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Divided and Entwined (Harry Potter AU) (Complete)

Chapter 61: Foreign Solutions
Chapter 61: Foreign Solutions

'Augustus Malfoy's failed plot to blow up the Wizengamot spelled the end of what has come to be known as the 'traditionalist pureblood movement' in Wizarding Britain. By planning to murder not just his enemies, but his allies, even his own kin, Malfoy betrayed the very ideals - blood, honour, tradition - for which he claimed to be fighting. His actions did not just discredit his entire faction, but also allowed Sirius Black to portray his own movement as the only reasonable alternative to a complete takeover by the muggleborns. Such a portrayal would have otherwise been very difficult for any member of the Black family, even more so for a wizard with Black's radical history. It is quite ironic that the very attempt to prevent Black's takeover of the Wizengamot instead greatly facilitated it. This is one of the reasons some of my colleagues consider the Malfoy bomb plot as the end of the Second Blood War - especially if they consider the bombing of Malfoy Manor to be its start - despite the fact that this requires one to ignore several significant events which are undoubtedly part of that conflict.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn


*****​

West of Savanna-la-Mar, Jamaica, April 7th, 1997

For a moment, Augustus Rookwood considered retreating. It was obvious that he had lost the element of surprise. But if he did, he would lose more than a week's work - some of the ingredients for the potions he had used were nigh-impossible to come by as a civilian unless one had lavish funds. And while money could be acquired, contacts who were unscrupulous enough to deal with Britain's most wanted wizard without betraying him to the authorities were another thing. Further, he wouldn't be able to repeat the same tactic again. So he pressed his lips together and dismounted, sticking the broom to the wall outside. He could do this - he was prepared and had a plan.

One of the markers was coming at him from behind, two from ahead. A flick of his wand transfigured the planter in the alcove in front of him into a vaguely humanoid figure while he stepped into another alcove on the other side of the corridor. With a twist of his wand he conjured a giant snake behind him. A Disillusionment Charm hid it from view as it slithered to cover his back.

Just before the two markers in front reached the corner ahead, he opened a vial in his pocket. The slight hissing noise was drowned out by an explosion that blew a large hole in the transfigured planter. An amateur's mistake. And he hadn't seen a spell - that had been a vial of Exploding Fluid.

The first marker would be the apprentice then, Augustus concluded - the mambo wouldn't make such a mistake, nor would she use a vial instead of a spell. Which meant he didn't need to take that one alive. The apprentice - a boy, Augustus noticed - turned the corner, his wand covering the row of alcoves, but he hesitated, not wanting to repeat his mistake, just long enough for Augustus to strike.

A Reductor Curse blew a hole in the floor just behind the boy, causing him to stumble - straight into Augustus's Fire Whip. The boy - or maybe girl; the spell illuminated their face long enough to show they were younger than Augustus had expected, barely of an age to attend Hogwarts - couldn't even scream before their head was torn off.

Augustus took a step back, taking cover in the alcove as he cast a Shield Charm. The second marker was about to turn the corner behind him - and the third in front of him. That one would be the mambo, which meant his disillusioned snake should be able to take care of the second apprentice.

He heard a yell, cut short, behind him, and glanced back. A figure seemed to be struggling with an invisible snake, then it went limp. Grinning, he turned his attention to the front. A bout of nausea hit him, but he fought it down. Not now, not so close to victory.

The third marker was right at the corner, hiding out of sight - but not out of range of his detection spell. A Blasting Curse would wreck the corner and shower her with splinters…

He hesitated. This was too easy. No experienced witch would fight like this. Not in her own home. His stomach tried to rebel again, and he bent over, panting. He shook his head. No matter; she was a threat.

He blew the corner to smithereens and heard her cry out in pain, then saw her body collapse in a shower of blood, shredded by the stone shards. Not even a Shield Charm? And he hadn't encountered any of the defenses and curses he had expected. Gasping, he once again retreated into the alcove and pointed his wand at the limp body behind him.

"Accio wand!" he whispered.

Nothing.

He pointed his wand at the headless apprentice in front of him.

"Accio wand!" Louder this time.

Nothing flew or leapt towards him. But he had seen the wand in the boy's hand… the vial! The mistakes!

Those had been zombies! Decoys! He had to escape!

"Accio broom!" he shouted, his spell overpowering the weak charm with which he had stuck the broom to the wall outside. He saw the broom flew towards him. His Human-presence-revealing Spell showed no enemies nearby. He reached out to grab the shaft…

… and skeletal arms tore through the walls, floor and ceiling, smashing into his shield, battering it down and forcing him back into the alcove, where more bone limbs grasped at him.

A Blasting Curse blew a hole in the phalanx of bone limbs, opening an escape route - but the blast had been too close, and the force of the explosion also shattered his Shield Charm. Before he could recast it or take more than one step towards his broom - held by other skeletal hands, he now saw - dozens of the limbs descended on him, smashing him to the ground.

His wand arm erupted in pain, broken - or even shattered. He screamed, desperately struggling, trying to escape despite the pain, despite his wand being lost, but his efforts were futile. The convenient cover the alcoves had provided, the hasty reaction - it had all been a trap, he realised.

Immobilised by dozens of skeletal hands, he felt his stomach rise again.

*****​

He was panting, trying not to smell the stench of his own bile and snot as it formed a puddle right next to his head, when he heard laughter. Looking up, hissing at the pain the movement caused his hurt body, he saw a dark-skinned woman wearing thin, white and scandalously short robes, approach.

She flicked her wand, and he saw his own wand fly towards her. She caught it with her left hand. She stepped closer, forcing him to crane his neck further so he could keep her face in view.

"Are you the one who murdered Markus?" She had a heavy accent. A native mambo, then. Not a mudblood raised as one.

"Who?" He played dumb.

She snorted and waved her wand. At once, the skeletal hands gripping his broken wand arm tightened, and he screamed. It felt as if shards of his own bones were being driven into his flesh and through his skin.

"Are you?"

"Markus Williams? I killed him, yes," he spat. He gulped down air, the smell of blood mingling with the stench of bile despite his nose running. He felt his stomach rise again, and dry-retched several times.

"Disgusting."

He glanced up and saw a faint shimmer around the mambo's head. A Bubble-Head Charm. Behind her, he saw a young man turn the broken figure back into a planter. That would be her apprentice. He didn't say anything, just continued to breathe heavily. If she noticed the slight hissing sound…

"Who are you?"

"You don't know me?" His forced laugh turned into a cough that wracked his body with pain each time his chest moved. He just had to endure this a little longer. But if she hurt him any worse… "Rookwood. Augustus Rookwood," he quickly said. "I'd bow, but…" His grimace might be called a smile if one were blind and squinted.

The mambo's own smile reminded him of Lestrange's. "You're the last British Death Eater."

"Not quite," he said. How much longer did he have to endure this?

She frowned. He saw her apprentice step up behind her. "Mistress?" he asked in the same accent. "The three decoys are dead. Too damaged to serve further."

Augustus saw a frown appear on the mambo's face. "Dispose of them!" She spoke without turning her head to look at the man, her attention focused on himself.

"As you co…" the man bowed, then staggered, trailing off. Augustus saw him blink, his lips moving, without saying a word.

This time, the mambo turned around, just in time to see her apprentice collapse. She whirled back, not bothering to check on the man, and time seemed to slow down for Augustus while he watched her wand swing to point at him. If she…

But she didn't cast. Instead, she shivered, then pulled something out of a pocket of her robes, swallowing it. A bezoar, as expected. But that would only treat the symptoms.

Once more her wand moved towards him, and once more her expression reminded him of Lestrange. And then her face went slack and she collapsed.

He let out a relieved breath, before another coughing fit shook his body. He didn't have much time left. And he was badly hurt, and still held in the vice-like grip of these skeletal hands. He moved his left hand.

"Accio wand!"

Wandless magic had never been his forte, but failure was not an option - his spare wand had been crushed along with his right forearm.

He saw the wand, his wand, twitch and roll an inch across the stone floor.

"Accio wand!"

Another inch.

"Accio wand!" he yelled as loudly as he could, putting everything he had into the spell.

The wand rolled towards him, bumping against a bone shard, then rolling over it, closer and closer, until the fingers of his left hand closed around it. Even exhausted and in agony from his wounds, he smiled.

"Evanesco. Evanesco. Evanesco."

It took a dozen Vanishing Charms to free him from his bony bonds. His arm sent waves of excruciating pain through his body when released, flopping down on the stone floor before he could numb it.

Sweat ran down his brow, and his vision started to dim. Grinding his teeth, he closed the vial in his pocket. He couldn't afford even more poison spreading, even though there couldn't be much left anyway. A repurposed household charm blew the poisoned air around him away with a steady breeze. Retching, he pulled out his potion case, opening it with a flick of his wand, then fumbled for the blue vial. When the cork seemed stuck he cursed with frustration, then ripped it out with his teeth before gulping down the liquid inside. He had to purge his body of the antidote to the airborne poison before it damaged him further.

For a minute, he simply rested on the floor, shivering, until he could see clearly again and didn't feel like puking his guts out any more. He vanished the blood-soaked right sleeve of his robes and winced at the sight of mangled flesh pierced with bone. The Bone-Mending Charm wouldn't be enough to fix it.

He could deal with it later. He hadn't much time left; reinforcements could arrive at any minute - the missing second apprentice might be off seeking help. He muttered a few curses. If he had the time to loot the manor… but he wouldn't even be able to restock the potions he had used, and would use to recover from this.

Ah, well… he told himself that he wouldn't have been able to use the same trick twice anyway, even if he had another pair of vials of the poison and antidote left. A flick of his wand stripped the mambo of her robes and sandals, and anything else - he wouldn't make her mistake, and leave her with the tools to escape. A few spells later she was bound, wrapped in ropes, blindfolded and silenced.

A Killing Curse followed by a Vanishing Charm took care of the apprentice, before he levitated his captive and mounted his broom. The skeletal hands had scratched the shaft, but it seemed otherwise undamaged. Which was a good thing, seeing as he had to fly it one handed.

He landed at the wardline and shrank the broom, stashing it inside his robes, then turned around to stare at the manor. For a moment, he hesitated. He knew that there were rare books inside, exotic knowledge to be had, unique spells to be found.

Augustus shook his head. He pointed his wand, and cursed green fire sprang up behind the broken windows of the first floor.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, April 7th, 1997

Sirius Black looked up from the amber liquid in his glass when the door to his living room opened. When he saw Vivienne entering, he smiled. "How did it go?"

"We can meet my family tomorrow, as planned," she said, walking towards him. "With our 'guest'."

He nodded and put the glass down. It was too late to drink liquor anyway. "Do they expect any trouble?" His cover should have held, but the French Gendarmes might have caught a lucky break.

"No." She shook her head then sat down on the armrest of his chair. "The Gendarmes might suspect us, of course - we're known to be Dubois's main rivals at the Court, together with the Delacours - but they lack any proof."

"And the Delacours?" They had facilitated his cover story with carefully forged documentation.

"I trust that they will 'ave covered their tracks. They certainly have the influence and experience to stall an investigation for a few more days." She shrugged, and Sirius couldn't help thinking that the d'Aigles and Delacours might not be as close as he had thought.

"And the audience?" he asked, wrapping his arm around her waist. He had to meet the Duc in person in order to take the man's measure. And to impress upon him the folly of further meddling in British politics.

"Arranged for the evening. Although the Duc insisted on receiving you in the Chateau." She winced. "'E refused to meet you on my family's estate."

Sirius took a deep breath through clenched teeth. "A private audience - a secret one. He could easily make me disappear."

"'E wouldn't do that." Vivienne shook her head almost violently. "It would be dishonourable."

"As dishonourable as me seducing Dubois to kidnap her?"

He saw her flinch in response, before she raised her chin. "It was justified. She wanted to plunge Britain into another war. And 'er plans for the French muggleborns…"

"The Duc might think a small betrayal justified as well, in response to my actions against Dubois. Or to exchange me for her." If Dubois had been the Duc's lover, as some rumours claimed, then the leader of Magical France might very well decide to hold Sirius hostage to ensure Dubois's survival, no matter the diplomatic consequences.

"If she survives she'll do all she can to take revenge," Vivienne said. "And if the Duc would go to such lengths to save 'er…"

"...then she has his ear. And probably his heart too," Sirius finished for her.

"No. The Duc is not that sentimental. If she was 'is mistress, maybe. But a former lover? Who was kidnapped by 'er current lover? No." Vivienne shook her head. "'E would appear not just weak, but foolish to risk a war for such a witch."

"Are you certain?" Sirius was a Gryffindor, so his bravery was not in question, but if the Duc took him hostage, Harry and his friends might react in a rash and violent manner.

"Yes. While we do not elect our leader, a Duc who loses the respect of the Court and the aristocracy cannot 'old on to 'is position for long."

It seemed French politics were even worse than British ones, Sirius thought. They hadn't had two civil wars since Grindelwald's war, though. He nodded. "Alright. So, will he sacrifice Dubois then?"

"Yes." After a moment, she added: "That is the opinion of my family as well."

He'd have to trust their opinion, Sirius knew - he wasn't an expert on French politics. He sighed. He eyed the glass again, then vanished its contents with a flick of his wand. "You know, I didn't want to, didn't like seducing her. I still don't like it."

"She's a 'orrible witch." Vivienne nodded.

"It's not that." He noticed a flicker of doubt, and maybe hurt, on her face, and took a deep breath. "It felt as if I was cheating on you." Well, according to pretty much everyone he could think of, sleeping with another witch was cheating on your lover.

She didn't answer right away. And when she did, she wasn't looking at him. "I knew what you were doing. What you 'ad to do. It was my idea."

He didn't say anything, just held her closer. He could feel how tense she was.

In a whisper, she went on: "I 'ated it, though. To know you would be in 'er arms, making love to 'er…" She was clenching her teeth, her whispers gaining a screeching undertone. "I 'ate her even more because of this!"

He put his right hand on her thigh, squeezing gently. She was close to transforming, or so he thought. There were no feathers sprouting yet, though. He was tempted to change into Padfoot - that usually broke any tension. Or at least redirected it. But she deserved better than him making light of this. "I won't do it again."

She didn't answer, but she slid into his lap and held him, and he could feel how she slowly grew less tense as he rubbed her back.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, April 8th, 1997

Ron Weasley ducked when he entered the twins' shop, but no rubber chicken tried to attack him, nor did anything else dreamed up by his brothers hit him while he stepped through the fast-drying Thief's Downfall installed at the entrance.

"Ah, we trained him well!"

Ron shot the chuckling Fred a glare. "Better safe than sorry." Growing up with the twins certainly had taught him that. He glanced around reflexively. To one side, a customer, a young wizard, was talking with the clerk the twins had hired. Or trying to flirt with her, Ron couldn't tell. He kept an eye on them anyway.

"Bah! Where's the fun in that?" Fred shook his head. "Safe!" He scoffed. "Are you a Gryffindor or not?"

"He's been with Hermione for too long; he's starting to think like her!" George, standing in the doorway to the back room, added. "Soon he'll read real books instead of Quidditch magazines!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Very funny."

Fred grinned. "We do our best. Or worst."

"Definitely your worst," Ron said. When his brother opened his mouth again, he held up his hand. "Let's go into your workroom."

Fred closed his mouth and nodded, then turned his head and yelled "Clarice! Take over the counter!"

The witch looked over at them and nodded. "Alright, boss."

"Is she calling you boss because she can't tell you apart?" Ron asked as he followed his brothers to their workroom. "Or are you actually becoming respectable business owners?"

"That was definitely your worst attempt at a joke," Fred shot back.

"Respectable? Us?" George shook his head.

Then the door closed, and the twins grew more serious. Fred leaned against a work bench filled with all sorts of knick-knacks and cast a privacy spell.

"I guess you want to know how far along the 'Bone Busters' are," George said.

Ron nodded. He also hadn't seen the twins for some time, but that wasn't something that he'd admit to anyone.

"We're about to finish testing, add a few tweaks, then start production." George picked up what looked like a Bludger. "And we've improved on the concept." He grinned. "This will seek out your enemies, trying to ram them like a normal Bludger. Just without the Cushioning Charms." His grin widened. "It would kill someone if it hit their head."

"And while the target is dodging the Bone Buster - or shielding - it will release the potion into the air as an almost invisible mist," Fred added, looking smug.

Ron nodded. "So… you adapted one of your inventions, and put it into a Bludger with the safety charms removed." It was devious. Skeletons and bone walls wouldn't try to dodge, and houngans would have to worry about getting smashed by the things. And should their limbs break, and their bones become exposed...

Fred pouted. "It wasn't quite that simple. We had to adapt the spells a lot so it would only attack enemies."

"And how does that work?" Ron wanted to know. He didn't want to get hit by one of them.

"A charmed pin will keep it away," Fred said. "The charm can be cast as well, but a General Counter-Spell would put an end to it."

And the Bludger would probably put an end to them soon afterwards, Ron thought. "We'll still want to learn the spell too. We might lose a pin, or there might be other people in the area of effect whom we don't want to get hurt."

"You can also command it to stop," George said. "We tweaked those spells too, though. If someone tries the usual Quidditch spells on them…" He bared his teeth. "Let's just say they'll receive a surprise."

"What kind of surprise?" Ron stared at them. He'd rather not discover what the thing did in the middle of a battle.

Fred frowned. "Now you sound like Hermione too. If that's the result of your special Resistance training, then I'm glad we didn't get to go."

"What does it do?"

"It makes the Bone Buster focus on the caster of the spell," George answered. "After slowing down for a moment, to make them think they succeeded."

"Ah." Ron nodded. He didn't think that would be very useful, but it was a nice addition. "Good work. We can definitely use that."

Fred narrowed his eyes. "So… does that mean you're planning to fight houngans?"

"We want to be ready for the next time we encounter Reid or his friends," Ron said. "I hope he doesn't return to Britain, though - we're still dealing with Malfoy and Runcorn's arrests."

"That shook up the Wizengamot," Fred remarked with a chuckle. "Their honourable and generous friend planning to kill them all!"

"Greengrass and Davis revealed that, right?" George asked.

Ron nodded. "Yes. They managed to completely fool Malfoy until after he told them his plan." He saw that Fred was glaring at George, who in turn was frowning at his brother. Ron didn't know what was going on there, and he didn't think he wanted to know.

*****​

Outside Paris, Château d'Orléans, France, April 8th, 1997

Sirius Black didn't let any lingering nervousness - he was a Gryffindor; he wasn't afraid - show as he stepped out of the fireplace in the entrance hall of the seat of the Duc d'Orléans. He was an emissary of Wizarding Britain, on a diplomatic mission officially sanctioned by the Chief Warlock. It would be a breach of protocol unheard of in recent times should he be detained, or worse.

Unheard of, but not entirely impossible, he told himself as he cleaned the soot from his robes. He glanced briefly at the guards in the hall, then turned and held out his hand when the fireplace flashed behind him. Vivienne stepped out and took his hand in hers with practised ease while she smiled at him. Her mother, Marie, was next, followed by Fleur's father. Antoine Delacour didn't show any sign of his close brush with death four months ago in the catacombs of the Bastille.

As was customary, the chamberlain waited to greet them until all had removed the soot from their clothes. "Welcome to the Château d'Orléans," the elderly wizard said in French, bowing deeply. "The Duc awaits you in the western salon."

They nodded in response and followed the man through a corridor decked out in marble. Sirius had to restrain himself from glancing at every decorative pillar or curtain-covered alcove they passed - half an army could be hidden there. He had yet to release Vivienne's hand.

The western salon was a rather large room for a private audience - the largest room in Sirius's home could have fit twice into it. The windows were covered with thick curtains. The furniture, though, had been chosen with care for the meeting, he thought - there were two couches facing a single seat, separated by a low table. Almost intimate, even, Sirius thought, for a meeting with the Duc. He couldn't spot the guards he knew had to be around - probably hidden behind fake walls and curtains.

The Duc himself was standing when they entered, dressed in dark robes with purple trim. He was about ten years older than Sirius, tall and slim, and with an immaculate mustache and goatee - much like Sirius's own style. And, judging by the Duc's faint smirk, he had not missed the resemblance.

"Welcome, Marie, Antoine, Mademoiselle d'Aigle, Monsieur Black." The Duc inclined his head in greeting. Apparently, Sirius didn't need an introduction.

In response, everyone in his group bowed deeply.

"Please sit down." The Duc gestured at the two couches.

A house-elf brought some refreshments as they took their seats. The little creature had stepped out from behind one of the curtains, and Sirius made a mental note of the location - there would be a passage for the elves behind there. In a pinch, Padfoot could fit through one as well.

Marie and Antoine made some idle chat while the elf served wine - a good vintage, Sirius noted. He refrained from testing for poison; if the Duc wanted to harm him he'd have too many other opportunities, and without breaking protocol.

"You asked for a private meeting," the Duc finally said. "With a foreign envoy." He glanced at Sirius as he spoke, but addressed Marie and Antoine.

"Yes, we did. Sirius has informed us of a grave matter which could have a severe impact on relations between France and Britain." Marie nodded at Sirius.

The Duc raised an eyebrow, though Sirius couldn't tell if the man was surprised at the quick deflection or not. He cleared his throat. "Indeed, Monsieur le duc. You might be aware that there have recently been several attacks against civilians in Wizarding Britain." The Duc nodded, and Sirius went on. "We have discovered that those attacks were instigated by a member of your court, in an attempt to destabilise my country."

The Duc took a short, hissing breath, but didn't show any other reaction. "I assume you speak of Isabelle Dubois."

"Yes."

"And you have taken her into your custody."

"Not officially," Sirius clarified.

"Ah." The Duc slowly nodded. "Not yet, you mean." He looked at Marie and Antoine.

Vivienne's mother nodded. "We thought it best that this delicate situation be resolved with some discretion."

"Otherwise Isabelle's actions could have grave consequences, given the volatile situation in Britain," Antoine added.

"Isabelle was kidnapped by her current lover - an American in exile, or rather, a man posing as an American in exile." The Duc was staring at Sirius, and his tone left no doubt that he knew who had been posing as Isabelle's lover. "Such an act might have grave consequences. The French do not suffer foreigners kidnapping members of the Court."

He hadn't denied the accusations against Dubois, Sirius noticed. He shrugged. "She brought it on herself. If she hadn't been trying to plunge Britain into another civil war, she wouldn't have been taken into custody." He leaned forward. "And should her plans for the French muggleborns be revealed, I gather that a great deal of violent unrest might result here in France."

He saw the Duc's eyes widen in apparent surprise at that. Either he hadn't known about that or he was an excellent actor. "What plans?"

"She planned to murder the best and brightest of the French muggleborns, to curb a hypothetical rebellion before it could start," Sirius explained. With a feral grin, he added: "Should this become known I fear that it would cause the very rebellion she feared."

The Duc had been clenching his teeth while Sirius had been speaking. "Others might take that threat as proof that Isabelle's apparent fears were not groundless."

Sirius leaned forward. "Which fears? That the French muggleborns might demand equal rights? And an end to discrimination? And that they might look to Britain for support?"

"Yes."

He scoffed. "We just fought a bloody war - the second war in less than twenty years. We have no desire for another one."

"Some might think that currently you're simply too weak to fight another war." The Duc was focused on Sirius.

"They would be wrong. Dead wrong." Sirius met the man's eyes and bared his teeth. "The Ministry's losses were terrible. The Death Eaters and their supporters were all but wiped out. But the Order of the Phoenix and the Muggleborn Resistance? We're actually stronger than before." It wasn't quite true - while the Muggleborn Resistance had recruited more than they had lost, the new members were not yet trained to the level of the veterans and the Order hadn't replaced its losses. But Sirius had no doubt that should it come to war with France, recruiting more Order members would be far easier than recruiting more Aurors. "Any country so foolish as to attack us would find out very quickly that we're ready for war."

"A muggleborn-ruled Britain would be facing the entirety of Europe united against them."

He snorted. "And do you think the European muggleborns will sit out such a conflict? They flocked to Grindelwald in the past and he was the aggressor. Should Europe go to war for pureblood supremacy, the muggleborns will rise and you'll find yourself besieged by your own people. People who will have learned from the Resistance's example."

"So you have plans, then." The Duc's face was no longer expressionless; he was baring his own teeth now, his anger plain to see.

"Of course we have plans - we'd be fools not to be prepared for that - but we have no intention of starting a war." Sirius shook his head. "We know how terrible it is, and we do not wish it on anyone." Not on anyone sensible, at least. "We went to war because the Death Eaters wanted to oppress and murder all muggleborns." And if anyone else tried the same, they'd go to war again - covertly, or overtly. He lowered his voice. "Stop trying to meddle in Britain, don't murder your own muggleborns and there'll be no war, and no scandal."

"I cannot ignore Isabelle's kidnapping. She has too many friends at Court."

Marie put down her own glass, a slight sneer appearing on her face. "No one would be surprised if her plots and affairs caught up with her. A scorned lover hiring an assassin to take revenge on her would be plausible enough to deflect suspicion away from us."

The Duc turned towards the Veela. "And you would arrange that?"

"Not directly," she answered, tilting her head slightly.

"A few words to the correct people, a few hints at what danger Isabelle has been courting with her foolish course of action…" Antoine spread his hands, the large ring on his hand catching the light from the chandelier. "She has overstepped her bounds, assumed she was acting with support you never gave her. A lesson others would do well to learn as well."

The Duc looked from the Veela to the wizard and back, then glanced at Sirius. "Are you trying to push me into following his example?"

His tone had changed, and he had grown rigid, Sirius thought. He saw the two French nobles stiffen as well.

"We're not the ones who tried to create a fait accompli and drag France into a war no one wanted but them," Antoine said. "We're not the ones who tried to hide their actions from you, assuming you would condone them after the fact - when you'd have no other choice." He shook his head. "You know me, us, better than that, Louis."

"I thought I knew Isabelle better than that as well," the Duc retorted, and Sirius couldn't help but think that the Duc wasn't entirely convinced of Dubois's guilt.

He felt Vivienne, who hadn't said anything yet, tense up. "We have a memory of her confession, Monsieur le duc."

The leader of Magical France glanced at her and Sirius, then shook his head. "She was, according to your own words, acting out of fear of a muggleborn rebellion. And you are using the same threat in an attempt to dictate policy to me - while working with a foreigner allied to muggleborns."

"Dubois was working with foreigners as well - with purebloods willing to murder the entire Wizengamot, the heads of all the Old Families, to further their own goals." Sirius smiled thinly. "Purebloods who still follow the orders of the Dark Lord - the foreigner who dared to lay a trap in the Bastille and corrupt your people. Neither I nor my allies have done anything against France."

"You kidnapped a member of my court."

"In response to her orchestrating attacks on my country." Sirius glared at the Duc.

"What is more important, the fate of a witch, or the fate of our country?" Antoine cut in. "We are on the brink of war - a situation Dubois brought upon us. Supporting her means condoning her actions against Britain."

The Duc pressed his lips together for a moment, before he answered. "I do not condone her actions, and I do not wish to go to war." Sirius clenched his teeth and squeezed Vivienne's hand. "But neither do I wish to let foreigners dictate to me how I rule my country. Or members of my court. France's internal affairs are no one else's concern."

"The muggleborns disagree," Sirius said. He ignored the glances from Marie and Antoine. "There are lines that, if crossed, will cause them to react. During the time of Grindelwald's War, the muggles fought a great war as well."

"I'm aware of that. Muggle France fell to the Prussians. Some took it as an omen of things to come when facing Grindelwald's army." The Duc sneered. "They were proven wrong."

"The British and French muggles fought a regime of criminals who murdered millions of people for no other reason than their blood," Sirius went on. "Ever since then, muggles have considered similar actions to be a crime so severe it merits an intervention by the international community."

"What do you wish to say?"

"I'm saying that should you start murdering your muggleborns, the British muggleborns will consider you a criminal of the worst sort. And they wouldn't be the only ones in Europe," Sirius explained.

"You threaten me with war, then, should I not bow to muggleborns?"

Sirius wanted to tell the Duc that that was exactly what he was doing, but Antoine spoke up before he lost his temper. "He's warning us that mass murder is not the solution. It didn't work for the British, and it will not work for us. Quite the contrary."

"Appeasement didn't work for the British either," the Duc retorted.

"No amount of appeasement other than unconditional surrender would have satisfied the Dark Lord," Sirius said. "The muggleborns, by and large, simply want the same rights as purebloods." Which implied democracy, but he didn't want to open that can of Flobberworms. "Why do you think that Dumbledore pushed for muggleborn rights in Britain after he had defeated Grindelwald? He knew that that was the only way to avoid another war."

"And yet Britain suffered two Blood Wars, whereas France has remained at peace."

"Those wars were the result of the Dark Lord's desire to take over Britain. The muggleborns were just a convenient scapegoat. If circumstances had been different he would have followed Grindelwald's example and recruited muggleborns." Sirius had his doubts - Voldemort must have known that such a course of action could have brought most of Europe down on his head.

"You demand that France stays out of your internal affairs, yet do not offer the same courtesy." The Duc glared at him.

"Our courtesy ends where mass murder begins." Sirius met the Duc's eyes without flinching.

"No one is planning such a crime," Marie cut in. "No one but Dubois, at least."

"The purpose of this meeting was to defuse the crisis Dubois created. I think we are all in agreement that war has to be avoided, and that Dubois's actions are not supported by France." Antoine smiled. "We are also now aware of the views of the future government of Britain as far as muggleborns are concerned, which will have to be considered by the Duc."

"Indeed," Marie added, "we can deal with the other issues at a later date."

Sirius nodded. The main goal was to avoid a war right now. "If you stop your people from stirring up trouble in Britain in the future we'll consider Dubois's actions unsanctioned by France and let you handle the matter discreetly."

The Duc scowled, but nodded slowly. "I can agree to that."

Sirius smiled as they shook hands, but he had a feeling that the Duc wasn't entirely convinced that he couldn't mess with Britain in the future. Or that he couldn't oppress the French muggleborns.

He wasn't too worried, though - they could do something about that once they had handled the current crisis and taken over Britain.

*****​

Near Spanish Town, Jamaica, April 8th, 1997

Augustus Rookwood, sitting in the living room of his tent, watched his captive stir on the carpet. The poison he had used had finally been metabolised enough for her to regain consciousness. If only he had had more of the antidote left, to speed up the process… He shook his head. Such thoughts did nothing but distract him. He had to focus on the task at hand.

The mambo opened her eyes and blinked rapidly. She would still have trouble focusing her gaze, he knew. She tugged against the bonds that held her, but not for long - she knew that she wouldn't be able to break them.

"Good evening, Madam." He smirked at her expression. If not for the gag, she'd be swearing at him. "I have a few questions for you." He pulled out his vial of Veritaserum. Her eyes widened, then hardened - that wasn't the reaction he had expected.

Frowning, he cast a full Body-Bind Curse, then vanished the gag in her mouth. But then he hesitated as he was about to let three drops fall into her open mouth, still thinking of her curious reaction. What if she had taken precautions to prevent the use of Veritaserum? Something that reacted with the potion to kill her? He had heard of such projects when he had been working at the Department.

Sighing, he stashed the vial again - and watched her eyes track it. Was that relief, or regret? With her face frozen, it was hard to tell. No matter, there were alternatives. He pointed his wand at her.

"Imperio!"

Paralysed, she showed no sign of struggling, other than a glint in her eyes that might have been his imagination. But when he ended the Body-Bind Curse, she didn't do anything except stare at the ground - as victims of his curse were wont to do without orders.

"Tell me your name."

"Ezola Grant."

"Tell me the truth. Are you a member of the island's ruling council?"

"Yes."

So he had the right kind of witch. He allowed himself to smile, before continuing the interrogation. "Did you expect me to attack you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Ricky had disappeared."

The thug's death had not gone unnoticed. Augustus had been sloppy. "Who else knew about this?"

"My apprentices."

"How many did you have?"

"Two."

Which meant one was left. "Can the surviving apprentice track you?"

"No."

That was good news. "Can anyone else track you?"

"No."

Even better, though he had expected that - what kind of wizard or witch would allow others to gain the power to track them? That clause in his contract had been the worst drawback to becoming an Unspeakable. That left another weakness, though. "Can you track the skulls of the Library of Souls?"

"Yes."

He hissed with sudden fear. "How?"

She started to explain the spell - the ritual. Sacrifices, duration, range… why hadn't they found him? A few dead muggles would cover the entire island. "Did you search the island already?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"When we discovered that a skull was missing, and after the attack on Williams."

He blinked. He hadn't left the island after that attack, so… Of course! The Dark Lord would have taken steps to prevent the houngans from finding the skull he had taken from them. He sighed with relief. "Are you cooperating with the British?"

"No."

"Will you let them on the island?"

"No."

He relaxed. The Department could track him - but not from Britain. He was safe. Relatively, at least.

"Tell me all you know about the Library of Souls."

*****​

Augustus leaned back in his seat and took a deep breath. The thug 'Ricky' had been surprisingly resistant to interrogation, but his current captive was worse. Trying to break into her mind left him feeling as if he had headbutted a stone wall.

But he had no choice - the information she had been forced to reveal while under his spell had been spotty and purely verbal. If he had access to a Pensieve, he could have forced her to donate her memories, but as things were… if he wanted to study the layout and defences of the Library of Souls before actually venturing there, he needed to see it in her memories. He couldn't even potion her to reduce her wits, since that would render her memory unreliable. And ordering her to open her mind hadn't worked.

So he was forced to match his mind against hers as he tried to overpower her defences. A thoroughly exhausting and painful process - he hadn't suffered such a headache since his own Occlumency training.

He shifted in his seat, reaching for the cup of tea he had prepared in advance. Taking a sip from it, he glanced at the skull resting on a low table nearby. If only he had the time to study the skull properly - one of the enchantments on it had to have been added by the Dark Lord to prevent the houngans from tracking it. If he could analyse it, he might be able to counter the hold the Department had over him.

He might not even need to find a cure for the Withering Curse to be safe… He shook his head. He had already come too far to give up now. And he didn't want to spend the rest of his life in hiding; he wanted a pardon.

And he wanted the knowledge from the Library of Souls.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, April 9th, 1997

"Jamaica has accused us of attacking another of their houngans?" Amelia Bones frowned as she dropped the most recent missive from the ICW on her desk and looked at Fawley. "Do they offer any proof for their accusations?"

Britain's delegate at the ICW shook his head. "No, Madam, they haven't. All they are claiming is that since another houngan has been attacked in her manor, it has to be the work of the same culprit as the earlier attack. They have not offered any detailed description of the attack either."

"Which means it wasn't done with muggle explosives." Amelia shook her head. "It doesn't mean the culprit wasn't the same, of course. But I wouldn't put it past the houngans to settle some rivalries and blame us."

Fawley nodded, then cleared his throat. "Ah… do we know who was behind the attacks?"

She was certain it was Rookwood, but she had no proof a court would accept. And she didn't trust Fawley not to leak the information to others. So she shook her head. "There's only conjuncture, nothing solid."

He remained silent for a moment, before speaking up again: "What about the muggleborns? Could they be behind the attacks?"

Amelia wouldn't put such an operation beyond the Resistance's capabilities, but she doubted that they'd be able to launch such attacks without their leader, and Granger hadn't left Britain long enough to lead such a mission. And if Fawley spread such rumours, Britain's trouble with a number of foreign countries would grow much, much worse. So she shook his head. "No. All the muggleborn suspects able to do such a thing are accounted for."

"Oh." The wizard sounded disappointed. "I've been told - in private, of course - that a number of countries approved of our efforts to continue Dumbledore's policy towards Jamaica."

Of course they would. For decades, Dumbledore had been the reason Jamaica had been playing nice with its neighbours. "We haven't, so far, changed that policy. You can tell them that. But don't claim that we are behind these attacks."

Once the wizard had left, she closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat. Rookwood was still working on getting a cure for the Withering Curse, she was certain. A cure that would cost a pardon for one of the worst murderers she knew. The same sort of pardon another mass murderer had received thanks to Dumbledore's influence.

She shook her head. She would be damned if she let a Death Eater escape.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, April 11th, 1997

"The chair recognises Mister Avery."

"Honoured members of the Wizengamot! While the accusations leveled against Augustus Malfoy and Philius Runcorn are shocking - although we have yet to see and judge for ourselves the evidence for said accusations - it would be a grave mistake to condemn all of the goals the two stood for in reaction. If the worst of dark wizards thinks children shouldn't be hurt, does that mean such a sentiment is wrong just because he shares it? No! I say our traditions are not tainted by a desperate man's folly..."

Hermione Granger rolled her eyes as she listened to Avery's doomed attempts to stop the Wizengamot from burying the bigots' agenda. Since the majority of the Wizengamot members cared about themselves first, their families second, and the rest of Wizarding Britain a distant third, they had taken Malfoy's plans personally. Very personally. Who would have thought that the very reason the Wizengamot was so corrupt and easily misled would turn out to provide the impetus for the last push needed to reform it?

"What an idiot," she heard Ron whisper next to her. "I've got a mind to hex him." She glanced at him, and he grinned. "Just joking."

She scowled. This was serious. They were about to make history! She was about to point that out to him when he touched her thigh.

"Relax. You heard Sirius and Doge - it's a done deal. This is just posturing."

She sighed and nodded, putting her hand on his. They were so close, though, and she longed to shut the idiot up. She wasn't the only one - other members were jeering and shouting, and even waving their wands. No one hexed him, though - that wasn't done.

Finally, Avery sat down again, head held high, but teeth grinding, and Sirius raised his wand.

"The chair recognises Mister Black."

"Honoured members of the Wizengamot! You have heard what Mister Avery said. Even faced with proof of how corrupt his ideology is, he cannot bear the truth. And why is that? Because he's afraid. Afraid of muggleborns. Afraid of losing his position. Afraid of any change at all.

"But Britain needs to change. The current system is not working. A country where the majority of the people have no voice in government is a doomed country. Why should people listen to a government that doesn't listen to them? To a Wizengamot that excludes them?

"It's not as if the Wizengamot has proven to be particularly wise. The Muggleborn Laws were passed despite Dumbledore arguing against them - a mistake caused by fear. And we all know the results of those laws. War and death.

"We cannot allow this to happen again! No longer can we let a few families have the power to decide our country's fate! If Britain is to prosper, we need everyone working together - and that requires everyone to have a stake in the country.

"The proposed changes to the Wizengamot in the Reform Act will achieve this. Instead of representing themselves and their families, members will represent far more people - people whose support is shown by their votes.

"Some claim this is 'muggle nonsense'. Something against all our traditions. To those I say: That is a lie. For what I propose - elections - are how we have chosen the Minister for Magic for centuries. Like the Wizengamot elects a minister, the people will elect the Wizengamot."

Hermione rolled her eyes again when she saw how that rather absurd argument was actually swaying some of the more conservative members. But as long as the needed majority was gained, she wouldn't complain. She raised her wand as well.

"The chair recognises Madam Granger."

"Honoured members of the Wizengamot! I fully support my esteemed colleague's proposal!" She had written most of it, after all. Judging by some grins, people knew it as well. "And I dare say that every muggleborn supports, no, expects and demands, it as well. Muggleborns, half-bloods, purebloods - we all fought for our country during the war. And yet people would claim that we have fewer rights than the Old Families? We bled and died the same as them, as everyone who fought in the war will know." That should make the others realise that there was more at stake than old privileges. "Hogwarts, the oldest and finest School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has been open to any student no matter their blood ever since it was founded. All of us were students there. By what right should we then be treated as lesser once we graduate? It is past time to right this wrong, before we are dragged into another war. I ask every one of you to vote for the Reform Act."

She sat down again. A few of the Wizengamot members were staring at her with blatant fear. Others - fewer - scowled. She didn't care, as long as they won the vote.

"The chair recognises Madam Myerscough."

Another witch rose, middle-aged. Hermione tuned her out as soon as it was clear that she supported the Reform Act. She hoped that there wouldn't be too many other speakers until the vote.

*****​

"The ayes have it. Mister Black's proposal, the Reform Act, has been passed."

Hermione wasn't the only one who cheered at the results. She shot up from her seat, her fists balled in triumph, and turned to hug Ron. They had done it. The first general election in the history of Wizarding Britain would be held on August 1st, 1997.

Plenty of time to plan a visit to Jamaica and handle the houngan problem.

*****​
 
Chapter 62: Gearing Up
Chapter 62: Gearing Up

'The main reason why the houngans were so feared by European and American wizards was their particular brand of magic - their ability to strike victims with a curse from afar, without the need to see their targets. Shields and cover did not protect against the houngans' sympathetic magic, and tales of wizards found dead in their bedrooms, their wards untouched and the doors still locked, were widespread. The fact that Jamaica successfully rebelled against Wizarding Britain and repelled several invasions in the following decades is often attributed to the sheer terror wrought by such warfare, helped along by a carefully cultivated image of houngans as masters of the darkest arts - not unlike the Dark Lord himself. As a result, the island dominated its neighbours for centuries, going as far as kidnapping magical children from other shores to raise as their own. It took Dumbledore visiting the island in 1957 and personally killing some of the most infamous houngans without suffering a curse in return to curb such excesses. Many wizards and witches therefore feared the worst when Dumbledore died - particularly given Jamaican claims that he had succumbed to a houngan curse.'
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn


*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, April 11th, 1997

"You want us to invade Jamaica?"

Harry Potter wouldn't have put it like that, but his first thought upon hearing Hermione's plan was quite similar to Ron's outburst.

The witch in question pursed her lips. "It won't be an invasion. At worst, it could be called a raid. We'll enter the country, find Rookwood, capture or kill him and secure the skull the houngans want. Then we either trade it for a cure for the Withering Curse, or use it to find that cure ourselves."

"I'm not certain that the houngans will appreciate the difference," Harry said. "Or if they can even see it."

"And who exactly would take part in this 'raid'?" Ron asked.

"All of us here," Hermione's gesture encompassed the three of them, Sirius, Remus and Vivienne, "most of the Resistance veterans, a few volunteers from the Order…" She shrugged. "We'll need to be able to deal with any houngans that try to interfere."

"That's an invasion!" Ron exclaimed again.

Sirius chuckled. "We're not going to stay there, so it's a punitive expedition. Teach the houngans that they cannot mess with Britain."

Harry shot a glance at his godfather. Was he serious?

Remus spoke up. "You intend to use this as a demonstration of Britain's power."

Hermione shook her head. "The main objective is to secure a cure for the victims of the Withering Curse. Ideally, we'll be out of the country before they even notice us. But should we encounter houngans, then we won't let them stop us. And in that case, we'll use the opportunity to teach them and, through that, others that we won't tolerate anyone interfering with our affairs."

"The ICW will have a fit," Remus pointed out, though he sounded resigned.

"The ICW didn't do anything to Dumbledore when he visited the island in 1957 and slaughtered half a dozen houngans," Sirius retorted. "And Dumbledore had even less of a pretext than we have given Reid's crimes. If we cull some houngans, the ICW will side with us."

"'If we cull some houngans'," Ron said. "What are our chances?"

"Quite good in my opinion," Hermione answered. "If Rookwood can attack and kill two houngans in their manors, then it stands to reason that the houngans are not quite as dangerous as they have been made out to be."

"We don't know if the mysterious attacker is Rookwood," Remus said.

"Who else could it be?" Sirius asked. "He offered a cure to Bones; the muggle explosives used in Jamaica and in Britain by imperiused attackers were the same… there aren't that many wizards who can do that."

"It could be a muggleborn," Remus said.

"Theoretically," Hermione cut in. "But such a person would have done more in the Blood War. And only a Death Eater would have the skull stolen by the Dark Lord."

Harry had to agree with her reasoning there. "But if the houngans can't find him in their own country, how can we find him?"

"With the help of the Unspeakables!" Sirius said with a broad grin. "They have ways to find deserters."

"They didn't manage to find him during the war," Harry retorted.

"He was aware of their efforts," Sirius explained. "And there was the danger of the Dark Lord setting up an ambush for anyone coming after Rookwood. They might also have been too concerned with the threat of other traitors within their ranks." With a cynical smile, he added: "And there was the possibility that Voldemort would prevail, so the department might not have been too motivated to capture one of the Dark Lord's inner circle."

"And we're supposed to trust them?" Ron scoffed.

"We won," Sirius said.

"Besides, we will search for both the skull and him. We can use the houngans' ritual, and whatever means the Unspeakables use to find Rookwood. Probably a similar ritual, maybe even one which also has a sacrificial component," Hermione explained.

"Not maybe, almost certainly," Sirius corrected her. "The Department of Mysteries goes back centuries, and they've been dealing with the Dark Arts for as long. They claim to keep magic too dangerous to be used, or even known about, sealed in their vaults, but there are too many rumours about their own experiments for them not to have delved into the Dark Arts themselves."

"Are we taking one of them with us?" Harry asked. That sounded like asking Reid to come with them. He forced away the memory of the poor woman being murdered in front of him.

"Only if we can't get them to teach us their ritual," Sirius replied.

"Which means 'yes'," Ron added. "Dad told me about their secrecy. And they'll spy on us as well."

"That can't be helped," Hermione said, sighing. "We need the cure, and we need to stop Rookwood."

"And stopping the houngans from returning to their evil ways is a good thing to aim for as well." Sirius showed his teeth in a feral grin.

"It'll be dangerous, though." Remus slightly shook his head.

"Less dangerous than having every pureblood government thinking that we're too weak to retaliate against another attack." Sirius waved his friend's concerns away.

"Yes. Dubois would never 'ave dared to meddle in Britain if Dumbledore were still alive," Vivienne spoke up.

Harry patted his enchanted pocket, where Dumbledore's wand was holstered. They had talked about this before. He was no Dumbledore, far from it, but he'd do his best to fake it if it meant his family and friends would be safe. And, he added silently to himself, so would everyone else present.

"Well, at least we won't have to go back to school for a little while longer," Ron said. "We'll need to train together with everyone who's coming with us. And beating houngans should at least give us an 'O' in Defence," he added with a grin.

Harry saw Hermione shake her head, but she was smiling at his friend. As was Harry himself.

*****​

London, East End, April 12th, 1997

"Make sure that the Silencing Charms have been cast," Hermione Granger told Tania as she levitated a keg of beer into the kitchen. "I'd rather not have the police show up because someone reported an illegal party." She opened the fridge and sighed. As she had suspected, someone had stuffed it full of beer and soda bottles. Sighing, she put the keg down and levitated the bottles out. "The drinks go into the expanded ice box, not the fridge!" she yelled into the living room, where the furniture was being rearranged and transfigured to turn it into a party room.

At least the food was coming along on schedule - Sally-Anne had all the samples they had planned for ready to be heated and multiplied, as Hermione's inspection revealed.

The other witch chuckled. "It's just a party, not a battle."

Hermione pursed her lips. Everything went better if it was planned and prepared for carefully. "This marks the end of our war in Britain. It should be properly and memorably celebrated."

"Oh, I think Seamus will ensure that it'll be a memorable party," Sally-Anne said.

"What?" She whipped her head round. "What's he planning?" If he brought down the police or the Obliviators on them...

"Huh? Nothing. But he usually is quite funny when drunk, right?"

Hermione frowned. Seamus did tend to go overboard when partying. But she couldn't begrudge him that, not during the war, and not on this occasion.

"Speaking of war, did you decide on how to acquire a cure for the Withering Curse?" Justin asked, leaning against the kitchen's door frame.

She glanced around, then cast a privacy spell. "Yes."

"Does that mean you're planning another war?" he asked.

She heard Sally-Anne gasp behind her, and felt a stab of guilt. If this ruined the party for her friends… but they deserved her honesty. "Not a war. But we need to stop Rookwood, who's running rampant in Jamaica, before he starts a war. And I'm certain that the skull he has is the key to finding said cure." They might need more than that - Rookwood was in Jamaica for a reason - but then again, between the Order, the Resistance and the Ministry, they had far more resources than a single Death Eater on the run.

Sally-Anne gasped again, but Justin simply nodded. "And the cure for the Withering Curse will help a lot with the election."

"Yes. It'll help us get the votes from half-bloods and purebloods." The only muggleborns struck by the Withering Curse had been the Creeveys, after all - and only Dennis was still alive.

"We'll be working with the Order then." Justin was sharp.

"Part of it," she corrected. "Harry, Ron, Sirius, Aberforth if he agrees, a few others maybe." But the Resistance would provide the main strength for the raid.

"Is it really necessary?" Sally-Anne said. When Hermione and Justin turned to look at her, she flinched but held their gazes. "I don't want to leave Dennis in a coma, but… we lost so many in the war, and now we're going to fight houngans?"

"We're not planning to fight houngans," Hermione said. Technically, it was true. "But we'll be ready for them, should they get in our way." She knew it would be dangerous, and she didn't like risking her friends' lives again, but they needed to do this so they'd be able to rebuild and reform Britain in peace.

Justin nodded. "What's the timetable?"

"A week or two, I think - this needs careful planning." And they still needed to negotiate with the Unspeakables. "We need to familiarise ourselves with a piece of gear to to deal with skeletons and bone walls."

"And get used to fighting together," Justin added. "How will we get to Jamaica?"

Hermione grinned. "Muggle means."

*****​

"So, this is your secret base," Ron Weasley said, looking around the hallway.

"Safe house. Or headquarters," Hermione corrected him. "'Secret base' has too many associations with Bond villains."

He didn't know exactly what a 'Bond villain' was, but nodded anyway. Harry, standing next to him, chuckled. "You'd have to charm Crookshanks's fur white for that."

Hermione huffed. "We're not going to mutilate my cat for a joke." Shaking her head, she pointed at the stairs. "Let's go up to the living room. The others have already started. We've expanded it, of course, so everyone could fit inside without stepping on each other's toes. Everyone except for those on guard duty," she added.

They followed her up the stairs and encountered Seamus in the hallway. "Hey! You made it!" he said with a wide grin - he looked slightly tipsy to Ron. "We've gone through another keg, so I'll fetch the next."

Hermione blinked. "You already finished the entire keg?"

"Of course!" the Irish wizard said, laughing, then passed them, slapping their backs as he did so. "I'll be back!"

Hermione sighed, then opened the door to the living room. "The disco lighting wasn't my idea," she said, before ushering them in.

Ron found himself in a dimly lit room filled with music loud enough to make his ears hurt. Half a dozen people were dancing in the middle of the room while others were lounging on what looked like beanbags and couches. Justin, sitting on a couch with Sally-Anne on his lap, waved at them as Hermione steered them to a free couch. As soon as they got close, the music seemed to get quieter and the witch sighed. "I bet the music does more damage to their ears than all the marksmanship training in boot camp."

Ron shrugged - a few spells would take care of that; he had experience of that himself, given the twins' tendency to make things blow up - and sat down on the couch. Harry flung himself into a beanbag chair and Hermione joined him on the couch. A flick of her wand had a few soft drinks floating towards them. "If you want beer we can get some once Seamus gets back," she explained.

"I'm good," Ron said. He'd rather not get drunk, or at least not too drunk - Harry and he had trained with the Resistance, and fought at their side, but he still felt like an outsider. He didn't get all of the jokes and didn't recognise most of the songs and singers. But, he added to himself as he wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist, that hadn't stopped Hermione from enjoying Hogwarts, and it wouldn't stop him from enjoying the party with her.

He opened his bottle - Coca-Cola - and raised it to the others. "Cheers!"

"Cheers!"

"Cheers!"

Sometime later, he found himself with Hermione in her room. He would have remarked on the lack of bookshelves - relative lack, for her - but his mind was on other things. As was hers.

*****​

London, East End, April 12th, 1997

"... and then I told her that I could do magic!"

Harry Potter tuned out Seamus's drunk rambling about a probably fictitious one-night stand while he watched his two best friends slip out of the living room, masking his frown with another sip from his beer. He shouldn't feel jealous, he told himself. And he wasn't. Not really, at least. Not any more. But seeing Ron and Hermione together, sneaking away to have… Well, it reminded him of the fact that he was alone. Alone in a room full of people. That sounded like the lyrics of a song.

"... and then we went to her flat, and…"

Seamus was too drunk to notice that Harry wasn't even listening. He sighed and took another sip. He should be enjoying himself. This was a party, after all. And a pretty good one, all things considered - certainly on a par with the parties in the Gryffindor dorms after a Quidditch victory. Which was, he realised, not exactly a gold standard. But the music was loud, and the drinks were fine, and there was no danger of McGonagall arriving to tell them to go to bed.

And, after the month spent training in Cumbria, he knew most of the Resistance members drinking and dancing here as well as or better than his fellow Gryffindors. Even, or especially, if they were former Gryffindors themselves. Which, seeing as Seamus was currently trying to talk his ear off, had some drawbacks as well.

He looked around. Justin had taken over one of the beanbag chairs with Sally-Anne. They'd probably sneak off soon too. He couldn't see John, and Tania was… probably checking the guard. He glanced at his watch. Midnight - they'd be changing shifts now.

He wasn't entirely certain that a guard was necessary. Wards would provide enough protection for them to react to an attack. But Hermione had insisted that there should be at least one sober guard keeping an eye out. Probably to keep an eye on the rest of them as well. He smirked - Hermione would have been a rather strict prefect for Gryffindor. Not as strict as Percy, though.

He saw a witch moving towards him and turned to face her before he recognised her. Emily. Emily Brown. She had taken a nasty fall in boot camp, and the rest of the Resistance hadn't let her forget it for two weeks. She wasn't wearing a muddy uniform now, though, but some jeans and a T-shirt.

"Hey!" She smiled at him and waved with the hand holding a beer bottle, spilling some on the floor.

"Hey!" Harry nodded at her, raising his own almost empty bottle in response.

"Hey!" Seamus said. He tried to drink from his bottle, taking a moment to realise that it was empty. After glaring at it, he went to the bar. Presumably to get another one.

"How do you like the party?" Emily asked. She was wearing high-heels, he noticed - usually, she was a bit too short to look him in the eye.

Harry shrugged, then forced himself to smile - he shouldn't ruin her mood because he felt a bit gloomy. "It's good."

"Oh, yes! It's great!" Emily nodded several times with a wide smile and he realised that she was also rather drunk. "We've won the war!"

"Yes, we did." This wasn't the time to tell her that they weren't yet done with fighting.

"And you killed the Dark Lord!"

"I had a lot of help," he answered. He noticed that Seamus had stayed at the bar, talking to Tania.

"Modest. And cute." Emily leaned forward, still smiling widely and cocked her head to the side, making a humming noise.

He froze for a moment. She was drunker than he had thought. And she was flirting with him - or trying to. "Thanks," he answered. "You look nice, too."

"Want to dance?" she asked, nodding towards the middle of the room. Someone had transfigured the floor there into a shiny dance floor.

He had barely nodded when she took his arm and started to pull him along. "Let's go!"

A few others were dancing too, but there was enough room for them - even counting Emily's drunken need for a bit more space. She bumped into him a few times, too, but by accident, as far as he could tell.

And then the music changed to a slow song, and Harry found himself with Emily in his arms, swaying mostly in time with the music. He could smell a faint whiff of perfume when she rested her chin on his shoulder, and felt her chest pressing into his while her hands wandered over his back seemingly at random.

When she nibbled on his ear, giggling, he realised that if he 'played his cards right', as Sirius called it, he could spend the night with her. He knew from training that she was nice, she was cute too, and, apparently, she liked him. At least when she was drunk.

Which was a problem. If he even wanted to sleep with her in the first place. Which, if he was honest with himself, was a tempting fantasy. But he didn't know if she really wanted him, or was simply too drunk to realise what she was doing. She was twenty-one years old, after all. She had been in her sixth year when he had arrived at Hogwarts! And she hadn't shown any such interest in him before. He didn't want to wake up to find her regretting the whole thing or cursing him. Or, worse, belittling him for his lack of experience. He still remembered Sirius's story about how he and Harry's father had tried to ask out a witch four years their senior. He wanted something more, too. Something like his friends had.

And he didn't want to take advantage of a drunk girl… He shook his head, foiling Emily's next attempt to nip at his earlobe. Well, he could enjoy the dancing, at least.

But he'd better not drink any more alcohol.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, April 13th, 1997

Harry Potter was eating breakfast in the kitchen when Ron returned from the Resistance's base.

"Hi, mate!" His friend nodded and took a seat across him, reaching for the Daily Prophet.

Harry didn't pull out his watch to check the time, that would have made him look like Percy, but it was past nine in the morning since that was when he had got up. He didn't comment on Ron having had a long night, either. "Already ate?" he asked instead.

Ron nodded. "Yes… though I wouldn't mind another cup of tea, actually."

Kreacher quickly served him, and both Harry and Ron ignored the house-elf's mutters about purebloods soiling themselves with mudbloods. For a while, neither said anything. Ron was reading the Prophet and Harry was buttering some toast before spreading honey all over it.

"Nothing new," Ron said, putting the Prophet down. "Just regurgitated stuff they already published last week."

Harry nodded. He didn't ask if Ron had picked up that word from Hermione. Or what they had done during the night. "What's Hermione doing?"

"She's doing some reading on Jamaica. Muggle Jamaica," Ron said. He shrugged. "Planning how to enter the country covertly. Nothing I could help with," he added.

Harry nodded. He wasn't too experienced with muggle travel either. He finished his toast, then cleared his throat. Ron looked up from where he was studying the tea cup for leaves to read.

"Emily was drunk at the party," Harry started.

"Most of the Resistance were drunk," Ron cut in, chuckling. "Seamus didn't make it to his room - we found him snoring in the middle of the living room, hugging an empty keg."

Harry frowned. "She was rather… affectionate."

"Oh?" Ron's eyes widened. "Did you and her…?"

He shook his head. "No. She was drunk."

"Ah." His friend nodded. He didn't have to sound so understanding, Harry thought. As if the only reason a girl would be flirting with him was because she was drunk.

"So, we didn't. I didn't." he continued.

"Are you going to talk to her when she's sober?"

Harry sighed. "I doubt she wants to be reminded of what she said while drunk." And did.

Ron shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"She's also twenty-one. She was a sixth year when we were firsties." Harry winced.

"Ah…" Ron grimaced.

"Yeah. I don't think she would have been interested in nibbling my earlobe if she hadn't been drunk and I wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Don't sell yourself short, mate." Ron didn't sound like he meant it, though. And Harry didn't want to mention his fear of disappointing an older witch, if they ended up in bed. Not to Ron, who had just spent the night with Hermione, and not for the first time either.

"I'm just being realistic." Moody would have agreed.

"Not every witch is after the Boy-Who-Lived. I mean, not every witch who is interested in you is. Ah… you know what I mean." Ron had Kreacher refill his cup.

"I can't exactly read the mind of every witch who flirts with me," he retorted.

"Well… you could. Theoretically, I mean."

Yes, he could. Dumbledore's training had ensured that. But he wouldn't. He shook his head. "That would be…" Pathetic. "... wrong."

"Well, you know girls who aren't like that," Ron said after a moment.

Harry did. And the one he knew best was with his best friend. He didn't say that, but judging by the way Ron flinched, his expression might have betrayed Harry. "That's because they're not interested in me."

Ron was frowning now, for some reason. "Are you certain?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. He was missing something. "What do you mean?" His friend hesitated. Harry leaned forward. "Spit it out!"

"Look…" Ron drew a hissing breath through clenched teeth. "All I'm saying is that you might be wrong."

"'Might be wrong'?" Harry was certain now that Ron knew more than he was saying. But how would he know, and why wouldn't he… "Ginny."

Ron muttered a curse under his breath.

Harry frowned. Ginny hadn't said anything to him. And she wasn't the little girl who blushed and put her elbow in the butter dish any more. She was rather forward, instead. A firebrand, even. "Is that new?"

"What?" Ron glared at him. "Harry, I'm not going to spill my sister's secrets to you! Not that I know many of her secrets anyway."

"Well, you spilled one," Harry shot back.

"I didn't mean to."

"How can I talk to her, now that I know? 'Hey, Ginny, Ron said you liked me'?" He scoffed.

"Don't! She'll hex me!"

Harry thought Ron deserved to be hexed. At least a little. He sighed. He was glad they weren't returning to Hogwarts yet. Maybe he could figure out how to deal with this with a little more time.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, April 14th, 1997

Amelia Bones was in a good mood. Today, the ICW delegation - more precisely, the two members who were left after Reid's flight - would finally leave Britain, their inspection officially over. One less problem to plague the country.

She dropped the memo she had been working on - an approval of Pius's schedule for Malfoy and Runcorn's trial, the 'Traitors' Trial', as the Prophet had dubbed it - on her secretary's desk and took the lift down to the Atrium.

Sabine Beaumont, Herbert Steiner and their entourages were already waiting near the fireplaces. Aurors and Hit-Wizards were present too, of course, as were a few members of the Wizengamot. "Madam Beaumont, Mister Steiner." She nodded at them.

"Madam Bones." The French witch was more than a little curt, and Amelia doubted that the lack of an official reception to celebrate the end of the ICW's inspection was the only reason for that.

"Good morning, Madam Bones." Steiner bowed. "A fine day for travelling, isn't it?"

"Yes, indeed," Amelia agreed. Any day she got rid of the two delegates was a fine day.

"Amelia! Good morning! Mister Steiner, Mademoiselle Beaumont - good morning!"

"Good morning, Sirius." And her good mood was already fading. She forced herself to smile. Black was far too cheerful for the occasion, but then, he had been instrumental in forcing the French to back down - or so he claimed. By the glare Beaumont shot him, he might even have told her the truth. Not that he said anything about how he had managed it. She forced herself not to glare as well. Foreign policy fell within the purview of the Minister for Magic, not the Wizengamot. No matter what the Chief Warlock said, it took a bill to change that. But she couldn't do anything about it. Black now controlled the Wizengamot, and Pius wouldn't back her if she wanted the matter brought up anyway. That wizard cared far too much about results instead of the law.

She would fire him, if he wouldn't be reinstated as soon as Black got rid of her. But for now, she was still the Minister, and she'd do her duty.

She cleared her throat. "Madam Beaumont, Mister Steiner, the British Ministry of Magic is proud to note that your inspection was concluded successfully and that you found that there is no danger of Britain not fulfilling her duties towards the International Confederation of Wizards."

"Thank you, Madam Minister," Steiner said, bowing again. "We've only done our duty."

That was the official line, but everyone with experience in politics knew better, of course. The delegation had stayed for over a month, far longer than announced beforehand, and one of the delegates had been revealed as a murderer and dark wizard trying to attack Hogwarts. The only inspection that had come close to that in recent memory had been the one sent to California to deal with goblin involvement in the so-called 'gold rush'. An entire delegation on the take… At least both France and Prussia had lost face for their involvement in this farce.

"Indeed. We're happy to note that things in Britain are not as bad as we had feared in the beginning." Beaumont, of course, couldn't leave without a parting hex.

Amelia refrained from answering. Black, however, did not. "You're too kind. And please, be assured that we all hope that Isabelle Dubois will soon be found. Her kidnapping is a tragedy."

Beaumont stiffened, and turned away without another word. She didn't even glance at the honour formation presenting their wands as she outpaced Steiner. Amelia waited until the last of the Feldjäger had left, then turned to Black. "What did you mean by that?" Had he been behind that kidnapping? Was that how they had forced France to back down?

Black blinked as if he didn't know what she meant. "What? I just expressed my sympathy for the loss France has suffered."

She glared at him, but his insufferable grin didn't change. Nodding curtly, she left him to return to her work.

If things continued like this, or grew even worse, then Amelia was looking forward to her retirement.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, April 15th, 1997

Bess Cox sighed, soaking the last chip of her meal in vinegar at her and Randall's usual table in Freddie's Fish'n'Chips. "You know, it's sort of a let down," she said.

"What is a let down?" Randall asked, putting the Daily Prophet he had been skimming down.

"We've won, but we've not done much," Bess said. When he looked puzzled, she explained: "The Wizengamot will be elected in a few months. The Old Families are done for. And all we did was capture some purebloods in hiding." And were almost killed twice, she thought. At least she had been.

"We've done more than most." Randall frowned. "We put our lives on the line, unlike so many others." He glanced at the other regulars in the shop.

"That's not a high bar." Bess sighed again. She should be happy that the Old Families had lost their stranglehold on the Wizengamot. That the bigots had been thoroughly discredited. And she was happy. After the Wizengamot had passed the Reform Act, she had celebrated all night. But now… "What do we do now?" She wasn't the smartest witch, her grades at Hogwarts proved that. She had been lucky to survive the war, too. And she was still a wanted witch. Probably. She hadn't many prospects. Unlike Randall. He was smart. And not wanted for attacking Hogsmeade.

"The war's over, but the election is far from being a done deal. The Old Families still have more gold than the rest of Wizarding Britain combined," her friend said.

"What? Are you certain?"

"Well, I don't have exact numbers, but I don't think I'm too far off the mark with my estimate. We had a hereditary ruling class with almost complete control over the legislative and executive branches, which means they could control the economy as well, and prevent others from amassing enough wealth to threaten them…" He spread his hands. "The Ministry presented the best option to improve your station, so most talented and ambitious wizards chose that career, instead of, say, business."

Bess nodded. His explanation sounded logical. "What does that mean, then?"

"It means that if we get complacent, they can buy the election. Plaster the purebloods and half-bloods with propaganda and get themselves elected." He looked rather grim. "The Ministry arrested the ones responsible for the Pureblood Voice, but the Old Families can simply buy more air time - or entire shows."

She clenched her teeth. "I'm not going to let them win."

"We're not going to let them win," Randall said. "We're going to ensure that we'll win the election. We're going to form a party!"

*****​

Cumbria, Britain, April 15th, 1997

Ron Weasley threw himself to the muddy ground when he spotted the floating marker clearing the trees ahead of him. A Stunner passed over his head, and another narrowly missed him as he rolled into cover behind a tree trunk. He waited a moment, then jumped back out, sprinting towards a large rock while sending a volley of Stinging Hexes at the disillusioned enemy. Another Stunner hit the ground near his leg, then he was behind the rock.

He checked that he was still disillusioned, then rose to peek over the top - only to drop down again when another Stunner flew towards him. Cursing, he waved his wand.

"Avis!"

A flock of birds appeared and shot towards the trees ahead. That should create a distraction. A flick of his wrist created a shallow trench crossing the clearing next to him. If he managed to reach the other side…

"I got him!" he heard Harry say over the radio.

Ron took a deep breath and pushed the button of his own radio. "About time!" Still, he remained cautious when he left his cover until he saw Harry standing over the stunned form of Eric.

"I had to circle around outside the range of his Human-presence-revealing Spell before I could flank him, or he'd have seen my marker," Harry defended himself. "He was the last one, too."

Ron nodded and pointed his wand at Eric. "Rennervate."

The muggleborn wizard blinked as he woke up with a groan. "There were two of you?"

"Of course," Harry said. "You need to keep an eye out for flankers."

"And you need to cast more than just Stunners," Ron added.

"We're not allowed to cast lethal curses," Eric said.

"I meant, you need to cast more than just curses. Use Conjuration and Transfiguration," Ron explained. "If your enemy takes cover, do something about it."

"But if I had had a rifle, you'd have been shot before you saw me."

Ron shook his head. "Only if someone had spotted me ahead of you and dispelled my Disillusionment Charm."

"You can't count on having a line of sight at that range," Harry cut in. "Not in a jungle."

Eric frowned. "Can't count on not having it either. Why did we spend a month training with guns if we're not allowed to use them?"

Ron refrained from sighing. The other wizard wasn't the best loser. "You still need more training with your wand. You can't rely on guns all the time." Guns had their place, but a wand was still crucial. He swished his and cleared his fatigues of mud and dirt as they started to walk back towards their camp.

*****​

"Just a week ago, I thought we'd be shot of this place," Ron Weasley said an hour later, sitting down at the campfire next to Harry with his mess kit.

"Suck it up," Harry said. "Where else would we train for the next mission?"

"Somewhere warmer?" Ron asked, before taking a bite.

"Justin's family doesn't own a Caribbean resort. And we should give France a wide berth for now," Harry retorted. "Besides, trees are trees."

Ron nodded, then focused on eating. It had been a tiring day. And they had more training to look forward to.

"Do you think Eric listened to what we said?" Harry asked after a minute.

"If he keeps whining we can always use some of Moody's methods."

"That might upset them."

Ron shrugged. Hermione had told them to train the new members in magical combat, and she knew who had trained Harry and Ron. "As long as it works."

As Moody had been fond of saying: 'Better to get hurt in training than in a fight.'

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, April 18th, 1997

"You have heard the accused's testimony. You know what he planned - the murder of everyone in this room, including those who thought him a friend. You know why he did it - because he wanted to take over Britain and mould it as the Dark Lord would have. Such a terrible crime deserves only one punishment: the Veil!"

Daphne Greengrass suppressed a snort as Thicknesse bowed curtly and left the floor after his address to the Wizengamot. Showing amusement at the trial of Augustus Malfoy wouldn't be a good idea. Not even when she had been crucial to uncovering Malfoy's crimes. Instead, she shook her head in what she hoped was a suitably grave manner. It didn't matter much, anyway - the trial's outcome had been set in stone from the start.

A member yelled: "The kiss! The kiss!" A few others joined in. Daphne rolled her eyes - didn't they know that the Dementors hadn't returned to the Ministry's service? That they might end up as residents in Azkaban's cells, instead of their guards, once the Unspeakables had finished cornering and corralling them? Maybe the Reform Act wasn't that bad, if it meant the Wizengamot would lose such idiots.

She sighed while Malfoy rose for his own address to his former peers. She certainly wouldn't be a member in the new, elected Wizengamot. Not with her past. And she wouldn't miss it, either, she added to herself while stealing a glance at Granger, who was sitting next to Black. To see the murderer of her parents every session, to hear her speak every day, to nod and smile at her whenever they met… she shook her head again, clenching her teeth.

"... what I did and planned had only one goal, a noble goal: to save Britain from its ruin at the hands of the mudbloods. A goal worth any sacrifice! Who among us would not sacrifice their life for their children?"

Most of the members wouldn't, Daphne thought cynically as her esteemed peers booed and yelled, their outrage drowning out the accused's last words. They showed no decorum. Her father would have been shocked and ashamed at this display. But her father had been a member of the Wizengamot before it had been gutted by the attack on Malfoy Manor. Before dozens of members had been replaced by their inexperienced heirs, all at the same time. Before the Battle of the Ministry had caused even more deaths.

The Wizengamot her father had been part of, she realised, as she raised her wand to judge the accused guilty, had not survived the war. The muggleborns would only replace a twitching corpse.

Doge passed the sentence. "Augustus Malfoy, the Wizengamot finds you guilty of treason, conspiracy to treason, murder, attempted murder, conspiracy to murder and rebellion. As punishment, you will be sent through the Veil. The sentence will be carried out immediately."

Malfoy's protests were cut off by a Silencing Charm, Daphne noted.

"For a man ready to die for his cause, he certainly is struggling a lot," Tracey commented as the Hit-Wizards dragged the condemned wizard away.

Daphne nodded. Another sign of how far the Old Families had fallen. She hoped the man would recover his composure when he was facing the Veil later. It would make attending his execution easier.

After all, her parents had taught her that she had better watch a mortal enemy die so she could be certain of their demise.

*****​

Astoria was waiting for her when Daphne and Tracey returned to Greengrass Manor hours later. "Daphne!" her sister spat, glaring at her.

Daphne heard Tracey mumble a curse before grabbing a pinch of Floo powder. "I'll see you tomorrow," her friend excused herself and left for her own home, leaving the two sisters to face each other.

"Astoria." She nodded at her little sister.

Her sister scowled. "They murdered them! They tried to kill the mudbloods and blood traitors, and the Wizengamot murdered them! I just heard it on the wireless!"

"Since Malfoy planned to murder all of them, that was to be expected."

"They also said that you betrayed him. That you were a spy for Black and the mudbloods!" Astoria crossed her arms and pressed her lips together. It would have looked adorable if not for her expression.

"I told you that already." Daphne had. Astoria had avoided her afterwards. Until now.

"Why did you turn traitor?"

Daphne saw tears glittering in her sister's eyes. She felt guilty, but forced herself to ignore them. This was for Astoria's own good. "Malfoy and Runcorn betrayed our country. They betrayed their own allies. They were willing to murder the entire Wizengamot for their plans."

"They tried to avenge our parents! They would have killed Granger, if you hadn't betrayed them!" Astoria shook with each word she yelled.

"And at what cost? Would you murder so many to kill Granger?"

"They're just blood traitors! They murdered our parents! They want to murder us!"

Daphne wanted to hex her, but controlled herself. "Would you have murdered me to kill Granger?"

"What?" Astoria looked confused.

"Don't you realise what would have happened if we had followed Malfoy's plan? We would have restarted the war. And we would have died in it. Both of us." Daphne pressed out through clenched teeth.

"What?" Her sister took a step back, her arms falling to her side.

"Didn't you pay attention at all? How many people died in the war? Most of the Wizengamot! Most of the Ministry! What do you think would happen if we killed Granger, huh?"

"But… but…"

"I'll tell you what would have happened if we had blown up Granger and the 'blood traitors': The mudbloods would have massacred us. You, me, and any purebloods they could find." She stepped up to her sister. "Merlin's beard, Astoria! We have lost! Our parents are dead. Tracey's parents are dead. Draco's family is dead. Theo's family is dead. Pansy's family is dead. All killed by mudbloods! The Ministry is a shell, what Aurors and Hit-Wizards they have left are barely older than us! We have lost the war!"

Astoria was crying now, shaking her head. Daphne felt tears run down her cheeks as well, but ignored them. "So many of us, the Old Families, have been killed already, and yet, Malfoy wanted to murder even more! Even if we managed to somehow win the next war, which of us would be left? What would be left of Britain?"

She took a deep breath. "Do you think I like seeing Granger in the Wizengamot? Hearing her talk? I don't! She murdered our parents! But there's nothing I can do about it. Nothing that wouldn't cause even more death and destruction. Nothing that wouldn't kill you as well!

"We lost, Astoria. We pushed the mudbloods too far, and they crushed us. And if we don't accept it, if we try to fight them, then they'll kill us all." She wiped the tears from her face. "That's why I went to Black. That's why I betrayed Malfoy. Because I want to live. Because I want you to live!"

"But… but our parents!"

Daphne shook her head. "Our parents wouldn't want us to die. Not for them, not for Malfoy, not for anyone. They would want us to live, and we will live."

She gathered her sister in her arms, and held her until she stopped sobbing.

*****​

London, No. 12 Grimmauld Place, April 18th, 1997

Hermione Granger found Sirius in his living room. To her surprise, he was alone.

"Vivienne's visiting her family," he said - he must have caught her glancing around. "Can I offer you a drink?" He pointed at the bottle on the low table.

She shook her head, then brushed a stray lock out of her face. She might have to cut her hair again, she idly noted - unless she wanted to let it grow out once more.

"We should be celebrating Malfoy and Runcorn's deaths!"

"We already celebrated their defeat." She had no wish to celebrate their executions.

He huffed, and refilled his own glass. "Where's Harry?"

"He's running another exercise with Ron and the new Resistance recruits." New Resistance members, she silently corrected herself as she sat down in a seat herself. "He'll be here for dinner."

"Working them hard, huh?" His grin implied another meaning.

She ignored it. His whole attitude seemed a bit forced. Exaggerated. "Our recruits have finished training with muggle weapons, but they lack experience with magical combat. Harry and Ron were taught by Moody, and can teach others what they know." Part of it, at least - nothing could really replace combat experience.

"Ah! Preparing for our invasion of Jamaica?"

She rolled her eyes, but didn't correct him. "Of course. The better we prepare, the less trouble we'll have." And the fewer casualties they would suffer. "Speaking of preparation… did you talk to the Department of Mysteries?"

She saw him wince. "I did. But the Unspeakables are living up to their name. Or they would be, if they were called the 'Unmovables'. They categorically refused to teach anyone outside the Department how to track their members."

Hermione nodded. She had expected that - in their place, she wouldn't allow it either. And Sirius knew that, too. "So…?"

He frowned at her. "They offered to send one of them along, but I had to tell the Head Unspeakable about our plans."

She nodded. She would have preferred not to tell anyone outside their group, but that couldn't be avoided. At least Dumbledore had trusted Saul Croaker. To some degree, at least.

"So, we'll have a spy coming along who will report on our tactics and talents to his superiors," Sirius said.

There was an obvious solution to that problem, but it would create more problems with the Unspeakables. She sighed. "We don't have any choice. And I'm certain that they already know a lot about us."

"Some things they don't know, though. Like Harry's wand. If they find out just what he is wielding…"

She nodded. The Department of Mysteries was known to collect all sorts of artefacts and dark items. If they realised Harry had the Elder Wand - and they would, should Harry have to wield it where the spy could see it - they'd try anything to get it. And she knew Sirius would kill to protect Harry. "There are alternatives to killing."

"We're not going to hand it over. Harry needs it to protect himself. Especially if everyone sees him as Dumbledore's successor. And Obliviation might not work. The Unspeakables have warped minds." He chuckled.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

He shrugged. "They'll expect such things - since they would use the same tactics - so we can assume they've taken measures against Obliviation. Maybe they'll set up some memory delivery service or whatever."

"That might make killing him useless as well," she pointed out.

"Only if they have somehow managed to make it all work without actually drawing out the memory and storing it in a vial. Which isn't impossible, of course." Sirius shrugged.

"We might make him sign a contract." Though that could be broken by a skilled Curse-Breaker. "But the best plan would be to 'keep him safe'." And, of course, be ready to deal with him at the first sign of betrayal.

Sirius chuckled. "Good idea. Keep him away from any fighting, for his own safety, of course." He grew serious again. "Speaking of staying safe…"

She met his eyes. "Yes?"

"You know you shouldn't go, right? You're too important to risk your life like that. You're the leader for the muggleborns."

"As the leader of the majority of the Wizengamot, you would know all about that," she retorted. He was right, of course - she shouldn't go. But she wouldn't let Harry and Ron risk their lives without her.

"Touché." Sirius smiled rather sadly. He wouldn't let Harry risk his life alone either. "But we need the boost to our reputation finding a cure for the Withering Curse will give us. Or fighting houngans and winning."

A good excuse, she thought as she nodded. Neither of them said anything for a while. Finally, she broke the silence. "Did you talk to Aberforth yet?"

He winced. "Yes. It was harder than I thought, since, apparently, as I've sort of inherited Dumbledore's Order and gained control over the Wizengamot, I don't need his help any more." He sighed. "You should have talked to him."

She shrugged. She had been very busy. As long as Aberforth was on board, it didn't matter; the old wizard wouldn't have agreed to help them if he didn't want to. "He might like to persuade the Unspeakable that they'd be safest far from the fighting."

Sirius laughed. "I'm rather certain he'd like that."

She was rather certain too. And looking forward to it.

*****​

Near Spanish Town, Jamaica, April 18th, 1997

A wizard of lesser intellect would have identity issues after ten days of breaking into the mambo's mind and experiencing countless memories as if they were his own, of this Augustus Rookwood was certain. He glanced at the drooling witch on the floor of his tent. It had taken him five days to break her resistance - but unfortunately, doing so had broken her mind as well, and he had spent the next five days trying to find the memories he wanted among the chaotic torrent of other, useless memories which filled her mind.

He had made progress, of course - a wizard of his skill would not be stymied by such a task. He knew where the Library of Souls was located. He knew what knowledge was contained by a number of the skulls inside it, although not yet the knowledge he sought. But the defences of the Library still eluded him for the most part.

He was aware that after the break-in a few months ago, the houngans had increased the LIbrary's security. They had taken measures to ensure that the method used then - using a houngan under the Imperius to lead the thief inside, past the traps and defences - wouldn't work any more. To think Dumbledore had used an Unforgivable… if only he had any proof of that.

But he had to focus on the older defences… He hadn't found much about them, yet. And he needed to know about them in order to find a way to bypass them. Frowning, he shook his head. The mambo had the knowledge he needed; all he had to do was find it.

He stood up and walked over to his captive. A flick of his wand summoned a carafe of water, which he made the witch drink, and a few chocolate frogs which he fed her. He had tried to weaken her by withholding food and water, but, while it had helped to break her resistance, it had made it harder to find the memories he needed afterwards because her broken mind focused on food and water if she was hungry. While she was still licking her lips after devouring the chocolate, he pointed his wand at her.

"Legilimens!"

*****​
 
Chapter 63: Incursion
Chapter 63: Incursion

'Whether or not the incursion into Jamaica in April 1997 by the Order of the Phoenix and the Muggleborn Resistance was an invasion or a raid is as contested among my colleagues as another, related, question - whether or not it was part of the Second Blood War or a continuation of the centuries-old conflict between Wizarding Britain and Jamaica. In my opinion, these questions cannot be answered without first determining the objectives of the incursion. And while, according to the British records, the stated objective was to secure a cure for the Withering Curse, as well as to apprehend the fugitive Death Eater Augustus Rookwood, it is obvious that the endeavour was also, perhaps even primarily, planned to punish Jamaica for the actions taken by their delegate, John Reid, during the ICW's inspection of Wizarding Britain. And since that was the direct result of the devastation wrought by the Second Blood War, the attack on Jamaica should be considered part of that war. This is further supported by the fact that, at the time, Wizarding Britain no longer had any territorial ambitions with regards to Jamaica. Even Dumbledore's visit in 1957 had been motivated by the abhorrent practices of the houngans rather than by any desire to retake the island.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn


*****​

London, Newham, April 25th, 1997

Hermione Granger caught herself copying the Major's usual 'inspection pose' and forced herself to slowly relax a little as she observed the Resistance members present in the expanded living room of the hitherto unused safe house in Newham. They were getting ready for the trip to Jamaica, or rather, they were making last-minute adjustments to their kit in order to keep busy until their departure. Most of them, at least. Some, like Seamus, were actually cramming more gear into their pockets.

"If muggle scans can detect explosives in magically sealed pockets we'll be in big trouble," Harry mumbled next to her.

"They can't," she whispered back. "And we're bypassing the checks anyway."

"Why is he stuffing so many explosives into his pockets anyway?" Ron asked from her other side. "He can take a small sample, and use the Doubling Charm to get whatever quantity he needs."

Hermione sighed. "He wants to be ready at a moment's notice, or so he claims." Privately, she thought Seamus simply liked explosives (and explosions) a bit too much. "And to be fair, it is safer to pull explosives out of your pockets as you need them, instead of creating a heap of them in front of you."

"I'm not convinced that Seamus carrying so many explosives with him is in any way safe to begin with," Harry grumbled. "Least of all in a plane."

"He knows his way around explosives," she retorted.

"That's not reassuring," Ron added. "Quite the contrary."

She was about to tell the two boys to cut it out when she felt the communication mirror in her pocket vibrate. Pulling it out and tapping it revealed the smiling face of Sirius.

"We're about to arrive, tell your people not to shoot us!"

"They won't." She raised her voice. "Sinclair, Emily - the Order's about to arrive!"

The two Resistance members on guard duty called out an acknowledgement and Hermione walked towards the door, followed by Harry and Ron.

Despite the call ahead by Sirius, Hermione checked through a spyglass and with a Human-presence-revealing spell before opening the door. Sirius was the first in, with a wide grin on his face.

"Hello, everyone!"

"Sirius, what are you wearing?" Harry voiced what Hermione was thinking.

"A muggle outfit suitable for the jungle, as requested!" the older wizard cheerfully announced, tapping his pith helmet. "Stylish too!"

While Harry berated his godfather, Hermione greeted the rest of the Order group. At least most of them were wearing more sensible and, especially, more up to date muggle clothes instead of an outfit Dr Livingstone would have worn. More sensible didn't mean that much, of course - while Remus and Bill were wearing sturdy travelling clothes, probably drawing on the latter's experience in Egypt - Vivienne, Fleur and Tonks were dressed as if they were headed to a tropical beach and were probably using warming charms.

Aberforth was wearing his usual robes. "I'll transfigure my robes when I need to, not a minute before," the old wizard grumbled as he entered. "I'm too old to dress like a fool."

"I shall follow his example," the figure wearing a hooded cloak next to him said. "I'm Brown. John Brown," the Unspeakable added, nodding to her.

"Welcome to the Resistance," Hermione said. "I assume you know how to behave among muggles."

"Yes." The man's voice didn't seem to have been magically altered, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

"Good. We'll be taking a muggle aeroplane to travel to the Caribbean, and passing through muggle airports."

"I'm looking forward to the experience."

*****​

"Listen up!" Hermione snapped "We're leaving for the airport in five minutes. Is everyone ready? Justin?"

"Yes." She hadn't expected anything else - he had organised the trip with her, after all.

"Sally-Anne?"

"Yes." The witch was already wearing her backpack.

"Seamus?"

"I was born ready!" He patted his pockets for emphasis.

She didn't bother to glare at him. "Tania?"

"Yes." Tania gave her a short nod.

"Mary-Jane?"

"Yes." The survivor of the Avengers' attempt to capture the Resistance even sounded eager.

Eric, Emily, Anna, Gary, Celia, Sinclair and Timothy were ready as well, though they didn't manage to hide their nervousness as well as the more experienced members.

"Alright. Let's go!" The plane wouldn't leave without them, but Hermione hated to be late. It wouldn't be a good start to the mission if they couldn't keep to their schedule from the start.

*****​

Heathrow Airport, London, April 25th, 1997

Standing inside the muggle hall - the hangar, they called it - Ron Weasley eyed the muggle aeroplane with both interest and a bit of apprehension while the Resistance were climbing inside it. It was just too damn big in his opinion - how could something that size fly without magic? He clenched his teeth and drew a hissing breath. Muggles flew in aeroplanes all the time. There was no reason to worry.

"Don't worry, Ron," Hermione said in a low voice next to him, "Aeroplanes are among the safest ways to travel. Far more people die in traffic accidents than in aeroplanes."

He forced himself to smile at her, even though her comment was not exactly reassuring. Quite the opposite, actually. "It's just the first time I'm flying on a plane."

"Mine too," Harry said. "My relatives weren't much for foreign vacations."

Ron nodded. That was normal for him - the only time he and his family had left Britain on vacation had been the trip to Egypt in 1993, and that had only been possible since Dad had won the Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw that year. Which reminded him… "How much does this trip cost anyway?"

"It's actually not that much more expensive than buying tickets for a regular flight at short notice for everyone, and much more convenient for our mission," Hermione explained.

"Ah." He still had no idea how much gold Sirius and maybe Justin were spending on the plane, but if it was what muggles paid for a vacation, then that was probably not too expensive. To change the topic, he glanced at the Unspeakable, who was standing apart from everyone else. "Do you think he's a muggleborn? He doesn't look nervous."

"He might be. He certainly managed to transfigure his robes into decent muggle clothes for passing through security," Hermione said.

"That might just be what he wants us to think," Harry retorted. "Claiming to be muggleborn out of the blue would be too blatant, but letting us come to that conclusion would be more subtle."

Ron nodded in agreement. "He could simply have copied the clothes from a muggle, so we lower our guard around him."

Hermione mumbled something - probably 'Moody' - but didn't contradict them. "Alright, I'll see you inside," she said, and walked over to where the last of the Resistance were entering the plane.

"The other Order members are rather nervous," Harry said after a moment.

Ron frowned and turned his head to look at them. They were nervous, he realised, even Bill, who was normally unflappable. Fleur and Vivienne were eyeing the plane with open apprehension, even. Only Aberforth was scowling as usual.

Oddly, seeing others show their fear made him feel less nervous. "Let's show them how it's done!" He slung his bag over his shoulder and started walking towards the stairs leading up to the door of the plane.

*****​

Half an hour after 'take-off', Ron had come to the conclusion that flying the muggle way was boring. Even less interesting than taking the Hogwarts Express since Hermione had stressed very firmly that they weren't allowed to do any magic inside the plane. And as they were not sitting in compartments, but all in the same room, you couldn't even have some privacy for whatever.

At least everyone seemed to have taken the order to abstain from using magic to heart. It might be going a bit too far - most spells wouldn't do anything to the plane - but it would only take one mishap, or unintended effect, to cause a catastrophe. And the Order members were nervous enough already. If the twins had been allowed to come along… but they didn't have enough combat experience and training with the Resistance compared to the others, or at least that had been the official reason.

He leaned back, fiddling with his seat while waiting for his friends to return to theirs. Hermione was walking down the aisles and checking with the rest of the Resistance and Harry was a few rows over, talking to Sirius (and Vivienne, who seemed to have permanently attached herself to the wizard's arm for the flight's duration).

He wished the in-flight movie Hermione had been talking about would start soon.

*****​

Lynden Pindling International Airport, Nassau, Bahamas, April 25th, 1997

"Yes! At last, we have escaped this contraption!"

Harry Potter, passing the flight attendant seeing them off at the door, shook his head at Sirius's antics, even though he shared the sentiment - he wouldn't miss being stuck inside a plane either. After flying on a broom for years, being a passenger on a plane just wasn't anything special. Though he wasn't about to rush out of the plane and kiss the ground.

He heard a giggle behind him, and a glance over his shoulder revealed the flight attendant trying to hide her smile. "He doesn't fly very often," Harry said.

"I noticed," she answered. "There were quite a few first-timers today, right?"

"Yes." Harry confirmed, before joining his godfather and Vivienne on the tarmac while the rest of their group started to follow him down. The air wasn't as hot as he had expected, a bit over twenty degrees. Jamaica would be hotter but less humid, he thought.

"Ah, Harry! We're finally free again!" Sirius spread his arms wide and beamed at him. He sounded honestly relieved, Harry noticed, and didn't seem to putting on an act. But why… Azkaban, he suddenly realised. His godfather had spent over ten years in a cell there. Of course he would have issues with being confined to his seat for hours!

And in a few hours, they'd have to board the next charter plane - a cargo plane this time. Harry winced when Sirius turned around to embrace Vivienne. He knew that his godfather was only here because of Harry. He sighed and slung his backpack over his shoulder as the others filed down the gangway.

*****​

North of Jamaica, April 25th, 1997

"We're approaching Jamaica and will enter the island's air space in fifteen minutes."

Harry Potter checked the time when he heard the pilot's announcement. A quarter to midnight - they were right on schedule. He stashed his watch inside his pocket again. When Hermione stood up and stepped into the middle of the compartment, between the cargo pallets fixed there, he shifted his weight around on the fold-out chair that served as a seat to look at the rest of their group. Everyone was wearing dark fatigues and harnesses, straight out of an action movie.

"Alright! Everyone, get ready!" the witch said.

"Please put your seat in the upright position and fasten your seatbelts," Harry heard Seamus whisper, which prompted a chuckle from the other Resistance members near the Irish wizard, and a glare from Hermione.

"Check your gear again - we're not getting back on the plane if you forgot something!"

"Yes, Mum!" another quipped, though the humour sounded a little forced to Harry. He let his gaze wander and noticed that, in contrast to the flight to the Bahamas, the Resistance members seemed to be more nervous than the Order members. Understandable, of course - they were about to enter the houngans' country.

"Ah, finally!" Ron said in a low voice next to him. "I can't wait to leave the plane! There wasn't even a movie or a snack bar this time!" He looked honestly eager, too.

"No cute flight attendant either," Sirius chimed in from his other side. Vivienne, next to him, rolled her eyes.

"And we're about to jump out of a perfectly good plane," Harry said. No one laughed. Instead they nodded.

"Good," Ron said. "Hermione told me that the take-off and landing were the most dangerous parts of a muggle flight. I'd rather ride my broom."

Harry could agree with that.

"I prefer to fly myself," Vivienne cut in. The Veela looked rather smug.

"Ten minutes to drop location," the pilot announced.

"Won't the muggles wonder about this?" Remus asked, nodding towards the cockpit. He was still looking a bit worn from the full moon a few days ago.

"No. They think we're muggle mercenaries doing a parachute drop," Ron said. "Hermione hired them through the Major."

"What's a parachute?" Sirius asked.

"A muggle invention to safely fall from great heights," Harry started to explain.

"Imagine a giant umbrella," Ron cut his explanation short.

"Ah!"

"Everyone, put on your backpacks!" Hermione ordered. "Remember: If you get lost, home in on our beacon!"

Those who hadn't put on their backpacks - made-up to look like parachutes to fool the muggle flight crew - hastily did so, including Harry. While Hermione and Justin went down the aisles and checked the straps, he again patted the pocket where the Elder Wand was stored. He was certain he would have to use the wand soon. Rookwood was a dangerous enemy, having survived so long while being hunted by entire countries, and the houngans… he shivered, remembering what Reid had done. If they met that houngan again they'd make him pay.

The co-pilot entered the compartment and walked down to the back of the plane. "We'll reach the drop zone in five minutes," he announced. "I'm lowering the ramp now." The man pushed a button at the back, and the ramp started to descend, revealing the dark night sky outside.

"Line up!" Hermione yelled over the howling of the wind that filled the compartment.

Harry was the first at the ramp, with Ron at his side. If he squinted he could just make out the contours of the land below. Or so he thought. He recalled once again how the landing zone looked from above - it was near an inland lake, supposedly easy to find from the air.

"We're above the drop zone!" the pilot announced.

"Go!" the co-pilot shouted. "Go! Go! Go!"

Harry didn't hesitate and ran down the ramp, flinging himself into the air. As soon as he was clear of the plane he pulled out his shrunken broom and straddled it. The moment he felt the Firebolt react to his commands, turning his freefall into flight, he wanted to yell with delight.

This was flying!

He twisted and rolled a little, before pulling up and slowing his descent. Ron appeared at his side a few seconds later, on his own Firebolt, grinning widely. Sirius and the rest of the Order followed quickly afterward, with the two Veela in their transformed forms, gliding with their wings. Under a nearly full moon, the Order formed up with them, followed by the Resistance members.

The Resistance were not as used to such manoeuvres, and Harry saw one of them lose his grip on his broom. Harry dived after the screaming, flailing wizard, hand outstretched as if he were chasing the snitch. He only took a few seconds to reach the man - Gary - but it took a few more seconds for Gary to stop flailing, and grab Harry's hand.

"I lost my broom!" the wizard yelled into Harry's ear as soon as he was seated behind him on the Firebolt.

"I saw!" Harry responded, already pulling up. He couldn't see the others, not at this distance and in this light, but… there was Ron!

His friend flew towards them, holding out a second broom. "Here's your broom," he said. "I managed to summon it."

He could have summoned Gary's backpack, and Gary with it, instead of diving after him, Harry realised, feeling a bit sheepish. But as long as everyone was safe… Gary managed to switch to his own broom without taking another dive, at least.

"We got Gary," Harry reported via the radio. He looked up, but even though the moon was still almost full, he couldn't spot the rest of the group.

"Good," Hermione answered crisply. "Disillusion yourselves and proceed to the landing zone!"

*****​

Near Moneague Lake, Jamaica, April 25th, 1997

Hermione Granger followed Justin's marker as they made their way to the landing zone near the Moneague Lake. At least, she was reasonably certain that they were on the right course; none of them had been there before, but they had studied the maps and the lay of the land beneath her corresponded to what she had memorised. She was still relieved when they flew over the lake, confirming that they were on course.

A few minutes later, they landed in a small clearing. Justin was already casting Muggle-Repelling Charms, as planned. Hermione dismounted, stored her broom, and started to count the people present as they formed a perimeter. Three were missing. She pushed the button of her radio. "Harry? Ron? Where are you?"

"We're coming. We've had some trouble navigating," Harry answered.

"Do we need to use the radio beacon?" That would probably get the attention of the muggles too, Hermione knew. They would be gone before any muggle force could reach them, but reports might draw attention from the houngans.

"No, no. We're following the road south; we'll find it as soon as we reach the lake."

"Alright." Her voice didn't betray how relieved she was that Harry and Ron had managed to save Gary. They had trained for this, but obviously not enough if Gary had panicked like that, and forgot to simply summon his broom back to his hand while falling. Maybe they should have landed in the plane… no. The risk of getting spotted by spies - compelled muggles, or disguised wizards - was too great. After two attacks by Rookwood, the houngans would be on high alert. They would be focusing on covering the coast, since smugglers tended to use ships and boats, according to her information, but they would also be observing the airports - even if only to spot muggleborn children of tourists to kidnap, if the latest complaints to the ICW were to be believed.

Hermione took a look at the markers floating around the clearing. "Memorise this location! It's Rally Spot Lake One!" she ordered. They needed a few locations they could apparate to, in case they were split up - or had to retreat from a fight.

"Justin, Sally-Anne - centre of clearing." She was sounding like the Major, she realised, frowning.

Her friends' markers converged on her. She lowered her voice. "We'll establish the caches with the Zodiacs and the aid station next." Those would be Justin and Sally-Anne's responsibilities respectively. She hoped they wouldn't need either, but she doubted that they would be that lucky.

"I bet Brown is taking notes," Sally-Anne mumbled.

Hermione thought so too. That was why they would be establishing another set of caches and an alternative aid station, too, without Brown knowing about them.

Just in case the Unspeakable was captured. Or tried to backstab them and escaped their prepared response.

She heard Harry on the radio again. "We've got visual of the landing zone," he announced.

She was too relieved to see her friends arrive - in a manner of speaking - to be annoyed at him quoting some action movie, again.

*****​

Near Guanaboa Vale, Jamaica, April 26th, 1997

There was a rat nearby. Padfoot could smell it as he circled around their temporary camp to check the 'perimeter'. The huge dog growled - he hated rats. One rat in particular, but others were not any better. But he could not track down the creature; he had a task to do. An important one. He had to check for enemies hiding in the underbrush. Enemies whom spells might miss, but his nose wouldn't.

Growling softly, he ignored the trail of the rat and continued his sweep instead. Apart from more rats and one snake, he didn't smell anything else. No humans. And no rotting corpses, nor buried bones. Unlike the rats, he tracked down and killed the snake, just in case it was spying for a parselmouth.

Padfoot changed back into Sirius Black before he stepped out of the underbrush and into the area where the group had put up concealed wizard tents. Not many - just four. And one of them was reserved for Brown and Aberforth. He spotted Remus sitting in front of the 'Order Tent' as if he was watching the sunrise. His best friend was looking less haggard now, or so Sirius thought - it always helped when he had a task, something to care about.

"All's clear," Sirius announced. "Just some rats and a snake around. I killed the snake."

Remus nodded. Sirius glanced over at the tent of the Unspeakable. "What's he doing?"

"Resting, same as everyone else," Remus answered. "Hermione and the others don't want to start tracking Rookwood with tired troops."

"Ah." Sirius grunted. He understood and agreed with the reasoning, but he hated waiting. Hated waiting inside the tent even more. He wouldn't be able to spot anyone sneaking up on them. "I'll inform the others." He nodded at Remus and walked over to the 'command tent', as Harry had called it.

He stepped inside the tent, the slight tingle informing him that he was passing through a ward, and found Harry and his friends inside, staring at a table. At a map on a table. "Perimeter's clear!" he announced, saluting like a muggle. Only the other witch, Sally-Anne, giggled, though. But Harry at least grinned.

"Good." Hermione pointed at the map. "We've chosen the locations for tonight. Given the range of Brown's spell, this array will allow us to cover the entire island with the minimum number of spells."

"I'm certain that he hasn't told us how powerful his spell really is," Sirius said. Unspeakables never revealed their secrets; everyone knew that.

Hermione shrugged. "We'll still achieve the results we need. And," she added with a grin, "it gives us a few more opportunities to study his spell."

"And it will give him a few more opportunities to stab us in the back," Sirius retorted.

"Aberforth will be watching him." Harry shrugged.

Sirius hoped that that would be enough. He and his friends knew just how dangerous Dumbledore's brother was, but many still thought the man was a wastrel, and a stain on his family.

Not unlike how many had seen, and still saw, Sirius himself.

*****​

Dry Harbour Mountains, Jamaica, April 26th, 1997

Sighing, Augustus Rookwood had to admit that the houngans knew how to protect their Library of Souls. It had taken him a week to unravel the wards guarding the area enough to slip through them without alerting anyone, and that had been with access to the mambo's mind. But now he was faced with a veritable maze of magical plants and animals, ready to mangle and tear any unwary intruder to shreds. And the wary intruder, noting the absence of Anti-Apparition Jinxes, might be tempted to use that apparent weakness to evade those defences, only to trigger a reactive ward, which would cover the area with those jinxes and alert the houngans. Very clever, but not clever enough.

The wind spells ready to force down anyone on a broom - or carpet; Jamaica hadn't banned them, of course - were a bit better hidden. If he hadn't assumed that there would be such defences he wouldn't have discovered them, and even now he was not quite certain if they were not simply a decoy set up to hide the real defences. All he knew for certain was that using his broom would be suicidal.

Which left passing through the jungle, and all its guardians, which would include buried skeletons and Inferi, in addition to plants that would give Sprout trouble and animals that would make Kettleburn back off. It was a good thing that Augustus was made of sterner stuff, and smarter than either.

He had a potion to negate his scent, which, in conjunction with a Disillusionment Charm, would render most animals unable to detect him. But the plants… they did not use just scent or sight to find their prey, but also pressure - and of the air, even, not just on themselves. To pass that gauntlet, he would have to move as if he were but a leaf in the wind - or so slowly as to not be detected at all.

And to avoid the Inferi and skeletons he knew were lying in wait beneath the soil, patient and unmoving as only the undead and constructs could be, he would have to avoid setting foot on the ground at all, and mask his body's heat as well.

But first he would need to plot a path that would avoid most of the plants and traps - and he would have to infer most of their locations.

He snorted. Yes, the houngans knew how to guard their most sacred place.

*****​

Near Ulster Spring, Jamaica, April 26th, 1997

Ron Weasley watched Brown prepare his ritual, his wand in hand, though pointed at the ground. He didn't trust the Unspeakable. Not really. Who knew what the Department of Mysteries' goals were? Did they want to capture Rookwood, or silence him forever? Or might they see this as an opportunity to kill Harry, Hermione and Sirius before they could change Britain further, and blame it on Britain's traditional enemies? Not on Ron's watch.

He watched as the man used his wand to form a runic circle on the ground. As far as Ron could tell - and he had paid a lot of attention - it was identical to the one Brown had used, unfortunately unsuccessfully, earlier in the evening near Grange Hill. Brown looked utterly collected, as if he was merely doing an exercise in Ancient Runes, and not preparing to cast a ritual spell in the middle of Jamaica, where houngans might stumble upon them at any moment. Ron wished he had that sort of composure.

He wasn't the only one, he knew - most of the Resistance members guarding the perimeter were nervous, and Justin had had to remind a few of them to keep their eyes on the jungle around them, not on the Unspeakable behind them. And yet, Ron was keeping an eye on the perimeter as well - Moody's lessons were hard to forget, and the Resistance members, apart from Hermione, were not among those Ron would blindly trust to guard his back.

Brown finished creating the circle, and stepped into its centre, carefully avoiding smudging any of the lines. He moved his wand in slow, controlled motions, the tip trailing motes of light that were steadily growing brighter. Ron couldn't quite catch what the Unspeakable was mumbling, but that wasn't new either.

Soon the man was surrounded by a thick band of glowing, floating lights as his wand rose above his head until, with a loud "Vena!", he stabbed the wand towards the sky. For a moment, the floating lights glowed even brighter, then they dimmed, and Brown blinked.

That hadn't happened the last time - the lights had winked out. Ron tensed up as Brown smiled.

"I found him."

*****​

A minute later, everyone was on their brooms, following Brown. They were flying at a decent pace, though with their Firebolts, Ron and Harry could have made much better time - but Brown was the only one who knew Rookwood's location.

He looked over his shoulder, checking the markers behind him, and the brooms he could see in the moonlight. Even though they were not disillusioned, they were surprisingly hard to spot thanks to their dark grey colour. They would be even harder to detect from below, disappearing against the night sky - provided anyone in the jungle below could even see the sky from the ground.

Though that cut both ways, Ron reminded himself - all he could see was the tops of the trees below him, and the few hills and rocks that broke through the canopy. No wonder Rookwood was hiding here.

Suddenly, in front of him, Brown's marker started to descend, and Ron followed the Unspeakable, descending in a shallow arc until they were almost touching the treetops. Behind him, the Resistance members were spreading out to cover their flanks - and to make it harder to hit several of them with a single spell.

Brown's marker slowed down even more, almost coming to a complete stop, before disappearing into the treetops. Ron sighed, cast a Shield Charm, and dove into the canopy himself, his spell forcing the branches away as he broke through to the ground. He kept an eye out for other markers - if the Unspeakable were about to betray them, then this would be the perfect opportunity to lure them into an ambush. Which was why half the force would stay in the air, as a 'reserve', and the other half would spread out on the ground.

He landed next to Brown's marker and dismounted, but kept his broom in hand, just in case. Other markers touched down nearby.

"As of ten minutes ago, he was straight ahead of us, at a distance of five hundred yards," Brown said over the radio.

"Straight ahead?" Harry's voice cut in.

"Ah." The Unspeakable became visible and pointed. "I could lead you there."

Hermione shot the proposal down, as she had shot down his earlier offers. "That's too dangerous. You're the only one who can find him, should he manage to escape. Do the ritual again and inform us if his location has changed. Remus, Tonks, stay with him."

"Alright."

"Yes, ma'am."

Ron thought their acknowledgements came a bit grudgingly - Tonks's certainly sounded sarcastic - but then, he knew exactly what the two thought about guarding Brown instead of doing the fighting. But someone with more experience with magic than most muggleborns had to keep an eye on Brown.

"Everyone else - advance carefully. Ground force, expect traps and wards! Flyers - stay behind the ground force."

Ron didn't bother with calling out his acknowledgement. He simply started off towards Rookwood's last known location as others, including Hermione, rose above the canopy again. Harry's marker followed him as Ron took the lead. Moving through the jungle was different from moving through the woods in Britain. The underbrush was denser - though that soon changed - and the hot and humid air, as well as the softer ground, made it more exhausting. But the worst thing was the darkness. The moonlight wasn't bright enough, not here on the ground, to be able to walk without stumbling over roots and rocks, and the faint light at the tip of his wand didn't help that much. But anything brighter would give them away to their enemy.

He thought they were almost in range of their detection spells when he heard Brown's voice over the radio: "Rookwood hasn't moved."

"Flyers, fan out and start to encircle him before moving into range," Hermione ordered. "Sirius, scout ahead."

Since Ron and Harry were in the centre of their formation - if you could call it a formation - they didn't have to move, though Harry stepped up next to him. Then a big black dog - Padfoot - moved past them, briefly poking his nose at the disillusioned Harry before trotting ahead. The animagus wasn't trailed by a marker from Ron's spell, so any spell Rookwood had cast wouldn't reveal him either. Or at least not as a wizard. Another marker joined them, and Ron tensed up. He hated not knowing who was near him - someone needed to create a better spell to detect humans.

"'Arry? Ron?" He knew that voice.

"Yes," Harry answered Vivienne.

"Waiting again," he heard Harry mutter. "So close…"

"Won't be long," Ron whispered. He hoped he was correct.

"Anyone have a good..." someone - Ron didn't recognise their voice - started on the radio.

"Don't talk unless it's important!" Hermione's sharp voice cut the bloke off. He heard Harry chuckle, and grinned himself.

A few minutes later, Padfoot returned. Once he reached them, the dog turned back into Sirius. "If Rookwood's there, then he is behind strong wards. Very strong wards, not just Muggle-Repelling ones," he said into the radio. "About two hundred yards ahead of us."

Ron winced. He could think of a few reasons why the Death Eater was protected by strong wards - and all of them meant that their task had just grown far more dangerous.

*****​

Dry Harbour Mountains, Jamaica, April 26th, 1997

Hermione Granger clenched her teeth as she heard Sirius's report. Very strong wards? Either the Death Eater had created a fortified hideout, which would have taken a long time, longer than she thought he would have had, or he had taken over another houngan's manor. Or, she added silently, with a sinking feeling in her stomach, this was the Library of Souls.

Astride her broom, she drew a hissing breath. If this was the Library of Souls, then Rookwood couldn't be allowed to proceed. What he could do with the knowledge of the Library, if he managed to breach the Library's defences... She shook her head. But to stay and go after Rookwood meant that the houngans would see their presence as an attack against the Library - or a houngan's manor, if her gut feeling was wrong. They would blame all of Rookwood's actions on Britain. Could they risk that?

She scoffed. Even if they left right now, the houngans would blame them for the intrusion, and they wouldn't have anything to show for it. They'd be not just abandoning the mission, but the victims of the Withering Curse as well.

She pushed the button of her radio. "Seamus, start preparing a ward breaching charge. I'll check the ward's strength."

She gripped her broom more tightly and flew ahead, descending as she did so. After about a hundred yards, she stopped and cast a detection spell. There was no ward above the jungle's canopy. She scoffed - she should have expected that; the houngans would not draw attention to the Library like that. She noted the four markers beneath her and used her radio again. "Sirius, I'm descending on your position."

Her Shield Charm fended off foliage and branches as she broke through the treetops, before she dismounted near Sirius - and Ron, Harry and Vivienne, or so she assumed. "Show me to the wardline."

"Follow me!" she heard Harry's godfather say, then one marker and a weak Wand-Lighting Charm - she really needed to find a spell that showed your allies' names on their marker - started moving towards Rookwood's last position.

It didn't take them long to get close enough to the wardline, and one glance at the wards was enough for her to know that this was no houngan's manor. Nor had Rookwood created those wards. "We're at the Library of Souls," she announced on the radio. "Rookwood must have slipped through the outer wards already."

Curses filled the channel until Harry restored radio discipline while she analysed the wards' strength. "Bloody hell," she muttered under her breath, prompting a snort from Sirius near her while she calculated the amount of explosive needed to take these wards down.

Everyone would need to cast a Silencing Charm, just in case.

*****​

Augustus Rookwood studied the area in front of him again. There had to be a way to get past that Devil's Snare without alerting the skeletons buried underneath the plant - and without catching the attention of the Blood Apes in the trees nearby. A way that didn't involve using the path on the ground, since that one would be trapped as well. Maybe if he skirted the extreme range of the plant's tentacles; even if the Blood Apes detected him, they would not venture too close to the trap...

The earth shook suddenly and he found himself on the ground, thrown down by a shockwave that left him struggling to breathe. He scrambled on all fours, whirled around, and saw smoke and fire cover the jungle behind him. Clumps of earth and rocks and wood started to rain down, bouncing off his Shield Charm. What the hell had happened?

He spotted the Blood Apes moving towards the explosion, swinging from branch to branch - it had been an explosion, he realised, at the wardline! Someone had just torn down the wards protecting the outer area around the Library of Souls! No, blown them away! But who would… the mudbloods! The houngans wouldn't do this, and no one else would dare to. Even for the mudbloods, this was madness!

He clenched his teeth. But why would the mudbloods attack the Library of Souls? His eyes widened. They were after the same knowledge he sought! But their bomb would have alerted the houngans. Were they really expecting to stand against the might of Britain's ancient enemy while assaulting the Library's inner defences?

It didn't matter - he wasn't prepared to take on the mudbloods. Who would have expected them to dare invade Jamaica while still reeling from the devastation of the last war? He had to flee before he got caught between the houngans and the mudbloods! All his work for nothing! He focused on his hideout, then realised that he couldn't apparate. Had someone triggered the reactive ward already? Because why would the mudbloods block Apparition? The houngans wouldn't apparate directly into the area anyway, and such an act would only hamper their own…

He gasped. They wanted to prevent others from fleeing! And he was the only one present! They were here for him! He had to flee! He had to escape! His broom! No - that would be suicide! No broom, no Apparition, and they would be encircling the area… he had to evade them on foot. He started to run, away from the explosion. Away from the traps, too! With the enemy so close, if the Devil's Snare caught him he was as good as dead!

He hadn't made it further than a few dozen yards when his Human-presence-revealing spell showed three people moving towards him. He fell back, hoping they hadn't spotted him - but they gave chase! No!

He gripped his wand tightly. He could take three mudbloods! He had taken three houngans, after all, and he was prepared for more!

Before he could cast his first curse, though, he found himself reeling again. And his Disillusionment Charm gone.

Someone had triggered the wind trap.

*****​

"The wards are down. Ground forces, move in and take out Rookwood! Flyers, keep an eye out for escape attempts, and reinforcements! Everyone, watch out for traps!"

Ron Weasley heard Hermione's orders over the radio and started advancing at once, to and then past the giant crater Seamus's bomb had left. That crazy Irishman had gone overboard, he just knew it - even if Hermione hadn't said anything. He reached the area where the wardline had been, and held his breath crossing it, even though Hermione had already confirmed that the wards were down. Who knew what magic the houngans could do? Dumbledore had been fatally cursed in Jamaica!

A month of training against another crazy Irishman made him look up regularly as he moved on, and, when he saw something move above him, his reflexes took over. He threw himself to the side at once, just in time to avoid a monster slamming into the ground where he had been a second ago. A hairy, screeching monster, larger than himself, with four flailing arms. A Blood Ape, he remembered from one of Hagrid's lessons.

"Blood Apes in the trees!" he yelled into his radio while flicking his wand. His Bludgeoning Curse hit the monster right as it was getting up, and tossed it head over heels into a tree trunk behind it, leaving it dazed for a moment. He was about to finish it off when he caught sight of two more in the branches above him, and he managed to hit one of them with a Reductor Curse while rolling to the side. The other, though, smashed into his Shield Charm, shattering it with its sheer mass, and clipped him in the leg with a swipe of its claws.

Ron yelled with pain and kicked out with his good leg, catching the creature in the stomach. It didn't do anything but give it pause for a moment - but that was long enough to whip his wand around and drill a hole in the ape's head with a Piercing Curse.

He rolled around, grunting when he felt his leg flare up with pain, and managed to get up on one knee, just as the first monster charged him. A swish of his wand conjured a stone wall right in the ape's path, too close for it to stop in time, and Ron grinned when he heard it smash into the wall. His next Blasting Curse turned the wall into deadly shrapnel, and he heard the monster scream again. It wasn't down, despite bleeding from multiple wounds, but it was hampered and reeling, and a Cutting Curse beheaded it.

Panting, he ran a hand over his wounded leg, feeling the blood soaking his trousers. Then he saw his leg - something, someone had ended his Disillusionment Charm. He dropped despite the pain, and rolled under the next brush, frantically conjuring more walls to break the line of sight of whoever had made him visible.

"There are Anti-Disillusionment spells active! Watch..." he heard Seamus yell through the radio, before more screams cut the Gryffindor off.

Ron looked up, and saw the treetops above him shake. He blinked, wondering what was happening, when he saw a broom rider crash through the canopy, smashing into several branches before hitting the ground.

Ron gasped, ran his wand over his wounded leg and closing the wound, then ran over to the fallen wizard before a monster could get to him. A glance told him that Harry was casting at another ape.

"Everyone, land at once!" he heard Hermione over the radio. "The winds will make you crash!"

He reached the flyer, his wand moving, already casting, when he noticed the sightless eyes staring ahead. The wizard - Sinclair, Sinclair Thompson, he recognised him - was already dead.

*****​

Sirius Black had changed into Padfoot when he passed the crater, trying to track Rookwood by scent. He hadn't had any success, though, before apes started dropping from trees, followed by muggleborn flyers, whereupon he had other things to occupy his attention. Like staying alive and protecting his family. But for that, he had to get back to them first - he had taken the vanguard, to scout ahead, and had left them behind.

He killed two of the beasts with Blood-Boiling Curses - they went mad with the pain, and attacked each other, allowing him to slip past - before he spotted Vivienne. The Veela had transformed and was grappling with an ape, the two opponents slashing at each other with claws. He tried to get a clear shot off with a curse, but by the time he was close enough, her wings had already battered the ape down, leaving it broken on the ground next to the burning carcass of its companion.

He quickly closed her wounds while she thanked him in the screeching voice of her current form. When he spotted Harry and Ron nearby, mopping up the last of the apes that hadn't been driven off he smiled with relief. "Harry!" he yelled, making his way over to them, past a smouldering tree trunk.

The two boys turned around, separating to catch him in a crossfire before they recognised him. "Sirius!" Harry exclaimed, meeting his eyes for a moment before glancing around again. "We need to press on, or Rookwood will escape!"

Sirius wanted to tell Harry to hold, and fall back - but they were here for Rookwood, and he knew Harry wouldn't listen. Not as long as they could fight. So he nodded, and turned around. "Follow me!" he yelled, retracing his steps.

While they moved further ahead, the radio channel's chatter painted a grim picture. They had lost, according to his count, which might be off, at least three of the muggleborns - dead or wounded after being caught on their brooms by a wind spell or trap. Fortunately, Hermione, who was doing her best to reorganise the rest, hadn't been airborne at the time. The witch's dislike of flying might have saved her life, Sirius thought with a chuckle. And Bill and Fleur were fighting a wizard who had to be Rookwood!

Sirius reached the spot he had been when the trap had been sprung, and looked around. He didn't see anyone nearby. A quick transformation revealed that Padfoot didn't smell anyone either. He heard someone, though - helped along by the fact that, as Padfoot, he wasn't wearing a radio that filled his ears with screams and orders.

"Someone's coming!" he whispered when he had changed back, pointing down the path.

Harry, Ron and Vivienne immediately moved to hide in the underbrush. If this was Rookwood, he would be caught in the crossfire before he could react.

It wasn't Rookwood. It was a muggleborn - Gary something; the man who had almost fallen to his death when they had arrived on the island. He must have fallen again, since he was limping and looked rather battered.

"Gary!" Sirius heard Harry yell. "Over here!"

The young wizard stopped, looking around, and Sirius saw him smile when he spotted Harry. "Harry! I'm so…"

Whatever he had been about to say turned into a scream when a thick arm broke through the ground from below and grabbed his leg. Before anyone could react, Gary was pulled to the ground, and his screams cut off when a dozen more arms grabbed him and literally tore him to pieces.

*****​

Harry Potter blinked. One moment, Gary was smiling at him, the next, he was but blood and gore on the ground. Then rage filled him and his wand - the Elder Wand - rose.

"Inferi in the ground!" Ron yelled, to them and into the radio.

Harry didn't pay any attention. He already knew that. A Fire Whip shot out of his wand, the complex spell appearing to be much more effective than he remembered as it lashing out at the undead creatures digging themselves out of the ground. Where his spell touched them, they were cut apart and set aflame. Within seconds, all that was left of the dozen monsters were burning pieces scattered around. Some of them were still moving, Harry noticed - one lower body with one leg still attached was even dragging itself over the ground.

He lashed out with his spell again, torching the twitching remains, when he saw that the plants near the Inferi's location were moving as well. No, it was just one plant - Devil's Snare! He grinned, flicking his wrist, and sent the Fire Whip at it.

But where the whip touched the tentacles, they didn't recoil as he had expected. Instead, they started to grow, wrapping themselves around his spell - and growing towards him and Ron as well!

"What is that?" he heard Ron yell. "Fire doesn't harm it!"

It wasn't Devil's Snare, then, Harry thought. But fire wasn't the only way to kill - destroy - a plant. He cast a Cutting Curse, bisecting the closest tentacles. The cut pieces kept wriggling, but… no, they were reconnecting with the rest of the plant!

"Merlin's balls!" he heard Ron curse. "What does it take to kill this plant?"

"Fall back!" Sirius yelled. "We can bypass the plant!"

"Skeletons!"

Vivienne's yell made Harry glance over his shoulder. Dozens of skeletons and Inferi were encircling them from the rear - and even above, in the trees.

"Releasing a special Bludger!" Ron announced, "Watch out for the tentacles!" He pulled out one of the twins' enchanted iron balls and tapped it with his wand, then sent it towards the approaching undead. While Harry cut down more tentacles, stalling the plant, the Bludger flew into a row of skeletons, tagging several of them. They started to fall apart at once, both the ones knocked down as well as the ones seemingly untouched, while the Bludger continued on, smashing into an Inferi.

Harry turned his attention back to the plant-monster. He briefly felt the urge to keep cutting it, grinding it to pieces until only dust was left, but controlled himself. Or the wand. Brute force wasn't the answer. What would Dumbledore do?

He chuckled, shaking his head when the answer came to him. A swish of his wrist directed his wand towards the plant, and he started to transfigure the tentacles into wood. Soon - much sooner than he expected - instead of a wriggling, growing plant, he was facing a wooden sculpture of a Devil's Snare.

And this wood burned easily.

"Good work!" Sirius said as Harry turned around to help dispatching the remaining undead creatures.

"Let's get Rookwood now!" he replied.

"Bill! Where are you?" Ron asked over the radio. There was no answer.

Harry glanced at Ron and nodded. They had to hurry.

*****​

Augustus Rookwood muttered the worst curses he had heard Greyback use under his breath while he retreated further down the path leading to the Library's entrance. He had been prepared for houngans, fanatical enemies rushing in, trusting their own traps and guards not to hurt them. That was why he had laid down wards that would confuse the creatures in the area, making them attack anyone.

But his enemies were mudbloods; they were expecting guards and traps. They even had a Veela with them, whose fireballs had come uncomfortably close once already. But he was far from being helpless!

He ducked behind a massive tree and took a few deep breaths - the running and the humidity were getting to him, too. When the tree shook slightly under the impact of a curse, he nodded. They had seen him and now they would be flanking him. Predictable!

He flicked his wand, and the ground beneath him rose, forming a pedestal, quickly carrying him up to the branches five yards above him. A Colour Change Charm turned his robes brown-green, and he slid around the trunk onto the branch. There! He saw movement to the side, someone using the underbrush beneath three smaller trees as cover. Grinning, he flicked his wand, turning the vines hanging from the branches into tentacles.

He didn't see the results of his actions, though, as almost immediately his tree shook under the assault of several fireballs - the Veela must have spotted his spell. That the creature managed to fly in the area of effect of the wind trap… he couldn't dwell on that. He had to escape. The other mudblood would be flanking him right now.

Clenching his teeth, he dropped to the ground, a Cushioning Charm breaking his fall enough to avoid further injury. Up ahead beckoned the entrance to the Library. He wouldn't be able to enter, but he would be able to use its concealing enchantments.

And there were a few particularly nasty guard beasts in the area as well he could lure his enemies into - he doubted that they had removed their scent.

*****​

They were close to where Bill and Fleur had been at the start of the battle when the radio went out. Harry tapped the button, but he heard only static. Ron blinked, then quickly hurried back a dozen yards, then tapped his radio again.

"It's a ward!" he yelled.

That would explain Bill and Fleur's radio silence, Harry thought as Ron rejoined them. But where were… An explosion ahead provided the answer. The four rushed on, though no longer on the path. Not since they almost fell into a pit of animated bone spikes. If not for the enchanted Bludger that would have ended badly.

Another explosion, followed by screams. Harry pushed himself to run faster, jumping over a rock in the way, then turned around a giant tree trunk. There! A flash of black fatigues between two smaller trees! "Hey!" he yelled, closing with the figure. He had almost reached them when he noticed that they were not standing there, but hanging from a tree, held up by a vine wrapped around their throat, their feet dangling a foot above the ground. As he stared, the figure slowly turned around, and he recognised Anna's battered, blue face.

A strangled scream escaped him, passed his clenched teeth, and he set the entire tree ablaze before shattering it with a Blasting Curse. Another one dead, and he hadn't been able to help her. A flick of his wand transfigured the body, now lying crumpled on the ground, into a small stone figurine, which he picked up and put in his pocket. At least they wouldn't leave her behind.

They went on, destroying the trees in front and to their sides, not caring if they were vine-covered or not. Harry was responsible for most of the destruction - his wand made it easy. They found Bill and Fleur, both wounded and surrounded by what looked like jaguars - if jaguars had matted fur, red eyes, and green ichor dropping from their mouths. Bill was waving his wand in complicated patterns, seemingly uncaring of his bleeding legs, while Fleur, transformed, was throwing fireballs at the monsters, though all she seemed to accomplish was to keep them dodging instead of charging.

"Bill!"

Ron's yell was followed by a barrage of curses, and caught between Fleur and their group, the creatures quickly either died or fled, Harry's Fire Whip accounting for three of the kills.

"Bill!"

Ron rushed towards his brother, but Fleur stepped into his way. "Stop! He's been cursed! Don't distract him, or he might die!" the Veela yelled, wings spread wide.

Harry would have offered his help, but he was no Curse-Breaker. And Bill didn't seem to have the time to explain what curse he was fighting - the wizard was pale and shivering, sweat running down his face. His slowly turning blue face.

Harry muttered a curse under his breath. "Where's Rookwood?"

Fleur pointed to the side, towards a large rock. "Bill said, before he got cursed, that he had warded the area. Rookwood, that is."

Harry nodded, exchanged a glance with Ron, and then went left as his friend went right.

*****​

Augustus Rookwood was panting and trying not to scream with pain and give away his position. That could have gone better. He had managed to lure the remaining two enemies - one must have fallen to his Strangling Trees - into the pack of Rock Jaguars, but even after he had used the distraction to throw a vial of Mummy Rot spores into their midst, they had not been overwhelmed. The damned Veela had gone mad and covered the entire area with fireballs, forcing him to retreat further down the path, while the wizard had countered the spores! If he had known that he wasn't facing a mudblood, but a skilled Curse-Breaker he wouldn't have wasted his vial!

And now he was trapped between the inner defences of the Library, and the Curse-Breaker and the Veela outside - he could see their markers floating above the rock. They were waiting there, waiting for him to break cover and run the gauntlet of fireballs, and whatever curses the wizard had laid down by now.

Augustus looked around. If he had an hour, he could probably slip through the entrance here. But he didn't have an hour. The houngans would arrive soon, even if the mudbloods didn't charge his position. He had to find a way out! He was Augustus Rookwood, a genius! He could do this!

He pulled out his box of vials. He still had some potions left. Nothing major, but… maybe the Burrower's Acid would be enough to get through the sealed entrance? Or…

He stopped moving when a black shadow appeared on the path leading towards him. A Grim! He thought, before correcting himself. There were no Grims. It was a huge, black dog. And it was trying to find his scent - not knowing that he had masked it. And he was hidden by the concealing enchantments on the entrance to the Library.

Grinning, he pointed his wand at the beast, but before he could cast the Killing Curse, the animal jumped back and darted behind the next rock. Had the beast noticed him? Or something else he had missed? And where was it now?

He stepped out of the entrance, leading with his wand, turning to face the rock, when the ground beneath his feet exploded and he found himself thrown into the wall to his left with enough force to shatter his Shield Charm.

He was recasting it as he dropped to the ground, and scrambled to his feet - he had to get back into the entrance, to find cover and hide. And find his enemy. There! A marker floated at the right corner of the rock. He sent a Killing Curse at it, to make them dodge and seek cover while he rushed to back to the entrance.

His curse was blocked by a conjured wall, though - and so was his path. Dropping to the ground and rolling to the side, he dispelled the wall - or tried to. It didn't disappear. He gasped. Who could…

Before he could finish the thought, his shield shattered again as a volley of Bludgeoning and Blasting Curses converged on his position. He was thrown around like a rag doll in a storm, smashed against the stone walls with enough force to break bones, and dozens of rock shards sliced into his skin.

But, bleeding and broken, he had managed land inside the Library's entrance. Chuckling at his luck, he moved his wand to seal his wounds and heal his broken bones… his wand! Where was his wand?

"Accio wand!"

He pushed his hand out, summoning it wandlessly - without success. He quickly drew another wand he had taken from a dead houngan. He wasn't helpless. He was prepared. For anything! He was…

The ground shot up underneath him, throwing him out of the entrance, into the air, and before he could react, his body was hit with another volley of Bludgeoning Curses, and this time the pain was great enough that he passed out.

*****​

Harry Potter stared at the Death Eater in front of him - he had caught him with a Levitation Charm in the air after his stone lance had thrown the man out of his hideout. It was Rookwood. The wizard was alive, though the broken bones protruding from his bleeding skin showed that he was seriously hurt. Harry didn't care. The man was a mass murderer, and deserved death once they were back in Britain.

"I've got him!" he yelled, before he stunned the man for good measure, then stripped him naked and wrapped him in magical ropes. He wouldn't take any risks there.

When he found the skull in the man's enchanted pocket, he smiled widely. Mission accomplished, he thought - they had all they had come here for.

His radio crackled to life - someone must have dealt with Rookwood's ward - and he heard Hermione's voice.

"The houngans are here, more than a dozen of them. Rally at the crater!"

*****​
 
Chapter 64: Surrounded
Chapter 64: Surrounded

'When considering the mission that the Order of the Phoenix and the Muggleborn Resistance undertook to Jamaica in 1997, one cannot help but wonder why almost the entire leadership of both organisations took part in that incursion. The risk of leaving the progressive factions decapitated - and that just weeks after Augustus Malfoy's plan to murder them had spectacularly failed - should all of their leaders be among those heading to Jamaica had to have been apparent even in the mission's planning stages. So, knowing this, why did people like Hermione Granger, Sirius Black and Harry Potter all enter Jamaica as part of the same mission?
Some historians point out that these individuals were among the most capable wizards and witches in Britain at the time, and therefore the only ones able to handle such a mission, and that they had left others behind to follow in their footsteps, should they not return.But while the skill and experience of the individuals in question is not in doubt, it would nevertheless be incorrect to conclude that they were therefore indispensable to a mission of this nature. Even after two Blood Wars, Britain was not entirely bereft of capable wizards and witches - certainly not to the extent that both the leader of the Muggleborn Resistance and the leader of the Order of the Phoenix and the majority of the Wizengamot needed to personally take to the field.
Others claim that, just as Gellert Grindelwald was defeated in a duel with Albus Dumbledore and Voldemort was killed by Harry Potter in personal combat, these extraordinary individuals were needed for a similar feat - or at least were not able to exclude such a possibility, and therefore had to go on the mission. But since there is no known prophecy linked to such an event, and nothing else supports this notion, it can be safely discarded.
No, in my opinion, the people mentioned went on the mission because, their portrayal in various media notwithstanding, they were not coldly calculating strategists and politicians, but people - teenagers and an older wizard deeply traumatised by the events that concluded the First Blood War and his subsequent time in Azkaban - who would not let their loved ones face mortal danger without them, and whom no one else could tell otherwise.'
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn


*****​

Dry Harbour Mountains, Jamaica, April 26th, 1997

Hermione Granger heard the wind before she heard the alarmed screams from the flyers above her. Suddenly, there was a roaring storm above the jungle - and it was blowing straight down, shaking the treetops above her, tearing leaves and small animals off the branches and slamming them into the ground. Then she saw a broom rider crash through the foliage, hit a thick branch with a sickening crack she heard even over the roaring storm, and spiral down until he crashed on to the soil.

When he started screaming, she recognised him - Timothy Meyers. He was still alive, though badly hurt. Broken bones for certain, she thought, as she saw Sally-Anne race towards the wounded wizard.

"Everyone, land at once!" she yelled into the radio, overriding the screams from others. "The winds will make you crash!"

Her order was too late though - she heard more screams over the radio. Eric and Celia. They had crashed as well, but she didn't know where. And Seamus and Tania were in trouble, too.

This was all her fault. If she hadn't been so rash… but there was no other choice. They couldn't let Rookwood enter the Library of Souls. But she should have increased the Resistance's training. Made them prepare for traps and creatures, not just houngans. Though they there hadn't been enough time for that - no one became a Curse-Breaker in a week or two.

Hermione shook her head, telling herself not to berate herself for past mistakes any more. She had to focus on avoiding further mistakes. Trying to sound as cool and collected as possible, she keyed her radio again, overriding the cacophony of screaming and yelling. "Sally-Anne, set up a first aid station at the crater. Justin, Mary-Jane and Emily, cover her. Seamus, Tania - look for Eric and Celia. Everyone else, converge on Bill and Fleur's position, east side. Do not go through the centre."

She glanced to her side, where Aberforth was standing, looking unruffled. "We're securing the crater area for the wounded," she said.

The old wizard simply nodded and started towards the jungle bordering the fresh crater on the northern side, where the Library would lie. He flicked his wand, and a screaming four-armed ape taller than Goyle fell out of a treetop.

"Blood Apes," he commented.

The ones of which Ron had warned them. Hagrid would probably love them, Hermione thought, blowing up a treetop with a Blasting Curse and killing another at the same time. She heard gunfire - assault rifles, and a light machine gun. Tania and Seamus must have found one of their missing members, then. The fire went on for far longer than she had expected, though, until suddenly, a small cluster of trees to the west erupted in fire.

"Bloody plant monsters, soaked up bullets without trouble!" she heard Seamus complain over the radio. "Need to burn them!" Then she saw him and Tania break through the underbrush, with a floating Celia between them, running straight towards the shelter Sally-Anne had created in the crater.

"Undead! Zombies! My leg's broken, I can't move!" Eric's voice sounded on over the radio. "Oh, god! I can't move! Bullets don't hurt them! Help! Help me! Please!"

"Burn them!" Seamus yelled into the radio. "Use grenades!"

"Use the Bludgers!" Tania added in a yell.

"They're too close. Too cloARGH!"

Hermione clenched her teeth. Another one dead, she thought, and it was her fault. Out loud, she said: "We need to deal with those undead." She turned to Aberforth. "Handle the northern side, and focus on plants and creatures."

Then she headed west. "Seamus, Tania - on me!" The two fell in, forming an inverted V-formation with her at the head.

They saw the zombies - Inferi, she recognised them right away - before they reached the edge of the crater. Dozens of them, with more behind. She pulled out one of the enchanted Bludgers the twins had created, and threw it towards the advancing ranks of undead. "Frag grenades!"

Seamus and Tania were happy to comply, and two grenades, followed by another two, arced towards the undead, although coming up a bit short due to the wind from above. They still peppered the undead with metal splinters - some bouncing off Hermione's Shield Charm too - and bowled the closest ones over. And - which had been the point of the attack - exposed the bones inside the Inferi to the aerosolised potion the Bludger was spreading. Soon the majority of the undead were looking far more like puddles of flesh than humanoid figures. The skeletons behind them were faring even worse, crumbling to dust in seconds.

"Burn them!" she ordered, turning back to check on Aberforth.

On the way, she received word of Gary and Sinclair's deaths. Two more, she told herself. But Harry, Ron and Sirius, as well as Vivienne, were moving to flank Rookwood and support Bill and Fleur. Or avenge them - they hadn't heard anything from them, nor from Anna, over the radio for some time. She couldn't dwell on that though - she needed to keep their force together and ensure the wounded were taken care of.

The northern side - or front - was a wasteland. Aberforth had either burned or vanished the trees near the crater, and was in the process of eradicating a Devil's Snare when she reached him.

"Fire-resistant variant," he grunted, "needs to be transfigured to be destroyed."

She nodded, watching their surroundings, and pushed the button of her radio again. "Don't try to burn any Devil's Snare you may spot, it's resistant to fire. Transfigure it into wood before burning it!" The curse she heard in response sounded like it had come from Seamus, but Tania didn't comment, so they were probably not fighting one.

"Nasty traps here," Aberforth said. "I had to deal with buried animated bone spikes, all the undead you could think of, and the nastiest plants I've seen in a while."

He didn't sound as if he was criticising her, but she felt the sting anyway. She should have prepared better for such dangers and enemies, not focused on battling houngans and their minions. But she wouldn't have been able to prepare for either enemy if she hadn't focused on one.

"What about the eastern side?"

She shook her head. "Mary-Jane and Emily are covering that flank. But Harry and Ron went there first, so it should be safe."

"For the moment," he grunted.

"For the moment," she agreed. Something caught her attention at the southern edge, and she raised her Omnioculars to her face. A flick of her thumb focused them and started zooming in.

She felt her stomach drop for a moment, then used her radio.

"The houngans are here, more than a dozen of them. Rally at the crater!"

*****​

She rushed forward to the shelter in the crater. Or, bunker now - the conjured steel walls had been reinforced with earthworks. She spotted Celia and Timothy right outside, rifles at the ready - Sally-Anne must have mended their broken bones and closed their wounds already. Mary-Jane and Emily had taken up a position to the east.

"Transfigure some of the earth below into steel!" she ordered over the radio. "In case they have undead burrowing through the soil." There had been too many buried skeletons and Inferi in that jungle not to consider that possibility.

"We've captured Rookwood and secured the skull. We're all safe, but Bill's wounded."

Harry's announcement over the radio made her smile with relief. They had done what they had come for. It had cost them too much, but they had done it. Remus reported that his group had managed to avoid the houngans by apparating to a rally spot before the Anti-Apparition Jinxes covered them. So at least she wouldn't have to worry about them.

Now they just had to survive the houngans. They couldn't fly away, and they couldn't apparate. That left marching. As the Sergeant used to say - no matter where, soldiers had to walk. She stuck her head inside the shelter. "We're pulling out, to the east!"

Stepping back, she waved her wand and started to turn the southern edge of the crater into a ditch with a wall behind it while Justin and Sally-Anne, followed by Celia and Timothy, started to move east - and north. She pushed the button of her radio. "Sirius, we're pulling out of the crater, towards the east, meeting up with you on the way." They had to get out of range of the Anti-Apparition wards.

"Alright," she heard Sirius answer.

Movement to her right drew her attention, and she turned around, wand rising, until she recognised Tania and Seamus, heading towards her from the west. "Move on and set up a pillbox at the northeastern corner!" Hermione ordered. They could cover their retreat if necessary.

As they passed her, following the others to the edge of the crater, Hermione pushed a lock of hair out of her face - the winds above were still pressing down, making moving just that little bit more exhausting - and studied the approaching lines. No sign of the houngans, yet. But that didn't mean much.

"Are we going to fight them?"

Aberforth had caught up. She turned her head to look at him. "We don't need to. We came here for Rookwood, and we have him."

"Well, lass, might not be up to you to decide that." He chuckled, though without any humour.

"Indeed." She shook her head as she watched the first row of the undead tumbling down into the ditch. "I still have to try, though."

"Not from so close, though."

"No, I think not." She tried to sound cool, unconcerned even. Like some of the officers in those old movies.

The two of them fell back, creating a few more ditches and walls, before they reached the edge of the crater under the guns of Tania and Seamus. Aberforth transfigured the earth into stairs and, a few seconds later, both of them stood at the edge of the crater. A swish of his wand removed the stairs.

The undead had overcome the first obstacle, and some had entered the first aid post while the rest surged onward. Hermione studied the edge of the crater, though - were those wizards there? They were alive, at least. She hoped they were houngans, and not zombies, as she pointed her wand at her throat and cast an Amplifying Charm.

"Houngans! We are not here for the Library! We are not here to fight you. We are here to catch the Death Eater who has been killing your people. We have caught him before he could enter the Library, and now we will leave." Her voice rang out over the crater.

The undead didn't stop, climbing over themselves to reach the top of the second wall, but the figures at the edge of the forest halted in their advance. For a moment, Hermione felt hope that they could avoid further fighting.

Then spells flew from those people towards her position, impacting on the crater's slope, and blowing up chunks of earth - and globs of acid. She almost ducked behind the walls Tania and Seamus had erected, but kept standing. At that range, they couldn't really hit her with a spell.

Hermione tried again. "We are not here to fight you. We are withdrawing. You can check the Library - it's untouched. We only came here to catch a fugitive criminal. A Death Eater."

"They're coming through the jungle, trying to flank and cut us off!" Tania informed her.

She didn't curse out loud, not with her Amplifying Charm still active. "If you keep attacking us we will be forced to defend ourselves! Stop attacking! Call back your zombies!" More spells flew at her position, some getting close.

"Bastards must be thinking we're weak!" she heard Seamus mutter nearby. The undead in the crater were at the third ditch and wall.

She canceled her charm and pushed the button of her radio. "They're not listening to us. Seamus, place a few bombs at our position here! Tania, suppress the houngans at the forest's edge!" Tania didn't bother with acknowledging her order; she simply started firing. Hermione saw the tracers from the light machine gun hit the houngans facing her, and a number of them collapsed. She expected them to retreat at once, but they stood their ground until a few more were hit enough for their shields to shatter, before retreating back into the jungle.

Turning to Aberforth, she pulled out another enchanted Bludger. "That'll occupy the ones advancing in the jungle." She hoped Justin was watching their flanks as well - if they were to be cut off...

The old wizard grinned, then waved his wand and a dozen wolves rose from the torn up soil of the crater. "These will help."

As the transfigured animals sped into the jungle, towards the zombie line there, the undead in the crater broke through the final obstacle, and advanced on the slope.

"Fall back!" Hermione ordered, flicking her wand to turn the slope into mud, making the Inferi slip and fall, slowing them to a - sometimes literal - crawl.

Tania fired another burst, then picked her machine gun up and kicked Seamus, who was moving wired packs of Semtex around with his wand. "Get moving!"

He cursed, but didn't otherwise argue, moving past Hermione with Tania on his heels. "Move until you catch up with Justin's group!" she yelled, "I'll tell you when to detonate the bombs!"

"Should be the last to leave, lass," Aberforth commented.

She refrained from answering that she wasn't; he was. He was right, after all. So she turned around and ran into the jungle, keeping an eye on her right side. Howls from the wolves told her that they had met the undead.

After a few dozen yards, she turned around. No movement at the crater's edge yet. Another dozen yards later, she saw the first undead climbing over the abandoned firing position. She pushed the button of her radio. "Seamus, blow it now!"

A second later, the pillbox and the edge of the crater vanished in a fireball.

*****​

"We've captured Rookwood and secured the skull. We're all safe, but Bill's wounded."

Harry Potter released the button on his radio and turned to the rest of his group. Ron had Rookwood's broken, stunned and bound form floating behind them, and Fleur was propping up Bill while Sirius and Vivienne were keeping an eye out for more animals. Both Veela had transformed, their inhuman heads moving like raptors'.

Hermione's voice rang out over the radio. "Sirius, we're pulling out of the crater, towards the east, meeting up with you on the way."

Harry's godfather acknowledged the message, then turned to the group. "We need to move."

"Just give me a minute and I'll be able to walk," said Bill, before anyone could ask.

"You've beaten the curse?" Ron asked, his strained voice betraying his concern.

"Wasn't a curse. It was Mummy Rot spores, and a few caught me before I could vanish the cloud. I didn't have a counter-agent on me, so I had to deal with them with my wand." Bill was still breathing heavily, his face covered with sweat. He didn't look like he was fully cured, but he might just be exhausted, Harry thought. Either way, he'd slow them down, unless they levitated him as well. Which meant another wand would be occupied while they moved.

Bill groaned, closed his eyes, and took a few more deep breaths before shaking his head. "Alright, I can walk."

"Can you run?" Sirius asked.

Bill grimaced, then pulled a vial out of his pocket and downed it. He shuddered for a few seconds, then sighed. "Yes."

Harry glanced at Ron. His friend was frowning, but didn't comment.

"Let's go!" Sirius pointed towards the path they had come through. "I'll follow the path we took here, so we won't walk into another trap." Without another word, the wizard changed into his animagus form and the large black dog trotted off, with Vivienne close behind.

Harry looked at Ron. "I'll bring up the rear."

His friend nodded at him, then started after Sirius, followed by Bill, who was still a bit shaky on his feet, and Fleur, who was levitating Rookwood.

"They're not listening to us. Seamus, place a few bombs at our position here! Tania, suppress the houngans at the forest's edge!" Harry heard Hermione over the radio. So, they would have to fight the houngans. He had expected that.

Harry was actually glad that Bill was not that quick on his feet, even with the potion he had taken - it made it easier for him to keep an eye on their flanks and rear while moving. They might be able to avoid traps thanks to Padfoot's nose, but animals could move. And so could houngans and their zombies.

He was tempted to leave a few traps of his own - pit traps, mainly - but if Hermione wanted to move the entire group back this way then that would be a bad idea. Even if it would be very easy to create such traps with his wand.

Movement to his left, up in the trees, made him whip his wand up - more of those animals? Blood Apes? Something was moving there, hidden by the foliage, but he couldn't tell what. No houngans though - his spell would have noticed them. He flicked his wand, a Cutting Curse slicing through the nearest tree at an angle. The entire treetop fell down, and he could see several human-sized figures smashing into the ground. Almost out of reflex, he cast a Fire Whip, then flicked his wand, the magical flames lashing out at the figures, cutting them apart and setting them ablaze.

They didn't scream, but one of them kept moving. Undead, then.

"Inferi to the southeast of our position," he announced over the radio.

"How many?" Hermione asked.

"Can't tell," Harry answered. "They're in the trees."

He caught up to the rest of the group, who were now glancing to their left. Fleur, still transformed, tried to take to the air, but as soon as she rose higher than a yard or two, the wind pressed her down again - with enough force to send her sprawling. The Veela screeched with anger and frustration, before getting up and peppering the treetops to the southeast with fireballs. Harry couldn't tell if she hit anything, but at least it would hinder the enemy some. Vivienne followed her example.

They crossed the path leading to the library several times as Sirius led them through the jungle, until they heard gunfire in front of them.

"We can hear your shots," Sirius announced on the radio, "we're close - watch your fire."

A minute later, the first markers were showing up - and Harry tensed up. He was reasonably certain that those were the rest of their group, but… if houngans had managed to get between them…

But he had to cover the rear. He hadn't spotted any undead or animals near them for several minutes, but that could change at any moment.

"If that's you in the trees," he heard Sirius say over the radio, "then conjure a flock of birds!"

Harry didn't see any birds, but apparently there were some since Sirius led the group further ahead, and soon he saw Justin, Sally-Anne and most of the new recruits - Timothy, Celia, Mary-Jane and Emily. They were looking a bit 'wild-eyed' - this was their first real battle. And they had already taken casualties as well.

"Hermione's bringing up the rear," Justin said, erecting a few walls with his wand. "She tried to talk to the houngans."

"Merlin's balls! Zombies to the east!" Ron yelled.

Harry whirled around, and his eyes widened. There was a line of zombies moving through the jungle, straight towards them. Dozens, no, hundreds of them. And they were more of them coming from behind them - they had caught up to their group.

*****​

Ron Weasley wanted to push on, towards the southwest. Towards Hermione. The jungle was crawling with zombies, and if she was cut off and surrounded… but she'd call for help in that case, and she was with Aberforth. He clenched his teeth and sent a tree toppling with a volley of Cutting Curses, blocking the approach of another group of Inferi. "Vivienne! They're bunching up behind the tree trunk there!"

The Veela didn't hesitate, sending a dozen fireballs into the undead, setting them afire and adding to the smoke covering the battlefield. If not for his Bubble-Head Charm, Ron would be retching from the stench of burning flesh.

He glanced around, but couldn't spot any new enemies right then. The foliage above them had been ripped apart by spells and the wind spells were making flight impossible, so there wouldn't be any enemies taking to the treetops… unless someone disillusioned them.

Frowning, he cast a few more Blasting Curses at the canopy. Better safe than sorry. Not that he could tell if, among the branches and tree fragments falling down, there were enemies caught by his attack anyway. Vivienne left to rejoin Sirius, a bit further to the south.

Was that movement to the east? More Inferi? How many had the houngans created? Had they raised all the dead of the island? Markers appeared floating above the figures. No zombies, then. Not the Inferi variant, at least. "Houngans to the east!" he yelled into his radio while he crouched behind a tree stump.

A flick of his wand transfigured the wood into steel. Another raised the earth nearby, forming a low wall. Two Resistance members - Timothy and Celia - sprinted towards him, rifles in hand, and took cover to his left.

"Suppress them!" Ron yelled.

The two hesitated a moment, then rose with their rifles and started to fire short bursts at the houngans, who had advanced in the meantime. He saw one of the enemies fall before thick black smoke hid all of them.

Ron scoffed, and blew the smoke away with a gust of wind, exposing two houngans crouching near the fallen. Timothy and Celia quickly shot the two, their Shield Charms not standing up to the rifle fire. He blinked - that was too easy. Those were too weak…

He glanced up, already rolling to the side, but no enemy was pouncing at him from above. So, not a distraction, then. Or not for that. "Change position!" he yelled, standing up to send a few curses at the enemy - more to make them dodge and keep their heads down than with any hope of hitting one of them - while Timothy and Celia sprinted towards a tree a little way behind him.

They set up a firing position there, and it was Ron's turn to sprint back. Just as he was starting to run, the earth beneath him exploded, and he was thrown forward, and into a fallen log, hard enough for his Shield Charm to shatter. He felt something in his shoulder break, and pain laced his entire left side as he rolled over the rocky ground.

Gritting his teeth, he raised an earthen wall to grant him cover, then dragged himself further back, towards the others, trying to ignore the pain. "I'm hurt!" he yelled, clumsily pushing the button of his radio with his right hand while holding his wand. "We need reinforcements here!" Timothy and Celia couldn't hold off the houngans. Not by themselves.

"On the way!" he heard Justin yell, and a few seconds later, he saw the former Hufflepuff appear to his right, followed by Sally-Anne and Mary-Jane. Sally-Anne waved her wand, and Ron felt himself pulled towards her while the other two passed him. He grunted through clenched teeth at the pain it caused as he was pulled through the underbrush, before being deposited at the first aid station they had prepared earlier.

"Sorry," Sally-Anne mumbled, without sounding as if she was, as she waved her wand over him. "Broken shoulder… Hold still."

He refrained from snapping at her - it wasn't as if he wanted to move, considering how painful that was. Then his shoulder felt as if it was on fire, and he yelled with pain.

"Hold still!" Sally-Anne jabbed her wand at his shoulder once again, and the pain started to subside. "There! Almost as good as new!"

He panted while he clutched his shoulder, squeezing it while the pain slowly faded. "Thanks."

She nodded at him, then stood up. "Now where did your stupid brother go?"

She sounded remarkably like Pomfrey, Ron noted. Probably something about healing people. "I don't know," he answered. "Probably with Harry at the rear." Which would soon turn into the front.

"Ron!"

He knew that voice! Hermione! He whirled around, heedless of the pain that caused to his freshly mended shoulder bones, and saw her standing at the entrance, staring at him.

"I'm alright!" he said, looking her over. Her fatigues were covered with mud, but she didn't look hurt. She was fine. Safe. Here. He took a step towards her, opening his arms.

But before he could embrace her, screams filled the radio channel.

*****​

Hermione Granger jerked when she heard the screaming. That was… Timothy? She wasn't certain. But someone, probably Celia, was trying to talk over the radio as well. Throat microphones were needed, she thought. That would solve this problem.

She keyed her own radio and was about to tell them to use a Silencing Charm when the screaming suddenly cut off, and she heard Justin's clipped voice: "A dozen houngans are advancing on our position. Timothy got cursed, bad. We're falling back. Need reinforcements."

Sally-Anne gasped, already moving.

Ron passed her as well. "Follow me!"

For a moment, she wanted to tell him off - he had just been healed, after all. But she didn't, and followed them instead. The others needed them.

"Start falling back towards the northeast!" she ordered over the radio while ducking around a broken tree trunk. They couldn't stay and let the houngans encircle them - they had to punch through the lines and move out of range of the Anti-Apparition Jinxes. As fast as possible. Aberforth, Tania and Seamus would have to serve as rearguard.

She followed Sally-Anne through some underbrush, and had to dive to the ground at once - they had almost stumbled into the enemy lines. A flick of her wand raised earth walls as cover while she glanced around. Where were the others?

Then she spotted them and wished she hadn't. Timothy - she thought it was him - was writhing on the ground, about twenty yards away from her. His limbs had rotted off, and he was waving his stumps around, screaming without making any sound. Someone, probably Justin, had cast a Silencing Charm on him.

Sally-Anne screamed as well, and started to crawl towards him. Hermione saw a yellow spell pass over her friend's head, and another spell turned a bush behind her to stone. She thought about pulling out her rifle, but… she needed her wand more in such close quarters. And Celia was already firing her own rifle, up ahead, while Ron was busy dealing with an attempt to flank them from the south. They needed to get moving before they lost contact with the rest and ended up cut off.

Hermione sent a volley of Blasting Curses at the closest houngans - thirty yards, she estimated. The explosions sent them sprawling, one of them not getting up while the other two hastily retreated behind two thick trees which had fallen, one ending up over the other, forming a barrier on the ground. She had to change position herself to avoid the curses raining down on her from a houngan who had managed to climb a tree to the northeast, and after a particular close near-miss, she had to recast her Shield Charm behind a hastily conjured stone wall. She crawled through a bush while the wall was slowly eaten by acid spells.

Ron was falling back towards her, taking out the houngan in the tree with a Reductor Curse that blew up the branch the other wizards was crouching on, filling him with splinters and sending him tumbling down ten yards. He didn't get up afterwards.

The two who had taken cover behind the logs hadn't changed position - she could see their markers floating above them. She was tempted to cast a few more Blasting Curses, turn the logs into shrapnel… but they'd expect that, wouldn't they? Instead, she turned the earth beneath the logs into water, turning the entire area into an impromptu pool which rapidly became a mudhole. Then she pulled out a Molotov cocktail and banished it over the now floating logs after which she turned the water into petrol.

The screams of the two houngans caught in the mud didn't last long, the floating markers above them quickly winking out. She clenched her teeth, turned a bush into a spreading cloud of thick smoke, and made her way towards where Sally-Anne was treating Timothy.

Or trying to, she corrected herself when she reached them - Timothy had been reduced to a head set on a rotting mound of flesh and bones and shriveling skin. To Hermione's horror, he was still alive, still screaming soundlessly, blood pouring out of his mouth. Sally-Anne was crying while she tried to stop the curse, casting spell after spell.

"Hermione! Nothing is working! I can't stop the curse!"

And they couldn't stay here, not with the jungle filling with houngans and their creatures, and the main force already moving.

They couldn't save Timothy. Hermione knew it. There was only one thing left that they could do.

"Stupefy!"

The red spell hit his forehead, and she saw the wizard's eyes close. "Move!" she yelled at Sally-Anne.

"But…"

"Move! We can't stay. Go to Justin!"

Sally-Anne stood up, tears running down her cheeks, and started running towards Justin and Celia, who had fallen back further, to the north. The witch was moving as they had trained to, sprinting from cover to cover, Hermione noticed.

Where was Ron? There! He had just blown another tree apart, the crashed treetop blocking the line of sight to the advancing enemy, and was running towards her. She swished her wand, creating a few pit traps behind Ron.

He jumped behind the earth wall she had created, panting. "Are the others already… Merlin's balls!" She saw him staring at the remains of Timothy. There was nothing left but some amorphous mass of rotting flesh and some bone and skin fragments.

She wanted to hold him, reassure herself that he was unhurt, alive. But there was no time. "We need to move." She conjured a few smoke clouds - red and green ones, to make the houngans think they were poisonous - and nodded towards the north.

He was muttering curses behind her as they rushed through the underbrush, towards where the others were waiting for them.

*****​

Harry Potter flicked his wrist and his Fire Whip Spell cut another Inferius apart. The burning pieces dropped to the ground, where they'd flop and twitch around until they turned to ashes - he didn't watch, but instead focused his attention on his next target, after a quick glance upwards, to check for enemies above him.

Near him, Padfoot suddenly changed back into Sirius, waving his wand while yelling: "Disillusioned Inferi ahead of us!" A cloud of red smoke appeared between the treetops and the ground, around fifty yards away.

At once, Harry raised the Elder Wand and sent a Blasting Curse at the ground beneath the cloud. Dust and earth were thrown up, briefly obscuring the area, and an already damaged tree toppled over. A second later, Sirius dispelled the Disillusionment Charm, and five dozen zombies appeared - three of them on the ground, missing limbs.

Vivienne, in her raptor-form, screeching what Harry thought was a French battlecry, buried all of them in fireballs, leaving the entire area burning. Harry hissed - they had to move through that area, unless they wanted to brave more traps to the west, where the Library lay, or face the enemies trying to close with them from the south. He flicked his wrist and sent streams of water at the burning area.

Sirius changed into Padfoot, sprinted ahead, then changed back. "I don't smell any other Inferi around," Harry heard him report over the radio.

He wondered why the houngans hadn't disillusioned more of their undead zombies - they would have been far more effective that way. Maybe most of the Inferi they were fighting had been stored underground, like the others, and not brought in by houngans after they had been alerted?

He shook his head, moving quickly to catch up with Sirius and Vivienne. This was no time to dwell on such things. Not when they needed to break through the enemy line. Behind him, Bill and Fleur were securing their flank - and setting fire to other parts of the jungle. And Ron, Hermione and the Resistance would be moving west of them. Except for those who had already been killed.

They passed the area where the remains of the Inferi they had just destroyed were still smouldering. Harry's Water-Making Spell had turned part of the ground into mud, and he had to struggle a little to keep up his pace. The humid air wasn't helping either.

Movement ahead of them drew his attention and he stepped behind a tree, pressing himself against the burned bark. Figures moved through the woods. The markers floating above them confirmed that that they were not Inferi. "Houngans ahead. Fifty yards!" he informed the others. They were moving cautiously, from cover to cover, conjuring some where it wasn't available. If not for the markers, Harry wouldn't have seen half of them.

"Bill, Fleur - move up and flank them from the south!" Sirius ordered. "We'll hold them in place. Conjuration and Transfiguration."

Harry wanted to blast the enemies apart - his wand almost moved by itself - but if he did that, he would ruin Sirius's plan. So he conjured a dozen venomous snakes. He ignored their grumbling about how vile humans tasted and sent them against the houngans while staying in cover. With a bit of luck, they wouldn't be detected in the underbrush before they bit someone. He sent a few more after them.

Sirius, of course, choose to conjure something flashier - Harry heard lions roar, and saw the houngans spread out, spells flying from their wands as they reacted to the attacking cats. Harry saw a huge thing drop down from the trees ahead, straight on a houngan. Too big for a Blood Ape, but of similar shape - and quickly killed, it seemed. More might have been in the trees - but the houngans set them on fire.

Then Harry's snakes entered the fray. One of the houngans collapsed, screaming loudly. The rest started to send curses at the ground. Harry was grateful that the snakes were too far away for him to understand their pained words as they were killed.

Nevertheless, they had done their task - Fleur and Bill were in position now. While the Veela threw half a dozen fireballs at the centre of what was left of the houngans' formation, Bill cast curses Harry didn't recognise.

"Now!" Sirius yelled, standing up behind the rock that served as cover for him, his wand weaving. Harry slid around the tree trunk, smearing more ash on his clothes, and unleashed curses of his own at the disarrayed and partially exposed enemies. One of them decapitated a houngan who was trying to put out the fire licking at his clothes, another missed his target, but caused the witch to jump away - straight into a curse of Sirius's that dropped her to the ground in a cloud of blood.

Vivienne's fireballs joined Fleur's, and the remaining houngans didn't last long in the crossfire, their shields shattering under the assault. The last of them tried to run, but Harry caught him in the back with a Bludgeoning Curse that broke the man's spine as it smashed him into a fallen tree trunk.

Sirius changed to Padfoot and raced ahead, quickly covering the ground between them and the fallen houngans. Harry was close on his heels and threw himself into cover as soon as he reached him, almost ending on top of a charred corpse. He fought not to retch at the sight and rolled over, peering over the rock that hadn't saved the dead enemy. The area ahead of them seemed clear, and through the wrecked foliage, he could see a slope rising a few hundred yards ahead of them. That should take them out of range of the wind trap so they could outfly the Anti-Apparition Jinxes, Harry thought.

Bill and Fleur were already moving past him, towards a tall, thick tree northwest of their position.

"I don't see any enemies," Harry said, pushing the button of his radio.

"Seems clear here too," Sirius added.

"Nothing here ei-Fleur!"

Harry whipped his head around. Fleur was on the ground clawing at her throat, barely protected by a stone wall Bill must have conjured. The Curse-Breaker was frantically casting at the Veela while the wall shook under the impact of more curses coming from the trees at the base of the ridge.

Harry added a cloud of smoke to obscure them from their enemies' sight, then started to dart from cover to cover, sending Blasting Curses at the enemies' positions.

"It's a Strangling Curse! But I can't dispel it!" Bill yelled over the radio. "I don't know why!"

Harry clenched his teeth, conjured a stone wall between himself and the enemy, and then rushed over to their position, sliding the last few yards over the ground.

"I can't dispel it!" Bill repeated himself while Fleur looked like she was trying to tear out her own throat. For a moment, Harry thought about punching a hole in her chest, into her lung. He had seen that on a TV show, once. No, he had no idea how to do that without killing her. He pointed his wand at her instead.

"Finite! Finite! Finite!"

He was shouting the Incantation. It had worked when Ron had been cursed by Voldemort. It should work here as well - none of the houngans were a match for the Dark Lord!

"Finite! Finite! Finite!"

He saw Fleur gasp, taking a deep breath, and smiled with relief.

Then the earth around him erupted, and he found himself flying through the air, with Bill, Fleur and the remains of the stone wall and several trees - right into what felt like a hurricane.

*****​

For a horrible moment Harry felt as if he were inside a giant blender. The wind was throwing him around, head over heels, stone and wood fragments were smashing against his Shield Charm, and he lost all sense of orientation, barely managing to hold on to his wand before he crashed into the ground. The impact knocked the breath out of him and shattered his shield. He rolled on the ground, frantically waving his wand to recast his Shield Charm as larger rocks and parts of trees hit the ground all around him.

One rock hit his shoulder, and the pain wrecked his casting. He grit his teeth and tried again, finishing the spell despite something hitting his leg. A wave of his wand conjured a stone shelter, protecting him from the deadly rain, and he finally could tend to his wounds.

The shoulder was easy - bruised and dislocated. He had had the same wound in Quidditch training, or with Moody, often enough, and it took no more than two spells to set and numb it. The splinter piercing his leg was more difficult. When he summoned the shard, it didn't slide smoothly back out of his leg but ripped an even worse wound on its way out. Staunching the bleeding took half a dozen spells, and he felt so light-headed afterwards, he had to quaff a Blood-Replenishing Potion.

But he could walk again and he could cast again. But Sirius, and the others… He reached for his radio, then noticed that he had lost the headset. He tried to summon it, but failed - it must have been destroyed. Cursing, he crawled out of the shelter, wand ready, and gasped at what he saw. The storm above had abated, but the ground had been torn up by rocks and parts of trees. Where were his friends? And where were the houngans?

A volley of curses flying at him answered the latter question. He threw himself forward, dodging two yellow curses which hit the ground behind him, into a roll. His Shield Charm flared up as it deflected another curse, and he jumped behind the remains of a tree, reinforcing it with conjured stone before he came to a stop.

And just in time - a wave of fire washed over his makeshift cover and, despite his shield, he felt the heat on his exposed skin. Snarling, he sprinted back the way he had come, sending two Blasting Curses at the closest enemy's position before diving behind his shelter. More curses pelted the stone walls, and he ducked low, then rose and lashed out with a Fire Whip Spell that cut down the last tree that had survived the enemy's onslaught - and caught a houngan out in the open. The wizard's shield failed to protect him and he fell down. Harry saw the marker floating above the man disappear before he ducked behind the stone walls again.

More curses flew over his head. Too high to hit him - by design. Another curse hit the ground behind him, turning it into a fizzling, smoking puddle. He vanished the entire area, then pressed himself against the wall when spears and arrows rained down on his position, two splintering against his shield. Someone was trying Banishing Charms, but couldn't aim well enough. But if they used them on bottles of poison or acid...

He couldn't stay here - the houngans could fix him in place, and reduce his cover or flank him. Or both. They probably were trying to do so already, outside his view. But where were Sirius and the others? He saw two markers to the west, above the remains of a group of trees. By his estimate, they were outside the range of the enemies' Human-presence-revealing Spells. But if he ran towards them, he'd give away their position.

He couldn't stay, he couldn't go west, there were more enemies to the east… Harry snorted. They wouldn't expect him to charge straight at them, and if he covered the ground between his position and theirs in smoke… He just had to be quick enough, and lucky enough, to get within their ranks…

Shots fired nearby interrupted his plans. Shots fired at the houngans.

*****​

Ron Weasley rushed forward while Tania laid down covering fire with her light machine gun, supported by Celia and Emily with their rifles. Harry was lying behind the crumbling remains of a stone shelter, and by the looks of the devastation around him, the houngans had bombarded his position with dozens of Blasting Curses - the ground looked like it had been ploughed up by giants.

He was casting a few spells himself as he navigated the treacherous ground, toppling a tree with a Reductor Curse, then slid into cover next to Harry. "Mate! Are you hurt?" His trousers were covered with blood and mud.

"Not any more," his friend answered, shaking his head. "Those are experienced houngans, not curse fodder. Bill and Fleur were in the middle of this, when it blew up..."

Ron hissed. His brother had been… He looked around. There were two markers floating above some downed trees, and other markers closing in on them, from his own group. But Harry had been with Bill, Fleur, Sirius and Vivienne… "Let's fall back, before we get hit here!"

"We can't stay here," Harry continued. "But with the others rolling up their eastern flank, we can hit them from the west."

They conjured smoke clouds, raised a few walls to provide hard cover, then sprinted back towards the treeline. Not towards the markers there - they wouldn't lead the enemies to them. The shelter blew up behind them and Ron changed direction, heading more eastwards, then turning south again. Something started to break through the soil in front of them, something made up of bones. Ron hit it with a Reductor Curse and sped up some more.

He reached the treeline before Harry - who wasn't quite as unhurt as he had claimed, as Ron should have known - and slid behind a rock there, pulling out his rifle to cover Harry. His friend broke through the underbrush, then veered west. Ron followed him at once, slinging the rifle on his back and covering their right with his wand. It wasn't far.

"Sirius!"

"Harry! Stop! He's wounded!"

That was Hermione! Ron slid around the fallen tree Harry had jumped over, and saw that the witch was standing between Harry and Sirius - and Vivienne. They were lying on the ground, not moving, and Sally-Anne was waving her wand over them. Justin was there as well - apparently, he was the one now levitating Rookwood's bound form.

"How…" Harry didn't finish his question.

"They're alive, but badly hurt. No curses, but… broken bones, bleeding…" Sally-Anne looked briefly at Hermione before returning her attention to the two on the ground. "I'll need more time to fix them here."

Ron saw Hermione bite her lower lip. "Can you transport them?"

Sally-Anne drew a hissing breath. "Not right now." She kept casting, and her expression didn't change.

"Alright." Hermione spat out orders over the radio. "We need to hold here until we can move the wounded. We're facing experienced houngans - probably their leaders - in the northeast. Seamus, Tania, Emily, Mary-Jane - fall back and secure our rear! Justin, Celia - cover Sally-Anne and the wounded! Keep an eye on the west as well. Everyone else - we need to find Fleur and Bill and push the houngans back!"

Where could his brother be? He wasn't answering on the radio. Ron followed Hermione to the edge of the treeline, and looked around. He couldn't spot any sign of the missing couple. Maybe… no. He had to keep his hopes up. They would find them.

Hermione created a trench in front of the treeline, and slid down into it, pulling out her rifle. Ron joined her, and saw a few curses already flying towards them, although none came close - they were too far for anyone to reliably hit them using a wand. A decent range for rifles, though.

"So… fire and move?" he asked, quoting the Major.

"Yes, but we won't advance," Hermione answered as Harry joined them. "We'll fix them and move to the northwest, so we can catch them in the flank should they cross the open area." She nodded towards the south. "They'll be distracted."

Ron turned his head and gasped when he saw the wizard who stepped out from the treeline. Was that… impossible! No, it was Aberforth - but he had coloured his beard and robes!

"Move!" Hermione said, standing up to fire at the houngan positions. Ron and Harry dashed along the trench, Harry elongating it with his wand as they advanced. After a dozen yards, Ron stood up and started firing, using short bursts, as the Sergeant had taught him. He doubted that he hit anyone, though - not that it was needed; it seemed every houngan was casting at Aberforth. The old wizard was moving back and forth in front of the treeline, deflecting curses with conjured obstacles while sending spells of his own back at the houngans. Ron saw several trees starting to move, their branches growing and flailing like the Whomping Willow's. At least one body was hit by them, and sent flying.

Ron's rifle ran out of ammo and he slid down into the trench to reload. Hermione had passed him, and was now behind Harry, getting ready to fire again.

He took a deep breath, and was about to dash towards her when a shriek cut through the noise of the battle, and multiple fireballs exploded ahead of them. Ron froze for a moment. That had been Fleur, and she had sounded as if she had just… no!

He shook his head and started to run.

*****
 
Chapter 65: Endgame
Chapter 65: Endgame

It is quite ironic that, upon closer investigation, the battles fought by the Order of the Phoenix and the Muggleborn Resistance disproved the very ideals for which they claimed to be fighting, namely the equality of all witches and wizards. For the most crucial battles were not decided by the masses that formed the rank and file of either organisation, but by the actions of extraordinary individuals. I would even go as far as to postulate that the vast majority of the forces of any of the factions involved in the Second Blood War could have been removed without significantly altering the outcome. Even the Battle of Dry Harbour Mountains does not deviate from this pattern since it too was decided when the houngan leaders met the leaders of the British force.'
- Excerpt from 'Wizarding Britain in the 20th Century' by Albert Runcorn


*****​

Dry Harbour Mountains, Jamaica, April 26th, 1997

Ron Weasley spotted two markers floating in the forest before they had cleared half the distance to the treeline, but he still almost climbed over Harry and dashed the last twenty yards when his friend wasn't quite as quick to enlarge the trench they were moving through. He held back, though - breaking discipline like that got people killed. Your people.

Although he had gone through three magazines already, and was banishing grenades at the enemy lines. Or simply in the enemy's direction. Ahead of his group, Fleur hadn't let up. Half the forest seemed to be on fire, and she was still screaming, or rather screeching.

Ron raised a wall when they were close enough as Hermione transfigured the rest of the trench into a ramp, and then they were sprinting the last yards into the forest. A slew of curses reduced the wall to rubble, but they were already inside the trees by then, and a few conjured rocks added cover to the concealment the underbrush granted.

He slung his rifle over his shoulder again - a dense forest was a place for wands, not long guns, and he was far more comfortable with a wand to begin with - and hurried ahead, towards the closer marker. He stumbled over a root when he glanced upwards a bit too long, to check for animals or Inferi, but caught himself and dashed on. Behind him, Harry was moving northwards, to secure their flank, but Hermione was following him.

Ron forced his way through a particularly dense bush that left him with bleeding scratches on his face and throat and finally reached the first marker. It was Bill. On the ground, unmoving, and looking like a corpse. If not for the marker, Ron would have thought him dead. "Merlin's balls!" He crouched down, flicking his wand over his brother.

He winced when he finished his casting. Bill was in a really bad way. An arm and a leg smashed - the bones shattered to pieces - three ribs broken, one lung pierced… and those were just the results given by the few spells he knew. Bill probably had internal injuries which were even worse. He might be bleeding inside, even if his open wounds had been closed by Fleur. He certainly looked pale enough, under the blood and mud.

Ron dug a Blood-Replenishing Potion out of his enchanted pocket, unstoppered it, and reached out for Bill's head to pour it down his throat.

"Watch out! He could have spinal injuries!" Hermione exclaimed behind him, and Ron froze for a moment.

Then he shook his head. "Those can be healed. I won't let him bleed to death! Open your mouth, Bill!" he added, even though his brother couldn't hear him, then pulled his mouth open and fed him the potion.

"We need to get him back to Sally-Anne and the others!" Hermione whispered, crouching down next to him. "We can't treat him here."

Ron nodded. "I can transport him back, if… No." He whipped his head around to look at Hermione. "Take him back!" When she opened her mouth to contradict him, he shook his head. "Sirius is down. You're in command. You can't be on the front lines."

He could see her clench her teeth, then nod. "Don't die!" she whispered.

"I won't," he whispered back, before leaning over and kissing her briefly.

Then he was up and running towards Harry and Fleur. And hoping he wasn't too late - or a liar.

*****​

Harry Potter ducked when another curse hit the tree stump he was using as cover and more wooden splinters filled the air behind him - one of them pinging off his shield. He conjured a smoke cloud on his left side, then, when half a dozen curses flew into the cloud, he slid to the right of the stump and rolled over towards a small rock that had been broken off a larger one a minute ago. He rose high enough to cast over the rock and sent a Blasting Curse at the canopy above the enemies' position. Branches and fragments - most of which he turned into green-coloured water - rained down on the houngans.

One houngan in the middle of the affected area jumped up, screaming about poison, and Harry broke his shield with a Piercing Curse right before Fleur incinerated the man with two fireballs.

But that had cost both of them time and given away their latest positions. Harry barely managed to raise a wall in time to absorb another half a dozen curses before scrambling towards a still-standing tree five yards behind him. The wall exploded before he reached the tree, and his shield shattered when two particularly large fragments hit it.

Harry dropped to the ground, vanishing the earth underneath him, and fell two yards, landing on his stomach - but since the curses passing overhead missed him, he considered himself lucky. A twist of his wand turned the walls of his hole into stairs, a swish broke the enemy's line of sight with more walls, and he scrambled out of the hole before someone filled it with real poison.

This time the obstacles lasted until he found better cover, and he was finally out of range of their Human-presence-revealing Spells - since his own now only showed Fleur's marker. Taking a few deep breaths, he numbed his aching side then moved towards the Veela. They had to fall further back, or they'd be outflanked!

The French witch was standing between two tall trees, and launched another volley of fireballs westwards. Harry hoped the enemies there were Inferi, left over from the traps guarding the Library, and not houngans. If they had managed to get around their flank that easily already…

Fleur jumped behind the next tree, closer to Harry. "More enemies west of us!" she yelled at him. "We can take them!"

"We need to fall back!" he retorted.

She shook her head. "Bill needs more time!"

Bill needed his fiancée, Harry thought. But he understood her feelings. And help should be arriving soon - Ron and Hermione wouldn't let them down. "Alright. But we need to move anyway."

The enemy's spells had let up for a few minutes now, but that didn't mean they were giving up. They were probably circling around them outside the range of their detection spells.

Fleur slid around the tree, a fireball in her hand, but, before she could launch it, the ground beneath her broke open and a claw reached for her leg. The Veela jumped back, but the ground she landed on gave way as well, and she toppled over with a scream.

Harry was tempted to let loose his last Bludger, but… the enemy had been proved to be good at targeting them, and if Fleur was wounded to the bone… he couldn't risk it. Instead he waved his wand, and vanished as much of the ground between himself and Fleur as he could.

His spell revealed the fallen Veela - and a dozen monsters which must have burrowed through the earth to reach them. As his wand rose to help Fleur, Harry realised the monsters looked like a cross between giant voles and jaguars.

The Veela was in dire straits. She had managed to push off the monster she had landed on, but hadn't escaped unscathed - the jaguar-sized monster had raked her back, and Fleur was bleeding heavily as she torched it and its closest companion.

Harry blew up two more with a Blasting Curse, before jumping into the hole his spell had left. He had to reach Fleur before she was swarmed by the remaining creatures. One pounced on him, but slid off his recast Shield Charm, and a Piercing Curse to the chest took it out. Another charged at him, but he stopped it with a conjured stone wall, which he blew up right afterwards, the stone shards killing the dazed monster and one more who had come up behind it. That still left half a dozen, and most of them were attacking Fleur.

Harry sent one of those flying with a Banishing Charm, but the others were already too close for him to cast without risking hitting Fleur. He was dashing forward, to get closer, when three of them pounced on her, bringing her down. He saw blood fly, before they and Fleur vanished in a fireball.

Harry cut down the other monsters with a Fire Whip without thinking about it as he raced ahead, then cast Piercing Curses into the smoking carcasses surrounding Fleur, just in case. He knelt down next to her - she was alive, but seriously injured. Not as burned as he had expected - though her clothes had suffered - but the creatures' claws had gouged deep gashes in her body, and she was bleeding heavily. Probably bleeding out.

He waved his wand frantically as he dug into his pockets for another Blood-Replenishing Potion.

"Episkey! Episkey! Episkey!"

*****​

Ron Weasley broke through the underbrush, jumped over a curved root, and landed in a text-book roll on the ground, coming to a stop behind the broken remains of a tree. A bit further ahead he spotted two markers - floating above a hole in the ground. He thumbed his radio. "Fleur? Fleur?"

No answer. Had she lost her radio, or… There was no time to speculate. He couldn't see any other markers around, which meant he was relatively safe from enemy spells. He took a deep breath, then sprinted forward. The rifle on his back hit his side as he ran, annoying, if not really painful. A Sticking Charm would stop that, but would mean he couldn't draw it in a hurry.

A spell grazed his shield and he dropped to the ground, moving some of the earth beneath him into a small wall - which crumpled at once under another spell. A curse - it left sizzling remains. One of them landed on his arm, and started to eat through his sleeve. He banished it with a flick of his wand and deepened the trench, then covered the area in smoke.

It didn't last - a strong wind blew it away before Ron could start to run towards the next cover. In response, he transfigured the earth on the side nearest the enemies into stone and threw up a few thick walls to break the line of sight before he started to run. He still couldn't see their markers, so they couldn't detect his position either.

Behind him a cloud appeared over the trench, quickly descending, and where it touched the ground, the remaining grass wilted. Ron hissed - he was certain he wouldn't fare much better if that touched him, and he didn't want to find out if it could go past a shield.

He disillusioned himself, then conjured a few flocks of birds and sent them back as a distraction. He didn't see whether the wind trap or another cloud got them - he was close to the two markers now and threw himself down into the large hole ahead of him.

He landed on the bloody carcass of some monster - or part of it - and cursed. More such creatures were strewn around the hole, some burning, others ripped apart. But there, under a stone shelter, he could see Harry and Fleur! His friend was whirling around, wand rising, and Ron froze. "It's me, Harry! Ron!" he shouted as loud as he could, and Harry stopped whatever spell he had been about to cast.

"She's badly hurt," he said as Ron closed, "we need to move back - the houngans here are much more dangerous than the ones we fought before."

Harry didn't look that well either, Ron thought, but he nodded. They had to fall back before the houngans spotted them, and buried them under their curses. He raised his own wand. "Levitate her, I'll cover you."

Harry opened his mouth, probably to argue, but Ron stepped out from the shelter and started to transfigure the earth around them into lions, then disillusioned the pack and sent them against the enemy lines. Keeping an eye out for more enemies, he used his radio to inform Hermione and the others. "Harry is taking Fleur back to the first aid station. I'm covering him. The enemies here are very strong!"

"Watch out for flanking enemies!" Harry yelled. He had already disillusioned himself and Fleur, so Ron could only tell where he was by their floating markers.

"Alright!" he yelled back and sent a few more invisible lions to the west.

He looked back when he climbed out of the hole - which was the size of a large crater, now that he considered it - and saw that his lions hadn't made it halfway to the enemies' positions. Nor had their Disillusionment Charms held. Judging by the number of spells cast, there had to be two dozen enemies there, entrenched and ready, blocking off the northeastern route.

They had to find another way out of this trap. And fast.

*****​

Back with Sally-Anne and the others, Hermione Granger listened to Ron's report on the radio and barely refrained from rushing off to help him and Harry. She couldn't break ranks like that, though - she was needed here, in command. Not that she was doing that well in that function, either. Five dead, four wounded - and most of it her fault. She should have been prepared for such a trap - more prepared, at least. And she needed to find a way out of their current predicament. To the west lay the library, and its defences. Traps and monsters. They had dealt with a number of each, but there would be more - and they wouldn't bother the houngans. So trying to head west would be suicide. The escape route she had planned to take, to the northeast, was blocked by powerful enemies, according to Ron's report over the radio. And the rest of the houngans were pushing up from the south and east.

"How are Sirius and Vivienne?" she asked Sally-Anne.

"Stable, but… they won't wake up for a while yet," the witch answered.

Hermione bit her lower lip. Push through as planned, or turn around and charge at the enemies south of them? They seemed to be the weakest, mostly composed of undead and some houngans, held at bay by Seamus, Tania, Emily and Mary-Jane.

She looked east, where Aberforth was still keeping the houngans focused on him with a display of skill and power worthy of his brother. But how long could he hold out by himself?

Noise and movement in the underbrush made her turn around and raise her wand. Justin took a step to the side, behind a tree, setting up a crossfire. Celia was still covering the west. They were expecting Harry, but she couldn't be certain.

It was Harry, dragging a floating Fleur behind him. Hermione hissed through clenched teeth when she spotted the Veela - Fleur looked like she had been put through a blender, with her robes torn and scorched, and covered with blood.

"I've done what I could but…" Harry explained, setting her down. Sally-Anne was already moving, casting, her wand flashing.

"How's the situation up north?" Hermione asked, trying to sound crisp and calm. Panicking would be fatal.

"Bad," Harry answered. "The houngans there are experienced, and entrenched. They sent burrowing monsters at us - those ambushed Fleur - and kept their distance."

Hermione mumbled a curse. If they pushed on… their entire position could easily be overrun. "Can we break through their lines?"

Her friend winced. "They have cleared an area from cover - we'd have to charge their position over open ground."

Even without the Major's lesson Hermione would have known what that meant. She didn't want to reenact the Battle of the Somme. She could call Remus, Tonks and Brown to attack the enemy from the rear, but… they would take too long to get into position.

"I'm almost there!" she heard Ron over the radio. As before, she still aimed her wand at the figure coming through the underbrush - which was now pretty trampled all around - before she recognised him. He looked better than Harry - not quite as beaten up. But if she didn't find a way out of this trap…

He crouched down next to her and Harry, glancing at Bill before looking at them. "I sent a few distractions at the enemy. I don't think they'll be quick to pursue, as entrenched as they are. But they won't wait forever."

She knew that there was no time to waste, but they couldn't rush off blindly. She bit down on her lower lip and took a deep breath. "We need to reverse course and push through the enemy line in the south."

"It'll take us longer to push past the wind trap there," Ron pointed out.

"The enemies there are the weakest. Mostly undead and some apprentices, I think." They certainly hadn't used the curses and tactics Ron and Harry had seen. "Aberforth holds our eastern flank, Tania and Seamus cover our rear - they can mine the forest with explosives to hold them back, or at least delay them - and we push through in the front."

"We?" Harry asked.

"Us three, Celia, Mary-Jane and Emily."

"And we'll transport the wounded?" Justin asked, gesturing at Sally-Anne and himself.

"Yes." Hermione nodded at him. "You can stick all of them and Rookwood on a transfigured palette and levitate that." It would be difficult, but they had trained for that. Not as much as Hermione had wanted, but… it would have to do.

Justin opened his mouth, probably to argue, but then closed it, nodding. He knew that he couldn't leave Sally-Anne alone with the wounded, Hermione thought. She glanced at Harry and Ron. Neither looked happy to leave their family under someone else's protection, but they must know that they had no choice. They were needed in the van, to break through, just as Justin was needed with Sally-Anne - if Hermione fell, he would be able to replace her.

She pushed the button of her radio. "Tania, Seamus - fall back to the aid station, then cover the northeast! We're breaking through in the south. Mine the forest as you follow us. Aberforth - hold our eastern flank. Mary-Jane and Emily - hold position! We'll be right there."

She waited for the others to acknowledge the orders, then nodded at her friends. A moment later, the three of them and Celia were sprinting southwards, passing Tania and Seamus going in the other direction.

A minute later, they spotted two markers - Mary-Jane and Emily. The two witches looked very relieved to see them arrive, and quickly filled them in on the encroaching positions of the enemies.

"Alright. Everyone - we'll release the last of our Bludgers." They wouldn't last that long - the houngans had learned to take them out quickly - but they would at least serve as a distraction. "Celia, Mary-Jane, Emily - you fix them in place. We'll swing around them from the west, and hit them in the flank." She looked around. "Everyone got this?"

She saw them nod, the three new recruits not managing to hide their nervousness - or fear. They would do, though, she told herself. She looked at her friends, then keyed her radio.

"We're attacking now!"

*****​

Harry Potter watched the Bludgers speed towards the enemy line. One Inferi was exposed and hit by the Bludger before they disappeared into the jungle. Shots from the three witches who had released them followed, which should draw more attention from any houngans in the area not dealing with the flying iron balls. He hoped it would be enough of a distraction that he and his friends could cross the area between them and the enemy without getting cursed.

Disillusioned, he slid around the tree he had been using as cover and sprinted along the crater left by Seamus's latest bomb. Ron and Hermione were hot on his heels. Weaving around broken trees and shattered rocks, they reached the treeline occupied by the zombies, and he saw two markers appear in his line of sight - they were in range of the houngans.

He cast a Blasting Curse at the closest marker and it vanished in a cloud of earth and rocks and didn't reappear. Ron moved to his right to cover their southern flank and Hermione crouched down behind a tree trunk - transfigured into steel, he noticed - on his other side. "Celia, Mary-Jane and Emily - we've reached the enemy lines. Hold your fire and move up!" he heard her order.

The second marker had retreated out of range. That was a good sign - the enemy might be breaking. He couldn't see any Bludgers, but at least a few should still be around. Time to push on.

He jumped up and rushed towards a tree peppered with splinters. Halfway there, a figure stumbled out from behind the tree - an Inferius missing an arm - no, an arm missing its bones. He blew the monster's head apart with a Reductor Curse, and it started to collapse in on itself, its bones vanishing. He set it on fire anyway.

"Blimey!" he heard Ron curse nearby, "We better not get cut to the bone ourselves!"

Like in second year, Harry thought, before spotting another undead - this one dragging itself along the ground with its arms, its legs having been turned into flipper-like appendages. He turned the ground beneath it to petrol, then lit it up. When he stepped through the thick smoke rising from the doomed zombie, he held his breath despite his Bubble-Head Charm.

The Bludgers had been working better than he had expected - he saw and dispatched two more crippled Inferi while they pushed eastwards, rolling up the enemy lines.

"Houngans ahead!" he heard Ron yell. A second later, three markers appeared in range and a tree between him and his friend shattered, the splinters bouncing off their Shield Charms. Harry raised a stone wall in front of the enemy, blocking their line of sight while he moved to the left.

Predictably, the wall was blown apart almost instantly, but the resulting dust cloud obscured them from the enemies a bit longer. Long enough for Harry to conjure half a dozen snakes inside the cloud.

Ron had moved further south, and was casting several spells at the houngans - colourful, flashy ones, meant to draw their attention. When they answered with curses of their own, driving Ron into cover, Harry rushed forward at an angle, raising an earth wall to cover himself. Halfway to the enemy position he heard the snakes scream obscenities as they attacked - and he noticed more markers. Half a dozen, in total.

His wall shuddered as spells impacted it, and Harry threw himself behind a new one before it crumbled. He rolled over the muddy ground, transfiguring a tree in the way into a cloud of smoke. A flick of his wand turned it bright green, and a swish blew it towards the houngans. He could see markers - and in some cases houngans in their white clothes - moving back, away from him and the cloud, to the east. They were breaking.

Snarling, he sprinted towards the enemy lines, past dead snakes, and caught a straggler with a Fire Whip. His spell shattered the man's shield and cut him apart. Ron came up from the south, his Reductor Curse decapitating another houngan who had come out from cover.

One witch broke from cover and ran to the east. Harry sent a curse after her, but missed. Then shots rang out from north, and the witch's shield flared as the bullets smashed into it. A few steps later, the shield failed and the witch toppled over, struck by more bullets. Hermione appeared behind a tree, waving at Harry before vanishing a large rock and exposing another houngan. The three witches with her killed him with several bursts.

Harry spotted movement to his right - another houngan making a break for it. Ron missed him with a Cutting Curse. Harry's next Fire Whip - he was starting to really like that spell - didn't and her head and part of her shoulder flew through the air as the rest of her crumpled.

The remaining houngan rushed southwards. Harry tried to line up a shot, but there were too many trees between him and the fleeing enemy. Mary-Jane and Emily were closer, though, and gave chase. Harry heard them fire, but he saw all three markers still moving through the jungle.

"We've taken their position!" Hermione yelled into her radio near him. "Everyone, move south, we're breaking out! Mary-Jane, Emily - fall back..."

Her words were drowned out by a horrible noise as trees, earth and rocks were thrown into the air, into a hurricane forming above. Like before, when Fleur had been cursed. "Take cover!" he shouted, conjuring a stone shelter around his friends and himself. Soon wood and rock fragments rained down on them, smashing against the stone walls and ceiling protecting the small group.

It didn't last long, less than a minute, but when Harry rushed out again, he found the area to the south razed, the jungle turned into a broad no-man's land more fitting the Somme - or the northern area Fleur had almost died in.

"They were waiting for us. Those houngans were just curse-fodder," Ron muttered.

An amplified voice rang out over the area as the last remnants of the hurricane died down: "You cannot escape! Surrender!"

Harry hissed. He knew that voice. Reid.

*****​

Ron Weasley stared. A whole strip of the jungle had disappeared, turned into a wasteland covered with rocks and broken trees. Mary-Jane and Emily had been in the middle of it, chasing that fleeing houngan, when the area had erupted, but he couldn't see any trace of them… there! A green speck. He pulled out his Omnioculars and zoomed in. There was a figure, near a rock, dark hair… "I see Mary-Jane!" he yelled, and pointed out her position. He saw one of her arms move slightly. "She's still alive!"

"We need to get her!" Harry yelled. Ron's friend was already moving forward when Ron saw a curse hit Mary-Jane. The witch blew up in a cloud of blood and fragments of bone and flesh.

"Reid," Harry spat, ducking back behind a tree, while Ron swallowed, watching the red cloud cover half of a rock and the earth around it.

"The wounded are on the way to us," Hermione said near them. "We can't reverse direction again - we don't have enough space left to reform our formation. We have to break through here."

"They'll already have monsters burrowing towards us," Harry told her. "We need to block them with steel barriers underground."

"Do it!" Hermione ordered.

"It's a killing ground," Ron said, studying the field and looking for Emily. "We can't cross that in the face of their curses, not quickly enough to avoid getting hit - or running into traps."

"We have to," Hermione replied. "We can't stay here."

Seamus's voice over the radio interrupted them. "I've placed a bomb in the path of the enemy, but the radio detonator isn't working - none of them are!"

Hermione hissed, then spoke into her radio: "They must have placed wards to block electronics as they advance."

"Shite!" Ron heard Seamus curse, then scoff. "I've got an idea about this!"

"What?" Hermione asked after he didn't go on. "Seamus?"

"Seamus! What are you doing?" Tania yelled over the radio. "Seamus! Come back!"

"He must already be inside the ward," Hermione said.

Ron turned to look northwards. What was Seamus planning? Ron didn't know much about explosives, but the Irishman was the closest to an expert the Resistance had. Apart from Hermione.

Before he could ask her, a massive explosion erupted in the north, smoke rising into the hurricane zone, where the winds rapidly dispersed it. It had been bigger than the one which had taken down the houngans' wards, Ron thought. "Could he have…"

"Tania, can you see Seamus?" Hermione asked in a clipped tone.

"No. He rushed forward, reached the explosives, and a moment later they blew up. No marker." Tania's voice seemed to lack any emotion, or so Ron thought. He could hear her machine gun firing over the radio. "They seem to have stopped advancing, but I cannot hold them back by myself."

"Fall back to us!" Hermione ordered. She turned to Ron again. "That means we can't banish a bomb at their lines to blow a hole into them."

"There's something moving to the west of us!" Celia yelled.

Ron turned around and studied the area through his Omnioculars. There definitely was something moving there. A few Inferi, probably.

"Aberforth has joined us," Justin announced over the radio. "He's wounded, but can walk and cast. We're almost at your position."

That meant that the eastern side was collapsing as well, Ron knew. He hissed through his clenched teeth.

"There can't be that many houngans left," he heard Hermione say. "This island only has two and a half million inhabitants. The British Isles have almost sixty-two million. The magical populations should be proportional, even accounting for the houngans' past kidnappings and the losses Britain suffered in two wars. They have always depended on zombies and voodoo curses to hold their own against their enemies."

"But it looks like all of the houngans are here," Harry replied. "At least the ones who can fight."

"It's their most sacred place." Hermione nodded. "But they'll have spent most of their forces. And they have to hold a long line. We can break through here. We have to."

"We'll take casualties charging over that open, broken terrain," Ron said. "And we can't use Fiendfyre on their position - it'd burn down the whole jungle." Including them. And bombs would be useless as well. But, he added silently to himself, if he was the last one standing, and about to die, he'd leave it as a parting gift for the damned houngans.

Ron heard Hermione call Remus and Tonks and tell them to get ready to attack the houngans in the rear - they could apparate to the location where Brown had done the ritual; the houngans were north of it.

"Brooms."

He turned to Harry. "What?"

"Brooms." Harry repeated and looked at him. "We have two Firebolts. Best broom on the market. We've flown in a storm before."

Ron hissed. That had been a Quidditch match to remember, and the storm hadn't been as powerful as the one waiting above their heads. But… it was possible. They just had to stay roughly on course, and a Firebolt might be powerful enough to push against the wind trap. Might be. He nodded.

"Can you do this?" Hermione was staring at them, biting her lower lip. Behind her, Ron could see Justin moving through the underbrush. They were running out of time.

"Yes." Harry sounded certain.

Ron met her eyes and nodded. "Yes." They had to. He stepped up to her and kissed her, tasting blood - she had bitten her lips bloody.

He hoped it wasn't an omen.

*****​

Behind a conjured barrier of steel and stone, Harry Potter pulled out his Firebolt and mounted it then took a deep breath. He glanced at Ron and Hermione. The two were still kissing and he fought the urge to tell them to hurry. This might very well be the last kiss they shared… he shook his head. He would make certain it wouldn't be. He looked out, over the broken terrain separating the houngan line from their position. Rocks and tree stumps formed obstacles, some high enough to reach the wind trap above them, faintly visible by the dust and ashes blowing around. They couldn't hug the ground, he knew. The slightest mistake would see them smashed to the ground, beaten against the rocks and wooden shards jutting from the soil.

No, they had to brave the hurricane, trusting their brooms to carry them through. Harry knew they could do it - the Firebolts were the best brooms on the market, miles beyond any competition. They could fly against a storm - but could he and Ron keep them on course, and compensate for the changing forces of the wind trap?

They'd find out in a moment. Ron stepped back from Hermione and Harry found himself in a tight hug. "Don't die," she whispered into his ear before releasing him.

Ron had already mounted his own broom and disillusioned himself. "Ready."

Harry nodded and cast a Disillusionment Charm and Sticking Charm himself. "Let's go."

They shot up over the barrier, straight into the wind trap waiting above. As soon as they reached it, his Firebolt slowed down so much that, for a moment, Harry felt as if he had flown into a wall. The wind tore at him, and if not for his Shield and Sticking Charms, would have torn him off the broom. He gritted his teeth and started to force the shaft down a little, towards the enemy line. He started to move forward - but also lost altitude at the same time.

Pulling up again, he stalled a few times, and almost ended up smashed to the ground when the wind shifted right when he overcompensated. But he managed to recover and pull up in time. And he started to get the measure of the wind - there was a certain rhythm to its attacks. He bared his teeth in a feral grin. He could do this!

He glanced around, spotting his friend's marker some yards away, but also still in the air. They could do it. Pushing the tip of his broom's shaft down a little, he started to accelerate towards the houngans' position, weaving and bobbing above the broken terrain, sometimes being thrown around like a leaf. It would make hitting him with a curse more difficult, he thought with sudden humour.

Then he entered in range of his Human-presence-revealing spell, and half a dozen markers appeared behind the enemy's walls. A target-rich environment, indeed.

*****​

Hermione Granger held her breath as she watched her boyfriend and her best friend fly into the hurricane above them. If this didn't work… she gasped when one of the markers dived down, and only sighed in relief when both markers started to stabilise - as much as one could call their chaotic course stable - and make their way towards the enemy.

She healed her bloody lips almost absentmindedly with a flick of her wand and turned around. Justin and the rest of their force had arrived. Aberforth looked like he had been mangled by one of Hagrid's more interesting animals, but the old wizard was grinning. "The eastern flank should be secure for a little longer - I've left a few surprises for the houngans."

She was relieved to hear that - they needed to hold together for a little while longer, so they could break out of this trap. "Good. Keep an eye on our flanks and rear, Aberforth! Tania, help him!"

The witch nodded with a grim expression. She didn't look as if she expected to survive, Hermione thought.

"Sally-Anne, keep watch over the wounded and the prisoner. Move up as soon as we have secured the enemy's position!" She turned around and looked southwards. Harry and Ron were almost there. She saw curses fly towards them, and forced herself not to gasp. She had to present a confident, unflappable facade for the rest of their group. "Everyone else, get ready - we'll attack in a moment."

She could have done without Justin's mumbled "half a league, half a league, half a league onward" quote, but this wasn't the time to rebuke him. Not when it was just her, him and Celia who'd lead the ground attack. And, despite the myth, the Charge of the Light Brigade had cost the British brigade fewer soldiers than were lost to sickness during the campaign.

She keyed her radio when she saw Harry and Ron's markers reach the enemy lines. "Remus, Tonks - attack now!"

Then she vanished part of the barrier in front of her and started to run towards the enemy.

*****​

Ron Weasley saw three curses pass underneath him as he closed in on the enemy position. Apparently, the houngans assumed that Harry and he were flying far closer to the ground - quite understandably, of course; who would have expected them to be so mad as to brave the storm? Well, anyone who knew what crazy things they had gotten up to as kids at Hogwarts.

Harry was ahead as usual - he was the better flyer - but Ron wasn't too far behind his friend. He looked at the markers from his Human-presence-revealing Spell. Half a dozen were hiding behind what looked like massive walls. The blighters had learned their lessons, he thought as he forced his Firebolt a bit further up, gritting his teeth at the effort it took to keep the broom somewhat on course in the face of the storm tearing at him.

He saw Harry's marker crest the wall and dip down, straight at the closest enemy, and followed suit. Harry wasn't landing though - he didn't even slow down, but seemed to fly straight into the enemy. A moment later, Ron saw a figure appear, sliding down the wall they had been thrown into. He finally dropped below the wind trap's area of effect himself and cancelled both the Sticking Charm holding him fast to his broom's shaft and the Disillusionment Charm - he didn't want to risk friendly fire; especially not from Harry.

Harry had already done the same, and before Ron managed to store his broom, his friend had rushed ahead to a gap in the wall. There was a houngan behind that, and Ron saw a curse miss Harry as he reached the gap. A flick of his wand, and an explosion shook the wall, bits of earth and rocks thrown through the gap, hitting Harry's shield. The marker vanished a moment later.

"One down!" Harry yelled.

Ron looked around. "I spotted five more..." Movement on his other side drew his attention - no marker; Inferi or monster, then. He swung his wand around in time to catch the charging skeleton with a Reductor Curse that left it in twitching pieces on the ground. More of the ugly monsters appeared behind it though. "Reid," he muttered, remembering the houngan's flight from Hogwarts as he cast a Blasting Curse that destroyed two of them and scattered the rest. He was tempted to bury them under conjured stone, but they'd dig themselves out, so he dispatched them with a volley of Reductor Curses as he fell back to Harry. "I've spotted five of them," he repeated. He tried to use his radio, but as expected it wasn't working here.

"Three of them are coming at us in front!" Harry yelled. "And more appear behind them!"

Ron swore and raised a wall to cover their rear before moving to Harry's left side. The houngans had divided the area with several walls, and the ground in front of him was littered with the remains of more skeletons, which had dug themselves out of where they had been buried. A killing ground. They had to clear it before the rest of their force arrived. "Let's remove some of the walls!" he said. He pointed his wand at the base of the wall in front - the one behind which the houngan markers were advancing towards them - and vanished the earth there. Unfortunately, the houngans had anchored the walls far deeper than he had thought - the thing didn't topple. It didn't even shake.

This would be an even closer affair, as the Major would have called it, than Ron had expected. But he had a few tricks left, too. He transfigured the ground in front of the gaps in the walls to petrol, and when the hulking figures of Inferi arrived, he set the ground afire. The monsters kept advancing despite burning, but Harry cut half of them apart with his Fire Whip Spell, and Ron vanished enough earth to trap the other half in a pit.

But the undead had kept them busy long enough for the houngans to clear the gaps, and Ron had to drop to the ground when the first volley of curses flew at him through the smoke from all the burning corpses and petrol. He rolled to the side and returned fire with a Blasting Curse, but none of the markers winked out - not even the one suddenly flying a yard to the side.

A near-miss showered him with dirt - and parts of burning Inferi - and he hastily conjured some cover for himself and changed position. At this range, it didn't help much - he was certain they had their own markers floating above him - but even tagged, a moving target was harder to hit. A wave of acid - or poison - splashed against his shield, and he rolled even further to the side, further away from Harry. They were boxing him in, herding him into a corner, he realised - he had a wall at his back, and on his left side.

Clenching his teeth, he swung his wand and cast an Earth Wave. The ground rippled in front of him, then rose six foot and rushed towards the two houngans firing curses at him. He hadn't aimed it well, and his spellwork hadn't been as precise as he would have liked, but he still clipped one of the enemies - their marker suddenly dropped six feet - and the other fled behind the next wall.

He saw an explosion to the south of them. Remus and Tonks he thought - but that meant, he realised, that there were even more of the buggers that he had thought, if they were fighting Remus and closing in on Harry and him at the same time.

Before he could move skeletal hands shot out of the ground, grasping for him. They slid over his shield, but that wouldn't last too long. He had to move! He jumped up, transfiguring some of the ground into stone and trapping a few limbs, then rushed back towards Harry. Before he had taken more than a few steps though, the ground gave way under him, and he found himself in a pit filled with skeletons; far too close to use any Blasting Curse on them.

He swept his wand around, casting a Fire Whip Spell. It wasn't his favourite spell, nor was he particularly skilled with it, but he managed to cut down half of them before he lost control of it and the whip fizzled out. And that bought him enough time to conjure a pillar of stone right under his own feet and propel himself out of the pit.

He had barely cleared the edge of the pit, though, when his shield shattered and he was flung backwards, sliding over the ground. The other houngan had moved out of cover! Ron had managed to keep his wand and was whirling around when his leg was hit with a curse and he screamed in pain.

Panting, he flailed around. Another curse missed him by a hair's width, and the pain grew even worse as he rolled behind a mound of earth. Screaming again, he pushed his hand into his enchanted pocket and pulled out the self-shaving flying razor Dumbledore had left him, flinging it at the enemy's marker.

He saw several spells miss the small, harmless thing as it flew towards the enemy, and used the time to numb his leg until the pain was bearable. Merlin's balls, the curse had not just ripped off his trousers' leg, but his skin as well!

Snarling, he rolled out of cover, his wand aimed at the enemy. Two Blasting Curses later, the enemy marker winked out and he saw the broken body of a witch in blood-soaked white linen appear. He tried to stand up, but even numbed, his leg would not cooperate.

And he could see more markers floating above the walls. Approaching.

*****​

Hermione Granger hated not knowing what was happening to Harry and Ron, even though she had expected to lose radio contact to them. And her group was not even halfway to the enemy lines themselves - it took more time to navigate the broken terrain than she had expected.

"Watch out for burrowing enemies!" she called out to Justin and Celia. She didn't know how fast the houngans could move their creatures, but the closer they were to the enemy lines, the greater the danger of attacks from underground.

The area really looked somewhat like the fields of the Somme in some of the movies she had watched in Britain. Just without many craters. Uprooted trees lay next to displaced rocks and even boulders. She was moving around a particularly large tree stump when Celia called out: "Oh my god! It's Emily! Emily!"

Hermione looked back and saw the other witch sprinting towards the east. She sighed - the other witch was breaking formation and had apparently forgotten their objective, even though it was a natural reaction to seeing a friend's body.

"She's alive!"

Hermione's first impulse was to signal Sally-Anne and tell Celia to press on. But the Major had told her repeatedly never to give an order that she knew wouldn't be obeyed. So she moved towards Celia as well, with Justin covering their flank. Emily was unconscious, and looked more dead than alive - Hermione could see a branch stuck in the witch's abdomen, blood soaking her uniform at several other spots as well, and at least one leg and one arm were broken - but she was breathing. Celia was casting spells on her already, though Hermione couldn't tell if they were helping much.

"We've arrived, and we're fighting houngans!" Remus sounded over the radio. At least that was going according to plan.

She keyed her radio. "We found Emily. She's alive. Sally-Anne, proceed to our position." She released the button of her radio and turned to Justin. "We need to sink steel walls into the ground, to defend against burrowing creatures as we wait."

They had managed to place two walls, forming a corner, when one of them shook from an impact - below the ground. The creatures had arrived. At least there were no houngans in range. But would the creatures burrow deeper, or up? They couldn't risk them coming up below Celia and Emily. She swished her wand and turned the ground to steel, then stepped to the western edge of the wall.

Nothing was appearing on that side of the wall. "Enemies below!" she signalled the rest of the force. "Careful when crossing the no man's land."

"They're underneath us!" Celia ylled. "I can hear them scratching at the ground, and bumping against it!"

Hermione increased the transfigured area. Depending on their orders, the creatures might continue northwards… or follow them south. That would endanger Sally-Anne and the others. But they couldn't dig them out, not before Emily was safe.

Finally, she saw Sally-Anne approach. She regretted her annoyed thought at once - the witch was levitating the wounded and Rookwood, and making good time given that handicap. But they were exposed here, with an unknown number of monsters underneath them, trying to break to the surface to attack them, and they had to move to support Harry and Ron!

And yet she couldn't leave Emily here. Or Sally-Anne. The latter rushed towards Emily and Celia and shooed the other witch away before casting spells of her own. "She's… oh god, that's bad!"

"How long until you can move her?" Hermione asked, forcing herself to sound cool and collected, no matter how she wanted to press on and leave this area.

"A few minutes at least… that branch needs to come out before we can move her, and once it's out I need to stop the bleeding." Sally-Anne wasn't looking up from Emily's stomach, probing the skin around the wood lodged in there.

"They're breaking through!" Justin yelled.

Hermione whipped around. Monsters with large claws - like oversized moles - were breaking through the earth behind them. For a moment, she froze. Then she drew her rifle and started firing. They had no shields, so bullets would work best.

*****​

Harry Potter cursed his own stupidity. He had allowed himself to be cut off from Ron by some conjured barriers when the houngans had charged them, and now he was facing two of their enemies, with no support of his own. And he had no radio either.

Though he had the Elder Wand, he thought to himself as he blocked another curse with a quickly conjured slab of stone. It vanished in an explosion, and the splinters harmlessly bounced off his Shield Charm. Another wall rose behind him as he moved - they were trying to hem him in - and the attacker took cover behind a stone and earth wall. They were too wide to blow through, Harry had found, but he had other options.

He flicked a Fire Whip to his left, driving the other houngan into cover as well, and conjured several large rocks. A flick of his wand sent them upwards, angled so they'd crest the wall - and the wind trap triggered straight away, sending them down at the hiding houngan.

The rocks wouldn't kill them, but they didn't need to. Harry was already moving when they hit. A swish covered the ground in a fine sheen of mud, and he slid around the corner without losing speed. The houngan there was too slow to react to that and their curse went wide. Harry's volley of Piercing Curses didn't, and he saw a tall man appear, still clutching at the hole in his chest as he toppled over.

The other houngan screamed at the sight, and Harry had to block two curses with another slab of stone. His enemy was exposed though, and had no cover nearby. They tried to duplicated Harry's trick, but he wasn't aiming at them - he was aiming at the wall behind them. His Blasting Curses might not be able to break the wall, but they could break enough of it to shower the houngan with deadly stone shards. Their shield collapsed after the third volley, and the fourth ripped them to shreds.

A few skeletons appeared, but Harry's Fire Whip cut them down before they could even get close. He was getting really good at that spell, he noticed. Far better than in training - but then, he always performed best under pressure.

He looked around. There was one marker floating where Ron had been. Either his friend had taken both of the houngans there down, or… he saw one more marker south of him, but he had to check on Ron. He turned around, trying to find a way back, when wall next to him suddenly toppled over.

Harry's shield saved him, giving him enough time to jump back before he was crushed. The shield shattered though. He conjured an earth wall reflexively, then had to duck when it blew up right away, clumps of dirt pelting him. If that had been a stone wall…

Concealed - or so he hoped - by the dust cloud, he dropped to the ground and recast his Shield Charm. More curses flew past him, and the ground where they hit was covered with sizzling liquid. Acid.

One of the curses hit him, and covered his shield with acid. He rolled over the ground, wiping it clear - and avoided another curse, a Blasting Curse this time. Before he could retaliate, two more spells flew at him and once again only a hastily conjured earthen barrier saved him.

Whoever he was fighting was good. Probably Reid, he thought as he conjured a thick cloud of smoke, obscuring him from view - but also his enemy. But he vaguely knew where the houngan was, and conjured a few snakes nearby.

His smoke cover was literally blown away a second later, and Harry caught a glimpse of a houngan in white robes before walls appeared between them, followed by a dozen Skeletons and Bone Walls advancing towards him. It had to be Reid.

He blew the skeletons and Bone Walls apart with a volley of Reductor Curses while the marker floating above his opponent moved eastward. A gap suddenly opened in the wall his enemy was hiding behind and more curses flew at him. The spells went wide, but the gap closed before Harry could answer with a curse or two of his own. He would have to be on his guard and wait for the next gap to appear - but he was also certain that more monsters were burrowing towards him right then. He couldn't stay either, then. That left only two options - retreat, or…

Harry rushed towards the enemy's position, his wand weaving a pattern in front of him as he raised the earth to form a ramp for him. He reached the top and was already casting again as he threw himself over the wall, triggering the wind trap. Even as the wind roared and smashed him down, his Fire Whip lashed out. He saw Reid's eyes widen in surprise an instant before his spell slashed through the houngan's shield and body, splitting him diagonally from shoulder to hip. A moment later, Harry slammed into the ground hard enough to shatter his shield, and he felt his arm break.

******​

Ron Weasley had seen the markers wink out - Harry's work, he thought. But more were coming. He had to help his friend. Even with his leg useless. He pulled out his Firebolt. He might not be able to walk, but he could fly.

Panting and with his leg numbed, it took him two tries to straddle the broom. Then he stuck himself to it once more - if he fell off, he wouldn't get up again. "I'm wounded, but I can still move," he said, pushing the button of his radio. It still wasn't working. He tried a Repair Charm, just in case, but that didn't help either. No matter - they were going to get out of this cursed trap. He just had to get to Harry now.

Ron considered flying over the walls, but quickly dropped the notion - he was in no shape to manage that again. Instead he guided his broom around the walls, trying to ignore the pain from where the shaft pressed against his skinned leg.

The houngans had created a veritable maze of walls, he found - riddled with skeletons and other monsters, though they were too slow to catch him even though he was hugging the ground on his broom. He blew a few of them apart, but focused on getting to Harry. Just a few more corners… There!

Harry was standing there, holding his shoulder, but had his wand aimed at him. And there was Reid on the ground, cut in two. "How are you?" Ron asked.

"Fine." Harry answered. "You?"

"Fine."

His friend snorted, then turned to the south. "I've heard a few more explosions. They weren't coming closer - looks like Remus and Tonks are stalled."

Ron bared his teeth.

"Let's go give them a hand, then!"

*****​

The battle was over. Hermione Granger was exhausted, most of her friends were hurt, and they had lost too many people, but they had made it - they had broken through the houngans' lines. They could escape now. And they could use their radios again.

"Justin, Sally-Anne - portkey out with the wounded and the prisoner!" she said.

Justin looked at Ron and Harry, then at her.

"The unconscious ones," she clarified - she knew her friends wouldn't leave until the last of their force were safe, even though they were hurt. Gravely hurt, in Ron's case - his entire leg had been skinned! She couldn't imagine how much that had to hurt.

Justin wasn't about to argue either, and touched Sally-Anne and the unconscious wounded with a piece of string. A second later, all of them vanished.

She turned around and glared at Harry and Ron. They acted as if they didn't notice. Neither did Remus, even though he had been cursed too. Idiots.

She bit her lower lip. Where were Tania and Aberforth? If they waited too long, the houngans might catch up, and trap them again. They had killed all the houngans here, but there were more to the north and east.

There! She saw Tania and Aberforth stagger around the remains of a conjured wall. They looked even more battered, especially Aberforth, but they were alive and - unlike others - able to walk.

"Come on!" she yelled, pulling out her own Portkey. "Gather round!"

A minute later they were safe.

*****​
 
Chapter 66: Transitions
Chapter 66: Transitions

'At first sight the casualties of the British expedition to Jamaica in April 1997 would seem to indicate a catastrophe: Of the twenty-three witches and wizards who took part in the mission, seven were killed and seven more were hurt seriously enough to require extended care by Healers. Almost everyone else was hurt as well, if not to a degree that the healer of the force, Sally-Anne Perkins, couldn't deal with. This view, however, would be doing the operation an injustice . Those twenty-three witches and wizards had faced not just the last Death Eater, Augustus Rookwood, one of the most dangerous dark wizards of the time, but also the most powerful houngans of Jamaica - an island feared by its neighbours. Outnumbered and surrounded, they managed not only to escape, but also crippled the houngan forces in the process - a feat that removed all doubt that even without Albus Dumbledore, Wizarding Britain was still one of the most powerful nations of the Magical World. That, of the seven dead, all but one were inexperienced members of the Muggleborn Resistance further demonstrates this - none of the most prominent veterans of the Second Blood War were lost on this raid. And this distribution of fatalities was something that the remaining opponents of Sirius Black's coalition tried to use against him and Hermione Granger during the run-up to the 1997 election that marked the end of the Second Blood War.'
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War' by Hyacinth Selwyn


*****​

North of Jamaica, April 27th, 1997

Sitting on a folded seat in the cargo plane, Hermione Granger wanted, more than anything, to close her eyes and sleep. But she couldn't. She was in charge, and an officer couldn't rest until everyone under their command was taken care of.

And there were a lot of people in need of care. Sirius, Vivienne, Fleur, Bill and Emily were still unconscious, strapped to cots in the middle of the fuselage. They hadn't been struck by dark curses, but their wounds were so severe that Sally-Anne hadn't been able to do too much beyond stabilising them and treating the worst of the wounds. Remus might lose his arm - though no one knew what curse had struck it, so a Healer at St Mungo's might know a counter-curse. And Ron… she glanced at her boyfriend, sitting next to her, his leg wrapped in so much gauze, it looked like a cast. They had to be able to regrow the skin on his leg at St Mungo's! If not… she could think of a few ways to avoid amputation, but none of them would be easy or too comfortable. And they'd take some time to implement.

Celia and Tania weren't hurt, not physically, at least. But Celia was a textbook case for battle fatigue, as the Major would call it. The brutal battle with so many of her friends dying had been too much for her. She and Emily were the only two of the new recruits who had survived this battle - Hermione shouldn't have taken them with her to Jamaica. They hadn't been ready. Not for such a battle. But who else could they have taken?

And Tania… Hermione couldn't remember her saying a single word since reporting Seamus's death. She'd have to deal with her, and soon. But not now.

At least Harry and Tonks were finally resting, instead of uselessly fretting over Sirius and Remus.

Sally-Anne was moving from Sirius to Vivienne, waving her wand in the by now very familiar pattern of a diagnosis spell. The witch had been up for close to twenty-four hours now, and Hermione feared she'd collapse any moment. "Get some rest, Sally-Anne," she said.

"I can't. If their condition worsens…" Hermione's friend shook her head. "I'm the only one who can treat them."

Brown had offered his help, but had been politely rebuffed. No one wanted the Unspeakable to cast unknown spells on them. Especially not when anything could be blamed on a houngan's curse. Brown must have realised that as well, since he had spent the flight so far apart from the rest of the force, with Aberforth keeping an eye on him.

"Their condition hasn't worsened in hours," she retorted. She glanced at Justin, who should be backing her up, but her second in command had fallen asleep about an hour, no, two hours, ago.

"That could change any moment. We can't be certain, not with all those curses flying around, and the poison they used." Sally-Anne shook her head.

"You need rest, Sally-Anne," Hermione insisted.

"So do you."

"I'll rest after you." As a good officer should.

"And if you fall asleep? Who'll stand watch over the wounded?" Sally-Anne put her hands on her hips, but Hermione could see that she was swaying on her feet.

She pulled out a vial. "I won't fall asleep." It would keep her going for a few more hours.

"Even with that, you won't be much use either," Sally-Anne retorted. "I'll wake up Justin instead."

Hermione decided to chalk that up as a win, and leaned and against Ron to rest her eyes.

She didn't wake up until they landed in the Bahamas.

*****​

Atlantic Ocean, April 27th, 1997

Inside the chartered plane, Harry Potter leaned back in his seat and tried to sleep. Most of the others on board were asleep already. Or still, in the case of those wounded who hadn't woken up since Jamaica. Like Sirius.

He clenched his teeth. He should be happy - they had accomplished what they wanted. They had captured Rookwood and secured the skull. Reid had been brought to justice, too. And they had taught the houngans a lesson. But so many of their own were dead or seriously hurt. And Harry himself was barely scratched - his broken shoulder had been easily mended by Sally-Anne, without even needing to use Skele-Gro. At least Sirius and the others hadn't been wounded by a dark curse. Unlike Remus. Harry had tried to dispel the curse on his arm, but it hadn't helped. Not even using the Elder Wand.

His wand. He pulled it out - Brown was sitting at the very back, out of sight, under the eyes of Aberforth - and rolled it between his fingers. He wasn't certain if it was only his imagination, but the wand felt alive in his hands. Content, even. It hadn't felt like that before, not even after the Battle of Diagon Alley.

He remembered what Ollivander had told him: 'The wand chooses the wizard.' That implied that a wand was more than a simple tool, that it had a sort of will, at least. And this was the Elder Wand. A legendary wand, one of the three Deathly Hallows, passing from one owner to the next in 'a history drenched in blood', as one tale about the Hallows called it.

On the other hand, reading too much into Ollivander's words was foolish. Dumbledore certainly hadn't mentioned anything like this, or he would have warned Harry about it. But Harry was certain that the wand made casting curses very easy - almost too easy. How had Dumbledore handled this temptation?, he wondered.

Sighing, he slid the wand back into his enchanted pocket and pulled out his old wand. Not that wielding the brother wand to Voldemort's made him feel much better, despite the phoenix feather forming its core.

He snorted. It would be both foolish and cowardly to avoid taking responsibility for his actions by blaming them on a wand. He had chosen to fight. He had chosen to kill. And he would do it again, in a heartbeat, if he needed to protect his friends and family.

Holstering his wand, he looked forward, where the wounded had been put up on conjured beds - the air crew had had to be confunded to accept that without questioning it. His gaze slid past Sirius and Vivienne, past Bill and Fleur, until he reached Emily.

The witch had been badly hurt in the battle, but she would recover, according to Sally-Anne. Harry had been relieved to hear that. But that was all. He didn't feel particularly anxious about Emily's wounds. He hadn't felt any urge to be near her, to watch over her, to be there when she woke up.

He really didn't love her, he realised. And he didn't feel any disappointment about that, either. He shook his head, then closed his eyes and leaned back. Maybe now he'd manage to sleep for a few hours.

*****​

Ron Weasley woke up with a start from another nightmare composed of bleeding trees, roaring hurricanes and undead houngans killing his family and friends. He forced himself to calm down, taking deep breaths. The battle was over. They had won. His family were safe. Hurt, but safe. Then he felt guilty for his relief. Many had died, but he hadn't known them that well. Not even Seamus - either the war had changed the bloke a lot more than it had changed Hermione, or he and Ron hadn't been that close despite spending five years in the same dorm.

Next to him, he felt Hermione, who was leaning against him, his arm caught in hers, stirring in her sleep, and he quieted down even more. He didn't want to wake up his girlfriend - she needed the rest. She had run herself ragged trying to handle everything, from taking care of the wounded to organising the planes and dealing with the muggles. And, of course, she had managed. She always did, even if it almost killed her. Like in their third year.

Her hair tickled his cheek, and, once again, he missed her thick mane. He sighed and shifted his weight a little, then winced when his hurt leg flared up in pain. He should numb it, or take another Pain-Relief Potion - the effects of the latter were starting to fade. But either would require him to move Hermione so he could free his wand arm from her grip and reach his holster or enchanted pocket. And that would wake her up.

So he closed his eyes and bore the pain. It wasn't that bad, actually. Not yet, at least. He'd had worse after the Battle of Diagon Alley, in the muggle hospital. And he might have worse again, he added silently, if his wound was the result of a dark curse and no one at St Mungo's knew the counter-curse. Aberforth hadn't recognised the curse, and Harry hadn't been able to do much about it either. Hermione had mentioned more muggle procedures, something about transplanting skin… he shuddered. They wouldn't do it with magic, but with knives! At least his dad would be intrigued, and if it meant he could keep his leg, Ron wouldn't complain. Much.

But he wouldn't be sad if he didn't see any battle again for the next few decades. That had been a horrible battle. And to think that at the end, he had been saved by another item Dumbledore had left to him… he fought not to chuckle. In hindsight, anything could have served as a distraction. A flock of birds, another Bludger- if he had had one left - or even a banished rock…

But then, the houngan would have been expecting those things. A flying razor, though… He chuckled. Harry had been gifted the Elder Wand, Hermione books, but the items left to him had been surprisingly useful so far. Or not so surprisingly, given who had left them to him. He would have to consider how to use the remaining ones.

He was likely to have a lot of free time, too, while he healed up, he thought with a glance at his bandaged leg.

*****​

Hogwarts, April 28th, 1997

When Sirius Black woke up, the first thing he noticed was the familiar smell of the infirmary at Hogwarts. He was in a bed, his robes folded on a chair next to him. And his...

"Accio wand!" His wand flew towards him and he caught it easily. That calmed him down a little. He seemed to be safely back in Britain, and not dying in some jungle - or, worse, in the hands of the houngans.

But why had they brought him to Hogwarts, and not St Mungo's? And, more importantly, where were the others? Harry, Vivienne, Remus, Nymphadora? A quick glance showed him that the beds next to him were occupied as well. He could spot Vivienne even though he only saw the back of her head - he'd recognise her hair colour anywhere. And… that was Fleur, over there, next to Bill Weasley. And one of the muggleborn witches he didn't know well.

"Finally awake, Mister Black?" Pomfrey had arrived in the doorway. She sounded and looked as annoyed at him as she had been during his school years - the Hogwarts matron took a dim view of perfectly Gryffindor behaviour, in his opinion, at least.

He didn't quip back, but simply nodded instead. "Yes. How long was I asleep?" Asleep. That sounded better than 'unconscious'. Or 'half-dead'.

"I would need to know when you were hurt to answer that. But, according to my information, you were unconscious for close to two days. Despite having received magical healing on two separate occasions."

"You fixed me, though."

"I did." Her lips formed such a thin line that he almost couldn't tell where her mouth was. Oh, yes, the matron was not amused, he thought.

But he wasn't a student any more. "Thank you." He turned his head towards the others in the room. "How are they doing?"

"They're sleeping, but their wounds have been taken care of."

He smiled, relieved to hear that, even though he had known that they wouldn't be at Hogwarts if they couldn't be treated here. "And the others?"

"You will have to ask your friends about them." Her face seemed to lose any expression and she turned away.

That wasn't a good sign. He flicked his wand and summoned his communication mirror. He had to know what had happened to everyone else.

"Harry? Harry?"

The time until the mirror lit up and he saw his godson's face couldn't have been longer than half a minute, but it felt like an eternity to him.

*****​

"So, Moony is in St Mungo's?" Sirius Black asked while looking Harry over.

"Yes. Ron too." Harry nodded, shifting a little on the chair next to Sirius's bed, before glancing at the other three who hadn't woken up yet. "We brought everyone who Sally-Anne said didn't need to be treated at St Mungo's to Hogwarts."

Sirius snorted. "Hiding how badly we were hurt in the battle?"

"Yes."

"Good. If the houngans think they didn't manage to do us much harm they won't start a war." And would be more likely to give in during negotiations.

Harry sighed. "We lost too many though. Seamus, Eric, Mary-Jane, Anna, Gary, Sinclair and Timothy."

Sirius remembered Seamus. A bloodthirsty lad, according to Hermione. The rest of the dead he had trouble matching faces to their names. He didn't say that, of course, but nodded as solemnly as he could while trying not to show his relief that no one he really cared for had been killed. Although…

"What did the Healers say about Remus?"

Harry sighed again. "Not much. They're looking for a counter-curse in their records. The last war with Jamaica was a long time ago, and so the counter-curses to their curses have not been needed for decades."

That didn't sound too promising to Sirius, but there was still hope his best friend wouldn't lose his arm. A three-legged werewolf would look odd. "And Ron?"

"His leg was skinned by a curse. It wasn't the standard Flaying Curse, or so they say, but the treatment is working, if not as quickly as expected. Hermione mentioned some muggle method, but we're trying spells first."

Sirius shuddered. Muggle methods… they cut you up to heal you! That was just sick! He took a deep breath. "Enough of others. How are you doing?"

"I'm…" Harry trailed off and cleared his throat, then sighed. "So many were hurt, and I'm fine."

Sirius winced. Survivor's guilt. "I can hex you, if that makes you feel better."

"What?" His godson was staring at him.

"See how stupid that sounds? Your friends wouldn't want you to be hurt, just as you didn't want them to get hurt."

Harry scowled at him. "It's not that simple."

"Of course it isn't. But beating yourself up over it won't help either. We'll get better." He gestured at himself, then at the others in the room. "I'd already be up and running if Pomfrey had not threatened me with dire curses if I moved without her permission."

Harry chuckled. "Ah, yes."

The two of them reminisced about their various encounters with the matron for a while, until Vivienne started to stir.

Sirius was out of his bed and at her side in a moment, Pomfrey's threats be damned. The first thing she would see would be his smiling, relieved face.

*****​

London, East End, April 29th, 1997

"'One more such victory and we're undone'," Hermione Granger quoted Pyrrhus under her breath as she finished her breakfast in the Resistance's headquarters. Fairfax Corbyn hadn't touched his food the whole time she had been there, and she doubted that he had taken a sip from his tea either. Pam Roberts looked like she hadn't slept for even an hour, and many of the rest of the new recruits hadn't shown up for breakfast at all.

"They'll be alright. Just give them time."

She turned her head and glanced at John, who had taken a seat to her left. "Really?" Celia, who had been the only one of the new recruits to return unscathed, had held it together better than the other recruits when Hermione had told them about the Battle of Dry Harbour Mountains.

"They're shocked, but that will pass. Most of them haven't known the others that long, and the way everyone is celebrating the mission as a huge victory will make them see things in another light soon enough."

"It was a huge victory," Hermione said. "But it came at a huge cost."

"That's a good thing for them to realise. It might make them a bit less eager to start a new war." John shrugged. "Some of them complained about being left behind. That was before you returned, of course."

"Ah." They should have known better, Hermione thought - the Resistance had lost half their original members in the battles against Voldemort, after all. But then again, none of the muggleborns had seemed to take the houngans as seriously as the purebloods did. Including herself, she admitted guiltily. Even after the incident at Hogwarts. "If all goes well we won't be fighting such a battle again in the near future," she said.

"Yes." John didn't say it, but his expression told Hermione that he wasn't as optimistic.

Neither was she, if she was honest. She sighed. "I'll be out for the day." She nodded at the stack of letters on the table. "Visiting next of kin."

John winced.

"I led them, it's my responsibility," Hermione said. She had been their officer. After getting them killed, the least she could do was inform their families in person.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, April 29th, 1997

"Good morning, Amelia!"

"Good morning, Sirius." Amelia Bones didn't quite glare in response to Black's cheery greeting, but she came close. The man acted as if he was just visiting for a chat, and not to discuss the country's diplomatic situation!

She pressed her lips together when Black sat down in his usual seat, without waiting for an invitation, and crossed his legs. As if it already was his office.

"Good to be back," he said, grinning. "Travelling abroad was tiresome."

"Tiresome? Half a dozen were killed and the rest of your group wounded."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "Ah? Your spy's been busy."

She scoffed. "You blundered into a trap and almost lost your entire force." If that was an example of how he would lead Britain...

"'Almost' but not quite." He wasn't grinning any more, just baring his teeth. "We caught Rookwood and we taught the houngans that even without Dumbledore, they can't afford to mess with Britain. In addition to that, we recovered the skull Voldemort stole from them. As far as the casualties are concerned..." He shrugged. "They volunteered. Everyone knew that the mission was dangerous."

Amelia knew that. If Black, Potter and Granger had been among those killed… well, they weren't, and so such thoughts were just idle speculation. "A mission you undertook without my knowledge."

"We couldn't risk a traitor revealing our plans to the enemy." Black was smiling thinly.

Amelia clenched her teeth. Was he accusing her or simply talking about the Ministry as a whole? She hadn't exactly hidden Rookwood's offer. "Both diplomatic and military actions fall within the purview of the Ministry."

He snorted. "And the Ministry answers to the Minister, who serves at the pleasure of the Wizengamot."

Which Black controlled. "Are you planning to replace me, then?"

"Eventually."

He was baring his teeth again. Enjoying the power he had over her. She resisted the urge to draw her wand and hex him. "Pius is more patient than I thought." With these 'general elections' looming, she would have expected her nominal subordinate to push to become Minister sooner rather than later.

"If you wish to step down no one will stop you. But you won't, will you?"

She didn't have to answer that. She wouldn't shirk her duty. He and his friends would have to force her out of office.

Black chuckled at her expression. "You're a bloody stubborn witch, but you're predictable. And you won't bend to anyone. Other than the Wizengamot, of course."

Amelia just stared at him, not dignifying that with a response.

He sighed. "Well, what's the status of Rookwood?"

She didn't blink at the rapid change of subject, but took a moment to answer. "He's proving to be quite resistant to interrogation."

"To Veritaserum?"

"He claims that he would die should that be used on him. The Department of Mysteries admitted that it was possible."

"So the Unspeakables have taken precautions against such methods." Black shook his head. "Quite convenient, isn't it? And yet Rookwood managed to betray them."

Amelia had her own doubts about the Unspeakables' claims, but, ultimately, it didn't matter much. "We have enough proof to try and sentence him without his own testimony."

"An outcome the Unspeakables certainly would prefer." He shrugged again. "At least he'll get a trial."

She ignored that remark. She hadn't been in charge when Black had been thrown into Azkaban without a trial.

"What's the latest from the ICW?" Black leaned forward.

"Jamaica has submitted a protest against 'Britain's unprovoked act of naked aggression' to them," Amelia answered. "It isn't expected to go anywhere though." Fawley had been gloating about the goodwill Black's stunt had generated for Britain among most of Jamaica's neighbours. "They also demanded that everyone who took part in this 'atrocity' was handed over to them."

Black chuckled. "Empty words. By my count, we killed half their leaders and more of their rank and file. They can't afford a war."

As much as she would have liked to deliver Black and Granger to the houngans, she hoped he was correct. "They're sending an envoy to Britain."

"Good." He grinned. "I'm looking forward to discussing matters with them. You'll be present as well, of course. Wouldn't want to encroach upon matters which fall within the purview of the Minister."

Amelia clenched her teeth and nodded. If only Black had been killed, or at least cursed, in Jamaica.

*****​

London, St Mungo's, April 30th, 1997

Ron Weasley had his wand pointed at the door as soon as he heard the knock. "Yes?"

"It's me."

He knew that voice by heart, and with a flick of his wand, opened the door, revealing Hermione standing there. She was wearing casual clothes. Muggle ones, not robes.

"Hey." Her greeting sounded far too shy for her in his opinion. Almost timid. The same went for her smile.

"Hi." He took care not to frown. She looked as if she had bad news to tell him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She walked over to his bed and bent down to hug him.

He used the opportunity to wrap his arms around her and pull her down to sit next to him, ignoring her surprised protest. On the side of his good leg, of course. His other leg was held aloft by a spell, still covered in bandages. It was getting better though - the skin was growing back, inch by inch, and the Healers had managed to make the process almost painless too. He hadn't had any feeling in it for days, but that was a small price to pay to be free of pain. "So… what's bothering you?" he asked. "Trouble with the Ministry?" He didn't trust Bones.

"No." She shook her head with a slight pout after abandoning her efforts to extract herself from his arms. "It's just… So many died or were wounded…"

He caught her glancing at his leg and shook his head, frowning. "It's not your fault."

"I was in command." She narrowed her eyes in that familiar way he knew meant she was digging her heels in.

"And you did your best." He squeezed her lightly.

"It wasn't good enough."

"The hell it wasn't! We made it out of that trap, and we did what we went for." When she whipped her head around to stare at him, startled by his outburst, he didn't flinch.

She shook her head. "I made too many mistakes. I should have expected a trap. I should have been prepared."

"You can't be prepared for everything. Sometimes there is no good solution, just the least bad." Moody had been quite clear about that.

"That's no consolation for the dead, or their next of kin."

Of course it wasn't. "Nothing is." He blinked. "Did you meet them? The next of kin, I mean."

"Yes."

He hissed through his clenched teeth. That explained her state. Instead of saying anything else, he just held her close.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, May 1st, 1997

"Hello! Might you be interested in the upcoming election? I'm a member of the Muggleborn Popular Party."

Bess Cox was certain that she hadn't ever smiled as long and as hard as she had this afternoon. But, she thought to herself, as the muggleborn wizard she had approached shook his head and turned away, it hadn't helped much. Apparently, there wasn't as much interest in their party as Randall and she had imagined when they had founded it. Or, as Randall had put it: they had to work harder on the 'Popular' part.

Much harder, she thought while she walked back to the stand Randall had conjured next to Winston's. "The population seems to be lacking any interest in politics," she said, sitting down next to him and dropping the stack of leaflets on the small table.

"They are still focused on the events in Jamaica," her friend answered.

Bess scoffed, but didn't otherwise comment. She was glad that the Resistance had captured Rookwood, and that they had found a lead on a cure for the Withering Curse, but the close cooperation with the purebloods, and with the Ministry…

"Smile! There's a couple headed towards us," Randall whispered, poking her side under the table.

Bess started smiling before she spotted the two Randall had indicated. They seemed to be be about her age. Both muggleborn, she guessed - their muggle clothes fit and were not out of date. "Hello!" she said, beaming at them. "Are you interested in politics?" She gestured at the leaflets on the table. "We're members of the Muggleborn Popular Party." The only members so far, but she didn't have to mention that.

The two picked up a leaflet and read it. Randall waited a few seconds, then said: "We want to offer an alternative to the Resistance. They have done a lot for us, fought and won the war, but that doesn't mean that they know what's best for Britain in peace."

Bess noticed that both tensed up when the Resistance were mentioned, and wondered silently if the two had had trouble with them. Maybe they were purebloods who knew how to act like muggleborns. Agents, maybe…

"They're very violent," the woman said. "We could have talked to the houngans, sorted this out. Rookwood was attacking them. Instead the Resistance attacked them."

"A friend of ours died in that battle. Mary-Jane," the man added. "If the Resistance hadn't invaded Jamaica she'd still be alive."

A friend of theirs had fought the houngans? And had been killed? Bess had heard there'd been casualties, but not any details. "I've lost friends in the war too," she told them.

"And now they are talking anyway - the houngans are sending an envoy to Britain, to meet with the Ministry," the witch continued. "Should have done that from the start."

"I only know what was written in the Prophet about the battle in Jamaica," Randall said, "but we certainly shouldn't resort to violence too quickly."

Bess almost frowned at that. There was a place and time for violence, for fighting back. But the elections weren't it. "I don't like that the Resistance is working so closely with the same Ministry that did their best to oppress us not even a year ago."

Randall took over. "The Resistance and Black's Order of the Phoenix are closely tied together. Too closely. That's why we want to present an alternative for muggleborns. Choices and options are good."

The couple nodded. "Yes," the witch said, "We can't let one group - especially not a group of soldiers - determine our future. Ah! I'm Liz, and he's Marc, by the way."

"I'm Bess." Until the rumours that there was an amnesty being prepared for people like her were confirmed, Bess wasn't giving out her full name.

"I'm Randall."

Liz and Marc hadn't put the leaflet back, Bess noted. And they didn't look like they were about to leave either. Maybe the Muggleborn Popular Party might double their membership today.

*****​

Hogwarts, May 3rd, 1997

Once again, Harry Potter felt more than a bit odd as he returned to Hogwarts. A week ago, he had been battling houngans in the jungles of Jamaica, fighting for his life in a maze of traps and ambushes. And now he was supposed to care about Defence lessons?

But he didn't have any excuse not to return to school. He could travel to London for the Wizengamot sessions easily enough, and, unlike Ron, who was still in St Mungo's, his wounds had been easily healed. Well, it wasn't as if he loathed going to school. It just felt weird, after everything he had gone through.

He shook his head and approached the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's - Headmistress' now - office.

"Transylvanian Tackle."

As Harry climbed the moving stairs, he wondered if picking themed passwords was a requirement or simply a tradition at Hogwarts. Hermione would probably know, he thought.

"Please come in, Mister Potter." McGonagall sounded as crisp as he remembered from his earlier years. Though not quite as annoyed as she had usually sounded when talking to him in her office.

"Good afternoon, Headmistress." He sat down on one of the chairs in front of her desk. The office hadn't changed much compared to his last visit.

"Good afternoon. It's been a while since you've graced the halls of Hogwarts." She wasn't smiling, but she didn't look that annoyed either - certainly less than after some of his past adventures.

He made a point of shrugging as casually as he could manage. "Matters of state required me to be elsewhere, ma'am."

Now she was frowning. "A thoroughly regrettable state of affairs. To think we had to send you off to war, again…" The old witch shook her head. "If Albus was still alive, this wouldn't have happened."

"Well, of course." That was rather obvious, in his opinion, and his tone made clear what he thought of the statement.

She narrowed her eyes, not quite glaring at him. After a moment, she sighed. "Yes, of course."

Harry slowly nodded. He felt a bit bad for his cheek, but… McGonagall hadn't been out there fighting Death Eaters, Voldemort and houngans.

The Headmistress went on: "Well, you have missed quite a few lessons, Mister Potter. Although since this is your sixth year, I gather you're not quite as concerned about how that will affect your grades."

He grinned at that. As if he cared about his grades after what he had gone through. "No, ma'am. I reckon that I don't need to worry about how my grades might affect my future career."

"No, I don't think so either." Once again she shook her head. "Although Miss Granger might not agree with such a sentiment."

He winced at that, then he reconsidered. Hermione had changed too. "Maybe, ma'am. We're not the students who took our O.W.L.s any more."

She looked rather sad to hear this. "No, you're not. I would even say that you and your friends have already started your careers. Orders of Merlin, First Class, members of the Wizengamot, war heroes… not many adult wizards and witches ever come close to your achievements."

"At least we didn't receive our awards for something our parents did," Harry retorted. They had had help, of course. All the other brave Resistance and Order members who had fought as well, many of them dying in the war. But he didn't feel as if he had done nothing to earn this.

"Indeed. You have earned it, no doubt." She leaned forward, folding her arms with her elbows propped on her desk. "However, here at Hogwarts, you are still a student. You can't be seen to flout the rules."

"We won't be seen, Headmistress." He grinned. "Ron and I, I mean." Her frown deepened, almost turning into a scowl, so he continued in a more serious tone. "But as I said - we're not the same students who took our O.W.L.s any more, and it would be pointless to pretend otherwise. How many of your other students have fought and killed in a war?"

She didn't flinch, but her expression grew a little softer, or so he thought. "A bit of normalcy can be very helpful in dealing with such experiences. At least I found that to be true."

She had probably fought Grindelwald, Harry thought. Or Death Eaters in the First Blood War. But he wasn't her. "I've found that normalcy is overrated, ma'am. My relatives wanted to be normal at any cost. I wanted to be normal, to be 'just Harry' as well." He shook his head. "But I'm not normal. I have never been normal. There was even a prophecy about my birth."

"Divination is not reliable."

"It might not be reliable, but Voldemort did want to kill me since I was born. Which led to me becoming the Boy-Who-Lived. I wasn't a normal student at Hogwarts either, as you know, probably best among the current staff. And now I'm the Vanquisher of Voldemort, according to the Prophet. And many will see me as the next Dumbledore." That had been one of the goals, after all, of their plan to force the houngans to back down.

"That seems a tad … presumptuous, Mister Potter."

He shrugged. "I don't claim to be the next Dumbledore. But I didn't claim to be the Boy-Who-Lived either; others called me that. And I'm rather certain that I will have to deal with a lot of trouble as a result of my reputation. My friends as well, I think. We certainly have in the past."

To McGonagall's credit, she didn't try to claim that this wouldn't happen. "If that is the case, then I wonder why you want to return to school at all, Mister Potter. You seem to think that you do not need to, and that you wouldn't fit in at Hogwarts any more."

He chuckled. "Well, to be honest, I didn't plan to return. But Sirius convinced me to. He told me to consider it a vacation. Hanging around with friends, playing Quidditch, relaxing in one of the safest places in Britain…" He smiled. Hogwarts had been the first home he remembered, too. He had never wanted to leave it in order to return to Privet Drive. Something Sirius understood far better than anyone else.

"I do hope that you do not follow all of your godfather's advice, though." It was hard to tell if McGonagall was truly concerned, or if - as Sirius claimed - she secretly approved of pranks. "While most of the Slytherin students who fled Hogwarts last year have gone to Durmstrang, a few have returned to Hogwarts. I wouldn't like to see them scared away. I've impressed that on the other students as well." She didn't approve, then.

Harry shook his head. "I'm not my father, Headmistress, nor my godfather. Nor is Ron following the twins' example." Certainly not now. If there hadn't been a war, if Malfoy had been a git instead of a murderous Death Eater who had been killed while fighting for Voldemort, then things might have been different.

But there had been a war.

*****​

"What's going on, Neville?" Harry asked an hour later, gesturing at the noticeable space the rest of their house was giving them in the Gryffindor common room. "I'd have expected them to mob me with requests to tell them all about the battle in Jamaica." They were Gryffindors, after all.

"Ah, that." Neville nodded. "Well…"

Harry caught him glancing around as he trailed off, and narrowed his eyes at the other wizard. "What?"

"Well… Ginny told everyone not to annoy you. She reminded them that a lot of people died in that battle."

"Ah." Harry rubbed his chin. "That didn't stop them before."

Neville coughed. "Well, you've defeated the Dark Lord, and you've defeated the houngans. People call you 'Dumbledore's Heir'. Would you annoy Dumbledore?"

Harry didn't think Dumbledore could have been annoyed by students. The Headmaster probably would have liked it if the students had dared to ask him questions, even annoying ones. "I see." It made sense, though he wasn't certain if he liked it.

"They still would love to hear all about the battle, of course," Neville said, scowling. "And most of them won't care that Seamus died in it."

"Not many of them have fought," Harry said. "They don't know how it is."

"I haven't fought either," Neville pointed out, snorting.

"You were almost killed in an ambush," Harry retorted.

Neville grumbled something in response that Harry didn't quite catch. He could guess its meaning though.

"You wouldn't want to have been there, trust me," he said. "It was a bloody mess, with hordes of undead, and curses, and traps. We were surrounded, we couldn't apparate, couldn't even fly away, and people were dropping left and right…" Harry clenched his teeth and drew a hissing breath as he remembered particularly gruesome moments. Shaking his head, he stood up. "I'll get some air."

"Sorry." Neville hunched his shoulders.

"Not your fault." Harry nodded at him, and left the common room.

Outside the dorm, he found himself at an impasse. He could take his broom and go flying a little, until dinner, but… that also would bring up memories. Especially if the weather was windy. No one would look for him in the library, but that would be hiding. And he wasn't about to hide from students.

He heard the door behind him open, and he had turned around, his wand in his hand, before he recognised who was stepping out of the dorm. Ginny.

"Hey." The witch smiled at him, seemingly ignoring the fact that his wand - not the Elder Wand - was not quite pointed at her.

"Hey." Harry's response wasn't the smoothest, or most eloquent. "I heard you told the others not to annoy me," he added quickly.

She nodded. "I hope I wasn't presumptuous, but… I spoke with Ron, and he didn't want to tell us anything either."

"Yeah."

"His leg is doing better. He should be back at Hogwarts in one or two weeks," Ginny went on.

"Good." He had known that already, but there was no need to mention it.

"So… where are you going?" She cocked her head slightly as she asked, looking at him.

He almost told her to pay more attention to her surroundings. Instead, he shrugged. "I don't know… maybe the Black Lake." He almost turned it into a question.
"Luna's there. She's feeding the giant squid."

"Ah." The image of Luna feeding the giant creature as if it was a duck made him snort.

Ginny frowned. "She's been doing it for years."

"I wasn't making fun of her. Just the image of her at the shore, throwing bits of… what exactly does the squid eat?" He didn't think Hagrid had ever mentioned that.

"Fish mostly. She enlarges them, or so she told me." Ginny shrugged.

"Ah." That made sense. "And where are you going?" Turnabout was fair play.

She hesitated for a moment, then raised her chin slightly. "I was looking for you." He raised his eyebrows at that. "You looked like you might want to talk. I mean…" She pointed back at the door behind her. "My brothers were there, as well. And both were hurt. I understand that you don't want to talk about it. But if you wanted..."

She wasn't making much sense, Harry thought. Unless… He briefly hesitated, then reminded himself that he was a Gryffindor. "Ron told me that you fancy me."

Ginny reddened as her eyes first widened, then narrowed. "He did, did he?" she all but hissed.

Before the war, Harry would have feared for Ron. But now? Who'd care about a Bat-Bogey Hex, after what they had gone through? He smiled. "Well, is it true?"

"Yes." She almost glared at him, then pouted. "I wanted to tell you myself. Once you were feeling better."

"Ah." Harry nodded. "Well, you just did, kind of."

She snorted. "I didn't want to tell you while you were still pining for Hermione."

Harry hadn't pined for her. Not for that long, anyway. "I'm not." He was over her. Not that it mattered much, anyway. She was with Ron.

"But I didn't want to tell you while you're feeling guilty about the war and everything, either."

Just what had Ron told her?, Harry wondered. He frowned. "Everyone's telling me not to feel guilty."

"And is it helping?" Her tone told him that she didn't think that was the case.

"A little."

She sighed and leaned back against the wall. "I don't want to be second best. Or someone you only like because you need someone to hold you."

"I wouldn't like that either," Harry said. That would feel rather dishonest. As if he was using a girl.

"Well, now you know. And where does that leave you, me, us?"

He couldn't tell what she was thinking. Her expression was… guarded, but there was something in her eyes… He started to shrug, but stopped, turning the movement into an awkward gesture with his left hand. "I don't know." He had known her since… He started to quickly calculate. Their first meeting at the station didn't really count. And he hadn't spoken to her in his second year. Third year… she had been 'Ron's sister' for quite some time. "We didn't talk to each other that much before last year." When she had helped him organising the map watch, and the Gryffindors in general.

"Yes?" She was frowning again.

"So… I mean…" He didn't exactly know what he wanted to say. Only that he wanted to say something to her. "During the Resistance celebration, I flirted with a witch. Or she was flirting with me. She was a few years older. But… she just wanted the Boy-Who-Lived." It was likely, at least - he hadn't really talked to Emily since that evening, and she hadn't approached him either.

"Ah." She was still frowning.

"So… I don't want that. I want something serious." Something like Ron and Hermione had.

"Me too. That's why I didn't want to tell you while you were… 'emotionally vulnerable'." Ginny sighed and looked rather miserable.

"Well, Ron and Hermione made it work, and they were in the middle of the war," Harry said. "At least now the war's over." He wasn't going to say it out loud in case he was rejected.

Ginny nodded slowly, so it looked like she understood what he meant. Taking a deep breath, she looked him straight in the eyes. "So, want to take a walk around the Black Lake?"

He nodded. "Sounds good." It was better to give this a try, instead of waiting until it was too late.

"I'm still going to hex Ron," she muttered as she took his hand.

He shrugged. Ron had taken worse. And he had spilled her secret, after all.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, May 5th, 1997

"This is an outrage! You invade my country, and then have the gall to blame us for it? Do you truly wish to go to war again? Have you forgotten that every war between our two countries has ended with your defeat?"

Larmar Grant, the envoy from Jamaica, had his act down pat, Sirius Black thought. All the righteous wrath an innocent victim of foreign aggression might feel, coupled with not so veiled threats of dire retribution formed an impressive display. It was all blustering, of course - the houngans would never send an envoy if they could actually make good on their threats.

Sirius leaned back in his seat in the conference room of the Ministry and folded his hands behind his head. Bones, sitting next to him, was probably wishing she could scold him for such a breach of decorum, but he couldn't care less. Harry, on his other side, coughed, but Sirius ignored that as well. And Hermione was too far away.

"Have you forgotten how the last three 'visits' of British wizards to your island went?" Sirius asked. "Let me refresh your memory. Dumbledore killed half a dozen of your worst leaders without trying. Rookwood, a wanted criminal who fled our country, killed several of your leaders, ransacked their homes, and was about to break into your most holy library when we arrived to stop him - something you were obviously unable to do. And when you ambushed us we broke out of your trap, killing half your best in the process, before returning to Britain." He grinned at the houngan. "Jamaica's record in this century isn't exactly impressive," he added with a sneer.

"Dumbledore died to our traps! And we were about to capture Rookwood ourselves, when you interfered. And you lost half your number fighting our apprentices."

Hermione scoffed. "Dumbledore died to a curse Voldemort had cast on your library when he stole a skull from it. You didn't even notice the theft." At least that was what Rookwood claimed. Sirius didn't care much if it was true or not - it made a good argument in these negotiations. The witch went on: "And Voldemort was killed by Harry Potter in single combat."

He saw Harry nod on cue, and took over again. "You started this when you attacked Hogwarts and murdered a dozen people to find the stolen skull - which you failed to do."

"You attacked our delegate! He had to flee for his life!"

Bones scoffed. "We investigated the case. Reid was a murderer and a dark wizard, plain and simple." The witch probably still felt as if she was an Auror, Sirius thought. Which was her main problem.

He shrugged. "You can save your lies and boasts. No one believes them - least of all your neighbours." Did the houngan just flinch a little? Sirius couldn't tell for certain. He leaned forward again. "So, let's talk about the real reason you're here. You want your skull back before our Unspeakables crack its secrets."

"That skull is a crucial part of my country's heritage. To steal it, and tamper with it, is intolerable. My nation is not the only one appalled by such a crime."

He wasn't entirely wrong, Sirius had to admit - even though those countries only cared about the possible threat to their own secrets such a precedent might set. "We recovered it from the thief - and foiled another attempt to steal from you."

"If you admit that it was stolen then give it back to us!" Grant had risen from his seat and was now yelling at them.

"We're willing to," Sirius said with a smile. "We'd love to hand the skull back, actually. But it contains knowledge crucial for our efforts to break the Withering Curse." He saw the houngan open his mouth and quickly cut him off before he could shout even louder. "But we're willing to part with it - if you help us break said curse."

"You expect us to help you, in exchange for the safe return of stolen good? That's… that's… that's extortion!"

Sirius shrugged. "So?" He scoffed. "You lost most of your best wizards and witches, and a significant number of your brightest apprentices facing a few of our wizards and witches. You managed to kill a few of our recruits in return - and they are easily replaced." He saw Hermione stiffen at that, but it had to be said. This was diplomacy, after all. "You can't afford a war. You can't even afford to try anything and risk having your weakness exposed, not with half the Caribbean waiting to settle a few old disputes with you. So stop the posturing. You're not fooling anyone."

The envoy pressed his lips together, and Sirius was certain that the man wanted nothing more than to curse everyone in the room.

His grin widened. They had the bastards by the balls, and the houngans knew it. They could either play nice, and get their skull back - after the Withering Curse was cured - or they could try to keep this charade up, which would lead to Britain revealing just how weak Jamaica had become - and letting slip that the British forces wouldn't interfere any more. The houngans' neighbours would jump at such a chance to even the score.

Sirius didn't care either way. And Grant probably knew that as well.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, May 12th, 1997

"You're making a dire mistake! You're sacrificing your cursed friends and family!"

Amelia Bones shook her head as she watched Rookwood struggle with his guards in front of the Veil. The Death Eater had to know how futile his efforts were - she had personally informed him that the houngans had agreed to help finding a cure for the Withering Curse. And at his trial, an hour ago, he had been told again - though that had been aimed as much at the Wizengamot, who might have balked at sentencing the scum to death without such reassurances, as at him.

"I'm the only one who can save them!" Rookwood was screaming now.

"Can't you silence him?" Black asked next to her.

"Any condemned wizard has the right to have his last words be heard and recorded," she answered, without taking her eyes off the dark wizard.

"That must make for some weird transcripts. How do you write down incoherent screams?"

She rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth. This was an execution, not a play! "Have some respect!" she hissed.

"Why? He's not showing any respect either. Not that he deserves any. The things he admitted…" Black made no attempt to hide his revulsion.

In the meantime the two Aurors had manhandled Rookwood in front of the Veil. For a man with his hands bound behind his back, the Death Eater out up an impressive struggle, literally kicking and screaming. It didn't help him, though - one of the Aurors cast an Impediment Hex.

"I curse you! I curse you all! The Dark Lord will return, and you will pay for this! Your agony will be endless! Your souls will fuel his rituals! Your children will…"

Amelia made a gesture with her hand and Rookwood's threats were cut off when he was thrown through the Veil.

"Good riddance!" Black commented. "He really thought you would make a deal with him."

"He was wrong." Amelia didn't make deals with criminals.

"Was he?" Black looked at her. "If a deal with him had been the only way to save the curse victims, would you have thrown him through the Veil anyway?"

"It wasn't the only way to save them, so that is entirely hypothetical."

"And the Wizengamot would have never sentenced him to death in that case anyway." Black chuckled. "Well, the current Wizengamot. But after the elections...Who knows?"

She didn't dignify that with a response and left the Execution Chamber without a further word. It was rude, but she didn't care any more. Amelia already knew that she wouldn't stay in office once the Wizengamot was replaced. She didn't want to, either. Not when many of the seats would be held by criminals who should be on trial, not in the Wizengamot.

At least once she was replaced, she'd have more time for Susan.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, May 20th, 1997

"You shouldn't vote for the Reform Party because we fought and won the war against those who wanted to murder us all. You should vote for us because we will make Wizarding Britain a better place - for us, and for our children. Not just a place where we can life in safety, but a country we can be proud of! A country where blood doesn't matter!"

Hermione smiled as the crowd took up her her last words, yelling them repeatedly while she stepped down from the stage. The election campaign was going well, in her opinion - and she was more certain than ever that her refusal to call their party 'the Resistance Party' had been correct. That would have tied them to the past, instead of to the future. And Churchill had shown how little winning a war against a genocidal monster could matter in British politics. Hermione had no intention of following his example.

Of course, she thought as she passed Fairfax and Pam, who were standing guard at the rally, there was nothing wrong with reminding people just who had won the war for them, as long that wasn't all she did and said. There were other parties out there, after all. They might not be as organised and famous as her own, but the war had taught her that she couldn't afford to underestimate any opponent. The yells started to die down, now, with Justin taking the stage. His upper-class accent and origin was generally popular with many muggleborns - even with some of those who were enthusiastically yelling 'Blood doesn't matter!'. Hermione shook her head at the irony.

"A word, Miss Granger!"

She turned around, her wand in hand. Two young people were approaching her. A couple, probably, wearing badges with the logo of the Muggleborn Popular Party. Which wasn't that popular, last she had heard. Fairfax had noticed them as well, and was moving a bit to the side, just in case, she noted.

"Yes?"

"I'm Liz, Liz Vance. He's Marc Upton," the woman said. She seemed to ignore Fairfax. "We were friends of Mary-Jane Milton."

Ah. Hermione's smile slipped. "My condolences."

Upton nodded slowly, but Vance frowned. "That's a bit hypocritical, seeing as she died following your orders."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "She died fighting for what she believed in - a free, safe country for everyone."

"And how did invading Jamaica serve that goal?" Vance sniffed.

One of those, Hermione thought. She kept her cool, though - she had had lots of opportunities to practise doing so during the election campaign so far. "We went there to catch one of the last Death Eaters and to find a cure for the Withering Curse. A curse which, incidentally, had struck down a friend of hers." That was stretching the truth - technically, the two had both been members of the Resistance, although Mary-Jane hadn't been freed from the Imperius Curse before Dennis had been put under the Draught of Living Death, though Hermione didn't doubt that Mary-Jane would have liked him. However, Hermione wasn't about to let some idiot who hadn't even fought in the war berate her.

But the witch wasn't letting it go. "Those goals could have been achieved without so much bloodshed. You negotiated with Jamaica afterwards. Why didn't you start negotiating right away?"

'Because they were a bunch of murderous dark wizards who enslaved muggles to serve as cannon fodder and only understood force' wouldn't probably go over well, Hermione thought. "They had attacked us, murdered several muggles and rebuffed all attempts at handling the matter diplomatically through the International Confederation of Wizards."

"So, you really think that you needed to attack them? To curse them to negotiation table?"

Hermione shrugged. "I cannot say for certain if it was absolutely necessary - we went there to arrest Rookwood - but it is a fact that the houngans didn't start to negotiate until we had demonstrated that violence wouldn't help them."

"That's a justification after the fact."

"No. It is a possible explanation. We couldn't know for certain when we made the decisions that ultimately led to the battle in Jamaica."

"And cost Mary-Jane's life."

Hermione had to struggle to simply nod, instead of glaring at the witch.

"And do you plan to resort to violence on the next occasion as well?" Vance folded her arms under her chest and sniffed.

"Only as a last resort. But as the recent war has proven: Sometimes violence is the only way to deal with evil people. I, for one, will never risk an innocent life just to avoid a fight. Mary-Jane agreed with me - she fought in the war as well." Hermione nodded at them. "Now please excuse me - I have other obligations."

She left them standing there before she lost her temper.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, May 24th, 1997

Diagon Alley had changed, Daphne Greengrass noticed after leaving the Leaky Cauldron with Tracey. It seemed that every wall was covered with posters, and at some spots you couldn't see the ground beneath all the leaflets. And all because of the elections.

"Can't they vanish the rubbish?" She shook her head at the sight. "Someone will slip on all that paper."

"I read in the Prophet that when some wizards started doing that, others accused them of trying to silence their competition," Tracey answered. "Almost started a riot, or so I heard."

Daphne could believe that - the muggleborns were going crazy about these elections. Not just muggleborns, though - the half-bloods and even purebloods were caught up in this madness as well. She sighed. "What a stupid notion, changing the Wizengamot every few years. No one will get any experience that way. And they'll all cater to those who yell the loudest, without any care for the future past the next election!"

"Where did you get that from?" Tracey asked.

Daphne didn't admit that she had read a muggle article about elections. She shrugged. "Isn't it obvious? People will never be content, and they'll blame the Ministry and the Wizengamot. Of those two, they can replace the Wizengamot, so that's what they'll do."

"And just like the members of the current Wizengamot mostly care about themselves, they new ones will do the same, and cater to their voters?" Tracey didn't hide her amusement, and Daphne's glare had no effect.

"At least hereditary positions grant stability. People know who will succeed a member," she shot back.

"But the only way to replace a Wizengamot member who's unfit is to kill them."

Daphne glared at her friend, who had the grace to look sorry, and they walked in silence for the next few minutes.

"They've finished rebuilding," Tracey said when they were passing the Weasley twins' shop.

"Yes." Daphne could see that herself. She stopped and looked up at the spinning, glowing sign above the entrance.

"It's bigger than last time. I think," Tracey added.

"Could be." Daphne wasn't certain.

"Let's go in!"

"What?" Daphne stared at her friend.

"Let's go say hello." Tracey grinned. "It'll probably unnerve them as much as you."

Daphne pressed her lips together but she walked towards the entrance. She knew that tone - Tracey would do it alone if Daphne didn't join her. And she wouldn't leave her friend alone.

Daphne opened the door, and was hit in the face by a dozen fishes.

She shrieked before glaring at her giggling friend as she rubbed her face until the slimy feeling was gone.

"How do you like our 'Fish Breeze'? The fishes aren't real, of course, nor conjured," Daphne heard a familiar voice from the back of the shop. Apparently, her shriek had been heard that far back.

"It's pure spellwork and the slime evapora…" The way his voice trailed off upon seeing them, this had to be Fred, Daphne thought.

So did Tracey. "Good afternoon, Fred."

"What are you doing here?"

The former Gryffindor's wand was aimed at them and Daphne did her best to ignore it. "Is George here?"

"What do you want with him?"

Daphne could hear Tracey roll her eyes as her friend answered: "What do you think? We want to ravish him and trap him in a loveless marriage."

Her sarcastic tone reassured Daphne. The flirting with the werewolf had been bad enough. If Tracey started to flirt with the twins…

She heard George's voice from somewhere back. "Fred? Are you scaring away paying customers again?" Daphne heard him call out from the backroom.

"They aren't paying customers. They're snakes."

"Snakes?" George appeared next to a large shelf blocking the view to the left side of the shop. "Ah. Good afternoon, Miss Greengrass, Miss Davis."

"Good afternoon, Mister Weasley." Daphne wouldn't be rude, no matter what.

"Hello." Tracey waved, and for a moment, Daphne feared the twins would mistake it as an attack. A hundred and fifty years ago there had been an assassination attempt on a Greengrass with a disillusioned wand, Daphne recalled.

Neither Fred nor George overreacted though. George even smiled - though Daphne doubted that it was sincere. "Are you here to buy something?"

"We were walking past outside and decided to come in and say hello," Tracey explained with a grin.

"Really?" George sounded… sceptical, Daphne decided.

"Really." Tracey shrugged. "After all, thanks to Black's scheming, everyone thinks we're best friends."

"And you want to keep up that facade, so others will not bother you, lest they suffer our vengeance." George nodded while Fed scowled.

That was an excellent justification, Daphne thought. "Yes."

"We aren't best friends though," Fred said.

"Of course not. Your friends killed our families," Daphne retorted, fighting the anger that rose inside her at the thought of her dead, murdered parents. She couldn't lose her temper. She had to set an example for her sister. Astoria had barely accepted that things would never be as they were, and if she heard about Daphne cursing a blood traitor, or, worse, being cursed...

"And you tried to murder my family," Fred spat.

"You don't disobey the Dark Lord's orders." Daphne glared at him. It wasn't as if they had had any choice.

"You don't join the Dark Lord's forces," the wizard shot back.

"You also don't sabotage Quidditch stands and try to kill students," Tracey cut in. "But the war's over and we're all still alive. I'd like to stay that way. Alive that is." She nodded at Daphne. "She's right. Too much happened to make up. I can't look at Granger without remembering my dead parents, and she's about to marry into your family."

"Oh, that's not going to happen that soon," George said with a chuckle, though it felt a bit forced to Daphne. "Hermione's not the kind of witch to marry early and have sprogs so quickly."

"Whatever." Daphne snorted. "We just came in here to say hello. Nothing more."

"Well, you said hello." Fred scowled at her.

"That we did," Tracey admitted. "So… bye?"

"Bye."

Once they had left the shop, Daphne sighed. "That could have gone wrong."

"It didn't," Tracey retorted.

They made their way past a stand with muggleborns. None of them offered the two witches any leaflets, though - nor anyone else in robes, as far as she could see. Apparently, the Muggleborn Popular Party didn't care for pureblood votes, Daphne thought.

Once they were further away, Daphne turned to Tracey. "You know, once the elections are over, I think I'll head to the continent for a while."

"A Grand Tour?" Tracey asked. "Those haven't been done since…"

"Since the last war."

Time to revive the custom, Daphne thought. It wasn't just a pureblood tradition. It would also keep her away from Britain for a year or two.

She really didn't want to see how the mudbloods would ruin her country.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, June 15th, 1997

"... and that's why you should vote for the Progressive Party! We don't discriminate against anyone - we stand for equal rights for everyone!"

Sirius Black smiled as widely as he could while he put both hands on his hips and stared at the crowd gathered in front of his stage in Diagon Alley.

"I know from personal experience how dangerous a corrupt or inept judicial system is." And everyone knew what travesty of justice he had suffered. "You can count on me making damn certain that what I suffered will not happen to anyone else. No longer will a bunch of rich Old Families judge everyone!"

"You're from a rich Old Family!" someone from the back yelled.

Sirius scoffed. "I spent my gold in the war against Voldemort." He noticed how the crowd cringed at his mention of the Dark Lord's name, and had to fight not to sneer at them. "I personally fought Voldemort at the spot we are standing. What did you do? Hm?"

"You're in bed with the French purebloods!" Another heckler shouted. Someone had prepared them for his speech.

But not enough. Sirius grinned shamelessly. "Every night, I'm in bed with the most beautiful French Veela, yes." That earned him laughter while he threw a kiss to Vivienne. "And she, as well as her family, came to help us during the war, and many of them gave their lives for us." There was no need to get into the rather complicated current situation with the French, Sirius thought. According to the Delacours, the Duc was scared of a muggleborn rebellion, and they had barely managed to keep him from starting one with his latest ham-fisted attempt to prevent it.

"The Progressive Party is not a pureblood party - you know that any party that'll have me will not turn anyone away!" He flashed his best roguish grin, and was rewarded with another bout of laughter. "More seriously though," - his pun didn't get such a reaction, alas - "we're a diverse lot, and our membership reflects this. Although many of our members do have red hair," he added with a gesture at Arthur and Percy, who were waiting at the side. "But our diversity is our strength - we all know what blood purity did to our country. And you know what we did to save our country. And you know that we will do it all over again, if it's needed!"

As the crowd cheered, Sirius waved and stepped off the stage, making way for Arthur. He was smiling widely - between his party and Hermione's Reform Party, they had this election locked down.

*****​

London, Ministry of Magic, July 7th, 1997

"I, Harry Potter, do swear that I will uphold the law and protect the inalienable rights of the people of Wizarding Britain."

Harry lowered his wand and stepped forward to hand the cue card back to Percy, who was manning the despatch box, then returned to his seat. Since he was the youngest member of the Wizengamot - Neville had been born a few hours earlier than he - he was the last to take the oath.

"Where did we get a despatch box from anyway?" he asked under his breath while sitting down.

"Apparently, the Department of Mysteries had one in storage," Hermione answered.

"Compared to finding a wording for the oath that suited everyone, that was a breeze," Ron chimed in.

Hermione frowned. "It's still missing a number of crucially important parts."

"We went over this," Ron retorted. "It'll work well enough. It's not as if it's an Unbreakable Vow anyway."

Hermione huffed. "Some of the members should have made such a vow." Harry didn't have to check to know that she was looking at the members of the Pureblood Party.

"Bloody Death Eaters," Ron mumbled.

Harry disagreed - they had been checked for Dark Marks, after all - but their stated goal of 'protecting the traditions of Wizarding Britain' was a thinly-veiled blood purity agenda. "It's just four people." Even with a sizeable number of purebloods who had been hiding among muggles returning to Wizarding Britain instead of emigrating, there simply weren't that many idiots around willing to vote for blood purists.

"Four too many," Hermione said. "It's almost an argument for a first-past-the-post system. That would have prevented the two Muggleborn Popular Party seats as well."

"That's democracy." Harry ignored her frown. Between Sirius's Progressive Party and Hermione's Reform Party, they had a solid majority anyway. And Bones had resigned as soon as the results of the elections had come in; to the surprise of Sirius, who had expected her to stay in office until she was forced out.

Elphias Doge, the oldest member of the Wizengamot and so by default the Chief Warlock until either confirmed by the Wizengamot or replaced by someone else, stood up and raised his wand. "The first session of the Wizengamot of 1997 is now open," he announced. "The Chair recognises Mister Black."

Sirius stood up with a wide grin on his face. "Honoured members, honoured new members of the Wizengamot, we stand here as the first democratically elected representatives of Wizarding Britain. A new era has begun. For the first time the fate of our country is not in the hands of a few families, but in the hands of its people. Muggleborns, half-bloods, and purebIoods - all are represented here."

His next words were drowned out by the loud applause and cheers from the vast majority of the members. Harry was cheering and clapping as well, together with his friends.

They had done it. They had reformed the Wizengamot.

Now they had to reform the country.

*****​
 
Epilogue
Epilogue

'I've been asked many times, especially by historians, why I have not yet written this book. Many even seemed to expect me to write the definitive history of the Second Blood War a week after it had officially been declared over.
Such expectations were based on several incorrect assumptions. First, the fact that I was directly involved in the war in a central role does not automatically make me an expert on that topic. On the contrary, it makes me a biased observer. In order to be able to at least attempt to objectively chronicle the events of that pivotal time of Wizarding Britain's history, I needed to hear other perspectives and to research the matter myself.
Second, I lost several close personal friends in the war. Back then, I lacked the emotional distance needed for this work - something, I must point out, that several of my colleagues lacked as well, but which did not keep them from writing their books anyway.
Third, I lacked the time to do such a book justice. My work in the Wizengamot, and later in the Ministry and in research, took up far too much of my time to allow a project of this nature.
And fourth, as this book will reveal, much of what happened during the war has been deliberately kept secret until now, since revealing what had really happened shortly after the war would have potentially had far-reaching consequences. Now, though, decades later, this book's time has finally come, and I hope my work will help to correct several of the glaring mistakes made and perpetuated by some historians in the years since the war.'
- Excerpt from 'The Second Blood War: A History' by Hermione Granger-Weasley


*****​

London, Greenwich, February 1st, 2002

"Ron! It's time! We need to go now!"

Hermione Granger-Weasley didn't tap her foot impatiently, but she really wanted to. They had to leave their house now if they wanted to be on time for the ceremony - and early enough to give the location a brief once-over, to ensure that it was safe.

"Calm down! They won't start without us!" she heard Ron yell from the first floor. A moment later, he appeared at the top of the stairs, grinning at her.

She huffed. "That might be so…"

"It is so - we're the guests of honour. They can't celebrate Voldemort's defeat without us." Ron interrupted her with a hug.

"Some of them certainly would like to." She scowled, remembering the latest debate in the Wizengamot.

"Bah. Their proposal was soundly defeated." Ron scoffed. "Putting Malfoy and his ilk on the memorial, next to those who died fighting Voldemort? The 'Unholy Alliance' is certainly trying everything to live up to their name."

"Their nickname," she corrected him - though privately, she felt that the Prophet had nailed it perfectly when they coined that term for the situation where both the Pureblood Party and the 'Muggleborn Alternative' supported the same proposal. It was not surprising that Liz Vance, one of the founders of the 'Muggleborn Alternative', had left the Muggleborn Popular Party after less than a year, taking her seat with her. According to rumours, only Randall Martens's intervention had saved her from being cursed by Bess Cox. The press had had a field day over that.

"If the boot fits…" Ron shrugged. "But let's go now, or we'll be late."

"Oh, you!" She glared at him, but he simply kept smiling until she chuckled.

*****​

London, Diagon Alley, February 1st, 2002

"There you are! We were about to leave without you!" Fred greeted them as soon as they stepped out of the fireplace in the twins' shop.

"Don't listen to him - we'd never even contemplate leaving without our most famous family members!" George cut in.

"Yeah, you two never think before you do anything," Ron retorted.

Hermione chuckled at the twins' fake outraged expressions, though Ron's comment contained more than a grain of truth. That they married two French witches they had met at Bill and Fleur's wedding - a day after that wedding - proved this, in her opinion. Molly had certainly agreed with her. Loudly. Especially after she heard about the duels.

Although, Hermione thought, not for the first time, when she greeted Laura and Noelle, she could understand why the twins had fallen so quickly for the two witches - they were not only very beautiful, but also witty and charming. If only Fred and George didn't keep claiming that they had met their wives before, with that infuriating grin that told everyone they were hiding something.

*****​

"Blimey, that's a big crowd," Hermione heard Ron mutter when they stepped out of the twins' shop.

He was correct - Diagon Alley was packed full of people. Even years after the war, and more than a year since the last incident related to it, Hermione didn't like crowds. Even when they appeared to be friendly, even cheering for her when the passers-by recognised her - it was just too easy for an assassin to hide in such a crowd.

She glanced up to check if the Magical Militia, as the Hit-Wizards were now called, after her proposal of naming them the 'British Armed Magical Forces' had been shot down, were at their posts, covering the Aurors responsible for crowd control, with wands and guns at the ready. Tania was in charge today, so the soldiers had better stay on their toes - Tania still treated every mission and exercise as if they were at war. It was probably her way of coping - not everyone in the Resistance had responded equally well to the therapy Hermione had pushed on them and her other friends.

"Hey! Hermione!"

Some of them, of course, Hermione thought with a smile as she saw Dennis standing on a roof next to the twins' shop, waving at her, were not intimidated by Tania at all. "Hi, Dennis!" She waved back. Looking at the smiling young wizard, one would not imagine that he had spent a year under the effects of the Draught of Living Death, until the Unspeakables had finally managed to create a counter-curse, she thought.

"The M&Ms are out in force," Ron said next to her. Hermione glared at him - the Militia weren't fond of that particular nickname.

He shrugged. "Hey, I'm one of the few professional officers; I get to make fun of the rank and file."

Sometimes Hermione wondered if Ron wasn't a bit too much like his next eldest brothers. "Harry would disagree. And he's your superior officer."

"He won't."

"Well, he should." She shook her head, but she was grinning.

Although her grin diminished when she passed a gaggle of French muggleborns - easily recognisable by the mix of French and English they spoke. The numbers of French muggleborns moving to Britain had risen steadily over the last few years - since they couldn't vote in France, many of them were voting with their feet. And usually added their voices, and later votes, to those demanding 'a more robust policy towards the oppressive regime of the Duc', as some members of the Wizengamot called it. As if Britain wasn't already putting pressure on the French! Sooner or later the Duc would see reason - without Britain having to go to war. Or the French starting a civil war.

After all, Britain was widely recognised as the strongest country in Europe, not least thanks to her and her friends' efforts, but no one sane wanted to start another war.

Unless a country decided to murder muggleborns.

*****​

The place where Voldemort had been killed, and where the ceremony would be held, was cordoned off. The Aurors manning the entrances let Hermione and Ron pass, of course - but she noted with satisfaction that they were ready to act in case the Thief's Downfall installed at the gate should reveal anything. The area inside was limited to invited guests, and so the crowd here wasn't quite as large - nor as densely packed. A necessity, Hermione thought, so that the various Wizengamot members and high-ranking Ministry employees were not forced to literally rub elbows with their political rivals.

Which, unfortunately, didn't mean they couldn't accidentally meet someone they'd rather not. Like Alfons Runcorn and his family.

She'd as soon curse the man as greet him, but appearances had to be maintained - Hermione knew the member of the Pureblood Party would be only too glad to denounce her as an uncouth barbarian.

"Mr Runcorn, Mrs Runcorn." She even nodded at their baby. Ron grunted something that, if one were extremely charitable, could be called a greeting.

"Madam Granger. Messrs Weasley," Runcorn barely inclined his head, and seemed to ignore the twins' wives entirely. His wife nodded, but kept fussing over their baby - apparently named 'Albert'. "I must again protest the biased nature of this ceremony. The memorial should honour all victims of the war."

Hermione's urge to curse the idiot grew stronger. Five years in the Wizengamot had taught her to hide her emotions, though, and so she refrained from acting on her desires. Instead she smiled thinly at the man. "The Wizengamot's decision was quite clear, Mr Runcorn. Followers of the Dark Lord and their allies have no place on the memorial."

"Not everyone who died in Malfoy Manor was a follower of the Dark Lord!"

"You're correct - there were two muggleborns who had been captured and imprisoned in Malfoy's dungeon. Their names are on the memorial." Hermione's smile showed her teeth. "If you'll excuse us - we're expected to join the other guests of honour."

"Bloody tosser," Ron said as they walked away - just loud enough to carry to Runcorn, Hermione thought. "I wonder why he even attends the ceremony if he likes Death Eaters so much."

"So he can claim he doesn't, of course," Hermione said. The Pureblood Party was quite careful to loudly distance themselves from Voldemort, even though their actual proposals and speeches were almost identical to those given by the Dark Lord's allies in 1996.

It wouldn't avail them anything, though, she thought with some satisfaction - with the compensations and fines levied on the Death Eaters' estates, their fortunes had been substantially diminished, and there were simply too few purebloods left who supported the Old Families. Moreover, the muggleborn population was growing thanks to a sizeable number of immigrants, mostly from France and the rest of Europe.

The Old Families' time would not return.

*****​

The stands for the guests of honour - and the assorted hanger-ons, as Ron called the Wizengamot members and various worthies - had been under close observation for the entire time since they had been conjured. Even the ground below had been regularly patrolled. Hermione cast a few spells anyway, to check for traps and curses. The last attack by a disturbed wizard or witch who hadn't let go of their grudges from the war had been more than a year ago, and had been foiled by the Aurors, but Hermione wasn't about to become careless - she knew just how much many of the Old Families hated her.

"Snakes ahead," Ron whispered, nodding towards the first row of guests. She turned and narrowed her eyes. It seemed Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis had returned to Britain for this occasion, after spending years away on their 'Grand Tour'. Greengrass's sister had apparently stayed in France. "Cocky of them," Ron went on. "Is that Greengrass's husband behind them?"

"Yes. The dear Monsieur Marbot," Fred replied from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he was baring his teeth.

"He wasn't involved in your duels, was he?" Hermione asked sotto voce. The last thing Britain needed right now was a diplomatic incident with the French.

"No, no." George shook his head, wrapping his arm around his wife's waist. "But we've met. In France, last year."

"He didn't like it when we tried to give him some advice, husband to husband, about how to survive a Slytherin marriage." Fred chuckled.

Hermione drew a hissing breath. "Don't create an incident today."

"We won't," George said. "We have an understanding with them."

"You have one. I never claimed to understand witches, least of all Slytherins," his brother retorted. Laura and Noelle giggled at that - but then, the two French witches had agreed to marry the twins, so Hermione couldn't expect any help from them when it came to reining in the two troublemakers.

She resisted the urge to rub her forehead. "Just behave."

"Of course!" the two chorused. Marriage definitely hadn't made them any wiser, she thought. On the other hand, it was nice to see that they hadn't let the war affect them too much.

Unlike so many others.

*****​

Other important guests were already present as well, like Neville, one of the more prominent members of Sirius's faction in the Wizengamot. Justin and Sally-Anne, recently married - having become a fully-qualified Healer apparently had endeared the witch to his parents, though Hermione was certain that Justin would have married Sally-Anne anyway - waved at them. At least her own parents had accepted Ron without hesitation - much more easily than they had accepted her own actions in the war. But that was in the past.

Aberforth was not in attendance, as those who knew the old wizard had expected. But Antoine Delacour greeted them with a smile and a bow fit for the French Court. "Madame Granger-Weasley. Mesdames et Messieurs Weasley."

"Monsieur Delacour," Hermione nodded at him. The formal greeting let her know that he wasn't here as a friend - and in-law - of the family, nor simply to honour the fallen Delacours and d'Aigles, but as a representative of the Duc d'Orléans. Who, apparently, was hoping that gracing this event with an official envoy and reminding everyone that French purebloods had fought and died against Voldemort would placate some of the more vocal muggleborns in his and her countries.

It wouldn't, of course - or not for long. But Antoine's presence at this ceremony would also make other countries wonder if the ties between Wizarding Britain and Magical France were growing stronger - which would be a source of some concern for many. Wizarding Britain was acknowledged as one of the premier powers in the Magical World, after all - and rightfully so, these days at least. Together, France and Britain could easily dominate the ICW - if the Duc were willing to reform the country, of course. Hermione suppressed a sigh - Britain's relationship to France was aptly described by the term 'complicated'.

Ron and his brothers greeted the wizard, Laura and Noelle curtsying even before exchanging pleasantries in French. Nothing beyond that, of course - this was neither the time nor the place for more serious talk with the French envoy.

"Hermione! Ron! Fred! George! Laura! Noelle!" Luna hugged each and every person she named with great enthusiasm.

"Luna!" Hermione smiled widely. "Are you covering the event for The Quibbler?"

The blonde nodded rapidly, then pulled out a press badge… which seemed to have been made by carving letters into a slice of apple. "Yes!" She turned serious in an instant and narrowed her eyes at Hermione. The effect was rather cute. "Madam Granger-Weasley, would you be available for an interview later today?"

"Certainly," Hermione agreed at once. Luna was a rather eccentric journalist, but unlike others, she had no agenda.

"Fantastic! Your opinion on the platypus controversy will carry great weight!"

A very eccentric journalist, Hermione corrected herself while Ron chuckled - she had no idea what their friend was talking about.

However, before she could ask Luna for an explanation Hermione wasn't entirely sure she would understand anyway, they were interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the guests of honour, and the excitement that caused among the crowd - at least those who were wizards or witches; most of the parents of the fallen muggleborns who were attending the ceremony looked either confused or less enthusiastic.

"The Boy-Who-Lived!"

"Dumbledore's Heir!"

"The One-Who-Won!"

Hermione felt a small pang of jealousy. Whereas Harry was seen as one of the most powerful wizards - a reputation he couldn't live up to, not yet at least, especially since he still needed to keep the Elder Wand a secret - and Dumbledore's worthy heir, she was seen as the cunning and ruthless - or perfidious - 'Purebloods' Boggart'. She knew it wasn't entirely undeserved, but it still felt unfair to her. And Ron was mostly seen as Harry's best friend, not as the hero he was in his own right, which was even more unfair.

She forced those petty feelings away. Everyone had done their part in the war, after all, and they hadn't beaten Voldemort for fame, but to save the country.

Harry hadn't arrived alone, of course. He was walking arm in arm with Ginny, and right behind him walked Sirius and Vivienne, and she could spot Remus and Tonks standing with the Aurors. Remus looked rather tired - the full moon had been but four days ago - and they still hadn't found a counter-curse to cure his arm.

A single wizard didn't rate as much effort by the Department of Mysteries as the victims of the Withering Curse, so she didn't expect that to change any time soon. Especially not when the houngans claimed that whoever had cast the curse had taken its secret with them to their grave, and with the Unspeakables making an effort to find a way to destroy the Dementors. At least the enchanted metal sleeve Remus was wearing was working as well as an enchanted prosthetic, which was better than nothing. It certainly didn't stop him from hunting Pettigrew whenever there was a new clue to the traitor's whereabouts - although that didn't happen too often. Which was a good thing, since he was needed at Hogwarts, being the first Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher in decades to hold the post for, so far, three consecutive years.

And, as Sirius was fond of describing, with a lot of imagination and speculation about metamorphmagi, Remus was also very happily married to Tonks. They had one son, with a second child on the way. And, Hermione thought as she greeted her friends, he was alive.

*****​

"... and we shall never forgot this fateful struggle, and the tragedies that filled those days…"

While Pius Thicknesse droned on, Hermione saw Ginny lean towards her. "That's what I love the most about playing Quidditch for a living: We don't have to listen to such speeches all day long," the other witch whispered.

"You have to listen to your coach, and to your fans," Ron retorted before Hermione could comment.

"They're not as bad as the Minister," his sister said. "How could you elect him of all people?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her friend - Ginny knew very well why Thicknesse had become Minister for Magic. Her own father and brother had been involved prominently in that deal as well, after all. "On the other hand, you have to deal with both the Prophet and Seeker Weekly speculating about your love life." She tried not to smile when the redhead's grin turned into a scowl. While the relationship between Harry and Ginny had its ups and downs, it was nowhere near as volatile as the press made it out to be.

Harry reached over and patted his fiancée's arm, and Ginny sighed and leaned into his side. Hermione smiled at that - her friend was happy, at last - it had taken a while for him to get over the war. For everyone, including her, of course.

And some were still not over it, she added to herself with a glance at Bones. The former Minister for Magic was a guest of honour as well - her role in the war demanded no less - but she was looking as bitter as she had when she had been forced out of office. Hermione doubted that that would change, not even if the witch succeeded in her bid to be elected to the Wizengamot this year. Bones was just unable to let go and accept that a war wasn't a criminal investigation.

Although Bones had at least given some praise to the changes to the judicial system Sirius and Hermione had forced through - even she could see that the new judges were working better than the Wizengamot, old or new.

Thicknesse had finally finished his speech, and now Scrimgeour was taking his place. The Head of the DMLE was the Minister's main rival these days, as Hermione knew only too well thanks to both trying to curry favour with her. Personally, she favoured replacing Thicknesse with Arthur, but her father-in-law wasn't quite ready yet - or so he claimed. As long as Hermione and Sirius controlled the Wizengamot, she didn't much mind who was Minister - the reforms hadn't touched the Wizengamot's primacy over the Ministry.

"... and I think that all of us who fought the Dark Lord agree that those of our comrades who made the ultimate sacrifice should never be forgotten, which is why this enchanted memorial here was built."

Hermione wasn't the only one who glanced at the veiled monument in response to those words. Although she was, to her knowledge, the only one who knew that the spells which made the names of all the fallen appear in random order on the golden plaque on the marble monolith had been modified slightly. By herself.

It might be a petty gesture, but Allan Baker didn't deserve to have his name appear on this memorial.

*****​

It was surprising just how quiet the large crowd was, Hermione thought as she watched the names appear and disappear on the golden plaque on the black marble monolith.

Albus Dumbledore. Dean Thomas. Maisie Maygold. Seamus Finnigan. Timothy Meyers. Balthasar Brinden. Alastor Moody. Mary Smith. Colin Creevey. Martin Cokes. Jeremiah Brinden. Severus Snape. Jeremy Chadwick. Cornelius Fudge. Eric Ballantine. Hortensia Brinden. Gary Coulton. Augusta Longbottom. Mary-Jane Milton. Anna Baker. Brad Watts. Sinclair Thompson. Kingsley Shacklebolt.

She kept a mental tally of her friends and comrades amidst the flood of names. Friends, comrades, strangers. All of them killed in the war, fighting against Voldemort and his followers. Now united on this memorial.

So many dead… She pressed her lips together and squeezed Ron's hand. They owed it to them to ensure that such a war would never be fought again. To keep Britain safe. And to continue turning her into a country of which they could be proud.

Hermione would do all she could to repay that debt. She would not let them have died in vain.

*****​

The End.

*****

Author's Note: I wish to thank my betas for their help, especially fredfred. He has spent an incredible amount of work on correcting my mistakes and oversights, and provided invaluable feedback - even when my drafts were late. Without him, this story wouldn't be what it is.
 
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