decide what to do," Ron quoted Moody.

Harry glared at him. "You know what I meant."

"Yes." Ron smirked.

They were even again, Harry thought. He glanced at the Daily Prophet. There was another article, detailing the trial of the muggleborn captured in Hogsmeade, and whether this development would affect it or not. The article claimed it would not - that Dumbledore had captured the criminal himself and condemned his actions. Harry had already known about this as well.

He wasn't certain how he felt about it, though. Hermione had told him that she didn't care for people who attacked random civilians, no matter if they were muggleborns or purebloods, but…

He couldn't help wondering how many purebloods would see the difference between Felix Smith and Hermione Granger.

*****​

London, East End, January 9th, 1997

"... and if the law is evil, breaking it becomes a good man's duty. Or, if he has the power to, repealing it, Albus Dumbledore was quoted by the Minister," Seamus was reading out loud from the Daily Prophet.

Hermione Granger glanced up from where she was halfway through the third page of her own issue. She saw the wizard was shaking his head, and already knew what was coming.

"All those fine words, and then he condones the execution of the captured muggleborn?" Seamus scoffed.

Yes, what she had expected.

"The trial's not been held yet," Justin said. He had been reading over her shoulder.

"So what? They were probably just waiting for his go-ahead, we know they will kill us if they capture us!" Seamus didn't have to say why - no one had forgotten Martin Cokes.

"We don't murder random purebloods," Hermione said. "The Wizengamot might not care for that difference, but the Headmaster won't let them execute us. If this succeeds, then they'll pardon us as well." She held a hand up when Justin tensed up. "We can discuss the legal ramifications of such an act after we have stopped Voldemort." Especially where accepting a pardon meant accepting that one had committed a crime.

Justin grumbled, but good-naturedly, at having been forestalled. Sally-Anne hugged him from the side. Hermione felt a pang of… not jealousy. Envy. She wanted her boyfriend near her too. Once she had picked him. If either of them still wanted her as a girlfriend when she finally made up her mind. Or heart, in this case.

"So, we ignore the murder of one muggleborn? Will we ignore the murder of others too? Martin's?" Dean asked.

He wasn't as loud and rash as his friend, Hermione knew, but shared the same views, which made him more of a pain in the butt, usually. "There'll be a reckoning, once we've beaten the Dark Lord." With Voldemort gone, Dumbledore would be able to order the Ministry around. Especially with the Resistance as a threat in case they didn't follow his lead.

"So what? I bet there'll be a 'general amnesty' for all survivors. Maybe some ineffectual 'truth commission'." Dean sneered. "I want justice for our deaths!"

"And we will get it." Hermione stared at him. "We won't forget, and we won't forgive."

And they'd not make the same mistake others had made in 1982.

*****​

Hogwarts, January 10th, 1997

"Please have a seat," Albus Dumbledore said when Severus entered his office. The younger wizard sat down stiffly, as usual. Fawkes looked up from his perch and trilled soothingly, but Severus just tensed up even more.

"How did your meeting with the Dark Lord go?" Albus had been concerned when the other wizard had been called away at short notice, so to speak. That was often a bad sign.

"He was in a mixed mood," Severus said. "Angry at having been surprised by your announcement, but pleased by it as well."

"Pleased?" That was worrying, Albus thought.

"He said you were desperate. That only the threat of imminent defeat would push you to take action." Severus's face showed no emotion, but Albus knew the man was worried as well.

"He is mistaken, then." It was true that Albus's hand had been forced, but the situation was not quite as dire as Tom was thinking.

"He was also angry at the news of French involvement." Severus's voice held a tinge of amusement now. "Should the Dark Lord win, France will face some trouble."

Albus nodded. That was information he'd pass along to the Duc at once, in strict confidentiality, of course. If things were not going according to plan, this might propel the French into providing more direct support in the war - it was easier to beat the Dark Lord while he still was fighting British wizards, after all.

"He has also reminded me of the need to gain your trust, and mentioned that the curse on my current position might not be lifted if I disappoint him." Severus didn't show any sign that he was disturbed by this threat. But then, the man had wanted to teach Defense, for years, despite knowing about the curse.

"I see." Albus leaned back. "A quite compelling incentive, or so he might think."

"In order to gain his trust, I need to be able to offer him more than some observations I make at Hogwarts."

Albus knew that. "I will see that you can provide him with crucial information." Although he'd have to ensure that whoever took part in that operation would be aware of the risks. "Was he gloating about my inability to break the curse?"

"Yes."

That Albus hadn't been able to break the curse - that for quite some time, he had not even been able to determine that there was a curse - was irritating. While Albus was not quite as knowledgeable about the Dark Arts as Tom was, he was very skilled in dealing with the Dark Arts. Discovering that his knowledge fell short in this matter had been a humbling experience. Just about everything he had tried had failed. Some methods seemed to have worked, only to be revealed as failures when another year had passed. It had been as if the curse was as hard to defeat as its caster. Fortunately, it was impossible to create a Horcrux for a curse.

Although… there were rumours Albus had found, when researching the withering curse cast on the Creevey brothers, on 'undefeatable curses'. Rumours he might have cause not to dismiss as quickly as he had thought.

Severus was still waiting, he realised. Albus smiled. "Rest assured that I will be working on dealing with the curse once and for all."

It looked like he'd have to investigate the Houngan angle more thoroughly.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 28: Decisive Dates

'At the time it was published, Dumbledore's ultimatum for the Ministry was considered by many as a turning point in the war. It is an understandable view, given the limited knowledge available to the public at the time. Here was one of the two most powerful wizards in Britain making a stand and forcing the Ministry to choose between allying with him, or with the Dark Lord. Many must have been thinking that if the Ministry sided with Dumbledore, if it was working with the Muggleborn Resistance, then certainly the outcome of the war was decided. Who could stand against those three forces if they were united?
And yet, as I will demonstrate, for all its publicity, Dumbledore's declaration was just the inevitable conclusion of his actions to date. He had opposed the muggleborn laws from the start, and he had been advocating to repeal them for as long as they had been in effect. As we know, he also opposed the prosecution of muggleborns, with some notable exceptions. It was therefore only logical that he'd use more forceful means to make the Ministry change its policies when his more subtle methods had failed, since his ultimate goal was never in doubt.
However, even with just the information available at the time, it should have been obvious that the Ministry falling in with either side would not be decisive. The Ministry was not a unified force, but riddled with spies and agents for the different factions, and any official change of policy or alliance would not change that. Not without a bloody fight, at least.
At this point, however, I have to discuss another ramification of Dumbledore's ultimatum: Ironically, it put him in the same situation as the Dark Lord he was opposing - outside the law. For just as his enemy had already done, Dumbledore too was no longer working within the boundaries of the law, but used the threat of naked force in an attempt to make the Ministry submit to him. That was quite a marked difference to his actions in Grindelwald's War, and in the First Blood War.'
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, January 10th, 1997

When she entered the Auror Offices, Brenda Brocktuckle felt as if she walking through a Dragon preserve dripping with cow blood. And it was all the fault of Dumbledore! First the mudbloods called her out as a Death Eater - which she wasn't! She hadn't even met the Dark Lord, nor anyone who'd admit to following him - and now Dumbledore had denounced the Ministry's muggleborn laws as evil. Laws she had spent months enforcing - as was the duty of any good Auror! And now this was suddenly a crime? She ground her teeth and opened the door to her office with more force than usual. If not for the Cushioning Charm placed on the wall, the door would have slammed into it.

Parkinson still noticed. "I see you're as fond of this new style of politics as others."

The witch scoffed. "When 'breaking the law becomes a good man's duty', what do you need Aurors for?" She sat down on her chair.

"It's more than that," Parkinson said. "If you call one law evil, and it sticks, where will it end? Is it evil not to share your food if someone is hungry? If one law is broken without impunity, then the whole body of law is weakened. If you can threaten the Wizengamot into passing or repealing laws with the threat of force, then all our laws and policies are no longer voted upon, but dictated at wand point."

For a moment, Brenda was tempted to ask if that was not exactly what the Dark Lord wanted. But that would have antagonised Parkinson, who was the best and maybe only friend among the Aurors she had left, not to mention her flatmate. And the Dark Lord hadn't done anything to her. Mudbloods, though, had killed two of her partners, and Dumbledore was trying to protect them from their deserved punishments. So she nodded. "Not that those fools who think the world of the Headmaster will ever admit that."

"Sheep who blindly follow their leader, and they'll only realise that he has led them into an Acromantula's nest when they are already caught in the web." Parkinson snorted. "I'd say they deserve it, but they'll try to drag us down with them." The Auror grinned. "I don't know about you, but I'm not too terribly fond of pardoning mudbloods who murdered our friends."

"Neither am I." It would feel like failing her partners once again, Brenda knew.

"Well… what did Dumbledore say? 'If the law's evil, breaking it becomes a good man's duty'? Maybe we should heed his own advice, should the Ministry end up following him. Although prevention is always better than a cure," he added, looking at her with that feigned casual interest she had come to know.

She knew what he was hinting at. Knew what his friends were planning. It was certainly illegal. Some might even call it treason. She knew all that.

But she nodded anyway.

*****​

London, Soho, January 10th, 1997

Hermione Granger was feeling guilty. Going on a date - two dates - while the fate of Wizarding Britain was hanging in the balance was selfish. Very selfish. But, the young witch told herself, not for the first time, rest and recreation was important for a soldier in a war. Justin and Sally-Anne had told her so. Sally-Anne had even threatened to march her out of headquarters at wandpoint if Hermione 'tried to be all stupid'.

And there wasn't much she could do right now to influence the purebloods in making their choice. In fact, as she had been told by Dumbledore, it would be best if the Resistance didn't do anything right now. Not even a supportive broadcast. Although the Resistance Radio would still broadcast, as it usually did on a Friday evening. But when it came down to it, it was the purebloods' decision whether they would follow Dumbledore, or join the Dark Lord.

Hermione hoped they would join the Headmaster. She was sick of being a wanted fugitive. Even though hiding in muggle Britain was almost perfectly safe, there remained pure random chance. She ran her hand over her wig. It wasn't the best disguise, but it would hopefully fool anyone stumbling on her. And she could probably spot a pureblood before they spotted her. Even, she added with a glance at the colourful crowd in the café she was waiting in, in Soho.

The door opened, and she looked up, but it was a couple, not Ron. She glanced at her watch. She had arrived too early, as usual. But better being early rather than late. It allowed her to take stock of her surroundings as well. Plan escape routes. She briefly closed her eyes and sighed. Even while she was about to go on a date with her best friend, she was thinking like a soldier. No, a wanted fugitive, she corrected herself, smiling wryly. She doubted she'd be able to break the habit either. Not that she could afford to.

"Is your boyfriend late?" the waitress asked, in a sympathetic tone as she served the tea Hermione had ordered.

"No. I'm early." Not that it was any of the woman's business, Hermione thought.

"Ah. You just looked so sad. Far too sad for a pretty girl on a date."

Hermione forced herself to smile. "I was just thinking about a story I read. It had no happy ending."

"Ah."

The waitress probably thought she was overly emotional, or just being silly, but she left her in peace, which was what Hermione had wanted. The door opened again, and this time it was her date. Hermione smiled when she saw Ron enter. He cut a fine figure in his shirt and trousers. Casual, but well dressed. She was wearing a short skirt and leggings herself, with a turtleneck.

She stood up and hugged him, letting her hands travel briefly over his back, enjoying his closeness.

"You're looking good," Ron said, smiling at her when they separated.

"You too," she said. She noticed his eyes briefly roam over her, lighting up, and felt pleased. Sally-Anne's idea of shrinking the turtleneck just a bit had been a good one, she could admit that. Just as she could admit that she liked seeing Ron watching her like this. Especially with four French Veela living at Grimmauld Place.

"So, what do you have planned for today?" she asked when they had taken their seats, and the nosy waitress, who was smiling far too much now, had taken Ron's order.

"Dinner, movie, dancing." He smiled at her. "Nothing fancy, just the two of us, spending time together."

"A classic date then," she said, nodding in approval.

"It's classic for a reason." He grinned. "No need to be different just to be different."

She saw that he relaxed just a bit - had he been nervous? Had he feared she'd expected something else? The waitress brought Ron's soda and refilled her tea, interrupting their conversation.

"Dumbledore's covering for you again?" she asked.

"Yes. Harry's receiving another private lesson, just without me being there, for a change."

"How are those lessons going?" She didn't want to talk about Harry while on a date with Ron, but her friend was taking the same lessons.

"The Headmaster said we're progressing at a nice pace. But… " He sighed. "I know Legilimency training can't be rushed, the headaches are bad enough as they are, but the longer we take, the longer the war goes on."

"Yes." Hermione knew what he wasn't saying - the quicker they finished, the quicker Harry would be facing Voldemort.

"I wish I could do more," Ron said, clenching his teeth. "I'm training just like him, but I won't be able to help him when… you know."

"I know." And she knew both of them hated feeling helpless. Harry… it had always been him who had been facing Voldemort. Alone. She had been left behind, or petrified.

Ron broke the silence after a while. "I made reservations in an Indian restaurant. Bill recommended it." He shrugged. "I couldn't ask Parvati or Padma, they'd have wondered why I wanted to know."

"And they would have likely recommended a wizard restaurant," Hermione said.

Ron shook his head. "I don't think there is an Indian restaurant in Wizarding Britain."

Hermione didn't know. But then, how could she know? She hadn't grown up in Wizarding Britain. And she hadn't spent that much time in Wizarding Britain, outside Hogwarts, either. She sighed.

"Do you dislike Indian food?"

"I like it." She smiled. "But I just realised how little I know about so many parts of Wizarding Britain."

"Ah."

Ron looked just a bit… disappointed? Nervous? Did he fear that this meant she was picking Harry over him, since Harry had grown up in muggle England? Hermione shook her head. "So much still left to learn and discover."

He nodded. "Same for me, with muggle Britain. It's fun to find new things, though. New food, new movies, new clubs, tonight at least." The boy smiled at her. "Once the war's over, I can show you more of Wizarding Britain." If they won, of course. If they lost they'd be very likely dead, Hermione knew that. Ron went on: "I'm starting to forget how it was before the war."

Hermione chuckled with him, though both knew he wasn't just joking. She took a deep breath. This was just the opening she needed to discuss this.

"It won't ever be the same again, you know."

*****​

Ron Weasley looked at Hermione. "What do you mean?" Was she talking about their friendship, after she made her choice?

"Wizarding Britain. It won't be the same as it was before the war."

"I reckon that," Ron said. "Those laws will be gone. The Dark Lord will be gone. The Death Eaters will be gone."

"Not all of them." She was shaking her head. "Like last time, some will flee, or go into hiding."

"They'll lose all their power, though," he said. Dumbledore would see to it. His parents had been talking about it.

"Maybe." He saw that she was pressing her lips together for a moment, before she continued: "There are a lot of purebloods who don't follow Voldemort, but don't really like muggleborns."

Ron scoffed. "Idiots."

"Idiots, yes. And bigots. But there are a lot of them around. We can't lock them all up either - not just for not liking muggleborns. And they have money, and influence. In the Ministry, as well as through their businesses." She was pushing the teaspoon around in her cup. "They'll keep their thoughts to themselves, for a while at least, but they'll not accept us. And sooner or later, they'll try to run things like they did before - by purebloods, for purebloods, maybe with a token half-blood and muggleborn for show."

Ron frowned. "They can try, but things were changing before the war already. My family were considered blood-traitors for decades, after all. It's mostly the rich, the Old Families, who are like that."

"But they have the power. Gold, influence, properties. What happens once Dumbledore steps back or dies?"

Ron hadn't really thought about that. The Headmaster had been around all his life, and his parents' lives. To imagine a Britain without him… what could they do without Dumbledore? He cursed under his breath. "I didn't think about that. But we're not powerless. Look at my family. We're poor, but Dad has a good job at the Ministry. Bill's a highly paid Curse-Breaker, and marrying Fleur Delacour. Charlie's working with dragons, which also pays very well." It had to, given the risks, but he didn't have to mention that. Hermione had seen how dragons were handled, at the Tournament's first task. "The twins' shop is doing well, even though we're in the middle of a war and they're known blood-traitors. Percy's working hard at the Ministry."

"You forgot yourself." She was smiling at him.

He tensed up. He hadn't anything to show for. Not like his brothers. He wasn't a hard worker. Or a really talented wizard.

She must have guessed his thoughts, or known, since she grabbed his hand. "You've been fighting against Voldemort for years."

He had. And he was good at fighting. Not as good as Harry, but close enough. He nodded. "I guess I can go and become an Auror, and hunt the Death Eaters who are hiding."

"But that's not what you really want to do, isn't it?"

Once again he nodded. "I want to play professional Quidditch." He saw her frown, just for a moment, like she usually did when he and Harry were talking about the best sport in the whole world, and grinned. "I don't know if I am good enough, though."

"And if you can't play Quidditch professionally?"

What would he do if he couldn't realise his dream? What he usually did. Go on and do something else. "I could become an Auror. I'm good in a fight. And all the training we're doing would help with that work as well."

"If they let you into the Corps."

"They'll have to." He grinned. "After all, we'll have won the war."

Hermione chuckled at that. "Push as many of our friends into positions of power, while the bigots are still reeling?"

He shrugged. "It's a good plan."

"Yes."

He raised his eyebrows at her, though with a grin. "Shouldn't you be telling me not to abuse my influence like that?"

She shook her head. "As you said - we need all the power we can get, even after we win this war. We'll have to make dead certain that Britain won't ever turn back into this... cesspit of bigotry and ignorance, not even after Dumbledore is gone. We'll need lasting reforms. Lasting and drastic reforms, which is very difficult to achieve."

"Are you planning to enter the Ministry as well, then?" He was curious what Hermione wanted from her life. She was good at tackling difficult challenges.

She sighed. "If it's possible."

Ron frowned. That sounded… unlike the Hermione he knew. "Why wouldn't it be possible?"

"I'm the most hated witch in Britain, among purebloods at least. Even if we win this war, a number of people will will want to avenge their family members, those the Resistance killed." She snorted. "All of us are facing that, but I'm the leader. I'm the face of the Resistance. Those purebloods will never forgive me."

He hissed. "Shite."

For once, she didn't call him on his language. Instead she nodded. "And my family will be at risk as well. My parents, and my partner. Or husband."

Ron thought that that sounded familiar. He grinned. "You're not trying to tell me you're too dangerous to be with, are you? Remember how we reacted to Harry trying to pull that off."

She chuckled, but grew serious quickly. "No, I'm not. And what if I have children?"

He hadn't considered that. It was one thing to risk himself, and his family was Gryffindor to the core, but children?

Hermione snorted. "Not that I've been planning to have children anytime soon."

"But eventually?"

She sighed. "I haven't really thought that far ahead."

"Oh." He guessed that that meant she wasn't planning to have children for several years after the war.

Hermione looked at him. "What about you?"

He took a moment to answer that. "I… I haven't really thought about having children either, to be honest. I simply assumed that I'd marry and have children, because, well, that's normal." When he saw that she was frowning, he added, maybe a bit quickly: "At least normal in my family. I didn't really think about it."

"Harry's parents married shortly after finishing Hogwarts and quickly had him," Hermione said.

"Yes." Ron wondered if Harry wanted children. His friend wanted a family, he knew that, but would the Boy-Who-Lived want to have kids? And how soon?

But the more important question was, Ron thought, whether he wanted children.

"Let's talk about something else," Hermione said, breaking the sudden silence.

He shook his head. "No, no." He had to clear that up. He couldn't let her think that he wanted her to have children as soon as the war was over. He took a deep breath. "I was surprised by the question, that's all. I really didn't think about this. Not before, and not now, with the war and all."

She nodded, a faint grin on her face. "Not many are thinking that far ahead."

"Well, Ginny was planning her marriage to Harry when she was seven years old," Ron said, and regretted it at once. That was close to betraying what his sister had told him in confidence. When Hermione laughed, he quickly went on - he didn't want to tell her that Ginny still planned to marry Harry. "But I think all of us will have to deal with that - the hatred and the threat of purebloods wanting revenge. I'm a blood traitor since birth, Harry's the Boy-Who-Lived, and we're your best friends." He smiled thinly. "Everyone knows that they can hurt you through us."

He saw that she was biting her lower lip. "I guess that's true," she said, a bit reluctantly.

"I don't know that much about kids," he said - he had been the second-youngest, after all, and never had to babysit Ginny, "but I'd rather not have children until .... " He almost said '... until they can grow up safely'. Instead, he said: "But I don't want to have children until I feel ready for that kind of responsibility." With a grin, he added: "Which will take some time; can't simply curse the little buggers if they annoy you."

"Ron!" She was shaking her head, but she was smiling.

*****​

Hermione Granger watched Ron as he made his way through the packed club to the bar, to fetch two more drinks. Dinner had been nice. Good food, pleasant ambiance, a family style restaurant. They hadn't talked about politics or relationships, but had mostly exchanged stories from their respective childhoods. The movie had been a romantic comedy. Nothing worth an Academy Award, but a perfect choice to forget the war and everything else for two hours.

When her friend was skirting the edge of the dance floor, a girl bumped into him while she was dancing. Hermione saw her turn around, probably to mumble an apology, and then noticed how her face lit up in a smile. She couldn't hear what the girl was saying, nor Ron's reply, but when she saw Ron smile at the blonde, then turn away, and the girl pouted, she felt rather pleased. It was strange what love could do to her - she wouldn't have thought she could be that… petty? Before. Or that possessive. Even though Ron technically wasn't her boyfriend, since she still hadn't been able to choose. But he wasn't available, not to a Veela, nor to a blonde tart who bumped into people because she didn't pay attention to her surroundings when dancing.

She sighed. She didn't know for certain if Ron really didn't want to have kids as early as most purebloods seemed to have them. But his reason, that he didn't feel mature enough to be a father, rang true. Ron wasn't the most mature boy she knew. Although knowing that he wasn't quite ready to raise kids was a sign of maturity in itself. Heck, she didn't feel ready to have kids, and she liked to think that she was rather mature for her age - certainly more mature than some wizards twice her age. Like Sirius. Although Harry's godfather had the excuse of having spent a decade in Azkaban.

Ron was at the bar now, talking to the bartender. He was fitting in well with the muggles, she noticed once again. A far cry from how his parents acted, or had acted, when Hermione had seen them. Her parents would approve of him, she thought, then giggled. They weren't about to marry, they were trying to find out if they should have a relationship.

She saw Ron turn around, and start towards their table, two glasses in his hands. He did look attractive, his shirt and trousers fit him as if tailor-made - magic, probably - and he had been filling out in the last years. Dishy, some of her muggle friends would call him. Maybe next time they should go swimming, she thought. She'd like to see how Ron looked in speedos. And Harry too, she added.

"Here!" Ron held out her drink.

"Thank you." Hermione took it, then raised her glass to her friend before taking a big sip. Then she shook her head. She should enjoy the evening, have fun, forget about the war, and all of this… whatever her relationships were.

"Let's go dancing!" she said, and emptied her drink.

As if on cue, the music changed to a slow song and Ron opened his arms.

It was shaping up to become a great date.

*****​

Hogwarts, January 11th, 1997

Harry Potter, sitting in the Headmaster's office, told himself that he was just covering for Ron while he waited for his best friend to return from his date. They were thought to have special lessons with the Headmaster, so it would be weird if they didn't return together.

And yet, he knew he'd stay up even if he didn't need to. He wanted to know how Ron's date had gone. Not because he was jealous. Just curious. And maybe a bit… alright, he was jealous. Ron's last date had gone well, considering that it had been cut short due to the attack on the Burrow. Harry could tell from Ron's mood afterwards, when they had talked about Hermione, and from the fact that Ron hadn't been really nervous for this date, which meant he had had reasons to be optimistic. And confident.

Harry on the other hand was quite nervous. His first date with Hermione hadn't been bad, but it could have gone better. Sirius had said that he had been trying too hard - as if Harry hadn't acted on his godfather's advice when he had planned the date.

He glanced at the book in his lap, 'The Art of Magical Warfare'. As far as such books went, it was a good one - not boring, easy to understand, and focused. But he hadn't really read much in the last hour, after Dumbledore's actual lesson had ended. Shouldn't Ron be back already? Dinner and whatever they did afterwards couldn't take that long, could it? His own date… well, it had lasted about as long, now that he thought about it. Still, he was wondering, despite not wanting to, what his two best friends were doing. Were they kissing? Harry and Hermione had kissed on their date, but would she have kissed Ron as well? Probably, he thought. She would have thought that was just being fair.

Which meant she'd be kissing Ron again, today. Probably had, already. If they had gone into a nightclub, then they would have had ample opportunities to kiss. Or go further - Harry had stories about what happened in those clubs. And not all of them from Sirius. He sighed again. Hermione wasn't the kind of girl to do that. But if she did, would she be doing it with him tomorrow - no, it was now later today - as well?

Harry wasn't quite certain if he wanted that. Part of him wanted to, and go further. They were at war, and he could die on the next mission. He'd rather not die a virgin. But he didn't want to have sex just to have had sex. And sleeping with a girl Ron was sleeping with as well… he shook his head. That would never work, not even with Hermione. He frowned and closed his eyes.

"Are you wondering what your friends are doing right now?"

Dumbledore's voice startled him. He had almost forgotten that the Headmaster was there - and it was his office! He cleared his throat. "Did you read my mind?" Without him noticing, despite him having learned Occlumency? If that was possible, then Harry wouldn't last long against Voldemort.

The old wizard chuckled. "No, I did not. Sometimes, a person's thoughts are written on their face. Although it helps that I am aware of your situation."

Harry winced. The Headmaster knowing about his love life, or lack thereof, was embarrassing. The only worse person to know about this… well, Sirius already knew. He didn't want to talk about this. "Are you going to tell me not to worry? They are out there, just the two of them. They don't have any backup."

Dumbledore shook his head. "No. While the odds of any enemy not only stumbling upon them, but also recognising Miss Granger are almost nonexistent, they are just that, almost." The Headmaster paused for a second. "But if I do not miss my guess, you are worried about something else."

Harry looked away. That was even worse - the Headmaster knew of his jealousy. He felt petty and stupid.

This time, the Headmaster sighed. "Ah, love - the source of so many great, and so many terrible things. Some say love is fickle, but I prefer the term 'unlimited' - you cannot control who you love."

"Hermione thinks she can," Harry said.

"If she does, then she is mistaken. Although I would think her actions so far as not so much aimed at controlling her feelings, but finding them in the first place."

Harry shrugged. Whatever the reasons, it meant that Hermione would pick Ron or him. And Harry wanted her to pick him.

"It may sound callous to you, or even uncaring, but no one can control love. To be in love is not a contest you can win or lose," Dumbledore said, petting Fawkes.

Sirius had said something else, but that wasn't the time to discuss his godfather's views. "You mean that I shouldn't be jealous because it's just dumb luck that decides it," Harry said.

The old wizard shook his head. "Oh, no. Jealousy is natural. Many are jealous of yourself, for being famous, for example."

"Like Ron," Harry muttered. It was unfair - Ron had regretted and apologised for his attitude in their fourth year - but he wasn't feeling like being fair right now.

"Your friend knows more than most what price your fame has, Harry. And yet I think he is still jealous. We all are, one way or the other, jealous of someone. What matters, though, is to not let our jealousy poison our true feelings."

Harry wanted to ask who the Headmaster could be jealous of, but didn't. He simply nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

The old wizard smiled and nodded.

*****​

London, Soho, January 11th, 1997

Ron Weasley was kissing Hermione again. She was sitting on his lap, hidden from the view of most of the other guests by some handy foliage from a plant, and by the shadows cast by the dim light inside the club. They broke the kiss, and he took a few deep breaths. This was… he didn't have the words for it. Last time, they had kissed as well, but it hadn't been like this. He had just heard about the attack on his home, they had been rushed, worried… not like this.

Hermione was breathing heavily as well. He could hear her, and if he leaned a bit forward, he'd feel her.

"Wow." It was the best he could do, right now.

She nodded.

"Now I hate the Death Eaters even more, for spoiling the end of our last date." For a moment, he was worried how she'd take his remark. Would she scold him for making light of the war?

Hermione didn't. She chuckled. "Another good reason." Then she leaned forward, and they kissed again. Ron felt one of her hands grip his hair and the other move over his back. His own hands were wandering over Hermione's back. He didn't touch her hair - that was a wig. He didn't want to pull it off by mistake. Then he remembered Hermione would have used a Sticking Charm. Still, it wasn't her hair. He missed her wild mane, even though her new haircut was both cute and practical.

When they broke the kiss this time, he was close to slipping his hands under her turtleneck, and she had opened two buttons of his shirt. She was shivering now.

"I think it's time for us to go home."

He nodded, shaking a bit himself. If they continued, who knew where it would lead? Well, he could imagine. And he was tempted. Very tempted. If he leaned in they'd kiss again, he was certain. And they'd go further than that. He wanted to. But they couldn't. Not now. Not when she still hadn't decided. "Yes, let's go home. Before they start to worry."

Neither of them would go home, of course - his own was destroyed, hers abandoned. He'd return to Hogwarts through Sirius's Floo connection, Hermione would go to wherever the Resistance was hiding.

As the two of them straightened their clothes and stood up from their low seats, Ron suddenly had a stray thought: If this war went on for much longer, would those places become their real homes?

He snorted. When she turned to look at him, he shook his head. "Just thinking that we'd better end this war before our quarters turn into our home."

She nodded. "We will."

*****​

When he stepped out of the fireplace in Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts, Ron saw that the Headmaster was sitting behind his desk and Harry was reading in his usual seat. For a moment, he felt guilty for having made his friend wait so long. And even more guilt for what he and Hermione had almost done. He fought the feeling back, though - they hadn't done it, and he hadn't been out that late. His first date had been cut short, after all. "I hope you didn't have to wait too long."

"Do not worry. I have been working, and Harry has been reading since our lesson ended."

"Yes," Harry said, putting the book he had been reading back onto the shelf. For a moment, Ron thought that his friend would say anything else, but he didn't.

"Good night then, you two," the Headmaster said, smiling.

The two left Dumbledore's office, and started to walk back to the Gryffindor dorms. Ron kept his wand out - Moody had drilled constant vigilance into them, and Hogwarts was full of possible ambush spots. A glance showed him, though, that Harry seemed a bit distracted. He cast a Privacy Spell.

"Mate? Did something happen during the lesson?" Ron had had his fair share of embarrassing or even disturbing moments during his Occlumency training, and if Harry had managed to read Dumbledore's mind…

His friend shook his head. "No… it's just…" He shrugged.

"Well, if you want to talk about it, I'm here." Harry was Ron's best friend, after all - the least he could do was to offer his help. Or just to listen, which helped sometimes.

Harry shook his head. "Sorry. I'd rather not talk about it."

Ron had to accept that. Experience had taught him that he couldn't push his friend to talk; the only one who had managed that was Hermione, and only on a few occasions. Ron usually offered to go flying, or organise a pickup game of Quidditch, in such a situation. It was too late at night for either, though. Although some night flying training… no, it was too late, period.

And yet, a bit later, halfway to the dorms, Harry spoke up. "So… how did it go?"

"It went well. After the movie, we went dancing again." He couldn't help but smiling widely at the memory.

"Ah."

That had sounded a bit… off. Ron looked at his friend.

"Well, there was no Death Eater attack to ruin it this time."

"Oh, yes," Ron said - maybe a bit too strongly, since Harry was now glancing at him.

"I thought your first date went well."

"It did." Ron nodded. "But this one was better."

They went up a stairway, but halfway, it started to move. Neither of them talked while they were waiting for the stairway to decide on its next location. But as soon as they were in a hallway again, Harry said: "Did you kiss her?"

"We kissed," Ron said. He looked at Harry, but now his friend was paying attention to potential ambushes. After a second, he added: "Did you? Last date, I mean."

"Yes."

Ron had known they would have - Hermione was not the kind of girl to treat either of them differently or unfairly - but to hear it confirmed… He felt a spark of jealousy, and couldn't make it go away. Tomorrow, or rather, today, Harry would be on a date with Hermione. They would have fun, they would laugh, probably dance together, and they'd kiss each other. Would they be as close to going further as Ron and Hermione had been today? Had they been as close on Harry's first date? Ron had felt like in heaven tonight, but now, with the prospect of Harry doing the same with her...

They finished the trip to their dorm in silence.

*****​

London, City of London, January 11th, 1997

When she entered the café, Hermione Granger saw that Harry was already waiting. A quick glance at her watch told her that she wasn't late - her friend was just even earlier than herself. He looked good too, in dress pants and shirt. Not as casual as Ron had been, but fine in his own way. She had dressed up as well, with hose instead of leggings, and a blouse instead of a turtleneck. He had told her there'd be a dress code, after all, and she'd rather not feel underdressed even if they were not going to see a play again.

He had seen her as well - Ron had said Moody was trying to make them as paranoid as the old Auror was, something Hermione agreed with if it kept her two friends alive - and was standing up before she reached the table. "Hi!" His smile seemed to light up his face.

"Hi!"

She felt him relaxed as they hugged - he had been very tense before. Something she didn't approve of. She released him, and both sat down. Hermione ordered a tea, as yesterday, while Harry wanted another soda.

"So, what do you have planned for today?" she asked, as soon as the waiter had left.

"Well, I've made reservations on the Symphony, from Bateaux London. A dinner cruise on the Thames."

"Oh!" She had heard her parents talk about those cruises. "That's the originally French ship, right?"

"I think so," Harry said, though his light hesitation told her that he hadn't known, nor cared.

"I've heard good things about them. My parents dined there before." She hadn't - she had been already at Hogwarts when the business had started, and there had always been something up during the holidays.

"Here." Harry pushed a small package towards her. "Just in case."

She took it, puzzled. What would he… she opened it and peeked inside. There was a vial, and bundle of… "gillyweed?"

Harry nodded. "If we're attacked, we can escape through the water. The vial is a potion to keep us warm."

She was impressed. That was a lot of preparation. "Moody's good for you," she said, nodding in approval.

Harry winced. "He's a tough teacher. I almost stunned Neville when he surprised me the other day."

Hermione bit her lip. Maybe Moody was a bit too paranoid to train her two friends. Out loud, she said: "How is he doing?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Not well. He's angry and moody. And always training. He bought a new wand, you know. Said he couldn't keep using his father's wand. And he's very intense."

That didn't sound like Neville, Hermione thought. Nor like something that was good for Neville. Still, losing his last close family… "Do you think he'll do something rash?" Neville attacking Slytherins could be a catastrophe in the current climate.

"We're keeping an eye on him. With the map," Harry said.

"Good." And there were teachers. Not that they had such a good track record, Hermione thought, but at least Dumbledore would be aware of the potential problem for his own plans, now. Or should. She hesitated a second. "Did you tell Dumbledore?"

"I thought…" Harry trailed off, then shook his head. "I'll tell him once I get back tonight." He sounded amused and sad at the same time. "I should know better than to assume people know, right?"

She chuckled, without much humour. "You know the saying about what happens if you assume something."

Harry actually didn't, so she explained it to him. He laughed quite a bit more than she thought the saying deserved. Boys! Ron would have laughed out loud as well.

"So, you're taking me on a cruise on the Thames, on a ship from Paris. Quite the romantic gesture." Hermione smiled at him.

He nodded. "That's the idea."

For a moment she wondered if that had been Sirius's idea. For all his overacting and often crude jokes, Harry's godfather was quite charming. Ron had relied on advice from his brother Bill, for picking the restaurants at least.

"When do we have to board?"

"Half past seven." He grinned. "I thought we could visit a museum until then."

"You know, you don't have to do everything I like, Harry," Hermione said. "A date should be fun for both parties." A relationship didn't last if one partner was always making sacrifices for the other.

"I wanted to visit the museum ever since I heard about it in school," Harry said.

"Oh." Now Hermione felt bad. She had assumed - ironic, after her explanation just a few minutes before - that Harry wouldn't like to visit a museum, based upon… his attitude towards homework? Was she really that blind, or shallow?

"Hey… I haven't told anyone that." Harry smiled and patted her hand.

Hermione winced. That didn't make her feel much better. Who could he have told at Hogwarts? Ron and her, and only she would have known what it was, and might have organised a trip for him. His family certainly wouldn't have. Ron would have probably liked to see the museum too - his father would have loved it, but he'd have made a scene in every room. She snorted.

"Hm?" Harry looked confused.

"I just imagined Mister Weasley visiting the British Museum."

"Ah!" Harry grinned, and the mood lifted. "We can go as soon as we are done here."

Hermione quickly finished her tea.

*****​

The museum had been fun, Harry Potter thought. He had fudged the truth somewhat, but only a bit - as a kid, he had wanted to visit the Imperial War Museum, not the British Museum. And given that the two of them were currently fighting a war, it wouldn't have been a good choice for a date anyway.

He was still in a very good mood when they boarded the Symphony, a boat with an all-glass structure. He had made reservations for the most expensive seats, or rather, Sirius had arranged it. Harry suspected that bribes had been involved to get a seat on so short a notice. Probably not compulsion spells, although he'd not put that past his godfather either. But it was worth it. Hermione was worth it, he thought while a waiter led them to their table.

They took a few minutes to order, with Harry relying mostly on Hermione's knowledge of French dishes from her vacation. Mostly - thanks to their house guests, Harry had become familiar with a few French dishes as well, which must have surprised Hermione, judging by her expression.

"Speaking of French," she said, once the waiter had served the entrées, "Has there been a change on the 'stepmother front'?" She was smiling, but she looked a bit tense.

Harry frowned. "No. Sirius is still courting all of them, from what I can tell." He didn't know how serious his godfather was - the wizard avoided answering Harry's admittedly tentative questions with his usual mixture of jokes and embarrassing stories from Hogwarts.

"Well, if Sirius does pick a French wife or lover, you'll at least eat well." Hermione shook her head.

"A small consolation," Harry said.

"Would it be so bad if Sirius found someone?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Not that bad, I guess. But… I feel he's overdoing it. You know… trying too hard." Just as Sirius had told him, that was a recipe for disaster.

"Ah. You fear how he'll feel once the relationship fails?"

Harry nodded. He could imagine how that would feel, and Sirius was still… he hadn't recovered fully from Azkaban. He probably never would, Harry thought.

"I understand."

When Harry saw that Hermione bit her lower lip, he tensed up. That wasn't a good sign.

She straightened, and looked straight at him. He braced himself. "Have you thought about what you want to do after the war?"

He hadn't expected that question. Or any question, to be honest. For a moment, he was relieved. Then he frowned. "I hadn't, actually. I just… well, things would be back to normal. Or as normal as it gets for us."

"Us?" she asked, with a raised eyebrow, but a smile as well.

He knew what she was hinting, but shook his head. "You, me, Ron, and the rest of our crazy friends."

"I don't think it'll be normal for a long while. Things have changed too much." She was looking at him with an unreadable expression.

He nodded. "Too many have died. Neville… you might not recognise him."

"I can imagine," she said. She took a sip from her aperitif. "But even with the Dark Lord gone, and his Death Eaters gone as well, there will be many bigots left. They'll play nice and act as if they were for Dumbledore all along, but they don't like muggleborns."

Harry frowned, but nodded. She was right. Remus had said that that had happened after the last war as well. "We won't let them get away with it this time, though." They wouldn't repeat the same mistakes his parents' generation had made.

"We can't really do that much, not without becoming like the Death Eaters. We can't punish them for their thoughts." Hermione shook her head and scoffed. "Until they try again to make Britain a country for purebloods by purebloods."

"Over my dead body!" Harry snarled.

"That's probably what they'll do first. Wait until Dumbledore has died, then take out those of us who could stop them." Hermione looked at him. "That is, if they plan ahead. We'll be in danger of the families of the Death Eaters taking revenge on us even before that. People trying to avenge a loved one are not rational; they won't care if they get caught or killed."

She was painting a rather grim picture of the time after the war, Harry thought. "You mean this war will have been for nothing?"

"No." She shook her head. "But we'll have to work hard to prevent that. We'll need to gather as much power as possible, so even without Dumbledore, the bigots can't take over again. We need to radically reform the Ministry." She looked grim now. "Even though lasting and drastic reforms are very difficult to do."

"You'll be Minister for Magic then, hm?" Harry said. He was smiling, but he wasn't joking - he could see her as Minister. She had the passion, and the will, needed. And the talent, of course.

To his surprise, she snorted. "I'm not even certain I'll be able to work in the Ministry after the war. For the purebloods, I'm the most hated witch in Britain. I'm the face of the Resistance for them. I'll be the one they'll go after if they want to avenge their dead." She grinned, but with a cynical expression. "That will make working in the Ministry rather hard."

"We can fire all the bigots," Harry said. "The Ministry needs a purge anyway." Sirius had often said so.

"We won't know who's a bigot. Only the dumber ones will announce it."

Like Draco, Harry thought. "We can't let them win, though."

"We won't. We'll do our best to foil them. But it won't be easy." Hermione leaned back. "Nor safe. For any of us involved."

"The war's not been safe either," Harry said. "We just have to deal with it." There was no other choice.

Once again, Hermione seemed to hesitate. "What about our families?"

Harry had only Sirius and Remus. And the Tonkses. And his friends.

"I mean, are you planning to have a family? Children?" She went on.

"Of course," Harry answered. A family, a real family, had been his dream since forever. His children would grow up happy and safe.

"Many wizards and witches seem to marry and have children quite soon after Hogwarts." Hermione had a serious expression, which puzzled him somewhat.

"Yes." His parents for example. And Neville's.

"They even had children in the middle of a war."

"Yes." Was that what she was leading at? "You think that's not a good idea?"

"Maybe. Although I wasn't planning to have children anytime soon. The war just gave me an additional reason." Hermione was now looking straight at him.

"I see." He didn't, really. "Do you plan to have children later?"

"Mabye. I don't know yet. I haven't really thought that far ahead."

"You, not thinking ahead?" He chuckled, even though he had to force himself to do so.

"Not that far."

Which, he realised, meant she wasn't planning to have kids for several years after the war.

"And you want to have kids earlier." She smiled wryly.

If not for the talk with Dumbledore last night, he would have wondered if she had read his thoughts. He nodded. "Yes. Like my parents. If they had waited with having kids I would have never been born." Probably - they would have fought instead of going into hiding, and might have been killed. Or Voldemort would have won.

"Of course." Hermione was smiling, but she looked sad while doing it. "I guess if you're willing to have a child in the middle of a war, you'd not wait so you can focus on your work either."

Harry had to nod at that. Even though he knew she wasn't agreeing with him. Of course, Hermione's mum had had her late, close to 30. And Hermione would likely follow her own parents' example, not his. He cleared his throat. "Well, look at us, we're not even adults yet in Britain, and we're talking about children."

Hermione chuckled, but it felt a bit strained. "Indeed."

They finished the entrées in silence.

"What a beautiful sight!" she suddenly said.

Harry looked up. They were passing underneath Tower Bridge now. London at night looked great, he had to admit, with all the bright lights shining. "Yes."

*****​

The cruise ended at a quarter to eleven. Harry was smiling when he led Hermione off the ship. "Solid ground under our feet again!" he said.

"Says the Seeker," Hermione said dryly.

"And I'd have to know, seeing as it's my natural enemy when playing."

She laughed at that, even while she was shaking her head. As Sirius had said, witches liked funny wizards. Life was too short to be always serious.

"Now let's go dancing!" he said. He was about to hail a cab when he turned around. "Unless you want to do something else."

"I love dancing," she said, with a smile.

He nodded. He hadn't known that. Neither had she, until she went dancing with Ron on their date. Something that irked him.

"I know this club," he said, raising his arm as he saw a cab drive by.

*****​

Fortunately, muggle dancing wasn't as complicated as the dances at the Yule Ball, Harry Potter thought two hours later. All he'd had to do was move more or less in step with the music, the dance floor in the in-club Sirius had found was too packed to do any fancy dancing anyway. And the slow dances were even easier. Then all he had to do was to hold Hermione close. Although holding her that close, feeling her move with him, her body pressed into his… he hadn't wanted to let her go when the music changed again.

"I think it's time to go," Hermione said.

Just as he didn't want to let her go now, even though it was time to leave. They were in a corner of the club, her with her back to the wall, him standing there, shielding her from view. Moody would have punished him for presenting his back to the crowd, but at the moment, Harry didn't care at all.

They had been kissing again, with tongue, like on their first date. Just more often. Not enough, though, Harry thought. Never enough. He wanted more. More kisses. More touches. If they were alone… But they weren't alone. And Ron was waiting in Dumbledore's office, probably bored and worried as well.

For a moment, Harry didn't care. Ron could wait until morning, if he could stay with Hermione. He regretted his selfish, petty thoughts right away.

"Yes. Let's go."

*****​

London, East End, January 12th, 1997

Hermione Granger smiled at Colin, who was taking a turn as guard, as she entered the Resistance's headquarters.

"Hermione! Had fun?"

"Yes, I had. But I'm exhausted now - we went dancing for hours." She waved at him and went upstairs to her room. She heard others in what had become their living room, playing a game, probably, but just stuck her head inside to tell them she was back.

She stopped smiling once she closed the door behind her, and sighed. It had been an enjoyable date. Harry was charming like Sirius, honest - unlike his pranking godfather - and he was a good kisser. Like Ron, she thought.

But that didn't matter, and it was all her fault. Harry wanted a family. And children. Quite soon too, like his parents. He revered his parents - quite natural, since they had died for him. So, why wouldn't he want to follow their example? Everyone he talked to about them probably told you how great they had been. And the Dursleys… well, he would want a loving family, after living with them.

But most of all, he wanted children. Hermione had realised that. And she didn't. Not as soon as he wanted to have them, maybe not ever. She frowned and started to change into her bedclothes. They could compromise, of course. But then neither of them would be happy. Both would feel as if they were sacrificing their dream, probably. It could work out. Maybe Hermione would suddenly feel her biological clock ticking as if she was forty - her parents had told her that she had always been very mature for her age.

She snorted. With the war, she was even less likely to have kids in the next few years. She would have to work harder than ever after the war to turn Wizarding Britain into a country she wanted her kids to live in. If she ever had children. And the thought of a child of hers, hurt or killed because of her…

She shook her head. It was silly, anyway. They were teenagers in their first relationship. They shouldn't be thinking, much less worrying, about having children. Apart from, she added with a snort, keeping all the ways to avoid having them in mind when they had sex. Sex… she forced her thoughts back to the problem at hand, away from those tempting, lurid fantasies.

No, she shouldn't be worried about different plans for the future. Teenage relationships often didn't last. Often, but not always, she added.

But she couldn't help it. She was not the kind of girl to start anything that she didn't intend to see through to the end. Entering a relationship that she knew, or was reasonably certain, wouldn't last was not something she wanted to do. It felt like letting her partner down. Nor did she want to enter a relationship just to fool around for a bit. Outside her fantasies, at least.

Casual sex, 'friends with benefits' - she had thought about that. Thought about, and discarded the possibility. She couldn't do that. Not with Harry or Ron. Much less with both, as Sirius would probably suggest. There was too much emotion, too much love, for that to work.

It was selfish, she knew, but she'd rather be with a boy with whom she could at least think of having a long-term relationship.

Ron.

******​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 29: Talks and Meetings

'Even if the war's outcome had not caused drastic changes in the political system of Wizarding Britain, Dumbledore's ultimatum would have had far-reaching consequences. The Chief Warlock forcing his will on the Ministry was not something the old system was capable of handling. Although the opinion that that this move put Dumbledore on the same level as the Dark Lord, a wizard of great personal power trying to unilaterally make decisions for Wizarding Britain, was thought provocative and inflammatory by many wizards and witches at the time, it is not without merit.
However, those consequences were, for better or worse, long-term concerns. More important for the war were the reactions of the Ministry staff. After months of hearing about the threat of the Muggleborn Resistance, it was no surprise that even among those Ministry employees not affiliated with the Dark Lord's forces, there were many who reacted with fear to the information that Minister Fudge was planning to pardon them. The recent attacks by muggleborns on random purebloods in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade further reinforced those fears.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn

*****​

Hogwarts, January 12th, 1997

When Ron Weasley saw Harry step out of Dumbledore's fireplace, saw his friend's smile, he felt the familiar feeling of jealousy fill him. That wasn't the face of a boy who had struck out on his date. They had kissed, that much was certain. And Ron didn't like it.

Ron knew it was selfish, and wrong - no matter what the Headmaster had told him earlier, he shouldn't be having thoughts like that - but a part of him had hoped that Harry would have a bad date. Ron wasn't as rich, as famous, or as talented as Harry, nor as important. But he had been able to show Hermione a good time, as Bill called it. Made her smile, and laugh, and hopefully forget the war for a bit.

If Harry had managed to do the same, then there was no way Hermione would pick Ron. He forced himself to smile as he stood up. "We'll have to finish this match another time, Headmaster," he said, nodding at the chessboard.

"I might as well concede right now," the old wizard said, smiling. "I doubt the outcome would differ from that of our previous two matches."

"Well…" Ron wasn't about to lie. The Headmaster was a decent player, enough to be a challenge, but not good enough to beat him. "Maybe."

"You've been playing chess?" Harry asked. Ron's friend was looking surprised. They hadn't played much chess lately, Ron realised. Harry didn't like the game as much as Ron did, and he wasn't exactly a challenge either, so Ron had to handicap himself a lot to have an even match.

"We have indeed. Your friend has proven to be the better player. Probably the best currently at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said.

"Too bad war's not a chess game," Ron said. There were too many random elements, too many variables. Chess was easy, too.

"Maybe." Dumbledore inclined his head.

Ron was tempted to ask what he meant, but it was getting late. They needed to return to their dorms - they had more training on Sunday, and Moody wouldn't let them sleep in. The thought of what the Auror would do to them if they overslept made Ron wince.

The Headmaster waved his hand. "Off to bed now, you two."

"Good night, Headmaster," the two chorused.

The trip back to their dorms was awkward, in Ron's opinion. He wanted to know what Harry and Hermione had done on their date, but at the same time, he wanted to remain ignorant, wanted to keep hoping that things would not go as expected. He was being selfish, and stupid. Harry would need all the support and love he could get for his confrontation with Voldemort. If he had his heart broken by Hermione, that would only help the Dark Lord. Harry hadn't that many friends either, and if Ron and Hermione were going out, that meant they'd spend less time with Harry. Another bad thing. Hermione had not much time to spare in the first place to be with them, and if that was reduced further… Ron shook his head. Everything told him that he should step back. Let Harry and Hermione be happy together. Be the bigger man, make the sacrifice for Britain, for everyone who was fighting Voldemort.

But, curse it! Ron didn't want to lose Hermione! If she picked Harry, which she likely would, then that was fine. Or would be fine. Ron'd be hurt, but he'd get over it. He had a lot of experience with handling disappointment. But to give up, give her up, to make the decision for her, to lie to her… He clenched his teeth together. No, he wouldn't do that.

It was stupid, and selfish, and a lot of other things, but he loved her. And until she told him she was choosing Harry, he'd keep hoping she'd choose him.

*****​

London, East End, January 12th, 1997

When her alarm clock - mechanical, of course - rang, Hermione Granger didn't want to get up. She forced herself out of her bed anyway. She hadn't ever shirked from doing what was needed, and she'd not start on this Sunday morning. She wasn't looking forward to it, though. She didn't want to hurt Harry, and yet she would. Would he hate her for choosing Ron? Would he hate Ron?

She hoped, prayed that he wouldn't. But she couldn't be certain. Jealousy was a terrible thing; she knew that herself. And Harry was under a lot of pressure - he had to face and defeat Voldemort, according to the Headmaster. And, as much as Hermione hated to admit it, she agreed with that - the Dark Lord had tried several times before to kill the Boy-Who-Lived. Even if the prophecy were wrong, Harry would be fighting him sooner or later.

For a moment, she considered not telling the boys. Keep things going as they were, at least until the war was over. They wouldn't have much time for dating anyway, with all of them training hard, and fighting. And her decision wouldn't cause additional trouble and grief for Harry in the middle of the war.

She wouldn't do it, though. Couldn't - she didn't wear her heart on her sleeve like others, but she wasn't a good enough actress to fool her best friends. They'd know, or, worse, they'd suspect. And they'd doubt her, and themselves. And once she came clean, they'd know she had strung Harry along. None of them deserved that.

She had to tell them, and quickly. In person though, not over the mirror. They deserved that as well. But how and where could she tell them? They would need some privacy for that. And afterwards, Harry would want to leave, probably go to Sirius. The Resistance had safe houses, but those were not meant to be revealed to others, and certainly were not meant to be used for such things.

She made a mental note to check if anyone was using the reserve safe houses to meet with a lover - that was the kind of careless stupidity that could ruin them.

And Grimmauld Place was still hosting a dozen French wizards and witches - and four Veela, she added - as well as several Order members. She couldn't visit there without endangering everyone. And renting a hotel room… no, that would be sending the wrong kind of message.

Maybe a café. Or a park. A bit cliché, but they would not feel confined. There would be more room for all of them. Privacy spells would keep others from listening in, of course. She pulled out a map of London, to pick a suitable park, when she heard someone knock on her door.

"Hermione? Are you still in bed?"

That was Sally-Anne. Hermione glanced at her clock. She had spent that much time thinking this through? Shaking her head, she said out loud: "I'm up, I'll be down in a few minutes."

"We'll be waiting."

Technically, training was optional on a Sunday, but usually, most members of the Resistance did train anyway, although not as long as on the other days. And Hermione was usually among the first to be ready. She frowned at her lapse while she slipped into a track suit.

When she entered the living room a few minutes later, she was greeted by wide grins and smiles.

"What?" Hermione said, resisting the urge to cross her arms. That would look too defensive.

"You've overslept. Long night?" Sally-Anne's beaming, teasing expression left no doubt what she imagined Hermione had done last night.

She had to nip that in the bud. "No," she said, shaking her head. "I was just pondering a few things this morning."

"Oh."

Her friend was still smiling, so Hermione added: "Unpleasant things."

"Oh." The other witch looked crestfallen. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Hermione said. "It's not the fault of anyone here. Just a few things I have to take care of." And a heart to break. "Let's go do our laps to warm up."

Outside, jogging at a steady pace, she let her thoughts wander again. She told herself that Harry would get over her. Would find someone else. Someone prettier. Someone who'd suit him better. Someone he would be happy with.

She just hoped he would not fall for a girl who just wanted to be the girlfriend of the Boy-Who-Lived, and had no idea what being Harry's friend meant. If only she was still at Hogwarts, so she cold keep an eye on him. She'd have to trust Ron with that, then. And maybe tell Sirius.

Damn this war!

*****​

London, January 12th, 1997

Brenda Brocktuckle woke up early, even though she had the day off - the first Sunday in weeks. And, of course, she had the day off at a time when she'd rather be at work, where everyone was trying to find out what their co-workers were thinking about Dumbledore's ultimatum. And what their co-workers were about to do about it.

She could go to work, of course. Claim she was busy with her case, if anyone asked her. Not that anyone would - she was still a pariah as far as most Aurors were concerned. But if she was there, then she could keep an eye on things. Find out what was going on.

And she might have an excuse not to meet with Parkinson's 'friends', as he called them. Death Eaters, or sympathisers. Up until a while ago, she hadn't cared about the difference, but now she was hoping there wouldn't be any actual Death Eaters. It wasn't illegal to have sympathies for the Dark Lord's goals. With the Minister about to follow Dumbledore, as rumours claimed, the Dark Lord was the only one doing anything about the Resistance, after all.

But to actually meet with Death Eaters… that was something else. But, she added to herself, maybe not illegal. Not anymore, when people were talking about pardoning mass-murderers. Had people forgotten how many people the mudbloods had killed? Why wasn't anyone proposing a pardon for the Death Eaters?

Because Dumbledore was against it, of course. The Chief Warlock wanted the Dark Lord dead, and he didn't care if he had to work with murderous mudbloods to achieve it. Or had to betray all the Aurors who had been killed in the line of duty.

Brenda cared. It was not right to let the murderers of her partners go free. That Bones would allow this… She shook her head. She wouldn't have expected that. The older witch had always stood up for the Corps. Had been one of them. But now? It seemed she was just another politician, going with the flow.

She sighed and got up, heading to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Parkinson would turn up as soon as the tea was ready, as usual - the wizard had an uncanny talent for avoiding preparing breakfast himself. Brenda didn't really mind - she doubted that a breakfast prepared by him would be that tasty, due to him lacking any practice in the kitchen. Doubly so since this was a muggle kitchen, with all the useless muggle things cluttering up the place. Not even the oven worked right - they had to use a portable wizarding one.

As expected, the Auror entered the kitchen right before the tea was ready. "Good morning."

"Morning," Brenda said, levitating the tea kettle over to the table.

He grabbed it and filled his own cup, then hers. While he buttered his toast, he pointed at the Daily Prophet on the table, with a picture of Dumbledore on the front page. "Looks like the Prophet's owners have taken a side."

Anyone could have told that by the headline, and slanted article. "Probably blackmail," Brenda said. "He's bound to know everything about everyone important."

"Oh, yes. He's showing his true colours." Parkinson grinned. "Do you ever wonder how much he did behind the scenes? What he was doing until he was forced out in the open?"

"He's a politician," Brenda said. "He was making deals for decades."

"I meant in the war." Parkinson bit into his toast. "This war."

"What do you mean?"

"I was wondering why those mudbloods are so successful. They are ignorant scum, they barely received their N.E.W.T.s, but they managed to kill so many purebloods…" He trailed off, looking at her.

"We don't know all the members of the Resistance," Brenda said. "There could be older ones. Former Aurors." Traitors.

"There could be," Parkinson conceded, "but even they wouldn't have access to as much information, classified information, in the Ministry as the Chief Warlock."

Brenda gasped. "You mean…"

"Yes." He nodded. "I suspect Dumbledore was working with the mudbloods - or rather, that the mudbloods were working for him. He made the plans, and they executed them. None of Dumbledore's allies were at Malfoy Manor. And most of the Aurors killed by them in that ambush were good purebloods."

Brenda hissed. It made sense. If Dumbledore was a traitor, had been a traitor from the start...

"He's been pushing for a war ever since the Dark Lord returned. He didn't care at all for a peaceful solution. And when he was having no success even after a year, suddenly the mudbloods go underground, and dozens of purebloods whose only crime was being proud of their heritage were murdered, and he had his war."

"Against the mudbloods, not against the Dark Lord."

"Until the riots happened. Awfully convenient again, weren't they?" Parkinson grinned cynically. "Push everyone, see who breaks… maybe help things along a bit. A spell here and there, and there's a nice riot. As if the Dark Lord, after asking for peace for a year, would suddenly act like this, when everyone had just seen how dangerous the mudbloods are!"

"Merlin's arse!" Brenda wasn't quite convinced, but it made sense. It made so much cursed sense.

Parkinson nodded.

Suddenly, meeting the wizard's friends didn't seem like treason anymore. Not if the Chief Warlock, and with him, the Minister, had done far, far worse.

*****​

Hogwarts, January 12th, 1997

When he heard the communication mirror's call right before lunch, Harry Potter feared the worst. An unscheduled call, in war? That meant bad news. Especially if it was Hermione's mirror, and not Sirius's. His godfather was more likely to spontaneously call him, and Harry had just spent the last evening with Hermione.

"Ron!"

His friend looked up from the Daily Prophet's Quidditch section.

"It's Hermione's mirror."

Harry saw his friend jerk - he'd think the same as Harry. Bad news. Best to assume the worst, and prepare accordingly, he had heard Moody say often during their training.

Ron quickly came over and sat down on Harry's bed. A privacy spell later, behind the curtains, they stuck her heads together and Harry touched the mirror.

Hermione's face appeared, and he was relieved. Whatever had happened, she was alive. And she didn't look hurt. She was nervous, though.

"Hermione!" Ron all but yelled.

The witch winced. "Good morning." Harry and Ron barely managed to say their own greetings before the girl continued. "I hate to do this, to disrupt your schedule, but… I have to meet you. Today."

"What happened?" Harry asked. Next to him, Ron, audibly claused his mouth - he had been about to ask the same, Harry thought.

"I can't say it on the mirror. We have to meet. The café we met last evening, at… is four alright?"

"Yes," Ron said.

Harry nodded. They had a lesson scheduled, but Dumbledore would understand.

"Good. I'll see you soon then. Again, I'm sorry for disrupting your schedule."

The mirror went dark so quickly, Harry wasn't certain she had heard their goodbyes. For a moment he stared at his and Ron's reflection, then he sighed and stashed the mirror. "That was… weird." And disturbing.

His friend nodded. "Yes." He chuckled. "That's so her, apologising for 'disrupting our schedule'."

Harry snorted. "Yes." He wasn't really amused, though. He wondered what their friend wanted to tell them that she couldn't tell them through the mirror. Suddenly he hissed. There was one thing people never told each other on the phone. "She's not pregnant, is she?" He glanced at Ron.

His friend gaped at him. "What? How?"

"Do you want me to explain how it works?" Harry said.

"Merlin's balls, no!" Ron stared at him. "I meant… how could she be pregnant? Did you?"

"No, no." Harry said. Apparently, his friend hadn't had sex either. "Sorry."

Ron nodded. "But still… what could she want to tell us?"

Harry could think of one thing. And judging by the face Ron made, his friend had just had the same thought.

"Shite."

*****​

"Do you think she's made her choice?"

On the way to the Headmaster's office, Harry had to fight not to glare at his best friend. He didn't really want to think, much less talk about it. Yet he nodded. "Probably." What else would have caused her to act so… nervous?

"I think so too," Ron said.

Neither Ron nor Harry asked the next, the logical question, out loud, though Harry certainly was asking himself. Who had she chosen? Him, or Ron? Or, maybe… "You don't think she's breaking up with both of us?"

"What?" Ron turned his head to stare at him. "Why would she be doing this, right after the dates?"

Because she's found someone else, someone better? Harry thought. No, she wouldn't do that. "Maybe she thinks we all need to focus on the war."

Ron snorted. "That could be it."

"You don't think so, though." Harry knew his best friend.

"No, I don't." Ron shook his head, his wand covering the entrance to a side-corridor they were passing. "Or she'd have acted differently two days ago."

Harry was tempted to ask Ron how she had acted, but didn't. This still could be something else. Maybe she wanted to tell them that she couldn't go on dates for a month or two, because of the war. Dumbledore's ultimatum had made waves, and Harry knew that Sirius's Order cell had been preparing for a battle - in the Ministry - for some time now. Just in case, his godfather had said. When Moody had found out that they had been told, he had shouted about operational security.

Thinking of Sirius made him think of his godfather's favourite solution to solve their love triangle. "You don't think she'll ask for a threesome, do you?"

"What?" Ron stared at him, again. "A threesome?"

Harry couldn't help it - the opening was just too good, and he needed some levity. "It's when a witch has sex with two wizards at the same time."

"I know what a threesome is!" Ron growled. "But Hermione wouldn't go for that."

"Why not?" Harry glanced at Ron. Sirius had told him once that smart witches were often 'kinky', or 'willing to experiment'. Harry could have done without hearing what James had told his best friend about Harry's mother, though. "Do you think she's too…" He searched for the right word. "... too proper for that?"

"No. But if she wanted to do something like that, she'd have dragged us both off to her bedroom long ago. She's not one to hesitate if she thinks she has found the solution to a problem." Ron grinned, though it looked a bit forced to Harry.

He nodded. He didn't think sharing Hermione would work, anyway. It was bad enough to wonder what she was doing with Ron on their date, to know what they were doing, and wondering if she liked him better, and was only with him out of pity, would be worse. And having sex all three of them together… no. No.

They reached the Headmaster's office, and went straight up - both had the password these days, for emergencies. And this certainly qualified, in Harry's opinion. Besides, the Headmaster had told them his door would always be open if they wanted to talk. And that was the case here as well. They just wanted to talk with Hermione.

The Headmaster was in his office, and raised his eyebrows when he saw them enter. "I would have expected you to be at lunch at this time. What happened?"

"Hermione called. She needs to talk to us," Harry said.

"Right now," Ron added.

Dumbledore pushed his glasses a bit further up his nose with one finger, and slowly nodded. "I see. I would think this could be called a family emergency then? Though I hope that she is not in the family way."

"She isn't!" Ron quickly said.

Harry nodded. "We haven't…" he trailed off. Dumbledore wasn't the last wizard he wanted to talk about this with, but that didn't mean Harry wanted to go into details in the first place.

Dumbledore smiled. "Please be cautious, though. While it's not likely that it is a trap, it is not impossible. Have you informed Sirius?"

"No, we haven't. We came straight here, after we talked to her." Harry was wondering why the Headmaster said this. He hadn't mentioned a possible trap when they had gone on dates. He suddenly wondered if the Headmaster knew what Hermione was about to tell them. And if Dumbledore thought that they'd need Sirius. Or that Harry'd need him. Then he forced himself to relax. Sirius was one of the few who knew about their relationship and meetings with Hermione. Of course he'd be the one to inform.

"Do you mind if I do tell him? Just as a precaution."

"No, of course not," Harry said. He didn't really want his godfather around for this talk, but they were at war.

"Good. You might also wish to eat something. An empty stomach is not a good companion for a serious talk." Dumbledore smiled, and a few seconds later, two plates appeared on his desk, loaded with food. "Tuck in, please, while I inform your godfather."

Harry didn't feel hungry, but he forced himself to eat something. Ron's appetite wasn't affected by their mutual nervousness, of course. Or Ron wasn't that nervous - Harry couldn't tell.

He was jealous, though. And hoped that he'd not have another, much bigger reason to be jealous of his friend in a few hours.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, January 12th, 1997

"An urgent meeting with Hermione? And you can't talk about it on the mirror? Merlin, Harry! You didn't…"

"She's not pregnant!" Harry Potter glared at his godfather.

"You asked the same, Harry," Ron said.

"Oh!" Sirius sat up straighter in his seat facing the boys' couch. "So, since you came to the same conclusion, what did you do on your date?"

"She's not pregnant. We didn't do it, and if we had done it, she wouldn't know if she's pregnant yet."

"Are you certain? Muggles have some really good tests for that," Sirius said. "Lily told me so. It was why she wanted to visit a muggle healer during her pregnancy as well."

"Yes. They can't tell that early if you're pregnant." Harry was certain that Sirius was misremembering. His godfather's memories had been affected by his torture in Azkaban, and many of his tales were probably more fantasy than reality. He didn't want to go into a discussion about muggle medicine and pregnancies right now, though. He just wanted to head over to the café where they would be meeting Hermione. They would be a few hours early, but it was better than discussing their relationship with Sirius.

"Well, if you are certain…" Sirius winced under Harry's glare, then said: "I'll be in the area, in disguise, to keep an eye on you. And I want you to take a portkey. Just in case."

"You know that if Hermione spots a black shaggy dog around the café, she'll probably neuter it, right?" Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Merlin's balls!" Sirius winced. "I'll not be eavesdropping. But things are, as the Headmaster put it, 'delicate' right now. The Ministry's caught in an internal struggle, with all the Death Eater spies working to sabotage the Minister, and the muggleborns might not be happy about allying with the Ministry either."

"What? Do you think the resistance is planning to ambush us?" Ron sounded as shocked as Harry felt.

"No, not really. But all it takes is one jealous idiot to ruin things." Sirius shook his head. "If one muggleborn is in love with Hermione, he might do something stupid."

Harry wasn't quite certain if Sirius was talking about a Resistance member when he was warning them of jealous idiots. He nodded. "But if Hermione takes offense, we'll blame all on you."

He grinned when he saw Sirius's expression at hearing that.

*****​

London, Soho, January 12th, 1997

Ron Weasley studied the menu of the café for the third time, just to have something to do while he and Harry were waiting. They were early. Two hours early, to be exact. They'd have been even earlier if Sirius hadn't insisted that the two visit Grimmauld Place first. Ron thought the man had been exaggerating the danger from some jealous muggleborn, though. He probably just wanted to make sure Ron wouldn't make a scene, he added, with a sinking feeling, if she picked Harry. He knew that Sirius hadn't forgotten how much of a jealous git Ron had been in their fourth year, to both Harry and Hermione. Neither had Ron.

He took a deep breath. If Hermione choose Harry, then he'd not act like that. He'd wish the two of them well, and… probably go and be miserable in private. Maybe nab a bottle of … no, not firewhiskey. Beer though. Real beer. Something to numb himself. That was something Bill couldn't help him with, Ron knew - his oldest brother had never had to deal with rejection. He was just too charming. Even Fleur, the most beautiful woman Ron had ever seen, had fallen for Bill.

Ron, though, had made his first date mad with his attitude, and hadn't had much success with the witches since. At least, he thought, his dates hadn't turned out to be disguised Death Eaters trying to kill him. He had one over the twins, still. And, he added, at least one witch had found him cute, Lavender. So, even if Hermione chose Harry, he'd not be alone for the rest of his life.

That was what he really feared. Losing his friends. Both of them. If he acted like a jealous idiot, he'd lose them for certain. They weren't in fourth year anymore, they were in the middle of a war. He couldn't let his friends down because he was feeling sorry for himself. He wouldn't.

He glancd at Harry. His best friend was folding paper napkins into… whatever they were supposed to be. They hadn't talked since they had arrived. Ron had been too absorbed with himself, he thought. He cleared his throat. "Harry?"

His friend looked up, and his latest creation acquired a rip. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to say: If she picks you, I'll accept it. Just, make her happy, mate." Damn, Ron thought, that sounded stupid. But he wasn't about to say that he'd not be jealous, since that would be a lie. He would be. Very jealous. "I don't want this, however it goes, to ruin our friendship." He chuckled, without humour. "You know I have been a right prick about much less in the past, but… I grew up." At least he hoped he had.

"Thanks." Harry took a deep breath. "I feel the same. If she picks you." He started to rip the napkin into tiny pieces. "I don't want this to change our friendship."

It would change, of course. But Ron knew what his friend meant. He just hoped they would manage.

He glanced outside. It had started to rain. Just the weather for this meeting, he thought.

*****​

An hour early was a bit much even for herself, Hermione Granger thought as she walked towards the café. But she couldn't help it - There hadn't been anything urgent to focus on back at headquarters, and she had been too worked up to focus on other things. A walk had seemed the best way to calm down, and it would be good exercise as well.

But she had underestimated the British weather. The sudden rain had forced her to either seek shelter somewhere, return to headquarters, or go to the café earlier than planned. She had decided to wait in the café. There would be newspapers to read, to pass the time until the boys arrived. She felt nervous just thinking of the coming confrontation, and took a deep breath to steady herself. An hour reading would calm her down.

Of course, that plan didn't survive for long either - as soon as she entered the café, she saw her two friends sitting at a table. For a moment she wondered if she had forgotten the time, or had misremembered when they were supposed to meet. But no, it was barely three in the afternoon. Had they really arrived so early? She was still wondering when Harry spotted her and waved.

She waved back and walked over to them, hoping she didn't look as nervous as she felt.

*****​

Their friend was nervous, Ron Weasley could tell with a glance. She tried to hide it, but she was taking far longer than usual to pick her order. And she was twisting a stray lock of her hair around her finger, although she did that often. He exchanged a glance with Harry while she - finally - talked with the waitress. His friend had noticed as well.

They wouldn't tell her, or pressure her, of course. They'd wait patiently. Well, nervously, actually, until Hermione was ready to tell them. "I hope that by being early we didn't disrupt your schedule," he said when the waitress had left, and grinned at her.

She shook her head. "No, of course not. I was early myself. Although two hours early… I think I only did that once, when a new library opened up in the neighborhood, and I wanted to get the first pick of its books."

Ron chuckled, and she frowned at him.

"I was ten," she said, and he remembered her in their first year, looking disapprovingly at him for making fun of her love of books. It was such a cute image, he broke out in a wide smile. She frowned even more, then she shook her head, smiling.

For a moment, everything was perfect. Then she grew serious. "You're probably wondering why I need to talk to you. In person, that is."

"Yes." Harry's voice sounded quite tense. As tense as Ron himself felt, right then.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I've made my decision." She looked from Ron to Harry and back.

Ron held his breath. He knew what was coming, and yet he couldn't help holding out hope. But he wouldn't ruin this for them. He wouldn't act like a jealous idiot. He would…

"It's you, Ron. I'm sorry, Harry."

Ron blinked. Him? Hermione wanted him? Not Harry? She was explaining something, but he wasn't listening. He had been preparing himself for the usual disappointment, trying to be happy for her, and now, she wanted him. Ron Weasley. He felt elated. Happy. He wanted to jump up and kiss Hermione.

Then he heard Harry speak. "I understand, Hermione."

And Ron felt bad and guilty for being happy.

*****​

Harry Potter felt as if he had taken a Bludger to the gut. A Bludger thrown by his best friend. No, that was wrong - Hermione had made her choice. She had chosen Ron, not him. He should have expected that. Ron was funny, easy-going, and brave. Harry had had to ask his godfather how to treat a girl right on a date. And Ron had a future - Harry had a destined battle to the death with Voldemort. Of course she'd choose their friend over him.

"Harry?"

She had been talking to him, he realised. "Yes?"

"It's not your fault."

Of course she'd say that. He nodded anyway.

"I think you'll be happier with someone else, in the long run." She was biting her lower lip.

He nodded again. What long run? They were in the middle of a war, and he was to face the Voldemort himself. He doubted there was a long run for him. More like a long walk off a short cliff. "I need some fresh air." He stood up before any of his friends could say anything, and left the café.

Once outside he closed his eyes and sighed. The cold winter air didn't help; it made his eyes water. A big black dog approached him. Sirius. Harry should be angry that his godfather had been spying on them, but he could really use a sympathetic ear right now. He pointed to the closest park. "I'll be sitting down there."

Padfoot made a confused noise, but followed him into the park, before disappearing into the bushes. A minute later, Sirius joined him on the bench he had picked.

"We could go home. It would be more private," his godfather said.

Harry shook his head. "I don't feel like going home. And we can watch the café from here. Just in case there really was a reason for your presence." Other than being there for him to help with his rejection.

Sirius coughed. "Alright." After a pause, he said: "It's not the end of the world. Even if it feels like it right now."

"I really need to work on my poker face," Harry said. What good was Occlumency if people could read his face?

"Two boys sit down with the girl they love. One stands up and leaves after a while. The best poker face in the world wouldn't have helped you there." Sirius shrugged.

"Not that it matters anyway." Harry sighed. He had been rejected, as he should have expected.

He felt Sirius's arm wrap around his shoulders.

"As I said, it's not the end of the world. You might not think so right now, but it'll work out. You're still in school, after all, and teenage relationships rarely last that long." The older wizard chuckled. "I should know."

"My parents' relationship did," Harry said. His father had won the love of his mother, and they were happy together. Until Voldemort.

"Well… they were special."

"And I'm not." Harry stared at the ground.

"They didn't start dating until their last year. Lily rejected James's advances until then."

His father was rejected as well, then. Multiple times. But he won the witch in the end. Maybe…

"I know that look, Harry. James had the same look."

Harry set his jaw and glanced at his godfather. His father had succeeded.

Sirius sighed. "James didn't win Lily's heart by chasing her. Matter of fact, that made her dislike him."

"I wasn't about to chase her." She was with Ron, and Harry certainly didn't want her to hate him for not accepting her choice. Or Ron.

"Pining after her won't do much good either. There are other witches. You might find you can fall in love with someone else."

Harry didn't think so. Hermione was his best friend. There was no witch like her.

Once again, his face must have betrayed his thoughts, since Sirius said: "Didn't you have a crush on that Ravenclaw in fourth year?"

"That was just a crush." This, however, was love. He hadn't really known Cho. He hadn't even realised she was in a relationship already. Hermione, though, was his best friend. He knew her. He loved her.

"Look, Harry, trust me. You're still young. Things will change. People will change. You will change. Who knows where we are in a year from now? Maybe you'll meet a witch you'll fall head over heels for."

Harry snorted. Fat chance of that.

Sirius cleared his throat. "Anyway. Just because they are a couple doesn't mean they'll leave you out. James and Lily didn't, either. Leave me or the rest of their friends out, that is."

Harry really didn't want to think of Ron and Hermione as his parents. "It hurts to see them like this. And I'm certain they won't want me to ruin their time together."

"Don't be stupid, Harry! You're their best friend! They don't want you to leave them. Well, not unless you're following them around when they're on a date. Or stumble on them when they're snogging."

"That sounds like you're speaking from personal experience."

Sirius coughed. "That's not relevant. Just know that life goes on, and things will work out."

Coming from a man that had spent a decade as an innocent in Azkaban, that was a remarkably positive outlook, Harry thought. Of course, said man was currently involved with at least one Veela, according to the rumours he had heard. Still, Harry had to admit that losing the witch he loved to his best friend wasn't the worst that could happen.

Facing the Dark Lord in his mind certainly was worse.

*****​

"That went… about as I should have expected," Hermione Granger said when Harry left. She hadn't found the words to make Harry understand that it wasn't his fault. It was nobody's fault but her own, for letting this happen. If she had made a decision earlier… she bit her lower lip.

"Poor Harry."

She looked at Ron. In hindsight, she shouldn't have told them at the same time. It made the whole situation very awkward. Ron looked like he wasn't certain if he was happy or sad. If she had arranged for different meetings… First Ron, then Harry… or would that have let them know her decision already? Done was done, she told herself.

"I know how he is feeling," Ron said.

"You do?" Had he been rejected before? And by whom? Padma, maybe?

"I've been imagining you rejecting me for hours." Ron smiled, although rather sadly.

She hadn't expected that. He had been so confident and happy during their dates. "You thought I'd choose Harry?"

"Well… yes."

She could almost hear the unsaid 'as usual' following that. "Well, I didn't," she said. "I love you." She loved Harry too.

He smiled at that, and gripped her hand.

But she saw him glance at the door, through which Harry had left. "Do you want to go after him?" She didn't want him to go, but she didn't want Harry to be alone right now either.

He shook his head. "Sirius will take care of him."

"Ah." So, Harry's godfather was watching.

"He insisted on coming. 'Just in case', he said."

Hermione wondered if Sirius had expected her decision. It didn't matter, she decided. Harry was with his family now. She could relax. She squeezed Ron's hand, encouragingly. She still felt guilty. Harry's expression, when she had told him, them… it had hurt her. Not as much as it had hurt him, though.

"What now?" Ron asked.

"When do you have to go back to Hogwarts?"

"I'm not certain. We just told Dumbledore we had to leave." He grinned. "He was very understanding."

Hermione wondered if the Headmaster had known about this. Or expected. She had thought leaving Hogwarts would mean less interest in her love life, not more. "I think being back for lunch would be reasonable then." She nodded. "Enough time for a date." And for Harry to adjust.

Ron looked surprised, but pleased. Then worried. "I haven't exactly made plans for a date."

Hermione smiled. "I'm certain we can improvise." She signalled the waitress, then took his hand.

She was still feeling guilty for hurting Harry. But she was feeling happy for being with Ron.

*****​

Cheshire, Britain, Outskirts of Chester, January 12th, 1997

If not for the fact that she was currently living in a muggle flat herself, Brenda Brocktuckle would have thought it ironic to meet Parkinson's 'friends' in a muggle town. As it was, the fact that the safest place to have such a meeting was among the muggles was a telling testimony of the threat Wizarding Britain was facing.

She was about to meet Death Eaters or sympathisers. Wizards and witches willing to betray the Ministry to the Dark Lord. She had doubts, still. The Dark Lord had kidnapped and killed Augusta Longbottom. And he had murdered the guards of Azkaban. He had struck against families, and what he had done in the last war… But she didn't have a choice. It was Dumbledore, working with mudbloods for mudbloods, or the Dark Lord. As much as she hated to admit it, the Ministry couldn't stand against either of those two, if left alone.

The mudbloods had murdered dozens of purebloods whose only fault had been to attend a ball. Without warning, without remorse. The Dark Lord had at least tried to achieve his goals in a peaceful manner. And he'd not kill her for doing her duty - she had never fought his people, after all.

"They blocked Apparition?" She asked, examining the house as she walked up to it.

"Yes," Parkinson, walking next to her, said.

"I assume they have another way out, in case the house gets attacked." Brenda wasn't about to get killed if the purebloods she was meeting were that stupid.

"Yes." Parkinson hesitated, but he'd have to know she'd not let this go. "The house has an old escape tunnel." He grinned. "Not that the mudbloods can find it, anyway."

"All it takes is one traitor," Brenda said. "And the Ministry's not short of those." There would be a number who were now, faced with Dumbledore taking over the Ministry, considering betraying their allies to cut a deal with the Chief Warlock. They had before, in the last war, after all.

"True. But those we are about to meet we can trust." Parkinson grinned.

Brenda forced herself to smile. She knew what that meant. No mere sympathisers, but marked Death Eaters. Wizards and witches sworn to the Dark Lord. "Even among those, there have been traitors," she said, partially just to tweak Parkinson's nose. The wizard was far too smug.

"Have there?" Parkinson smiled.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Snape. Karkaroff."

"Both are still alive," her fellow Auror said. "Which means they have earned the Dark Lord's forgiveness."

"They still betrayed him." And both were hiding behind some of the strongest wards known to wizards - those of Hogwarts and Durmstrang.

"Only after his death."

Brenda had heard the claim that the Dark Lord had returned from death often, but she remained sceptical. There hadn't been a body in 1981. The Dark Lord could have fled, grievously wounded and cursed, and taken a decade to heal up. She didn't say that, though - that would have been foolish.

They reached the door and Parkinson knocked. Brenda caught the curtains on the side moving a bit, and a moment later, the door was opened. "Come inside," a wizard said. Brenda recognised him - Garey, from the Portkey Office. He was in charge of handing out the portkeys the Aurors used.

Inside, the house had been expanded with Extension Charms. This was a regular meeting spot, then - or a wizard's home. Three more people were sitting around a table. Barnaby Bulstrode, Hit-Wizard, and Gerald Avery, another Auror. The third she didn't know.

"Tristan Nott," Parkinson explained. "He's working for the Wizengamot." He was a member of a cadet line of the Nott family then, Brenda thought. Parkinson gestured at her. "This is Brenda Brocktuckle. I've told you about her."

"We've met," Bulstrode said. Avery just nodded. He had been with them in that fatal trap at the brewery.

"She's as concerned as we are about the recent developments in the Ministry." Parkinson sat down, and Brenda joined him. Garey brought tea and snacks. For a clandestine meeting, this was very civilised, Brenda thought.

"Well, of course." Avery scoffed. "If the mudbloods take over your head will roll."

Brenda nodded. She knew that. "Just for doing my duty."

"But are you ready to do what needs to be done?" The man stared at her.

They hadn't implicated themselves as Death Eaters yet, but Brenda already knew too much. Not that she planned to rat them out - not to a Ministry that was betraying herself, and all the Aurors who had died at the mudbloods' hands. "I've been hunting mudbloods since this war started. Whoever stands with them is a traitor, no matter what the Minister says."

"Dumbledore's mouthpiece!" Bulstrode said.

"Spineless traitor!" Garey added.

Nott didn't say anything, and Avery was still staring at her. Parkinson was silent as well, though seemed at ease, munching on a finger sandwich. She met his eyes. She had faced the mudbloods far too often to back down now.

After a while, Avery said: "We'll not be facing mudbloods in the Ministry."

"We're facing blood traitors," Brenda said. "Worse than mudbloods." She sneered. "I've been hunting criminals no matter their blood for a long time. And anyone siding with the Mudblood Resistance is a criminal. They killed so many of ours, and now they want to pardon them?"

Avery glanced to Nott, then to Parkinson, before nodding. "That's what we are planning to prevent. Not just us, of course. A great many more think like us."

"Other cells." Brenda knew how such things were organised.

"Yes. We each have our missions, and together we'll save the Ministry from the blood traitors."

As everyone nodded. Brenda glanced at Parkinson. The Auror was uncharacteristically silent. She wondered what he was thinking. And plotting.

*****​

London, East End, January 12th, 1997

Hermione Granger was smiling when she arrived back at the Resistance's headquarters. She and Ron had passed a very nice afternoon. They had taken a stroll through London, talked, visited another café, gone sight-seeing, and kissed. A lot. Almost enough for her not to feel guilty about Harry anymore. Ron was a good kisser. A very good kisser, in her very limited experience. She sighed contentedly.

"So it was a good date then, hm?"

She noticed that Sally-Anne was standing in the door to the kitchen, grinning at her.

For a moment, Hermione was tempted to brush the witch off. Her love life was none of her business. But Sally-Anne was the closest female friend she had in the Resistance. The closest female friend she had, period. She deserved better. So she smiled. "Yes."

"Oh! Tell me everything!" Sally-Anne grabbed her hand. "How was it? And who did you meet?" she added, almost as an afterthought.

Hermione's smile slipped a bit. The witch sounded remarkably like Lavender and Parvati, right then. "I met Ron."

"Ron? Ron Weasley?" Sally-Anne looked very surprised. "You're dating him?"

"Yes." Hermione stared at her.

"Oh! I thought you were meeting a muggle boy. So, you were meeting him all along?"

Hermione didn't think it was a good idea to mention that she had been dating both her best friends until today. "We've gone on dates before, yes."

"Three dates this weekend? You've been busy!" Sally-Anne giggled.

"You've been out with Justin as often," Hermione pointed out. More often, actually, since those two had far more opportunities to go out. And they could simply spend time together whenever they wanted.

"Well, yes." Sally-Anne grinned. "But it's not the same if you do it."

Hermione was tempted to ask how that made sense, but another voice interrupted her.

"You're dating Weasley?"

Seamus was on the stairs.

She nodded. "Yes." Would he make an issue out of it, just because Ron was a pureblood? She didn't think Seamus had become that extreme, but… she had been fooled by Allan, hadn't she?

"I would have thought you'd go after Potter," the Irish wizard said.

She could have said that she had picked Ron. That Ron was the better kisser. That she loved both, but thought Ron would suit her more. But none of that was anyone's business but hers and her friends'. So she simply smiled. "Well, you're wrong."

"It's risky, dating him." Seamus was frowning. "He's still at Hogwarts."

"We're not meeting at Hogwarts. We're meeting in London. Muggle London."

"Can he even fit in there?" Seamus snorted. "He's a pureblood, after all."

"Who is?"

Once more Hermione was interrupted before she could answer. By Dean this time.

Seamus turned to his best friend. "Weasley. Hermione's dating him."

"What?" Dean was staring at her. "You and him?"

"Yes." She sounded sharper than she wanted, daring him to say anything more. What was their issue with her friends anyway?

He grumbled something she didn't catch, but which caused Seamus to snort, and went into the kitchen.

Sally-Anne tugged on her hand. "Come on, you have to tell me everything!"

As she let herself be dragged upstairs, Hermione mused that Sally-Anne's reaction was not quite as annoying as she had thought it would be. The girl seemed to be genuinely happy for her.

Unlike Seamus and Dean.

*****​

Hogwarts, January 12th, 1997

"You're so happy that you're staring at nothing with a silly smile on your face, and Harry's gone to bed already. Hermione made her decision then."

Ginny's voice jerked Ron Weasley out of the memory of the parting kiss with Hermione. "What?" He glared at her, then glanced around. Had anyone in the common room heard her?

"I've cast privacy spells," his sister said. "So, did she?"

Denying it would have been stupid. "Yes. She told us today."

Ginny smiled and patted his arm. "I'm glad for you, Ron."

He stared at her.

She shrugged. "Hey, you're my brother."

"And that she didn't chose Harry is not important."

She had the grace to blush, smiling a bit, then sighed. "I've seen his expression. He's looking almost as bad as Neville did, right after… you know." When she noticed his expression, she said: "Not quite that bad, of course. At least he won't have to see you snog her in common room."

"I wouldn't do that to him," Ron said. That would be cruel. And rather indiscreet as well.

She sat down on the armrest of his seat. For a girl who had just heard that the boy she loved had been dumped, she looked sadder than Ron would have expected.

"What's wrong?"

"Harry is." She sighed. "This is not going according to plan."

"What? What plan?" What had his sister done?

"I thought that if Hermione chose you, Harry would be free to pick me. But he looks terrible." She sighed again. "He's really into her, right?"

"Yes." Of course he was, Ron thought. So was Ron himself.

"And if I offer to help him, everyone will think I'm making a move. Harry will think so as well." She pouted.

Ron wasn't certain that Harry was aware of his sister's interest in him. Others would be, of course. But that wasn't the point. "He doesn't need a girlfriend right now. He needs his friends." Like Ron and Hermione.

"I don't see you with him right now."

"We've talked already." Briefly, and not about the real issue.

"Doesn't seem to have helped."

"There's not much that can help him right now. He just needs time," Ron said.

"My brother, the expert on broken hearts?" She sounded sceptical.

"Sirius said so."

"Is he helping Harry?"

"Yes." Or trying to, at least. Ron wasn't privy to what Harry and Sirius had talked about.

"Well, that's something." She stood up. "Not much, but it's something."

"What will you do?" Ron asked. Ginny was not the most thoughtful girl he knew. Rash and easy to anger fit her more.

"Nothing."

"What?"

"If I push him, I'd probably make things worse for him."

"Not probably. Certainly."

"Well, yes." She didn't look happy about it, but didn't dispute it either. "So, I'll wait. Until he is ready."

"Ready?"

"For a new relationship, of course."

"Ah." Ron nodded. As far as plans went, that one was quite sensible. She must be growing up as well. "Good luck."

"Thanks." She smiled, then walked to her dorm. Not without glancing at the stairs leading to the boys' dorms, he noticed.

One potential mess avoided. Unless some other witch made a move on Harry.

Ron wouldn't like to be nearby if that happened. He sighed, then closed his eyes, and tried to remember Hermione. And her lips on his.

*****​

Outside Stamford, Lincolnshire, Britain, January 13th, 1997

The Dark Lord Voldemort read the latest reports from his spies, frowning. Dumbledore's ties to the mudbloods had had less of an effect on the general population's view of the old man than Voldemort had hoped for. It wasn't surprising, he thought, after a glance at the headline of the Daily Prophet on his desk.

'Dumbledore promises to unite Britain against its real enemies'.

He snorted - this article lumped his Death Eaters together with the mudbloods attacking Hogsmeade. The irony would be amusing, if it wasn't sabotaging his own effort to accuse Dumbledore of being behind the Mudblood Resistance. His old enemy was milking the capture of those muggleborn attackers in Hogsmeade for all it was worth, and apparently, the pureblood population was eating it up, thinking he'd keep them save from everyone. That his Death Eaters had killed more purebloods than mudbloods didn't help Voldemort's cause, of course, even though everyone with an ounce of logic would see the reasons for that.

He shook his head. "Well played, Dumbledore."

At least the Ministry employees were not fooled - they knew the mudbloods would want revenge for their exile, and knew the Dark Lord was their only hope of saving their lives, or at least their positions. Recruitment among them was progressing at a fast pace, although that also opened the danger of traitors infiltrating his cells. It couldn't be helped, though - he needed as many followers as possible in case his attempt to foil Dumbledore's plans with political means failed, as it seemed they would.

He pondered mounting another attack on purebloods himself, disguised as the work of mudbloods, then dismissed the idea. It might just drive more of the sheep into Dumbledore's arms.

No, he had to face facts: With both Fudge and Bones in Dumbledore's pocket - and he wished he knew what leverage his old foe had on the Head of the DMLE - his own attempts to take over the Ministry through political influence could not succeed. He had to either take it by force, or get rid of the two.

Fortunately, he had a plan that would help with either goal. And the wizard in place to execute it.

*****​

 

[Starfox5]

Chapter 30: The Calm before the Storm

'In the first weeks of the year 1997, the political part of the Second Blood War was changing drastically. For the first time since the war had begun, Dumbledore's allies in the Wizengamot and the Ministry seemed on the verge of victory. Minister Fudge and the Head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones, both publicly supported his plans, and even the Daily Prophet had changed its stance on muggleborns. Since the Dark Lord had all but controlled the Wizengamot for over a year, it begs the question of how this was possible.
Some of my colleagues suspect foul magic at work. I disagree. In my opinion, the answer lies in the past. Dumbledore had been Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot for decades, and he had been the Headmaster of Hogwarts almost as long. He had known many of the members of the Wizengamot and even more of the Ministry employees since they had started at his school, and undoubtedly was aware of their weaknesses, faults, embarrassing and compromising secrets. This knowledge, together with the efforts of Fudge and Bones, would have been enough to sway key members of the Wizengamot as well as Ministry employees. The Daily Prophet would have caved quickly if under such pressure from both the Ministry and Dumbledore. And once such people had been convinced to publicly oppose the Dark Lord, they were committed, since should the Dark Lord win, they'd face his wrath.
It was a ruthless but effective political manoeuvre, not dark magic, that did this.'
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, January 13th, 1997

Cornelius was looking better, Albus Dumbledore noticed when he entered the Minister's office. The man was smiling at him, even. "Albus! I've just spoken to Maximilian Selwyn! He'll support our policy!"

Maximilian had better, Albus thought, if he wanted to avoid the revelation of his indiscretions. While not technically illegal, the man's social standing would be ruined if the public caught wind of his peculiar preferences. There was no need to tell Cornelius that, though. "I am happy to hear that. It's a very welcome surprise."

"Indeed! I think that he's finally seen the light, so to speak, and realised that the Dark Lord will ruin our country despite his claims to the contrary."

If Albus didn't know better, he'd think Cornelius had always been an implacable enemy of the Dark Lord. The man was an opportunist of the highest calibre, and probably had already convinced himself that this had been his own decision. But he was also a skilled politician, when he was properly motivated. Such as fearing for his life should Voldemort win. It wasn't the most moral or elegant method, but Albus would do what he needed to save Britain. He didn't let his thoughts show on his face as he smiled approvingly at the man. "Maybe. It could also be that Maximilian simply wishes to be on the winning side."

"That could be it - he always was a bit of an opportunist." Cornelius nodded sagely.

Albus had to struggle not to laugh.

Fortunately, Amelia entered at that moment, and contrary to the Minister, the Head of the DMLE was not looking happy. He raised an eyebrow. "Good morning, Amelia."

"Good morning, Albus." Her expression belied her words.

Cornelius had noticed her mood as well. "What's wrong, Amelia? I was just telling Albus about our progress in the Wizengamot."

"Sod the Wizengamot! Half my Aurors are about to attack each other, and the rest are trying to hide in their homes!" The witch sat down.

"Right now?" The Minister gasped.

"Not this instant," Amelia said, "but it won't take much."

"It seems the Dark Lord's spies are getting nervous then."

"Not just them. I've been approached by a number of Aurors who have arrested muggleborns in the last year, and they are all afraid that the muggleborns will take revenge for them doing their duty." Amelia looked at Albus. "They need some assurance that this will not happen."

Albus inclined his head slowly. "I will do my utmost to prevent any revenge being taken. Although I will not protect those who have abused their power. Those who have committed crimes will be punished."

Cornelius nodded happily, but Amelia didn't like that.

"And who decides what a crime is? Are we to follow muggle laws?" the witch said, sneering.

"Those who have helped the Dark Lord will not escape justice," Albus said. "That includes those who have used the opportunity given by those evil laws to harm the innocent."

"Innocent according to what law, Albus?" Amelia stared at him. "The muggle laws, or ours?"

"Since our laws were passed on behalf of the Dark Lord, they certainly cannot serve as an excuse for what was done to the muggleborns." Albus met her eyes. "Although those who have followed orders in good faith will not have to fear much." Though, he added to himself, only because the muggleborn laws did not go that far, yet. "Financial compensation will be enough to compensate most muggleborns for the hardships they endured due to the Ministry's laws." With a glance at Cornelius, who was frowning, he added: "The gold needed can be taken from those who followed the Dark Lord. That would only be just." And would serve to curb the power of a number of Old Families as well. "Those responsible for muggleborns killed while resisting arrest though, and those who relished in hunting the muggleborns…" He spread his hands. "An investigation will determine what exactly happened." He smiled. "Such things are illegal according to our laws as well, after all."

Amelia pressed her lips together. Albus was certain that she was aware of just how many of her Aurors were guilty of what he had just said, if not of outright treason. She didn't like to admit that fact, though, or so he thought. It reflected badly on herself. Justly so, of course - she could have made a greater effort to investigate such claims, at least.

"Desperate people will take desperate measures," the witch said. "Once they realise what awaits them, they'll fight against us."

"I fully expect them to," Albus said.

"Merlin! You are counting on it!" Amelia gasped.

He nodded.

Cornelius was gaping at Albus. "But…"

"It would greatly facilitate matters for all of us if as many of Tom's followers as possible exposed themselves by attacking the Ministry, instead of continuing to hide." It would be far harder to claim that they were unjustly punished if they were caught in the act - or killed. It would also offer those Aurors who had not gone too far the opportunity to redeem themselves.

Amelia glared at him. "It's all politics, isn't it?"

He glanced at her. "The passing of the muggleborn laws ensured that."

Judging by the way she stiffened, she had understood.

Cornelius, of course, had other priorities. "But, are you certain that you can handle such an attack?"

"I am reasonably certain. I have been preparing to counter a coup by the Dark Lord's followers for a while." Albus smiled confidently. It wouldn't do to leave the Minister shaken.

And yet he couldn't help fearing that he was underestimating Voldemort.

*****​

London, East End, January 13th, 1997

Hermione Granger knew something was wrong when Seamus and Dean fell silent as soon as she entered the kitchen in the morning. Though, to be honest, she had expected that. Even before she had seen their reaction to the news of her relationship with Ron last evening. As the Major had taught her, she couldn't afford to let that fester. Especially not after Allan.

So she rolled her eyes at them. "Out with it."

"What?" Seamus tried to play dumb.

"You have a problem with me. Let's hear it." She put her hands on her hips and stared at them.

Seamus looked mulish, but Dean sighed. "We don't have a problem with you."

"You have a problem with my boyfriend," she said.

"Not with him personally. Ron's an alright bloke," Dean said. "But your relationship with him is problematic."

For a moment, Hermione was relieved that they didn't seem to hate Ron. If they were telling the truth. She cocked her head sideways. "Then what's the problem?" She had an idea, of course.

"It's just the fact that the leader of the Resistance is dating a pureblood. That might not go over well with everyone," Dean said.

Seamus nodded. "Yes. We know him, but most muggleborns won't. They only know he's a pureblood, from a prominent pureblood family."

"The Weasleys are also a prominent blood traitor family," Hermione said. "They fought the Death Eaters in the last war, and in this war." Molly Weasley had lost her two brothers in the last war, too. "Remember the attack on the Burrow?"

"No one really knows that," Dean said. "And Ron… well, he doesn't know much about muggles, does he?"

Seamus chuckled. "Remember how he asked how to use a fellytone?"

Hermione pursed her lips and controlled her anger. "I'll have you know that we went out clubbing in London, and no one would have been able to tell him from any other boy. He showed me places."

"Well, that's not that difficult," Seamus muttered.

She glared at him. "What do you mean?"

He snorted, but met her eyes. "You're not exactly a clubbing girl."

Dean cut in before she could tell his friend off. "In any case, what matters is that the leader of the Resistance dating a pureblood boy is a problem. People might think we're following the orders of purebloods. Especially with Dumbledore's campaign."

Technically, they were coordinating closely with Dumbledore, but Hermione knew that the Headmaster had a lot of influence on the Resistance through her - with good reason, of course; they couldn't hope to win this war without his help. Yet, the two boys were correct about some of their concerns.

She sighed. "I can see how that could be a problem." If the Resistance was seen as Dumbledore's pawns, they'd lose a lot of their influence on the muggleborns. And that would make them quite a bit more vulnerable even after a victory over Voldemort than Hermione liked. On the other hand, having such visible ties to purebloods could also help a lot. "But it will only be a problem if our relationship is revealed to the public. Which had better not happen - that would endanger far more than our reputation." And she'd find out who was responsible. Her expression must have given away her thoughts, since both boys winced. "We'll address this in our next broadcast. We'll show that we're no one's pawns."

"It might be good if we had another victory too," Dean said.

"The current upheaval at the Ministry should offer us an opportunity soon enough," Hermione said. But, she added to herself, not too soon - the policy change needed to pass if they wanted to win this war soon.

The grins of the two boys showed they were not really concerned with that.

But then, that was why she was the leader.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, January 13th, 1997

Parkinson was up to something, Brenda Brocktuckle knew that. The signs were minimal, but after sharing a flat with him for one and a half months, she could spot them. He was just a bit too tense, and tried to act a bit too casually, even for him.

Most telling, though, was that he didn't glance around as often as usual - and these days, all Aurors kept an eye on their colleagues, just to avoid getting cursed in the back - which meant he didn't want to be even remotely associated with whatever was about to happen.

She checked her privacy spell, then asked, without directly looking at him. "What's supposed to happen?"

He didn't jerk, but she thought there was a hint of surprise in his voice when he answered: "Just a test."

"What kind of test?" She leaned back, dropping the report she had used as a cover on her desk. The scroll rolled itself up.

"I'd rather you didn't have to act surprised."

She rolled her eyes. Stupid useless games. "I already have to act as if I didn't know you were behind it."

"So, there's no need to make it more difficult."

Brenda glanced at him, and as expected, he was grinning. Typical. She refused to take the bait, though, and simply nodded, and returned to her work. Or what passed for work, these days, with everyone talking about pardoning the mudbloods. And she kept an eye on the blood traitors. Those she knew about, at least. And could recognise. That metamorphmagus could be anyone, she knew that.

An hour later, the door was thrown open. Wands were out in seconds as every Auror reacted, and Brenda found herself not quite pointing her own at Macintosh, a half-blood Auror with an attitude. Parkinson's was aimed straight at Smith, Macintosh's partner. Those two had been eyeing her and Parkinson since the morning.

Then Brenda realised Dawlish was standing in the door, blinking. "Someone tried to attack Bones!" he yelled after a second.

Brenda wanted to glance at Parkinson - was that what he had been waiting for? - but she wouldn't take her eyes off Macintosh. Not until the blood traitor lowered his wand.

"Come on, Trevor!" Smith suddenly said, "We have to check on Bones."

The half-blood Auror glared at Brenda, then lowered his wand and sprinted after his partner.

Brenda muttered a curse under her breath and sat down again. That had been close. She glared at Parkinson. "We almost cursed each other," she whispered. And it was his fault.

"I underestimated the tension," her partner said. "I did my best to diffuse it, though."

She snorted. "What exactly happened?"

He shrugged. "I don't know yet. An attack on our boss, I suppose."

She glared at him again, but he grinned. "We'll find out soon enough."

*****​

As Parkinson had said, it didn't take long for the news to spread: Parker, a Hit-Wizard, had tried to kill Bones in her office, but had botched the job, and she had managed to stun him. Rumour was, he had been under the Imperius.

"Imperius or not, he must have been a rather weak wizard to fail like that," Avery said in the break room in the afternoon.

"Bones is tough," Parkinson said. "She's more experienced than most in the corps, and she probably has been expecting an attack for a long time."

"I heard she has been trained by Mad-Eye Moody!" a rookie Auror Brenda didn't care enough about to learn her name piped up.

"You're all wrong!" Sybille Selwyn, an Auror who hadn't been out in the field for ten years, grinned. "Dumbledore had placed protections in her office. As soon as the assassin entered, the Imperius was removed. Parker turned himself in!"

"Really?" Parkinson shook his head. "Sounds like a tall tale to me. You don't remove an Imperius that easily."

Selwyn scoffed. "Shows what you know. The Chief Warlock had made a deal with the goblins; there's a Thief's Downfall hidden there!"

"The defective watering charm!" Avery shook his head. "It's right at the entrance. Bones's secretary told me that they couldn't fix it yet, and that's why they simply added a drying charm. But Fudge has the same 'problem'."

"Sneaky," Parkinson said. "With the cat out of the bag, they'll probably install those things openly, and have us walk through them on the way in and out."

"Well, did you really think they'd let us use the Imperius, without taking precautions? The Minister certainly wouldn't risk getting imperiused; he might have to raise our pay otherwise!" Selwyn grinned at her own joke.

The rest of the Aurors, all of them purebloods, laughed, but it sounded a bit hollow to Brenda.

This meant that no Imperius-based plans would work. It would have been fitting to use blood traitors as curse-fodder and scapegoats, but on the other hand, it also meant no one could use those spells on her.

She stood up. "Well, I have a mountain of scrolls to go through. With half the Corps chattering about this, someone has to do the real work."

The rookie looked lost, but the others understood. They weren't trusted with investigating this assassination attempt either. Which said a lot about what was in stock for them once the mudbloods were pardoned.

If, Brenda reminded herself, if they were pardoned. They wouldn't, if she could help it.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, January 13th, 1997

"Good evening, Albus. Can I offer you a drink? Maybe a glass of wine?"

"Thank you. Yes, please." Albus Dumbledore said, sitting down on the couch in Sirius's living room. He was honestly glad for Sirius's offer - it had been a tiring day, and it was far from over.

"Tonks will be joining us as soon as she can get away from the Ministry," Sirius said, taking a seat himself. "And I've informed Marcel."

Albus took note of the familiar address as he nodded. "Nymphadora will take a while longer, I fear - the attack on Amelia has the Ministry in quite the uproar."

"What exactly happened?" Sirius asked.

"Someone cast an Imperius Curse on a Hit-Wizard and ordered him to kill Amelia in her office."

"That sounds like a spur of the moment decision by some Death Eater sympathiser," Sirius said. "My grandparents would have punished any family member harshly for such an attempt."

Being familiar with the late Blacks, Albus was not certain that Sirius was joking. It wasn't relevant, though. He nodded. "For an assassination attempt, it wasn't a particularly skillful or cunning one. But I fear it was more than that."

"Part of a larger plot by the Dark Lord?"

"Or simply a way to test our defenses," Albus said. Although he couldn't afford to underestimate Tom.

"Our famous defenses. Or 'precautions', as you called them." Sirius wasn't quite as subtle as he might believe he was when fishing for information.

Before Albus could answer that, Marcel Delacour entered. The French Wizard was in high spirits, or so it seemed, though his smile faltered just a bit when he saw the two men. "Mademoiselle Tonks 'as not yet arrived, I take it?"

Albus shook his head. "She will be busy at work a while longer."

Delacour sighed in what Albus thought was a very French way, and sat down.

"You have to wait a while longer before getting your proposals shot down again, I think," Sirius said, chuckling.

"Ah, but we are simply flirting. If I were seriously pursuing 'er, I would certainly act differently." Delacour smiled.

"Of course."

Before the two men could discuss the topic further, Kreacher arrived with the promised wine. It was of excellent quality - no matter their views on politics and the law, the Blacks had always had an outstanding wine cellar and liquor cabinet. Not even Lucrezia Black's reputation as a poisoner in the 17th century had changed that.

A few minutes were spent appreciating the fine wine. Delacour praised it eloquently - and his family had their own vineyards. Unfortunately, Albus was forced to return to the matter at hand quite quickly. "As we were discussing before, I think it very likely that the incident today was ordered by the Dark Lord himself. To test our defenses, to sow distrust, to weaken the resolve of the Ministry employees, or for a reason I have yet to think of."

"A distraction, maybe?" Sirius shrugged.

"While not impossible, I doubt it. Other than the Ministry, there are not many other crucial targets for Voldemort. Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and Hogwarts. Hogsmeade is too close to Hogwarts to be taken even with a distraction, and Diagon Alley is too large to be taken with the help of a mere distraction. Not as long as Amelia remained in charge of the DMLE." Albus took another sip from his glass, then watched as Kreacher refilled it.

"Her death might be his goal," Sirius said.

"It would make sense," Delacour agreed. "But wouldn't such an attack warn her as well?"

"Amelia has been aware of the danger she is in for some time," Albus said. "No, I think the main reason for this attack was a test of our defenses."

"You do not seem to be too concerned, though." Sirius narrowed his eyes slightly.

The Headmaster smiled. "I am not. While the Dark Lord now knows that the Imperius will not work, or not work well enough, it also means that he'll not make plans which rely on it. Which means we'll not have to deal with it."

"Ah!" Sirius nodded appreciatively.

"A comforting thought," Delacour added, "although I can not help but notice that this is just an assumption."

"With the Thief's Downfalls installed, we'll have reliable ways to protect ourselves against the Imperius even if the Dark Lord were to still focus on it." Albus nodded. "Although I do agree that we cannot rely on him acting in a completely rational manner."

"Does this change any of our plans?" Delacour asked, setting his glass down.

"Only in details." Albus was certain Tom would not accept the Ministry reaching an accommodation with the muggleborns. As long as he thought he had a chance to win with force what was denied him, he'd make the attempt. The real danger was if he should feel that there was no chance of taking the Ministry in a coup. Tom would rather see the Ministry destroyed than his enemy. Which was why Albus had to be very careful with his plans and contingencies. "The Thief's Downfall will be moved a bit, so we'll have to take that into account when we deploy."

"Telling friend from foe will be difficult, though." Delacour flicked his finger. "My family is apt to curse first if in doubt."

"Which is why Tonks has been taking pictures in my Pensieve of known sympathisers of the Dark Lord during the last week." The young witch had worked hard, maybe too hard, on that, and had taken quite a few risks, using other forms to spy on her colleagues, but needs must.

"There's Polyjuice," Sirius said.

"If they rely on that to sow confusion, despite the Thief's Downfall, then they'll risk taking curses from their allies as well. A possible threat, but not a likely one," Albus said.

"Too many assumptions for my taste," Sirius muttered.

"Ah, that is combat for you," Delacour said, a bit too patronisingly, Albus thought. "Chaotic and unpredictable - like a witch!"

Sirius didn't take offense, though - apparently, the two wizards were getting along well. "With that attitude, I doubt you'll have much success wooing my cousin."

"Wouldn't she be flattered to be thought unpredictable? It is a very 'elpful quality in duels and battles." Delacour grinned.

"It's not what you say, it's how you say it that might grate on her," Sirius answered.

"Might? So you do not know?" Delacour raised an eyebrow.

"Me prying into her private affairs would not be welcomed by my dear cousin," Sirius said, a bit too nonchalantly.

"Nor by Andromeda," Albus added, and hid his smile at seeing Sirius flinch. "Now, let us once more go over the likely deployments."

He had to deal with one troubled love affair affecting his plans already, he didn't want two of his most important allies discussing their love lives instead of the war.

*****​

"... and by all accounts, the Aurors almost cursed each other when they heard the alert. I listened a bit, to those not under a privacy spell, and everyone I could overhear expected their enemies to attack at any moment."

Albus nodded at the young witch when she finished her report. "Well done." He smiled at her, then sighed. "Things are as tense as I feared, after my own visit." His meetings with Amelia and Cornelius didn't grant him too much insight into the views of the rank and file of the Ministry, and especially the Aurors - both leaders were biased, in their own ways, and without some other sources, Albus couldn't trust their views of the situation in the Ministry.

Young Nymphadora smiled and sat down. She looked as tired as Albus remembered - or worse.

"Indeed. Your outstanding work will greatly facilitate our task, once the Death Eaters make their move," Delacour said. "Many will owe you their lives."

"Thank you, Marcel," the metamorphmagus said. Albus saw she stiffened a bit, though.

He cleared his throat. "I think we all have earned some rest now."

"Oh, yes." Nymphadora downed the wine Sirius's elf had served her, and stood up. "As I said, all the trusted Aurors are on double shifts starting tomorrow, so I'll have to head to bed. Alone," she added with a glance at the French wizard.

Delacour's response was a very emphatic sigh, but he still got up and followed the witch out of the room.

"A word, Albus, before you go," Sirius said when the Headmaster himself was getting up. "About Harry."

"Ah." Albus forced himself to smile.

"Hermione dumped him yesterday."

"So I gathered."

"Of course you have," Sirius said.

He was wrong. It hadn't taken Legilimency to find out; merely observing both boys when they had arrived after their emergency meeting had been enough. Mister Weasley, torn between happiness and guilt, and Harry, trying to mask his pain - the reason for both was plain as day for Albus. "Although as I understood it, Miss Granger did not so much 'dump' him as you called it, but simply made her decision." At a rather inconvenient time, too, in Albus's opinion.

"Same thing. Harry was devastated, and I'm not certain my talk with him was enough to help."

This morning, Harry had looked like he was holding up well, given the circumstances, or so Albus thought. And this evening, he and Mister Weasley were training with Alastor; Albus doubted that either would be able to focus on anything but the training. But teenagers were rather emotional, the Headmaster knew that very well. "You would like to talk to him some more."

"Yes." Sirius nodded. "I thought of hiring a Courtesan for him, to distract him from his pain - Marcel assured me he knew the best in Paris, Veela, even - but I think I'll try talking first. In person, I mean."

Albus chuckled with him at his joke, feeble as it was. If it was a joke - he'd not put it past Sirius to actually do such a thing. It would be a distraction in any case - and Albus could do without one of those these days. "That should not be too difficult to arrange." These days, the board of governors didn't bother him at all any more, not with most of House Slytherin gone and many of their parents dead or in hiding. Compared to the pressure Malfoy had tried to bring to bear on him in the past, it was a very welcome change.

"Thank you, Albus." Sirius smiled, then sighed. "It's like James all over again, after one of his rejections, only Lily didn't go out with anyone else, not seriously, at least."

Albus wasn't certain that the last part was true, but there was no need to bring that up. Something else was worth mentioning, though. "Children following in their parents' footsteps is not always a good thing." Young Neville certainly hadn't benefited from his grandmother's attempts to mold him in the image of his unfortunate father.

Sirius sighed again. "I know. It's just… Harry looks so much like James, and Hermione… well, she doesn't look like Lily at all, but appearances aside, she's a stubborn, brilliant muggleborn witch. And scary when she wants to be. It would have been like another chance, you know?"

Albus understood the feeling - very well, in fact. But he also knew how dangerous it was. "I believe that it is best for children to choose their own path."

"Yeah, well - it's not as if Harry can do that either, with the Prophecy and all." Sirius snorted and refilled his glass. "He has known he'll have to fight the Dark Lord to the death for months, and now the girl he loves chooses his best friend. Merlin's balls, grown men might break under that pressure!"

Albus knew that as well. Although her courage to make such a difficult decision before things went on for too long was admirable, Miss Granger's sense of timing left a lot to be desired. While the Headmaster greatly valued honesty, he would not have minded if the witch had let things be for a bit longer - until after Tom was dealt with. A broken heart was a far less serious condition to treat when the person afflicted wasn't about brave mortal danger. But such was the folly of youth.

So he nodded. "I will keep an eye on him, Sirius. And so will Harry's friends, I believe."

"Of course they will. But it might do more harm than good if everyone is trying to act as if nothing had changed when things have definitely changed."

Sirius didn't say it, but Albus was certain that the wizard knew this from personal experience. When James had finally managed to win Lily's heart, it had affected his friendship with Sirius, Remus and Peter as well. Sometimes, Albus wondered if Peter might not have succumbed to temptation if James had still been focused on leading his friends.

He banished the thought; it was in the past, and the current situation was quite different. For all the similarity in their looks, Harry was very different from James. Trying to treat him like his father would spell disaster.

Fortunately, Sirius seemed to have realised that.

*****​

London, January 13th, 1997

"What was that this morning?" Brenda Brocktuckle asked Parkinson as soon as the two of them had arrived in their shared muggle flat.

"Hm?" Parkinson looked at her as if he was confused.

Brenda kept a lid on her temper with some effort. She had good self-control, usually, but they were working against the blood traitors who were trying to take control of the Ministry, and they couldn't afford any mistake. "The attack on Bones. That didn't look very well-thought out. A single imperiused Hit-Wizard?"

"Ah, that wasn't an attack. That was a decoy." Parkinson had that smug grin on his face again.

"And what did it achieve?" Brenda knew her fellow Auror and now co-conspirator would not have been quite as smug if it had not worked.

"It showed us the defenses of Bones's office, of course."

That might mean that Bones was the target of the group she was now part of. Or the whole attack on Bones was a decoy for something else - Brenda had no illusions about how much loyalty she could expect from the Dark Lord; if it served his plans, he'd sacrifice the entire cell. Maybe not Parkinson, the smug wizard seemed too skilled in this plotting. "And alerted her, so she'll focus on protecting herself, and the Minister."

"Exactly."

She nodded. "And what will my task be in this?"

"We need to be prepared to exploit this, once the opportunity arrives."

"Or when the order arrives," Brenda added. She didn't think the Dark Lord trusted Parkinson so much as to allow him to choose when to start a coup.

His smile slipped just a bit. "Yes."

So he wasn't quite as secure of his position as he tried to appear, Brenda noted. Which meant her own position was even worse than she had thought. Not that it could be helped - if the mudbloods won, she would be even worse off. "So, what do you have planned to do that?"

Parkinson's smug smile returned. "I have a couple ideas."

As Brenda listened, she forced herself to remember that what Parkinson was planning was aimed at blood traitors, people who'd sell her out to the mudbloods, and not at fellow Aurors.

It helped a little. And war was a dirty business anyway.

*****​

Hogwarts, January 14th, 1997

The tension between the two boys in his office was obvious, Albus Dumbledore thought, looking at them sitting in front of his desk. Mister Weasley kept glancing at Harry, who was staring straight ahead, focusing on the wall behind Albus. Granted, he had a few delightfully mysterious devices placed there, but this wasn't Harry's first visit to Albus's office.

The Headmaster sighed and smiled. "I suppose I should treat this as an opportunity to train you when you are distracted."

Harry jerked, then winced. "Sorry, sir."

"Sorry," Mister Weasley said.

"Ron could go and use the time to … for other things. In London," Harry said.

"I'm not leaving you, mate!" his friend blurted out. "I told you, we're in this together."

"That was before… " Albus saw Harry press his lips together.

"That doesn't change a thing. I'm not going to let you face this alone."

"I'm not facing Voldemort today, just the the Headmaster," Harry said. "And should the Dark Lord make an unscheduled appearance, then I'll be certain to call you as soon as possible."

Mister Weasley clenched his teeth at hearing that, but didn't answer right away. After a moment, he all but hissed. "We're not going to let you sacrifice yourself."

That was what he was fearing, Albus thought. He cleared his throat, and both boys looked at him as if they had forgotten his presence. Alastor would be quite mad if he knew this. "A noble sentiment, Mister Weasley."

"Yeah, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm the one who has to face the Dark Lord in my mind" Harry tapped his temple. "And no one else can join us in here. Not even with Legilimency."

"And yet on that particular battlefield, knowing your friends support you can be decisive." The old wizard smiled. "Not to mention that, as Filius will happily confirm, even duels are won with your mind, not your wand."

"I don't think he meant it quite that literally," Harry said.

Mister Weasley snorted, then winced, then seemed to sit a bit straighter. "No matter what, we'll not let you face Voldemort alone."

"Nor leave me alone," Harry muttered, but for a moment, he seemed to smile. He shook his head. "Well, we better get on with the training then."

Albus nodded, and prepared himself to let the boy enter his mind.

*****​

Harry Potter wiped some sweat from his forehead while he slumped back in his seat. That had been a very intense session. Dumbledore hadn't pulled any punches. Now it was Ron's turn to batter his mind against the Headmaster's defenses until he had a headache, and Harry could relax. Relax, and think about his life again.

Sirius had said that life went on, but Harry wasn't really feeling like it. He glanced at his friend, and frowned. Ron was trying to act as if nothing had changed. As if he and Hermione weren't a couple, and Harry was the third wheel. The odd wizard out. As if Ron wouldn't rather be with her, than with Harry. If all of them were together at Hogwarts still, they'd be sneaking away to snog, Harry thought. And then he remembered kissing Hermione, and clenched his teeth. It had been one of his most cherished memories, Patronus grade, and now it was just a painful reminder of what, of who he had lost. If he ever had had it, her, in the first place, and she hadn't just taken pity on him… he shook his head. His friends were better than that. It wasn't their fault that Hermione had fallen for Ron. Harry would have done the same, if he had been in her place. And if he had been a girl.

He banished that thought as well. Things were as they were. And in a way, his fight had become a bit easier. He knew now that even if he died, his friends would have each other. It took a bit of the pressure off him. He didn't have to survive the battle, as long as Voldemort died as well. He knew better than to voice that thought to anyone, of course. Sirius would be devastated, and probably try to grab him and run to Magical India or wherever. And Ron would never let him out of sight again, and Hermione… she might rig up some way to monitor him from a distance. Or just lock him up - the girl could be a tad too ruthless when she thought it was needed.

The point was moot anyway, since he had no idea if suicide attacks were even possible with Legilimency. It wasn't as if the things the Headmaster was training him for had been done before.

He smiled wryly. He wasn't exactly planning to die, or wanting to. But if anyone had to die, Harry would rather have that one be him, than any one of his friends. That had been true even before Hermione had made her choice, which probably meant it was a good thing she had picked Ron. His friend was more sensible.

Or should be. Ron had had some rather daft ideas about sacrifices himself, in the past, Harry remembered. And Hermione… she had decided to start a guerrilla war with less than a dozen people, rather than go and hide. He shook his head and chuckled. Yes, all of them were crazy. And his friends didn't even have the excuse of having a link to Voldemort's soul in their head. Harry must be contagious, he thought.

His good mood faded again when he thought of the Dark Lord once more. The Headmaster kept praising his progress, but Harry couldn't help feeling that this was mostly to encourage him. He was facing the worst Dark Lord in Britain's history, after all - he'd need a lot more than some lessons to win. He didn't think being able to outfly a dragon and send dozens of Dementors fleeing with a single Patronus Charm would be that helpful for this.

Although… Harry rubbed his chin as he had an idea. It sounded crazy, and he had no clue if it was even possible, but if it worked…

If it worked, the Dark Lord might just have a very nasty surprise.

*****​

Hogwarts, January 15th, 1997

Ron Weasley watched Harry while they were getting ready for breakfast. His best friend didn't look as sad any more as he had the day before. He didn't know what had happened - he had been too tired after Dumbledore's training to notice anything but the way back to his bed. Well, almost - due to Moody's training, Ron suspected that he was watching out for assassins even while asleep. Which, to be fair, was likely a goal of their more than slightly paranoid instructor.

"Come on, Harry, I'm starving here!" Ron complained. He wasn't really starving - he'd had a snack before bed - but it was something he used to say a lot. Before the war.

His friend looked at Ron for a moment, then smiled and nodded. "Can't have that happen now, can we?" It wasn't quite as it had been before, but it'd do for now.

The two descended the stairs. Neville had gone down already - as had been usual lately. Their friend was getting up early. And training late at night. Ginny was already up as well, waiting in the common room. Not for them, as it turned out, since she just waved at them.

Neville was in the Great Hall, staring at the Slytherin table. Ron winced at the sight, then nodded to Harry. "Let's join him."

Harry briefly looked surprised - he had looked distracted all morning, Ron realised - then nodded. Ron sat down across the table from Neville, even if that meant presenting his back to the rest of the hall. Moody would have his arse for that, but Ron cold trust Harry, who sat down next to Neville, to watch his back. And Ron thought that Harry needed to be shown that sort of trust, right now.

"Morning, Neville," he said as he grabbed some juice and started to fill his plate.

"Morning," their friend muttered.

Ron suppressed a sigh - Neville was worse than Harry. But with good reason, of course. Ron couldn't think of anything to say, so they ate in silence for a few minutes. Then Neville drew his wand, and Ron almost hexed him, until he realised that the boy was casting a privacy spell.

If Neville had noticed his reaction, then he didn't seem to mind. "I want in," he said, staring at Harry.

"What?" Ron's friend blinked.

"The special training you two are doing. I want in."

"Ah…" Ron tried to think of a way to explain that it wasn't the kind of training Neville thought it was, without revealing the secret.

"That's up to Moody," Harry said. "He's training us as a favour for the Headmaster."

It was a sign how much Neville had changed when the boy simply nodded.

"It'll be very hard," Ron warned him. "And painful." And Neville would know something was up when they only had lessons every other day, and still went to see the Headmaster without him.

"That's no problem," Neville said. "As long as I get the training I need to avenge my family." He bared his teeth in a grin that didn't seem to fit the boy, at all.

Ron suddenly thought that maybe Harry wasn't the one who needed to be watched the most.

*****​

Hogwarts, January 15th, 1997

"Training another?" Alastor sounded dubious. His face didn't show much of an expression, though, even counting his cursed scars.

Albus Dumbledore nodded. "Neville Longbottom has asked for training." Demanded it, actually. It was sad that Augusta couldn't have seen her grandson back then, meeting Albus's eyes unflinchingly. Although the Headmaster had to admit that Mister Weasley's concerns seemed justified as well - young Neville looked like he was resolved to get revenge, and he might not be too discerning when it came to his targets. Few of those wishing to avenge their dead were, in this war or any other one.

Alastor's training would hopefully help with that, Albus thought. Further, having the two boys whom the prophecy once might have applied to, train together, seemed fitting - and might help hide the real plan from Voldemort. Even if, he thought with a great deal of shame, it would endanger Neville. That the boy was likely to endanger himself, if left to his own devices, did not excuse this.

"Longbottom? The whelp wants to avenge his family?" Alastor scoffed.

"Precisely."

His friend's good eye narrowed. "Hm. I guess I kind of owe the boy. If I had been a bit quicker… and he'll be motivated enough to fit in, I guess?"

Albus nodded. He didn't know if Alastor was talking about the attack on Neville's parents, or the altercation with Barty Crouch Jr., and it didn't matter. Neville would get his training.

"But you didn't call me here just to discuss that."

His friend knew him well. Albus nodded. "I expect that the Dark Lord will launch a coup, once it becomes clear that he cannot stop the policy change by other means."

"Tell me something a dumb rookie wouldn't know."

"The Ministry cannot deal with it by itself. The number of trustworthy Aurors and Hit-Wizards is too low," Albus said. His friend rolled his good eye and made an impatient gesture with his hand. The Headmaster didn't let that hurry him, though - planning shouldn't be rushed. "So, I have taken a few precautions, and organised reinforcements."

"Black's cell, and the French bunch."

"Yes." Albus nodded. "There is also a possibility that the Muggleborn Resistance might involve itself."

"Ah." The old Auror grinned. "Those rumours were not entirely wrong then, hm? You've got your own squad of killers?"

"I have kept contact with a few of my students, even after they left Hogwarts." Albus had debated with himself about telling Alastor this, his friend was a veteran Auror, after all, but there had been no choice. And Alastor was not quite as enamored with proper procedure and laws as Amelia.

His friend shook his head. "If this ever gets out you'll have a lot of trouble, Albus."

Trouble he would be able to handle, provided Tom was dead by then. He shrugged. "But you can see the potential problems their intervention would cause."

"Aye. That's going to be one hell of a mess."

"The Resistance will likely be wearing muggle uniforms."

"That'll only help with accidental cursings."

Albus sighed. "Those who attack them deliberately will have to face the consequences of their choice." Which would likely be swift and fatal.

His friend snorted. "Ah… I'd have commented how you'd finally admit that we're fighting a war to the end, but seeing as you've 'kept contact' with the muggleborns, you've been doing that already." He stared at Albus. "Some claim you're just like the Dark Lord, wanting to rule Britain and dictate the lives of everyone."

"Lies spread by Voldemort's followers. All I wish is for everyone, no matter their birth, to have equal rights."

"That'll need a lot of dictating for the bigots," Alastor said, sneering. "Less if the worst of them are dead, of course."

There was no need to answer that, Albus might not like it, but he couldn't argue that conclusion.

"So, you think you'll need the muggleborn wands so badly you'll accept the trouble their presence will cause."

"Yes."

"You seem rather well informed about the Dark Lord's plans."

"Not as well informed as I would prefer," Albus sighed, "but I do not think I am wrong." He'd rather overestimate than underestimate his enemy.

"Well, I can handle the lads and lassies, but others will panic anyway. But - will you take the field?" Alastor narrowed his good eye again.

"If I'm not already present in the Ministry, then I'll only come if the Dark Lord himself appears, or as a last resort." He couldn't commit, and leave Tom to attack Hogwarts. If Albus had to leave in the middle of the battle, his allies might think the battle lost, and give up or flee.

Alastor disagreed with this reasoning, but didn't argue the point. "We'll make do without you, then. With the Weasleys' surprises, and our foreign and muggleborn allies, we'll have the advantage."

They would have the advantage, Albus knew. Hopefully it would be enough to carry the day without paying too much.

*****

London, Ministry of Magic, January 16th, 1997

Even though Brenda Brocktuckle had joined a cell of the Dark Lord's followers, she hadn't taken action against the Ministry yet. That was changing today. As she stepped out of the fireplace - and through the Thief's Downfall that had been recently installed there - she was carrying a stack of harmless-looking paper with her. Paper that had been given to her by Parkinson, 'straight from the Dark Lord'. After he had told her what to do with it, and she had realised just what she was carrying, she had to force herself not to hurry to work and get rid of those things as fast as possible.

Fortunately, she wasn't the only one under a lot of pressure, and so she didn't look out of place as she walked to her office, grabbed a piece of parchment, and went down to Procurement. Parchments, quills, ink, robes, and of course, forms, everything needed for the smooth running of the Ministry could be had here - if you had the correct form.

Brenda had the wrong form - deliberately. When the clerk frowned and fidgeted, she leaned forward on the counter and glared at him. "What?"

"That's not the correct form."

"What? Did you change forms again without telling anyone?" She remembered that day well, and had no trouble getting angry.

"No, no… but we need the correct form."

"Transfigure it then!"

"No, no… that would not last for the mandatory archive period… I'll have to fetch the form." The clerk was fussing with his stacks of parchment.

"Summon it, I haven't all day!" Brenda snarled. "Someone has to work here."

"That would mess up our filing system!" The wizard looked shocked. He did stand up, finally, and went to look for the correct form.

Brenda let out a relieved sigh, then pulled her papers out, switching it with one of the stacks lined up on the shelf behind the counter with a flick of her wand.

She had done it. She had betrayed the Ministry not just with words, but deeds now. If anyone knew what she had done… but there was no choice. It was treason, or be betrayed.

She still was angry - at herself, at the Ministry, and at the mudbloods - when the clerk returned, and almost ripped the form out of his hands before filling it out hastily.

She didn't glance at the stack she had replaced, the one under "Ministry Memos".

*****​

London, East End, January 16th, 1997

"Here are the latest floor plans of the Ministry," Hermione Granger announced as she spread the plans Dumbledore had had Sirius deliver to her out on the table in the dining room. She had had other plans, courtesy of Sirius, but these were the most recent. The witch addressed the assembled Resistance members. "As you know, the Wizengamot is debating the proposed policy change tomorrow." The change that would end the Ministry's persecution of them.

"Which should render our plans to attack it redundant." Dean was looking at her.

"Yes. But we can expect the Dark Lord to attack it, if the policy change passes," Hermione said. They hadn't seriously planned an attack, but Hermione and the others had run a few thought exercises. Especially after Martin's execution. This was different, though. This time, they could plan with the help of people inside the Ministry.

"Ah!" Seamus clapped his hands together. "We're going to kill the Death Eaters in the Ministry!"

"We're going to lend some support to our new allies," Hermione corrected him, then added: "Which means we'll be killing those attacking it - the Death Eaters."

That had most of the group grinning, even Colin and Dennis, who knew they'd not be able to come with them.

"But can we trust the Ministry? What if this is a trap?" Louise asked. "They have tried to lure us into a trap once already."

"We can trust Dumbledore and his allies," Hermione said. "The Ministry won't go against them. Can't, really." She looked at the others. "If anyone is attacking us, assume it's a Death Eater."

Everyone nodded at that. Hermione didn't like it - there was bound to be some confusion - but she wasn't about to risk her friends' lives just to protect some Ministry stooge who would have arrested and executed them just a week ago, if given the order.

"Alright… let's go over the plans. The key areas the Death Eaters will try to control are here, the Minister's floor, and here, the atrium with the Floo connections and the lifts, controlling access to the Ministry and to the different floors. If we and our allies control this, we can deal with them one group at a time." Hermione pointed at the different areas, wishing, not for the first time, that she had a Pensieve. At least Louise and Jeremy were familiar with the Ministry.

"What about the Department of Mysteries?" Louise asked.

"I have it on good authority that this is taken care of." Dumbledore had told her that he had personally made certain of that.

Louise nodded.

Justin bent over the maps. "Covering all those approaches will be difficult."

"Yes. We'll have to use machine guns extensively," Hermione admitted. Sealing the entrances was no option, not when a bit of transfiguration would open them again.

"What about mines?" Seamus asked. "A few Claymores, and anyone trying to come at us is ripped to shreds."

Hermione shook her head. "Those could hit our allies as well." She knew that wouldn't really impress Seamus, though - he didn't quite understand that not everyone knew as much about the bombs as he did, or Hermione. And he didn't care about a few dead purebloods, or so Hermione suspected. Fortunately, she had a more compelling argument. "But they're also a risk for us - imagine someone transfiguring them, or simply turning them around or messing with them through magic."

The Irish wizard grumbled, but let the matter drop.

"We're still bringing them, and more explosives - just in case we have to cover our retreat." If the Dark Lord was about to take the Ministry there was no point any more in trying to protect it. They couldn't blow it up, not with all the muggles in the area above it, but they could get destroy quite a lot without putting muggles at risk.

Even the Dark Lord would be hampered if the Ministry infrastructure, especially its paperwork, was destroyed.

*****​

Outside Stamford, Lincolnshire, Britain, January 16th, 1997

The Dark Lord Voldemort studied the latest reports from his sources, delivered by Bellatrix, and only as copies of the originals, of course. He knew very well what could be added to a piece of parchment, after all.

It looked as he had expected: His followers in the Wizengamot were unlikely to have enough influence to defeat the proposed changes. It wasn't quite hopeless, much less impossible to still carry the day - a few of his Death Eaters were leaning on Wizengamot members, appealing to their common sense - but it was unlikely. Dumbledore had outmanoeuvred him, as much as it galled to admit it.

Which meant the Ministry would turn fully against him. There were enough turncoats who would blindly follow new orders for this to be a significant setback. Not just because the Ministry's Aurors, together with Dumbledore's Order and the mudbloods, would be hunting his followers, but also because of the loss of reputation Voldemort would suffer if the Ministry turned officially against him. He couldn't let the sheep lose their fear of his power.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. He had been preparing for this, his agents were almost everywhere in the Ministry, but it was still a gamble. If he lost the battle… if his followers lost the battle, then that would be an even worse blow.

Unless, of course, the battle caused so much devastation that not even Ministry propaganda could portray it as victory to raise morale.

Well, he had been planning some changes to the Ministry's appearance after his inevitable victory anyway. And, he added to himself, glancing at the human skull sitting on his desk, there were other options to consider.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, January 17th, 1997

"The Chair recognises the Minister for Magic." Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore smiled at Cornelius as the other wizard stood up. It had taken some effort, and a few more secrets revealed, but they had managed to secure a majority for the proposed changes. Now all that was left was to counter any attempt by Tom's followers to derail or delay the session.

And, the old wizard mused, watching the assembly as Cornelius started to read the proposal everyone in the Ministry already knew by heart at this point, he had had decades of practise handling such issues. Formalities would not stop him now. Judging by the expressions on the faces of Augustus Malfoy and his friends, they knew that as well.

Albus just wished he could be as confident in handling the expected response from the Dark Lord.

*****​